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The ritual had taken its toll on Arthur and it showed. Not only were his clothes bloodied and in rags but his whole body was pale and in worse condition than ever. He was in the process of staggering away from an old red brick building one step at a time, winded from the simplest of actions. His handprint on the wall beside him left slight crimson smears away from the scene.
Just when John and he had gotten used to sharing a mind and working together, just when the thought of separating hadn't crossed their collective minds in a long time, a cult of the King’s had taken actions into their own hands and forced them apart. The ritual had been brutal; ripping and tearing through Arthur both mentally and physically. Remembering what had happened sent shivers down his back
Arthur was understandably quiet, trying his best to just get through the night while limping through whatever town they were currently in. His head was quiet, too quiet for what he had become accustomed to this past year, he dearly missed the voice that would tell him where to go, what to look out for and what was around him. Jesus, had it been a year since they started this whole ordeal already? The time spent together blended into a singular long period that seemed to have no end, until now. Tonight, that bond they previously shared had abruptly been cut and he was utterly alone. Arthur had fiery auburn hair which would usually be neatly laid on his head but after tonight there were slick strands hanging down his forehead in front of his icy grey eyes that darted around seemingly at random.
John, too, was covered in blood; his expression stoic and hardened as he helped Arthur along as well as he could. He wasn't completely ignorant of how the separation had felt just before he was in a new body, one of his own. The image of seeing Arthurs flesh being ripped apart to give way for him to break free sent shivers down John's neck, such a strange feeling. He did his best to not get overwhelmed with all of the new senses, what it felt like having to direct a stiff and angular human body like a puppet in order to lead Arthur forward through the city to a hotel. His body was cold and stumbled forward but he was getting better each step, the blood under his feet in no way helped his stability. He had to make a conscious choice to move his head around instead of relying on Arthur to do it, he felt his chest expand with each new breath and how it filled his body up. He felt the warmth emanating from Arthur and how it was slowly getting colder the longer they were outside.
John was glad in a way, they had finally separated from sharing the same body but while walking down the street he took careful glances at Arthur, his Arthur in such a sad state. This is not the type of separation he wanted to have. Sure, when all of this began with that stupid book he held no regard for Arthur and what might happen to him when they would separate, maybe he would have taken over his body? But now after so long any harm that came to Arthur was a direct stab at John and everything they had built, worked hard on, together. He hoped the bloodbath that ensued once he was… free, was evidence enough to show his disdain for the whole ordeal. Just another ‘fuck you’ to the King in yellow and whatever the cultists deemed to be ‘worthy’ of a god to gain.
While Arthur had gained back some feeling in his arm and foot in the process, his sight remained as dark as the day he first became one with John. From a year of not controlling John’s- Arthur’s body parts they were out of use and the muscles seemed to have weakened. Every step felt like his foot was asleep with the distinct pins and needles feeling and he rolled his ankle every time John let up his grip just a little.
The not-quite-human entity was constantly readjusting its grip on Arthur and decided to grab him around the waist with one arm and another around Arthur’s elbow and was leading him down a carpet laid hallway. There were multiple doors on each side with numbers in an odd-even pattern on either side, Arthur could make out from touching the walls and guessing at the number shapes. They had gone to the shadiest hotel they could find, where no one would question the blood smears and what the hell had happened to both of them, or the other guys.
John was easily a head taller than his companion, closing in on 2 metres tall; a darker complexion with black smoke-like curly hair. His eyes were an unnatural golden hue and his stature, though broad, was elegant in an unusual way. With every step that both men took the shorter of the two groaned in pain and he clenched his right fist when leaning into the entity beside him. To an outsider looking in this would read as pain from the whole cult ordeal, but after knowing Arthur for so long there was something else clearly going on behind his cold stare.
“Here Arthur, to your right- yes. The handle is- yes.” John led his shorter partner to a dark wood door with their room number on it, keys rattling in his hand as Arthur fumbled to get them into the lock. When getting inside and turning the light on Arthur got loose from John’s hold and sighed, taking his shoes off and placing them by the door. John watched him and did the virtually the same, wiping his feet on the entrance mat next to Arthur's shoes.
When John turned his head up he saw Arthur looking around, seemingly waiting for something to happen before he huffed to himself and said “Tell me about this room.” Arthur's voice was utterly deadpan and monotonous. He was looking down at nothing specific now while holding his left hand on the inner wall, taking in the feeling of the cramped room, smelling the cigarette smoke stained interior.
“Oh, uh” John stumbled over his words over that being the first thing Arthur has said during their entire walk to the hotel, not wanting to take too long and disencourage the man from speaking more he continued; “Arthur this is a modest hotel room, it’s age is clearly showing through the yellowing wallpaper and a well used carpeted floor. We are currently standing in a short hallway, the light flickers annoyingly above us from inside the main room while the light in the hallway doesn’t seem to be turning on at all. The bathroom is further in from the hallway to the left off from the main room. There is a… single bed, sized for one person and an armchair to the left of it, both have a wine red colour…”
John trailed off as he looked back to his human companion, having his own body he couldn’t help but notice when Arthur wasn’t paying attention anymore, how his eyes seemed to be trying to look around the room and recognise the things explained to him.
Arthur was clearly contemplating many things while refusing to state a single thought, he took another breath of air and swallowed dryly before stating “I need to wash off, where is the bathroom again?” While he had been listening to John very carefully, registering that his voice no longer came from inside his head but echoed against the environment much like his own, he hadn't actually been taking in the information being spoken to him. He had gotten a cold shiver at the thought that John now felt so far away, how he was not his anymore. He wanted to hear John again, know where he was in the room, maybe even… no what is he thinking. John’s touch was grounding in the dark emptiness that now was Arthur's mind, sure. He felt numb, not dissimilar to when he couldn’t feel his arm while it was under John’s control but he felt safe with that numbness knowing it meant John was there. Now his limbs were his own but he felt more numb than ever before... But that was not for John to be concerned with, he was his own man now and surely he wanted nothing to do with Arthur let alone touch him more than necessary.
John looked down to his left to find Arthur looking in his general direction, dark bags under his eyes and every inch of him stained with dried blood. John carefully took in the sight of this fragile human, his fragile human who in reality has survived more than could ever be expected of him. He studied the scars on his face and neck, how they had faded with time, remembering what adventure of theirs had caused them. Lifting his hand hesitatingly John then laid it on Arthur’s shoulder, letting him know he was there beside him and giving him the chance to decide if this was okay. Arthur's body was cold and it stung John somewhere in his chest, is this what human emotion did to the body? What was he feeling to invoke such a reaction?
Truth is John was uncertain how to handle his partner now that they didn’t share a body, he didn’t know which touches were okay, where it was okay to touch and at what pace Arthur might want to take this new experience. When the shorter man jumped slightly under John’s touch he was ready to pull away but then Arthur breathed a sigh of relief and his shoulders dropped from where they were tensed up to his ears. John moved his hand down to the small of Arthurs back slowly, careful still, to lead him further into the main room.
“It’s just through this doorway and to your left Arthur, do you need me to-” “No, I can handle it from here, thank you John.” Arthur interrupted the question he foresaw John asking, if he needed help. But he wanted to prove to himself that he could take care of things on his own, he was a grown man God damn it, he didn't need any help washing up. Even saying those words was setting in some false sense of security in his voice to appear as if he could do this. Yet the men stood in front of the bathroom door unmoving, Arthur staring slightly down while John looked carefully at him, furrowing his brow just slightly.
“Arthur, are you sure? It’s fine if you need help, your sight… It might prove difficult without my guidance.” John’s fingers gripped at Arthur’s jacket, not wanting to let him go in there himself.
Silence.
John’s brow furrowed further and his grip around Arthur tightened and moved around his waist, moving John closer to the other man. He didn’t know what to do or how to show further support and now seeing his partner from a secondary perspective he could see all of the micro movements and expressions he made when clearly thinking about something. How Arthur’s hands fidgeted together, how the sides of his mouth twitched or how his unseeing eyes moved around slightly, trying to register anything in their surroundings.
“Arthur?”
—
“Arthur! Arthur!?” There was a ringing sound in his ears, his mouth was dry. Why was he on the floor, was he on the floor? He felt so cold, the voice in his head felt so far away, like it was moving further away with Arthur’s fading consciousness.
“Arthur get the fuck up!” Why was there such urgency in their voice? Whose voice was that, did he know them? It felt as if Arthur should know this voice…
“God damn it ARTHUR!! Stay awake!”Then suddenly it came back to him in a burning flash of pain. The type of pain when skin is torn from flesh without care of injury, when thousands of nerves are ripped from their connecting tissue. The type of pain someone like Arthur would pass out from and wake up screaming when his senses return to him which is exactly what he did. He screamed out into the open air and only heard complaints around him, a burning sensation coming from his left side as if he'd been dipped in oil and set on fire. All other noises disappear into the background as his vision goes white and the only thing he hears is his own screams forcing their way out of his throat.
“Arthur no! Argh!- Stay with me, we can get out of this!” John tried to get through to Arthur while ignoring his own pain of being ripped from his host, how it felt as if he was being burned out of a hiding place and pulled straight into the fire.
The next thing John sees is Arthur’s body in front of him, crying and bleeding from his stomach while strapped onto the floor laying in a circular symbol not dissimilar to the King’s sigil. John stumbled backwards, his vision faltering as it was different from what he was used to and he was taller than what had become normal for him. He tried rubbing his eyes only to find it wasn’t Arthur’s hands that were moving but two coal black razor sharp claws coming at him. The realisation that he has his own body came to him slowly as John suddenly felt and controlled body parts he didn’t have before. He had his own body… They had been separated.
As soon as the thought crossed his mind John didn't feel victorious as he thought he would, all he felt was an all consuming rage at the vision below him. A whimpering human, his Arthur, on the floor bleeding out at the hand of some fucked up cult. He turned his gaze to them, looking up expectantly at their creation with open arms in what could have been prayer. John felt his hands clench and something warm flowing from where his claws pierced his own skin. He tensed his jaw with such force his ears started to ring. The look he gave the cultists must have been terrifying because seeing their smiles drop, taking a step back and looking at each other in fear… It was delicious, and John drank it all in before he moved towards them, sharp and numerous fangs on display.
Had Arthur been able to see he would have seen a creature not quite human with monstrous blackened claws stained a crimson red. A misty black tail swishing from one side to the other and long sharp fangs inside a panting mouth dripping with blood. The creature wore a crown looking halo above his head, glowing faintly in the dim surroundings. John was thankful he could not.
There were sounds of feet tapping away at a floor and begging in a language Arthur didn’t recognise, all of it muffled like heard through a duvet. He heard screaming getting cut short and then gurgling choking from the floor beside him before he passed out again as Arthur heard heavy steps come closer to him and a familiar muffled sound of his name being called.
—
Arthur closed his mouth and swallowed before looking up to his right “Yeah. I’ll be fine John. I could do this on my own before you and I sure as hell can do it on my own now.” The words came out with unintended malice.
“Arthur… you still can’t see, please let me help. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” John responded in a soft growl, if only Arthur could see himself and the state he was in surely he would understand the worry in John’s voice. He let go of his companion, unwillingly and let him go into the bathroom alone. Why was this such a big deal for him, why insist on doing it alone when he clearly needed the help? John couldn’t fathom why he was being difficult, was this a human thing?
Arthur stumbled his way into the bathroom, turning on the light by learned instinct even though he didn’t need it now when no one was there to tell him what there was to see. He took his shirt off and got to washing off all the blood he could feel sticking to his skin in the sink, scrubbing it off with disgust. He didn’t want to think of what had happened while he was out cold… Arthur could feel the blood only getting slick and he felt as if he was only smearing it around like oil. He grew more frantic with the scrubbing when the blood wouldn't come off and his breathing grew faster until he couldn't do it anymore and yelled out in frustration, sliding down with his back against the cold porcelain wall, trying to catch his breath and hold back frustrated tears.
John had decided to sit with his back up against the wooden door of the bathroom, being as close as he was allowed to be without encroaching on Arthur’s privacy when he jumped at the yell and heard what sounded like quiet sobbing. He instantly turned around and knocked on the door. “Arthur? Is everything alright? Did you hurt yourself?” When there was no response he knocked again, this time with more urgency until there was a quiet hum he could barely register.
“I’m… I’m fine, John.” Arthur responded with a sniffle, he had sat down with his knees up to his chest, feeling disgusting, separated and lost.
“Arthur, can I come in?”
There was a long silence that only worsened John’s worry for the other man. He started getting up when he heard a cold response.
“...Why are you here John?”
“...What the fuck do you mean, Arthur?”
“Why are you still here? Hanging around a blind fool! You've got your own body now. Isn't this what you always wanted?! Why haven’t you left” Arthurs’ voice broke between tears, giving away everything that was happening behind the door.
“Because I fucking care about you! We have been through so much Arthur and you’re my blind fool! Get that into your thick skull, Jesus! I’m-” John sighed and composed himself, taking a deep breath and straightening up before continuing “I'm coming in, Arthur. Cover yourself if you care, not like we haven’t been in this situation before.” He stood with his hand on the door handle taking a moment, noticing a slight tremor in his fingers and a strange tingling in his nerves. John swallowed nervously, why was he nervous? He entered the bathroom and saw the mess, crimson in the sink, small specks on the floor and an even smaller looking Arthur in the corner, still damp and just as dirty as when they arrived. Arthur was holding his left hand in a tight grip, searching for any sort of comfort he can come by in this situation.
John stepped closer and squatted beside Arthur with a sigh, “Arthur if you could only see yourself, you’ve only made it worse you know? You have got blood all over the bathroom sink and floor. Not only that, your trousers are now stained with blood and water as well…” There was no response from Arthur, he just gripped his own arm tighter and made himself smaller like an insect trying to hide after having been found. John reached out a hand to put on Arthur’s right arm but he flinched from the touch, John not saying anything but instead putting his hand out with the palm upwards. Having lived in complete darkness for so long his companion had learned which pauses meant what and this one was clearly awaiting a response.
Arthur reaches out slowly and touches something textured with intricate creases and folds, feeling the palm split into four separate fingers when pulling back slightly. John's hand was not razor sharp anymore but soft, like any normal human hand. Not calloused like his own hands and certainly not scarred from their previous experiences.
“I don't even know what you are like this, sure your voice is the same but not… everything else…” Arthur whimpered, tears still formed in the corners of his dusty blue eyes. John only hummed in response, almost with intrigue in his tone. Arthur moved his other hand to meet John’s wrist and started feeling his way up his arms and shoulders before moving to his new face, searching for any discerning features he could latch onto in his mind. Arthurs breath hitched as he felt John lean into his touch, feeling his jaw clench at the odd sensation. As he keeps going John makes soft protesting grunts but doesn’t move. Arthur was feeling for the shape of his nose, where his eyes are set, if he has any facial hair in this form and what kind of hair he has.
During this whole ordeal Arthur has been quiet and only the occasional sniffle comes through. While he has been busy mapping out John’s face the other man has been studying Arthur’s features, the micro changes in his facial expressions as he silently judges John's looks and he finds this highly amusing until he has enough of the strange sensation of having his face caressed. John grabs Arthurs hands softly as to not startle the man, “Arthur-”. John is cut off before he can say anything when Arthur pipes up quietly stating “John I'm scared. I'm so scared, I had just gotten used to not having my vision but I was never alone. You were always there to tell me, warn me about things… Now I'm both blind and alone and I am so scared John…”
Without caring much for the state they are in and the fact that the blood on Arthur’s torso will stain John’s shirt he leans in and takes hold around Arthur's chest, pulling him closer into what humans refer to as an embrace. John holds the shorter man tight through sobs and tears that go straight through his shirt. John holds him as Arthur grips John tighter and cries out with words that could spell out multiple ways of saying he is scared of what is to come. John holds Arthur until there are no more tears to cry. John holds him until their breaths close in on a slow and steady rhythm. John holds him until Arthur is calm. John holds Arthur a little longer.
“I’m scared too, Arthur. But we will get through this just like everything else, like the elephant.” John says softly with his head resting against the shorter mans’. Arthur responds with a chuckle and hums the rest of the saying back to him, “One bite at a time.” Acknowledging that this is the way to go, the way they have done many things. John then offers to help Arthur clean off the worst patches of blood and to get it out of Arthur’s hair and this time he accepts, being very helpful about how to best rinse hair out with what they have. The bathroom ends up more messy than before but at least Arthur isn’t covered in his own blood anymore and his somewhat healed wounds are gently cleaned by John’s new pair of unsteady hands. Seeing the wounds so up close makes John’s stomach tie into a knot and his blood boil but the hunt for the cult can wait for now, this was much more important.
Arthur allowed himself to be led out of the bathroom with one hand wrapped elegantly around John’s lower arm as he was told what to look out for before sitting down on one end of the bed, feeling the sheets under his other hand. John pulled away but was wordlessly stopped in his tracks by Arthur not letting go of his grip, looking up to where he assumed John’s eyes were. “Stay, please?”
There was not a bone in John’s body that could deny Arthur this, especially after learning how fearful the man was of being alone now with John in a separate body that could go where it wished. They both laid down into the bed, John not knowing quite what to do in this situation. Arthur always made himself comfortable and sometimes found himself holding his left arm during the night (a very pleasant hold, though John would never admit this of course).
John moved his hand closer to Arthur’s and when he didn’t flinch away from his touch but instead gently gripped it… John was unsure of what he was feeling but his whole body felt warm and… safe? Yes, safe. They both sighed a breath of relief, letting go of their anxieties about this strange new sensation.
When Arthur moved to lay on his side he still held onto John’s hand and pulled on it to move John closer to him leading to a very awkward spoon where John’s arm was draped over Arthur and was held close to the smaller mans’ chest with both hands as John folded his knees up to lay steadily on his side. John doesn’t need sleep but would not move from this position and joined Arthur in a voluntary quiet meditation with his eyes closed.
“John, I can’t do this without you… I don't want to do this without you. I feel safe with you.”
“You are safe, I’m still here. I won’t leave your side.”
“This too shall pass” Arthur breathed before feeling all the tension leave his body. He was truly safe here, with John, and he felt whole again.