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Vessel heard his name called when he was halfway down the stairs from his room.
He’d been practicing—or, at least, that’s what Two liked to call it when he spent time alone in his room, but he wasn’t necessarily putting pen to paper. Napping, gaming, and sketching out ideas for album art were all tasks fun to perform in the others’ company, but that Vessel often preferred to be solitary for. The downside (and the upside, he supposed) was that he had to come out of his self-imposed isolation at some point for his stupid food and stupid human interaction for his stupid mental health.
It wasn’t like his band mates were awful to be around or anything. He genuinely loved them. He loved that they loved each other, that it’d slowly turned into something more. He loved that he felt like he belonged here, even if he was the one to bring them all together in the first place. When he wrote ballads of love they were written for them, when he went to the shops or to the gym or the park it was to spend time with them. Four had said it was the highest honor he’d been bestowed when Vessel let it slip.
It was just that… sometimes he wasn’t in the mood.
Like now. His head felt off-kilter. Wrong. But he still smiled when he recognized Three’s voice.
He carefully trod down the rest of the steps and into the kitchen, slowing to gaze with a curious tilt at their bassist leaned up against the counter, and the new button-up he was wearing.
Four had been lending Three his clothing tastes in place of his actual clothes(which wouldn’t fit each other anyway), so maybe this was a gift between the guitarists, or an attempt at impression. The white pinstripes against black looked nice on his tall, lean, frame.
“Hey, love,” Three began, casually playing with the black-striped cuffs. “Could you check one of the buttons for me? It keeps coming undone.” He gestured to the third one down from his collar and his playful grin.
Toe to toe with the bassist he stooped to eye the button, expecting to find it unevenly stitched, or for Three to have already pulled one of the threads out like the clumsy man he was—
Three’s lips connected with his forehead.
…Ah.
Vessel didn’t have time to-- he couldn’t, really-- react as Three kissed him, hands cradling the sides of his head, lips soft against him and leaving with a gentle, pecking sound.
Vessel stared at the button. There was nothing wrong with it.
He blinked.
It was sweet, wasn’t it? It was supposed to be sweet.
The sound of the chaste kiss echoed in his ears like an earworm.
”You’re so cute.”
He swallowed down the saliva filling his mouth.
“We must’ve been made for each other, love,” she said, and it was her hands cupping his face. Her breath smelling like cancer. Her mouth ghosting down the bridge of his nose.
She whispered saccharine before she kissed his nose, leaving a subtle pink stain.
Her hands carded through his hair, the tips of manicured nails so light through short locks. Running between his head and the pillow, his back pressed into the mattress while she made out with his limp lips, her own wet and careless with alcohol and so disgusting with their smacking sound.
He didn’t like it. He’d fantasized about kissing his childhood crushes, he’d kissed her when she did something that made his heart swell. But, this was wrong, wrong, wrong. He couldn’t refuse a kiss, though. How terrible a boyfriend would he have to be to refuse a kiss? That would mean he didn’t really love her, and he did love her. Every couple kissed. He was just weird.
So she could pull him in for one whenever she wanted, wherever she wanted. Neither of them trusted him to initiate anyways. She could manipulate him into her arms like a doll or a pet and he needed to remind himself not to flinch or she’d be hurt, and not to cringe or she’d ask him what was wrong, and then there would be the accusations on his heels until he let her lick into his mouth while she pulled at his waistband, in worship and apology for everything he wasn’t, and he was so, so lucky to have had her because surely no one else would put up with him, and he was so thankful they understood each other well enough she could pull what she needed from his selfish body herself—
“Vessselllll?”
Vessel blinked again.
“Hey. You okay?”
His eyes flicked up to Three, the other staring down with a blushy grin. “Did I fluster you, love?”
Vessel shuddered. Then nodded shyly for cover, hoping it came across as sheepish rather than overwhelming discomfort.
He loved Three.
He bought him the nicest picks he could find, imagery of bats and mushrooms and punctuation; he pressed his forehead into the other’s shoulder, gently evading hugs but when the rare urge struck Vessel pressed the briefest of kisses to his neck, his jaw, his calloused hands.
All Three had done was kiss his forehead. Three kissed Four like that all the time.
So why… why did he feel… violated?
Three huffed a giggle, leaning over to grab his phone. “Four and me’re going out, but d’you want to play something later? Game sesh? Jam sesh?”
Vessel’d like that, but he… he wanted desperately to be alone. No hands reaching for him. No voices calling for him. Alone alone alone.
Vessel had loved her, too.
“I—yeah, I—er…” Vessel stammered. He backpedaled, slow and measured. “I’ll just…” He gestured back the way he came and cleared his throat. “Just call me when you’re back.” And he was on his heels, casual, until he was safe to skitter up the stairs. His face was burning.
He closed the door of his room behind him then braced against it, trying hard not to remember the way Three was smiling down on him like the cat that got the canary.
How she smiled at him, like she was expecting something--
His room, even with the gauzy light coming in through the curtains, was suddenly claustrophobic, and he wanted to turn off the lights and hide under the covers until sleep took him. Nap away the gnawing in his stomach and the tempest in his head.
At some point he migrated to its safety, sinking into the pillows and staring listlessly up at the ceiling.
He did love Three. And Four, and Two. And kisses and closeness and spending time together were how you told someone you cared. It was natural.
When you loved someone, you wanted to spend every waking moment with them… right? They were your source of comfort, right? You could say no to sex, of course you could, but you’d want them to hold you and kiss you. And you couldn’t say no to that forever, or they’d feel unloved. At some point tears had built up in his eyes.
He could convince himself that maybe his sense of affection was broken, but he still cared about them so much. He didn’t want them to give up on him. Vessel sniffed. He didn’t want to suffer again.
“Oh, so you can go snogging me, but how dare I snog you?”
…He’d just have to be a good boyfriend and put up with it.
That’s what you did when you were in love.
…Right?
-+-
Maybe if one said their “I’m alright with this” affirmations often enough, they could convince themselves it was true. That was how exposure therapy worked.
Even if his hands shook.
In between rounds of Valorant and gushing about the shenanigans they got up to on his meeting(date) with Four(how does one almost catch their drink on fire?) the game paused with a chirp, Three leaning back, frowning over the other’s half-hearted playing and noncommittal hums.
“You alright?” He asked, quiet and solemn, blue eyes upturned with gentle worry.
Vessel wanted to hide.
He cursed himself for being so hung up on this it bled into a time that should’ve been relaxing, too, and thumbed the controller’s stick until his hand complained. He hadn’t really wanted to leave his room. But he was fine. He needed this. He’d even eaten a few crisps when he could finally peel himself from the comforter. Could a not-alright person do that?
Vessel hummed. Then nodded, then realized Three would probably want something more concrete. He said “yeah” aloud, and surely that would be enough to reassure the other. His lip twitched.
Three didn’t sound reassured.
“…Did something happen?”
Vessel stared at the screen in front of them. The quiet ambience of its menu music filled the darkened rooms, both the one they were sitting in, and the one his mind was occupying. He shrugged.
“Nothing happened. Just… caught up in my head again.”
And as Two always said-- and was often right about--it would pass.
Three frowned(he knows, he suspects--), and let the controller rest on his lap.
“Anything I can do? Don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but y’know I’m a good listener.”
Three… wasn’t a good listener. Not that Vessel ever got too annoyed by his yapping. The d-pad was digging into his thumb.
“I don’t know.”
What Vessel wanted was comfort. He could cross the moat he’d put between himself and the other on the couch, and hold Three if he wanted. He knew he could. But what if Three held him back, and never let go? Squeezed him like a snake, peppered more kisses to his crown and laughed like he was just being dramatic when he tried to free himself—
“I can get the others. Can chill and watch some shite baking shows.”
Vessel paused to consider. Then nodded. It… sounded nice. Four was napping, and Two was practicing if the distant thumping of drums was anything to go by, but it was always fun to watch them yell at the contestants and moan exaggeratedly at the food. If Four fell asleep again Vessel could even curl up to him…
“Yeah… I’d like that.”
Three beamed, and Vessel felt a godray peak through the black, churning clouds in his skull.
“I’ll grab ‘em. Find us something to watch, love,” Three playfully ordered as he stood. Then before Vessel could move he’d leaned down and kissed his head, a peck before he moved on with the task.
When the sound of his clumsy stomps were out of earshot, Vessel let himself start drifting again.
The darkness was back. The thunder sounded again, mocking.
He pulled his arms around himself.
-+-
Vessel didn’t want to say it escalated, because escalated was a word you used for problems, and this wasn’t an issue. Well, beyond Vessel being… himself, maybe
But for the first time since they’d all moved in together, Vessel was on edge in his own home.
Three had kissed him again before they finally went to bed, closing in on the ninth episode and single digits on the clock. Vessel forced himself not to brace when he realized what Three was doing, even managed to lean in slightly from where him and Four had pillowed against each other like a teepee.
When Three had gone Vessel blinked dully from the telly to Two, their drummer staring at him with eyebrows raised in surprise, melting into soft love. Vessel slid his attention back to the show.
If Linda could make a decent baked Alaska, he could learn to accept his lovers’ affection.
He could do this.
Two came up to him a few days later, doing his best not to corner the other in the kitchen while Vessel was waiting for the kettle to boil, digging for something in the pantry before he was silent in a way Vessel recognized as considering his next move carefully.
Then there was a presence behind him. Two kissed Vessel’s shoulder as he passed, on the tips of his toes to reach. At least with his back turned Two couldn’t see the way he cringed.
“Going for a run later. Would you like to join?”
Vessel breathed in the comforting smell of the teabags waiting for him, the familiar scent of Two’s cologne.
“Mm-hm,” he choked out.
He could hear the smile in Two’s voice, “I’ll be blaming your height for why you’ve been so neglected. Three has the advantage. You may have to bend down more often if you’d like any proper necking from myself or Four, if your knees can handle that.”
His voice grew muffled with the way he was pressing his forehead into the small of Vessel’s back, thankfully hidden from the way the other was screaming internally.
He wanted to scream out loud. At the world, at himself, and most infuriatingly of all at them, even though they didn’t deserve it. It was his own fault he was so strange and selfish.
“I’ll be fine,” Vessel muttered, and couldn’t help the bitter relief that came with Two pulling away from him.
Selfish. You don’t care. You don’t really love them, do you?
He turned with a jerk, catching Two before he could move away entirely and pressing a kiss of his own right above the other’s ear, soft brown locks tickling his face and the spice scent of him even more soothing up close. It was nicer than being kissed. He still wasn’t in the right headspace, though- it still felt wrong.
But Two smiled at him so sweetly he felt a real urge to kiss him again, and so he did.
When the kettle was done boiling he steeped his tea too fast, and started slurping it down when it was too hot.
Two and Three kept doing it.
They kept startling him coming up behind him to wrap their arms around him, holding tight. Whenever it happened while Vessel was holding his phone, he darkened the screen in a panic, even though he had nothing to hide from them. They never brought it up; too focused on showering him with their (unrequested, uninvited, uncomfortable) love and attention.
If Two studied him carefully when he confirmed again that yes, it was alright, he was okay with what was currently happening(liar), Vessel schooled himself into assured honesty the best he could. He had plenty of practice.
Four joined in soon after. He hung off of Vessel like a limpet, clutching him close in between songs they practiced and digging his brow under his chin to kiss at his neck.
“I love you, mate,” he muttered through the happiest grin Vessel had ever seen when Vess brought him a stone he’d found that looked a bit like a licorice allsort. He was getting better at stopping himself from freezing when they pulled him into his arms.
Vessel’s moods usually only lasted a week or so at most. Now, every time he almost felt like he was starting to come out of it, Four would kiss him casually. Three would wrap his arm around his shoulders at the shops while he was looking at journals. He’d feel one of their heads resting between his shoulder blades when his back was turned. He couldn’t burrow close to any of them without them gripping back(too tight too tight too tight).
He wanted them to stop, but he couldn’t tell them why, so he couldn’t ask them. They would stare at him so hurt, then with sour judgment when his rare urges to kiss them struck, when he needed to be around them but paradoxically didn’t want to be acknowledged, and they’d be so upset. They’d feel used.
It would happen. He knew it.
He buried his face in his hands, alone in his room.
They’d get distant from him first; wary and delicate with him like he was fragile. Then they’d quit asking him to join them for dinner or walks or gym or movie nights. Then they’d move someplace else, promising to keep in touch but acknowledging that Vessel must just prefer his own space, so this was for the best. Then they’d stop responding. They wouldn’t need him when they had each other.
Selfish.
His lips curled tight into a grimace, trying to hold back the emotions begging to be let out.
“I love you.”
“You do?” she replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. “It doesn’t feel like it.”
The first tear slipped out, and he needed the others. Four or Two or even Three, even though their touch had been driving him mad. Even though they were all likely asleep at this time of night. He shot up out of bed, wobbling upright on shaky legs. He needed someone he loved and trusted, just to know they hadn’t left him yet. To feel something.
He wandered through the darkened flat like a ghost until he wound up in front of Four’s door, hardwood cracked open in invitation for any of them(mostly Three, it seemed) to come in. He pulled his robe tighter around himself, and slipped through.
Stepping carefully to avoid any haphazard piles of clothing or stacks of fantasy novels, he crawled into the plush bed, easily finding room to curl up next to Four’s smaller body.
He hadn’t even calmed enough to pull the blankets over himself before the rhythmic sound of the other’s breaths, the company of his warmth, his sheer presence was lulling Vessel to sleep.
He rested a hand on Four’s arm, firm with muscle, soft with padding, and let himself sail to Sleep’s realm.
It felt like hours—but may have been mere minutes—when he came back to awareness with the sound of Four making soft snuffling sounds in his sleep. Then the bed dipping with movement. The other turned over with a flop and a creak of the springs, adjusting in his sleep to lie on his side better, Vessel barely able to make out his delicate, fast-asleep features in the dim light coming from the street lamp outside the covered window.
Four flopped out a lethargic hand, reaching to Vessel’s palm still sat on his bicep, feeling his knuckles like his dreaming mind was struggling to identify what he felt. Then before Vessel could properly react he’d moved again, trailing his hand up Vessel’s arm and around his waist, wrapping it around him and pulling them close together from where he’d been curled up, until Vessel’s face was shoved into Four’s neck.
His breath caught in his throat. Restraining limbs held him tightly. Unexpectedly. The small puff of air he let out through lungs felt heavy, and when he inhaled the scent of Four’s shampoo (that should have been comforting, why wasn’t it comforting) it smothered him.
He squirmed until he could brace his hands on the smaller chest crammed too close to his own. Vessel was much taller, but Four was just as broad, and sturdy. He pushed gently and nothing happened. Maybe Four twitched in his sleep but that was it.
“Off…” he mumbled, voice strangled in his throat to a whisper. “Please.”
For a split second it was her around him. Cuddling him close, holding tightly on, not waking up to any word he muttered or any beg or plead that usually worked. That’s what love was. Love was taking the affection he was given. He should have just accepted it, but instead he’d just had to elbow what was holding him to escape, and after she jerked awake she was bruised and she’d screamed and screamed at him—
“No—”
He wriggled, squeezing at the arm nestled around him. He didn’t want to hurt Four, but if he couldn’t free himself from the angle, if he was in a lock—a chokehold-- He settled again, breaths suddenly too fast, and Four took his moment of stillness to nuzzle closer in his sleep.
Lips brushed the skin above his eyebrow.
“You don’t care.”
Vessel launched himself up.
The violent motion startled Four awake, but Vessel couldn’t pay him any mind, too focused on kicking away the sheets tangling his legs and the heavy arms he finally pushed away and off, ending up rolling over Four in a tangled heap of confusion and hyperventilation as he tried to gain impossible bearings in the dark.
“Wha—Vess?”
Vessel braced his palms on the sheets and heaved himself up. The body below him let out a solid oof, and next thing he knew he was practically straddling the other, Four’s wide eyes and pale face a beacon through the shadows. “Vessel—”
Hands reached for his sides, his shoulders: nimble fingers that could pick out any tune that came to mind on a guitar and hold his lovers by their cheeks while he kissed them and could burn through thin fabric like a torch.
“No,” Vessel growled like a sob, and knocked them away, losing his balance in the process. He bowed atop him headfirst, skin aflame. “Please. No.”
Four balked in dozy confusion. Then raised his hands to either side of his shoulders in surrender.
“…okay. Okay…”
Vessel heaved for air. He could see the bookshelf through the dim light. He could see Four’s guitars they didn’t have room for in the practice room hanging proudly on the wall. He could see Four, looking at him through the rude awakening with genuine concern.
“Nightmare..?” he murmured.
He could see the outline of the vase of flowers Two got for Four. Kept alive through sheer luck and wishful thinking.
He shook his head no.
He could just barely see the rock he gave him on the shelf.
Four’s weight shifted like he was going to reach for him again, then reconsidered, landing on the blankets to either side with an eternal pause. “Can I… touch you?”
He still felt like he was being swarmed by ants, smothered and eaten alive.
He wanted to be held.
He wanted to claw his fickle, selfish skin off.
He didn’t do that. Instead, he let his head fall further until his nose dug into Four’s chest, ashamed at the wetness around his eyes and the way the warmth against his head made him feel so human when the warmth of clammy hands made his skin crawl.
“Please don’t touch me,” he begged it in a whisper, his face buried in the soft old shirt Four had worn to bed, his hands raising to wrap around the other’s flank. Four’s confusion was palpable. “Hold me. Please.”
“Vess, mate… I can’t… hold you, and not touch you...?”
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Vessel didn’t know how to explain it. But Four didn’t seem too perturbed by his lack of elaboration.
When he’d calmed down enough to remember his hands he moved Four’s arms—lightly—to either side of his waist, just enough he could feel Four’s fingers twitch there. Not grabbing. Just… resting, as the other drifted between witnessing his breakdown and going back to sleep, like he wanted to help but didn’t know how.
“S’alright,” Four ended up rumbling. He rubbed his fingers in a downy back and forth, caressing without coveting, settling back into the mattress with Vessel as his weighted blanket. “You’re alright, mate.”
And it felt… better. He wasn’t alright but he was better.
Eventually Four maneuvered him off, careful to guide without manipulating, until they were side by side, facing each other. They melted into the comforter defiant of the room’s coolness.
He fell back into a shallow sleep, and felt thankful he was too drained to let the dread have its way with him.
-+-
There was a quiet conversation going on above him. His lip twitched, but he hadn’t woken all the way quite yet.
“…it didn’t make any sense.”
He recognized Four’s voice, and the quiet murmer of Two’s response afterwards.
“…he had a fucking panic attack, Two…” Three’s voice was solemn more than upset.
“…tell us himself, if he wants.”
Vessel stretched to alert the others he was awake, realizing that he couldn’t feel any of the others from where he was. Sprawling out his legs to find no resistance, he realized it was because he was alone in the bed.
“Hey, he’s… Ves, you awake?” Four asked.
He blinked his eyes open to see Four sitting at the bed’s edge, fully dressed in a hoodie and jeans and smiling softly down at him with perhaps the most we-need-to talk-but-casually expression Vessel had ever seen. Three sat on the floor beyond, knees folded up to his chest and back against the chest of drawers, while Two stood in the doorframe, arms crossed. The storm of dread he’d thought the morning sun would chase away was crashing down behind him.
“Morning,” Four said, and Vessel closed his eyes again, preparing himself. He wished he could at least have some tea or coffee before he broke their hearts.
“’m sorry,” he began, voice broken.
Four inclined his head, expression going soft and sad.
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”
Vessel smeared his hands down his face, rubbing the sand from his eyes. “Yeah, I… I do.”
The silence was painful.
“You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to,” Two clarified at the same time as Three rumbled, “what happened?”
Two shot him a glare. Three looked unrepentant in his concern, bouncing his knees as he spoke. “You’ve been distant. Or… not yourself, and then Four comes to breakfast without you saying you were acting mad. And if it’s private it’s private but I can’t stand to think of you suffering this alone. We’re here for you. You know that, right?”
“Three.” Two snapped, but Vessel pushed himself up, smoothing down the robe from how it’d scrunched haphazardly overnight. Four reached for him. Then pulled away at the last minute, shoving his hand back on top of his thigh.
He didn’t know whether he’d wanted him to touch him or not. And the rain came down.
“I love you. I love all of you so much,” and the sight of all of them staring back with blooming adoration made him want to carve the image into his heart like a photo in a wallet. “I love you. But… being touched, or, or kissed… sometimes it just feels awful, and I don’t know why.”
Two’s face fell like he’d finally realized an ugly truth. Four froze where he was sitting.
Three was the first to respond, swearing sharply. “How long have you known you didn’t like it?” he asked like he didn’t want to know the answer.
Vessel couldn’t meet his eye when he gave it. “…Since you kissed me. Before that date with Four.”
“Fuck."
It was Three’s turn to put his face in his hands, gripping at the locks there. “Bloody—fuck.” He stood abruptly, but Two stopped him from trying to leave the room with a hand to his chest and a shake of the head.
To Vessel he asked tenderly, “why didn’t you tell us, love?”
”Sooo… you don’t care.”
“Because I’m not denying you. And I… I like being with you guys.” Cornered as he was the words spilled freely like excuses and apologies. “And I like cuddling and kissing you, but I don’t like you cuddling and kissing me back, but that’s not fair.”
“Why isn’t that fair, love?” Two was always one to talk through issues one by one, piece by piece like a proper therapist. It didn’t work all that well when Three was pacing the short length of the room like a caged tiger, and Four was wringing his hands, head down.
“What happened last night?” Four whispered, ignoring that Two had asked something first.
Vessel shrugged hunched shoulders. “It is fair… You pulled me closer. In your sleep! You didn’t know you were doing it. But I went into a fit for no reason. I shouldn’t be taking my own comfort from you lot whenever I need it without letting you have anything back.”
“Vess. You weren’t enjoying it—”
“I had no reason not to. I’m sorry, I love you, all of you so much, please.” He didn’t know why Four wasn’t getting it.
Three butted back in, stern enough to make him freeze. “If you don’t like being touched, then I don’t know about Two or Four but I don’t get anything from touching you. None of us should be doing anything that upsets you to the point of panic, Ves!”
Vessel flinched like he’d been struck, and the room fell silent once again. Too long, too deep a silence: he’d fucked it up again. The best thing he never had.
“I’m sorry,” he begged, even though he knew it was much too late. “I’m sorry.”
Two let out a wounded sound, pausing to ruminate over his words before he’d spit them out. They weren’t as poisonous as he expected when they came. “Three is right, even if he’s being far too aggressive for the situation,” he shot the other another glare. “We love you. If you’re uncomfortable, all you need do is let us know, and we’ll leave you be.”
“But you don’t deserve that! I’ll get weird over the most stupid things, and you don’t deserve to be… walking on eggshells around me, every time you want me to be…” The bed shifted, and Four twisted around to face him, blue eyes sparkling with emotion but crinkled with hope.
“So tell us,” he said, like it was the easiest, thing in the world.
Vessel blinked up like he’d suggested they all go naked to the next gig, chasing the blurriness from his vision to see if he was being genuine.
“…what? I… I don’t know…”
Three made a noise of agreement from where he was leaning, pinned to the wall by Two’s sharp gaze saying he’d lost patience with his shenanigans. “You said you liked kissing us, but not being kissed? I can work with that.”
Vessel’s mouth flapped. Truly, genuinely lost for words.
“It’s not that consistent,” he explained. “Well, that—that’s true. But sometimes I want to be alone and hate touch entirely, but sometimes I need to be around you and I need you to want me back. To feel human. But without… grabbing me.”
It barely made sense to his own ears, so he doubted they’d get it. And that confusion would beget avoidance would beget falling out of love(if they ever loved him, if he ever loved them) would beget an empty flat--
Four shifted again, opening his arms. “Can I… can you… do you want to hold me?” he wiggled his fingers in invitation, otherwise placid and still, almost limp, but glad to have him. And Vessel felt that melting in his freezing heart. “If you want to…”
Vessel hitched a sob, pulling himself across the covers into him. He draped his head on Four’s shoulder when he reached, fisting his broad hands in the fabric of the design on the other’s sweater. The phantom feeling of his skin crawling abandoned him the longer he realized Four wasn’t reaching up to squeeze him back, hands ghosted over Vessel’s sides without seizing.
Was that it? Did his mind just want permission? For the stars and planets to align, and for his lovers to just ask? …They’d get tired of asking, surely. No other couple had to ask for simple contact—
“You’ve got me. I love you.” Four whispered.
Vessel let go of Four’s hoodie to push his hands closer, urging him to touch, to keep his fingers loose but there as he forced himself to imagine a life where they didn’t mind.
“I love you.”
When he cracked his eyes open he could see Three and Two stare on without judgement. Perhaps some jealousy.
Maybe they… maybe they wouldn’t mind.
They weren’t really a normal couple, them. Maybe it could be okay.
“Can I ask you to kiss me?” Four questioned softly. He could feel him puff a bit of a laugh, the cheek in him retuning fast. “Can I beg you to?”
And.
Oh.
That… didn’t sound so bad.
-+-
Three months later, the storming, roiling clouds were long in the rearview.
The others hadn’t left him. No screaming matches. No distancing out of some misguided belief he wanted nothing at all from them with nothing to give in return.
Just Two asking him if he could hug him, what touches he thought he liked, how to signal if he wasn’t interested, how to signal if it was all he needed; and the strangest part was that Two listened. Hugs and gestures and making food for him, exchanging gifts that Vessel adored more than a thousand kisses. He felt loved. He could start to believe it when Two said he felt loved by him, too.
Just Three never kissing him without warning again. Waiting for Vessel to come to him. Letting Ves sprawl down over him during Sugar, rarely touching him back but gesturing to beg for kisses Vessel could choose whether or not to relinquish, without any fear he would feel neglected if refused(after great insistence).
Checking in with a light touch to his side. Subtly okay-ing with nods and smiles until they fell into an easy rhythm of what worked.
Just Four falling to his knees on stage, reaching for him in worship. Letting Vessel kiss him if he wanted, whisper love if he didn’t. Let him cuddle up to him—always the favorite for it, like a chosen one, or something. Four was the most touchy, the most careful, the one who understood first that the pillow wall Vessel sometimes built between them when he crawled into his bed wasn’t a rejection
Just Vessel realizing that kissing them with their masks as a barrier was indescribably better.
Just trust: pure, unadulterated trust, that Vessel hadn’t felt for himself or for others in a long time.
He loved him. They loved him back.
They felt loved.
With every call of his name, he believed it.