Work Text:
Love wasn’t sweet, no, not to him. The sensation was a ferocious animal, furious at the cage it was prisoner to. It clawed at his stomach in waves of nausea, it gnawed at his chest in a futile attempt at attention. It was a wasp’s nest in his gut. A noose held just tight enough for his breath to never quite satisfy his need for air. But these were foolish notions, Telamon never cared for the complacency of a relationship; He had far more pressing matters to attend to. Such as this stone wall he was chipping away at for the crime of being nearby at such a pressing moment. As the empty server around him rang with the high pitched shrieks of every thought manifested into his blade, the swordsman was silent. Plagued by his treacherous thoughts.
It was a brief respite he’d allow himself (as if he ever denied himself any pleasure), a chance to seek a moment of solace from the celestial torment he put himself in. Bile tickled his throat as every swing of his sword left an aching gash in the rock, another crack in the chassis holding it back. Love screamed, howled, begged for release, filling Telamon’s head with disgustingly sweet fantasies he could never indulge in. About him . Oh the prose he fumbled over in his head, twisting and turning parasitic threads of longing around his neck. Every stolen glance at a future he couldn’t hold only tightened its grip on his throat, a celestial noose he insisted on tightening for a moment of lovesick consideration. Even now, rope taut around his windpipe, he continued losing himself in fantasies of calloused hands and gentle words he could never claim, self-inflicted celestial torment too bittersweet to ignore.
Heights, how pathetic must he look, he mused. The Divine Telamon , reduced to a jackhammer, punishing the landscape around him, scattering pebbles into the void, a fitting metaphor for the convoluted mess he created in his mind.
Wait. Jackhammer ?
The noose tightens.
Telamon wasn’t sure how long his tantrum had gone on for, but his phone buzzing reminded him of who he was. Not a melodramatic adolescent, weeping for adoration from the one person he couldn’t have, but an Admin that was Not Doing His Work.
[ BUILDERMAN | BM | SENT A MESSAGE! ]
BM: You know
BM: It’s a hoot to watch interns climb up that stack of reports to put another file on your desk.
TL: yeha
TL: yeah?
BM: Oh yeah.
And the beast in his chest settled, appeased by a miserable text telling him to get back to work . For all it bemoaned, all Builderman had to do was cast a look in his wretched direction for it to make peace with its cage. After all that work he put to soothe it, Builderman’s unspoken call to Telamon was the lullaby it craved. Son of a bitch. Pathetic, really.
BM: Next one’s already offering a Limited to not climb Everest.
TL: hows the bidding LOL
BM: No takers, unfortunately.
Yikes, full punctuation. That was Builder for I’m not going to ask you to do the work I’ve been pleading you to do for months , and for all his moaning, Telamon was not going to face the other’s ire today.
…
Well.
T: thats crazy
Telamon was a god , not a saint.