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Love was for fools.
At least, that’s what Begruvia had always thought, anyway. It was foolish to trust anyone with your emotions like that, he thought. After all, Phantoms never fell in love. In fact, it was so rare, Begruvia had been convinced that they couldn’t even feel the emotion at all. The few who did were shunned. Those emotions weren’t meant to be felt. ‘Love’ was for manipulating those that lived on Earth. The fools who were naive enough to believe their lies. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything.
And yet, he was proven so, so terribly wrong.
Love was real, and Begruvia was too far gone already.
He hadn’t even noticed it until it was far too late. But why else would he have dragged himself back up from being reincarnated? His only purpose was to find Father Andrews. It was for revenge, he had told himself - he’d been convinced that was it, nothing more. He would fight to the death if he had to. Being able to cause some chaos along the way was only a bonus as he caught Andrews’ attention.
And for a while that was it. That was the truth.
But then he found himself face to face with Andrews himself, and Begruvia realized he didn’t want revenge. Or, at least, he didn’t want it in the way that he thought he did. His drive to end Andrews faded as they locked eyes, his narrowed and angry.
“I want to stay with you,” He’d said in a moment of feigned vulnerability. Because Andrews wouldn’t listen to his words if he said them some other way - if he’d been honest about his intentions. It was really for revenge. Slow and subtle revenge, of course. To avoid the inevitable battle that would come further down the line. It was fake, to get Andrews’ sympathy… To… He didn’t even know. Not now and certainly not then, either.
And somehow he’d agreed.
Begruvia probably should have noticed the shift in his emotions sooner, but he hadn’t.
Even as they settled into a ‘semi-normal routine’ (at least in Andrews’ words, not his own. After all, what was so strange about sharing a house with a phantom who had quite possibly spent the last few thousands of years planning his demise?), he didn’t seem to recognize it. Even as those small friendly moments of peace that were just bordering on the edge of being more than a peaceful agreement increased, it didn’t cross his mind at all.
It wasn’t until a few weeks in that it had truly occurred to him.
Andrews had fallen asleep a few hours ago. Begruvia had yet to fall asleep; he couldn’t help but study Andrews’ features. Perhaps a bit creepy, yes, but hey, it wasn’t hurting either of them, so he didn’t care. And he doubted Andrews would care, either, if just agreeing that it was a bit creepy. It was nice, really, seeing him so peaceful. Not that he wasn’t usually peaceful, it was just a sense of vulnerability they didn’t get much often otherwise. He couldn’t help but wonder if Andrews was dreaming. Hopefully he was getting a good rest, at least, unlike Begruvia.
When he’d first been dragged along here, Andrews had forced him - well, forced was a strong word. It was how Begruvia liked to see it, not wanting to admit he’d accepted the offer willingly - to sleep in the same bed. At the time it had been something about ‘having an easier time keeping an eye on him.’ And how Begruvia himself didn’t want to sleep anywhere else. Truthfully at the time Begruvia had really only insisted on it because he had wanted to inconvenience Andrews just that little bit more. But now, he wasn’t quite sure why they still did. Maybe Andrews still didn’t trust him (it wouldn’t be all that surprising, after all. Begruvia himself couldn’t help but feel suspicious at times, too), or maybe it had just become a habit. Whatever it was, he kind of liked it. There was something nice about having him there.
It felt like ages that he’d been living there with Andrews, but truth be told, he wouldn’t change that for almost anything. Over time he found that he actually quite enjoyed living with Andrews. It wasn’t unpleasant - quite the opposite, in fact. Andrews had been, tentatively, welcoming, and though Begruvia himself hadn’t been very pleased about it, he tried not to cause too much trouble. It was comfortable living with all of the strange things that had been invented since his time on Earth. Like lights and electricity.
But it wasn’t just that, no. He’d grown to have a genuine appreciation for Andrews, too. He made a genuine effort to be friendly and welcoming to Begruvia. He didn’t raise his voice for much of anything unless it was absolutely necessary (and, admittedly, he’d deserved it all of those times). He made an effort to make Begruvia feel safe and comfortable, whether intentionally or not. And sure, maybe he wouldn’t have cared about those things in the past - Hell, he was still telling himself those things didn’t matter - but they did. He did feel safe and comfortable and… And maybe he didn’t want to leave.
Not that he was considering it, but still.
Though, he supposed there was the small chance of Andrews kicking him out.
Despite the joy he found in bothering him, Begruvia didn’t want Andrews to dislike him. Quite the opposite, in fact.
He liked Andrews, he did.
He found himself looking forward to Andrews’ return after long and boring days. He found himself returning Andrews’ smiles despite having no idea why. He liked getting to go on impromptu late night walks for no reason with the thinly veiled excuse of not being able to sleep - which on more than one occasion ended up with him carrying Andrews home because it was three in the morning and Begruvia had stopped them for the hundredth time to speak about nothing in particular. He liked those small moments in time when there was nothing else going on and the two of them would listen to the news or Andrews would take out a book and he’d get to drag Andrews into another endless debate about something that didn’t really matter.
It was nice.
Really nice.
A light smile formed at the sides of his mouth.
And then he froze.
The realization hit him fast, and with it came a horrible tug at the bottom of his lungs. A dread so deep it made his breath catch in his throat making it difficult to breathe for just a moment.
Fuck.
It was almost a painful realization, not just emotionally, but physically, too. A sharp pang in his chest, so stinging he almost forced himself to stand. But he didn’t. Instead, he turned to his side, curled in on himself away from Andrews, and stared at the wall for a long while. Despite his best efforts to fall asleep and hopefully forget this had ever happened by the morning, his thoughts were too loud and active for him to even get halfway to sleep.
It couldn’t be true.
No- no no-
He couldn’t.
He couldn’t be in love.
Not with anyone, but certainly not Andrews.
It couldn’t be true. He willed it not to be true over and over in his mind, but it only made things worse and the pain in his chest grew, seemingly in retaliation.
Shit.
He didn’t sleep at all that night.
It was only a few days later when he coughed up the first petals.
Begruvia hadn’t really been doing much at the time, staring idly out a window when he’d noticed Andrews approaching from down the road. It was a perfectly normal thing, really, Andrews having been out doing things for the day, but it still caught his attention and a small smile drifted onto his face without him even noticing. It was almost instinctive.
It felt so normal now, just waiting for him to return. Begruvia’s day was pretty uneventful; otherwise with not much else to occupy the time, he couldn’t help but await Andrews’ return.
And then he coughed.
For a brief moment that was it. Frowning, he reached for the side of the seat, setting his hand against it. And then they continued, harsh and shaking his core, as if there were something stuck inside of his lungs. His vision blurred, going in and out of focus for an agonizing amount of time before finally- finally, it stopped.
He’d curled in on himself in that time, hands clenched tightly into fists as he took hasty and heavy breaths. As his vision returned, he blinked, staring down at the ground finding two petals staring back at him.
With a hasty sigh, he reached down and carefully picked them up. Shit. This was his punishment for falling in love, huh? He should have known there would be consequences, but he hadn’t expected them to be so severe and painful. Physically painful, at least. It was unique, though, that much he had to admit.
Frowning, he crushed the petals to the best of his ability and tossed them aside. How ironically romantic.
He coughed again, narrowing his eyes at the terrible feeling of petals stuck in his lungs, knocking about like a shitty flurry of snow. Romantic and obnoxious.
He glanced back over at the now discarded petals, hearing the distant sound of the door opening. The urge to cough returned once more and he could only sigh.
Fucking Hell…
He knew it could never be true, and sometimes he wondered why he even stayed. He would watch Andrews move about the house, doing something or other, and it would be the only thing he could focus on. It was like nothing else mattered, and the tightness in his chest would return with a vengeance.
And yet, he couldn’t force himself to leave. Even if he knew the feelings would never be requited, it was still nice to think there was a chance. Or at the very least, some chance that Andrews would still be willing to tolerate his presence on a daily basis. It was those small fleeting moments of affection that he had to hold onto while they lasted. The ones that told him that maybe, just maybe, Andrews cared - even a little bit.
Maybe he was a little desperate and more than a little in denial.
He knew he had to be honest with himself at some point though, because this wasn’t lasting forever. He’d need to leave eventually. Maybe drag himself back to Hell.
Narrowing his eyes angrily, he glanced over at Andrews. Damn it. Damn it all. It was doomed from the start. 2000 or so years of just… Waiting. And for nothing. What? Was he just supposed to wait another 2000 more before he finally forgot about it? Until all the consequences just disappeared?
He didn’t want to be lonely again. Going thousands of years without anyone he hadn’t gotten a chance to feel a connection with anyone. He’d always been lonely, and that’d been fine. It was all he’d ever known.
But now that he had someone? He didn’t want to go back. Years and years of isolation sounded terrible. There was only so much one could come up with to talk to themselves. Telling Andrews anything felt like risking everything he’d found. There was no way Andrews would want him around after that.
It physically hurt to think about, his breaths tight and thin as he struggled to pull himself back together again.
“Begruvia?” He turned just in time to see Andrews staring at him, concerned. “Are you alright?”
For a few moments Begruvia couldn’t speak. Maybe it was his breath getting caught in his throat, or maybe he was too distracted by Andrews himself to say anything. Whatever it was, he was quick to catch himself, letting out a few stray coughs. “Yeah,”
“You sure? You’ve been coughing an awful lot lately. You getting sick or something?”
Begruvia internally huffed. Getting sick? He’d been sick for a while now. Aloud, though, he laughed, “Sick?” He spat, ignoring the way his lungs burnt as he spoke, “No, no. I don’t get sick.” But his words were quickly cut off by another short fit of coughs.
“Hey, woah- easy now,” Andrews muttered softly, somehow he’d made his way behind Begruvia and had gently set a hand against his back. “You sure? I’m getting a little worried.”
For a brief moment he leaned into the touch. And then in the next he gently pushed Andrews’ hand away. He couldn’t indulge himself too much - that would be dangerous. “Don’t treat me like a fucking animal,” He hissed.
“Alright- alright. I’m sorry,” Andrews sighed lightly and took a few steps to the side. “You can tell me if you’re not feeling well, though.”
Begruvia didn’t respond, instead staring into the distance, even as Andrews stepped out of the room. He was just… tired. Who knew heartbreak would be so painful and draining?
His eyes flickered upward, sensing motion at the doorway only to find Andrews standing there, cup in hand. Quietly, he made his way across the room, gently placed the cup down. A comforting steam drifted from the top, “Here, this might help,”
“What? Are you trying to poison me?”
Andrews sighed, “You never complain when I make you things any other time, so why now?” He muttered. And while he didn’t roll his eyes, Begruvia could still hear it in the way his voice was drawn out, struggling to hide his annoyance. “Do you want it or not? It’s just tea.”
Begruvia continued to glare as he reached forwards, gingerly taking the cup into his hands. It was warm and would almost certainly burn his hands if he wasn’t careful, but he didn’t quite care. In fact, he welcomed the way it burned down his throat as he took a sip. The pain in his throat was a welcome shift from the pain in his lungs. And, while he hated to admit it, it did help the soreness of his throat, too. It tasted floral - though he wasn’t sure if that was the nature of the tea or the lingering taste in his own mouth - and sweet, which he appreciated.
After a long pause he sighed, “Thank you,” He muttered, intending to be too quiet to be heard. But Andrews, observant for once in his fucking life, looked over and smiled, and Begruvia couldn’t help but regret every decision he’d ever made even as Andrews left the room.
Begruvia’s chest hurt as his eyes slowly blinked open, finding himself in a dark room. How much time had passed, he wondered, feeling more than a little exhausted. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence anymore, just… obnoxious and inconvenient.
Placing a cautious hand against his throat, he carefully sat up. Andrews hadn’t said anything yet, and Begruvia could still faintly see the form of his body under the blankets, presumably still asleep. It was for the best. Begruvia was getting lucky these past few days - Andrews hadn’t noticed his brief absences.
With the lightest of sighs - not too hard, or else he’d start coughing prematurely - he removed himself from the blankets and stepped carefully out of the room. Despite the pitch black darkness of the room, Begruvia was still able to maneuver his way around and out the door. Being a phantom, his eyes worked well in the dark. He was becoming more and more thankful for that, it made sneaking out of the room much easier.
It was a stupid, almost helpless and pointless routine, really. Get up, cough until he couldn’t breathe any longer and flowers scattered across the floor, and go back to sleep only to repeat it the next day.
Regardless, he stumbled past the hall and into the bathroom - not having much of a choice otherwise. Taking in a large breath of air while he still could, he leaned over the sink and stared into his dark reflection - barely visible in the darkness, though he could see his own faint outline. He looked tired. Tired and quite possibly sick. He was already faintly trembling, too, though he had yet to start coughing. There was something dreadful about it, really, like waiting for disaster to strike.
Pain seemed to strike all at once in the base of his lungs as his grip tightened against the sink as he coughed. His throat burned with the effort, desperately attempting to force up the flowers that refused to move.
It was terrible - there was no other way to put it. Each cough did barely anything to remove the flowers from his lungs while simultaneously preventing him from breathing. Each breath he tried to take in seemed to be prevented by another cough or from the flowers lodged in his throat.
Gripping onto the front of the sink, he gasped for breath between coughs. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, he could feel the flowers getting stuck at the back of his throat. It was impossible to even see his own face in the mirror, let alone anything more than blurry shapes. The flowers in his throat refused to move, however, and he could feel a light panic building inside of him at the possibility that he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.
But another moment later he was coughing again, and despite the pain he found himself relieved even as his body fought for air. It was something to distract him from the aching of his lungs and the way his throat felt like it’d closed.
He leaned forward desperately, he closed his eyes. It was almost over- it had to be.
Finally pulling the flowers from his mouth, his legs gave way and he fell weakly to the floor along with the flowers - he likely wouldn’t have been able to hold himself up even if he’d tried, especially with the way his hands were trembling. His chest ached with pain and his breaths were frantic and heavy, trying to catch up for what he’d lost.
He blinked with surprise as the hallway light flicked on from behind him, bringing just enough light in to not hurt his eyes. He’d neglected to shut the door fully when he’d entered. He didn’t think it would matter much. But as a figure appeared in the crack of the door, he realized that perhaps it did, just a little. But it was far too late to worry about that now. “Begruvia…?” Andrews sounded tired and a bit confused as he spoke, prying the door open a bit further. “Are you… alright?”
Begruvia found himself frozen for a few moments before he finally turned, somewhat nervously. He squinted at the sudden brightness, though it was thankfully being mostly blocked by Andrews himself. His breaths were already heaving, but now they were becoming somewhat frantic, too. He should have foreseen this happening at some point, but he hadn’t prepared himself for it being so soon. Wordlessly, he glanced towards the ground, finding himself at a loss for words and no way to prevent Andrews from seeing what had happened. With his hands pressed against the floor keeping him up, there wasn’t much else to do.
“Hey…” Andrews continued again, softer, as he pushed the door open a bit further, finally stepping inside. He began to crouch down, but froze halfway there, hands held out in front of him. His eyes were wide as he moved his gaze away from Begruvia and instead towards the floor and then back to Begruvia once more. “Is- Is that blood? ”
Begruvia narrowed his eyes, “It’s not,” he insisted feebly, struggling to even get those words out as they scratched against the sides of his throat. It was useless lying, but he might as well try. He pushed down the everpresent urge to cough, instead forcing himself to swallow. The taste of blood still lingered, but at least with any hope Andrews wouldn’t be able to notice it.
A careful hand set on his arm caused him to flinch, pulling his arm away quickly, though he quickly regretted it. “I-” His throat burned, he practically coughed out the word, not being able to get any further.
Andrews’ hands hovered over his arm, he’d moved to sit on his knees now, but his hands didn’t find their place back on Begruvia’s arm. He would’ve been disappointed if he hadn’t been too busy coughing. “Hey, hey,” he whispered, voice sounding like the soft sounds of a river in contrast to Begruvia’s own. “It’s alright. Just try to stay calm and breathe, alright?”
Begruvia tried to nod despite Andrews’ mildly shitty advice (if he couldn’t physically breathe, how the fuck was he supposed to breathe?!), but his vision was too blurry and he already felt too lightheaded, still coughing. It was impossible to breathe when every breath was met with another harsh cough. If Andrews was still speaking to him, he couldn’t make out any of the words. It was painful. Horribly so. The kind of pain that took over every sense of his body, making it impossible to feel anything else. But somehow, through it all, he could feel a soft hand on his back - warm, comforting, and grounding. All the things he’d learned Andrews to be.
And finally he was temporarily freed, petals scattering across the floor as he breathed. He let himself fall backwards into Andrews’ grip - or, rather, accidentally - feeling too faint to keep himself upright and Andrews just happened to grab him. Regardless, he reveled in the brief sense of comfort, taking in gasping breaths now that he could breathe again.
“Begruvia,” Andrews’ voice finally reached his ears again. “Begruvia, can you hear me?”
He almost wanted to ignore him. To be able to just sit there and forget anything and everything else that existed. But he couldn’t. So instead he lifted himself up, just enough to gaze upwards and nod. “It’s-“ he breathed, inhaling sharply and somewhat desperately, “-It’s fine. I’m- I’m fine.”
Andrews narrowed his eyes, “No! No you are not. You are anything but fine right now,”
Begruvia breathed heavily, lungs still feeling tight and aching. And he supposed he couldn’t deny it; it was true. There was nothing fine about any of this. He was living with Father Andrews, he was in love, there were flowers presumably growing in his lungs, he was sitting on the floor of a bathroom much too early in the morning- no, nothing about this was fine.
Andrews blinked, his eyes looked shiny and glassy. Begruvia could have seen his reflection in them if he stared long enough - but he didn’t. Instead, he glared at the floor, “You could have told me,”
“I couldn’t have,”
“Why not?”
He stared down at the petals still on the floor. “What was I supposed to say?” He questioned in return. There was no good explanation for any of this. Not one that he was willing to say aloud, at least. And what could Andrews have done that wouldn’t have just made things worse?
“You really scared me, you know,” Andrews whispered after another long few stretches of silence.
“Why?” Begruvia chuckled. He smiled, though it was filled with malice and self-deprecation. “Be glad. This could get rid of your phantom problem.”
Andrews frowned, more than he was already. “Don’t- don’t say that,” he insisted sternly, “You’re not a problem . Not anymore, at least.”
“Exactly. Anymore,” Begruvia echoed with a rough laugh, nearly sending him into another fit of coughs.
“Begruvia!” Andrews sighed with exasperation. “I don’t want you to die. ” He continued, desperately, reaching out his hands and gently placing them against Begruvia’s shoulders, who, in turn, didn’t react much to them.
With a light sigh he stared deep into the wall, studying its features. Bland. A dull grey color, only made more bland from the stark colors of the flowers. For a brief moment he wondered how long Andrews had been living here.
He wondered how long he could live there. How long Andrews would let him live there.
With him.
Fuck it. What did he have to lose? (Other than his one chance in thousands upon thousands of years to fall in love… The years of fighting only to somehow turn it all around and build up a sense of trust with the one person in the world that seemed willing to trust him, even a little bit. The one person he’d felt really and genuinely safe with. He wouldn’t be able to find anything like this again, that was for sure). He couldn’t just give up on the one chance he had. He couldn’t just sit there and let death consume him. That wasn’t like him. He was tried of being in pain all the time.
His hands were shaking again, but not from the pain this time. No, only from the increasing amounts of worry that were building up inside of him. That pure, all-encompassing fear of rejection that he’d never faced before and would likely never face again. It was a new feeling. He didn’t like it.
Andrews gently took Begruvia’s hands, “Begruvia?”
Don’t patronize me, he wanted to snap. But simultaneously, Andrews’ clear concern about him was welcomed. His voice didn’t work that fast, anyway, and the words got caught in his throat before he could speak them. “I-I’m sorry,” He finally managed, not quite meeting Andrews’ eyes. Guilt gnawed at the back of his mind. If the world didn’t want him to be in love, why would Andrews?
Andrews looked nervous. Scared, almost, his eyes wide with worry. Begruvia almost never apologized for anything. “For- For what?”
Maybe the pain was making him drowsy and more vulnerable than ever. Begruvia couldn’t meet his eyes, hesitantly pulling Andrews closer instead, his grip tight. He wouldn’t get this again, after all. “I- I’m in love,” he whispered, barely audible.
Andrews stayed quiet, though he didn’t remove himself from Begruvia’s hold. And after a moment or two he breathed, wrapping his arm around his back. His grip was firm, he was stronger than he looked. “You know being gay is not a sin, right?” His words sounded soft and rehearsed, as if he’d said them to many people. But his words were genuine, that much he could tell.
Begruvia almost laughed. As if that was the problem here. He gently rested his head against Andrews’ shoulder, closing his eyes. He was so tired and Andrews was so warm… It would be so easy to just fall asleep and forget that any of this ever happened. “When has sinning ever been a problem for me?” He asked quietly. He pulled Andrews closer, wrapping his arms tightly around him, just for the time being. He liked the feeling of closeness that he hadn’t been able to get before. It made his chest burn but he ignored it, Andrews’ warmth was just enough to combat the pain. Andrews, in return, looked somewhat concerned, but accepted regardless. “It’s- that’s not the problem.”
“Then what is it?”
He struggled to find his voice again, the words catching in his throat along with a collection of petals that seemed to make every breath painful and shallow. Tears pricked at the sides of his eyes making his eyes burn, too, but he refused to let them fall. When was the last time he’d cried, even? Hundreds of years ago, perhaps? He didn’t cry. Then again, he didn’t fall in love either, and yet here he was, clinging onto Andrews as if his life depended on it.
Slowly, dreadfully so, he loosened his grip. He focused on the fading warmth instead of the struggle to breathe, carefully eyeing Andrews as he spoke. “I love you,” The words were accompanied by a few petals, and the words themselves felt painful to say as he physically forced them out.
Andrews blinked, and for a few moments he said nothing - his expression blank. No indication of what he could’ve been feeling.
Any hope Begruvia might have held before was lost, and he forced himself away from Andrews. “I know,” He continued, averting his gaze. Shame didn’t even begin to describe how he felt, burning somewhere deep inside of him. It felt like fire, igniting his heart and leaving nothing behind. Maybe his lungs could use the ashes to help the flowers grow faster. “I- I’ll leave soon. Tomorrow, maybe.”
Finally, Andrews moved, now looking surprised. “What? Why?” He questioned quickly, “You can’t do that.”
Begruvia frowned, narrowing his eyes. “Why not? I’m trying to make your life easier.”
Andrews’ gaze softened, and he carefully reached forwards, placing his fingers under Begruvia’s chin and gently moving his head to look towards Andrews (and he did so, although with much confusion). “Because I love you, too,”
“You can’t just say that,” Begruvia scowled, narrowing his eyes and pushing Andrews’ hand away from him, “Don’t lie just because you can.”
Andrews sighed, gently pushing himself backwards and Begruvia wasn’t able to hide the disappointment that he felt immediately afterwards. He sincerely hoped he hadn’t just fucked that up for no reason. “Right,” Andrews replied. “Maybe- maybe I can convince you.” And a moment later he carefully set his hand against the back of Begruvia’s head and pulled them close together. Too close together, as not even a second later their lips touched.
Begruvia’s mind struggled to keep up, finding himself speechless - mostly because he currently couldn’t speak. But after a moment more, he found himself melting into the touch, pressing them ever closer together. They were so close that he could practically hear Andrews’ heartbeat. Even stranger, he could taste Andrews. It wasn’t unpleasant, just unexpected. He tasted just how he smelled - like the church. Maybe that should have been a bad thing for him, but he didn’t mind. It was nostalgic, almost.
He wasn’t a particularly romantic individual (even if the past week or two would say otherwise), but rules be damned, he was going to enjoy this.
It wasn’t until he physically needed air once more that Begruvia finally pushed them apart, vision beginning to go blurry and dark at the edges again. Despite intaking gasping breaths, the only thing he could register was the faint fading warmth from where Andrews had just been.
“How was that?” Andrews inquired after a moment, giving him a tentative smile.
Begruvia managed a chuckle through his breaths, “Impressive,” he admitted. In all of his thousands of years, come and gone, he would have never thought he’d find himself here. Suddenly, his limbs felt weak, and he fell forwards, leaning his head against Andrews’ chest.
“Tired?” Andrews asked quietly, gently placing a hand against his back. He didn’t wait for Begruvia’s response, however, as he began to stand. “Let me carry you.”
He wanted to snap back in response - something about how he could walk himself, thank you very much. But he didn’t. Because being held in Andrews’ arms sounded wondrous (and maybe, just maybe, he still felt a bit weak). So instead he let himself fall somewhat limp as Andrews lifted him up with surprising ease, an arm under his legs and another against his back. There were probably plenty of other more comfortable ways for him to do so, but Begruvia couldn’t care less as he let his eyes drift shut.
Soon enough Andrews had set him against the bed and Begruvia watched as he disappeared out the door again. He might have protested, but if he had, it didn’t do anything. He didn’t pull the blankets over himself in the meantime, barely moving at all, really. But he did stare at the ceiling for a long while. This was his life now, huh? With Andrews…
It didn’t feel real, and he was almost convinced that it wasn’t. That somehow maybe he’d died coughing himself to death and that this was some fucked up part of his mind trying to make up for it. But he supposed he didn’t quite care. The other part of him wanted it to be true, to imagine that somehow he’d lucked out enough to find himself here.
And after an undetermined amount of time, Andrews finally returned, and Begruvia finally turned towards him as he approached.
“You alright there?” Andrews asked quietly, standing at the other side of the bed.
“Yeah,”
He hesitated a moment more before getting into bed. “Why aren’t you under the covers?”
Begruvia shrugged in return, narrowing his eyes, “Why not? Do I have to be?”
“I suppose not,” Andrews replied, reaching over to flick off the light next to the bed. He yawned, rubbing his eyes as he laid down - under the blankets, unlike Begruvia. His voice was muffled and tired, as it had been when he’d first found Begruvia not long ago. “As long as you’re comfortable, I guess.”
Begruvia stayed laying on his side, staring at Andrews for a few moments longer. His eyes were closed, but he didn’t look as peaceful as he usually did when sleeping. Another moment or two passed, and Andrews half opened his eyes, looking over at Begruvia, too. “What now, then?”
Andrews shook his head with a light groan, “Sleep?”
“No, not that. I mean for us. The future, and whatnot,”
Andrews let out a sigh, “Begruvia- It’s almost 2:30 in the morning. Can we talk about this later?” He asked, not exactly leaving much room for other suggestions. He lifted his hand out of the blanket and motioned with his hand. “Just- come here for a moment.”
Giving it a moment of thought, Begruvia eventually relented, shuffling under the blankets, too, a bit closer to Andrews than he had been before - though not too close. He wasn’t quite sure what Andrews wanted from him. But barely a second later, Andrews shifted forwards, too, and gently wrapped his arms around him. He didn’t pull Begruvia any closer, but he rested his hands against Begruiva’s chest. “How’s that?”
Too shocked to move for a few moments, Begruvia took the time to adjust to the contact. But, almost instinctively, he leaned his head back, letting it rest just under Andrews’ own. It was comfortable. And somehow, it felt right. Like this was what had been missing the entire time he’d been there and he hadn’t even noticed. “You better not move,”
Andrews laughed lightly, and Begruvia could feel it against his own body. “Alright. I won’t,” he agreed quietly. “Now go to sleep.”
And Begruvia was tired, so he had no reason to protest as he closed his eyes, relished the warmth, and slowly began to drift off to sleep. As it would turn out, that was the best sleep he’d had for a while. Maybe ever.
By the time he awoke the next morning, Begruvia was still convinced none of it had been real.
It still felt like he was dreaming. He was almost worried to wake up - scared to find that it had all been a dream, and that nothing had changed. But he didn’t. He woke the next morning only to find Andrews’ arms wrapped around him, still asleep. His chest still felt tight, but the pain was nothing more than a distant ache; somehow, he felt safer than ever.
Now that he was there, he never wanted to leave.
It was a strange feeling, but a welcome one. Maybe the future was brighter than he’d given it credit for. He gently ran his fingers across Andrews’ skin, he supposed he had Andrews to thank for that.
Closing his eyes once more, he let himself relax into the shared warmth.
Love was for fools, but damn it, Begruvia was foolish.
Yeah. This was nice.