Work Text:
Pentar had spent years at the gladiatorial space resort. He was the only human competitor they’d ever had, and since humans were already a rarity in this particular system, he had quickly become a crowd favorite for his unique speed and brutality. He didn’t particularly think he was being especially violent as far as human standards went, but it was fun and it paid really well.
Eventually, he figured he’d have enough money to… retire? Find some random planet somewhere in one of the systems near this one and figure out what to do with his life? He really didn’t know. It didn’t seem like a very appealing goal, but the only alternative was to keep fighting forever until he finally got bored or got killed.
He didn’t necessarily miss other humans; plenty of the other competitors were really great people who were fun to fight. This coliseum didn’t necessarily want its competitors to kill each other, so unless something went wrong— which it did, every so often, to the absolute delight of the crowds— Pentar never had to worry about losing his companions.
But still, none of them were really friends. Pentar could hang out with them, but he’d been aching for a real friend for ages. Someone he could trust.
And then the universe brought Ecorridor to him.
It was after an especially brutal fight against one of his usual matchups. There were never any hard feelings between the two of them, so they had sort of unanimously decided to go harder this time, to spice things up a bit. Keep fighting and beating the other into the metal floor of the arena until someone had to come in and drag the two apart.
Pentar had won in the end, but he felt like a lump of bruises and a patchwork of split skin, only kept alive because of the advanced medical technology available behind the scenes at this place. He didn’t want to get himself properly fixed up by the doctors just yet, as he was still buzzing from adrenaline, and he didn’t want to see another competitor because he knew he’d jump them.
So he ended up sort of lost somewhere beside the arena.
And that was where the universe brought him Ecorridor.
Pentar will never forget the first thing E said to him.
A soft laugh. “Are you okay?”
It was a laugh directed at Pentar, but it was a smile, and it was for Pentar and Pentar alone. A complete stranger, potentially someone who had sat up in the stands and cheered at the bloodshed and shouted for him to beat the other competitor into the floor, but it was someone here for him.
Pentar had nearly started crying.
He will always remember what E had first said to him, but he genuinely can’t remember what he said in response. He can’t remember what he did in those first moments to get E to stay with him. What he did to convince E to sit there with him for the evening, to come up to Pentar’s suite and help him put ice on his injuries. Pentar could deal with his injuries on his own, of course, but having someone there with him, someone who seemed to care, made a part of him that he didn’t realize was still there ache for a closer connection.
E was still there when Pentar woke up the next morning, and Pentar really did start crying then. He rolled over to his side, looking at E through blurry tears, and sobbed like a child.
“Does it still hurt?” E had said, sounding concerned. He had come closer, holding a hand out but not touching yet.
“Yeah,” Pentar had lied. “It’s… yeah. It still hurts.”
And after another moment’s pause, E had finally placed his hand on Pentar’s shoulder. His hand was a bit cooler than Pentar’s, but the contact felt like it was burning his skin.
He kept crying for nearly half an hour until he fell asleep again. And once again, when he woke up, E was there.
༘⋆༄.°⋆
Pentar doesn’t cry when E puts his hand on his shoulder now. He doesn’t even start crying when E lets Pentar lie his head on his lap and pets his hair and talk about whatever’s on his mind. Sure, he did that a lot at the start of this, but he’s gotten acclimated to it.
He’s gotten greedy for it.
He wants every second of E’s time. He wants his attention, he wants his affection, and he wants his smiles and jokes and little moments.
It’s been months since that first moment, and Pentar won’t admit to anyone, but he’s been gradually letting himself fight longer and harder each successive time. He’s been agreeing to the more brutal fights, the spectacles that the crowd goes wild for, which leave the competitors nursing broken body parts for days until the doctors can get them fixed up properly again.
Just the other day, he volunteered last minute for a five-person cage fight, suspended hundreds of feet off the ground, no way out until one person soundly defeated everyone else in there.
The fight was today.
And Pentar has just won.
Barely.
He’s delirious and bloody when they finally drag him and the other four out of there. They have him stand over the others for a minute or so for the whole arena to see and scream in excitement.
The owners congratulate him as he’s led out to a recovery room, discreetly asking him how soon he’ll want to do this again. Pentar just shrugs non-committedly, his mind already on what’s coming next.
Ecorridor.
E meets him at the end of the tunnel, and he gently guides Pentar into his arms. There’s two doctors in here too, but they don’t matter. The only one that matters is E.
“Dude, that was so intense,” E says, his voice low and soft as ever. Pentar feels every muscle in his body relax, sinking into his embrace. “You’re okay?”
“Yeah,” Pentar says, unable to stop smiling.
He’s okay. He’s so okay. He’s so fucking happy.
“Okay,” E says with a laugh. Pentar moves along with him as he settles onto a couch in the room. Other hands touch him, somewhat detached and clinically, and Pentar briefly goes tense. He grits his teeth and balls his hands into fists.
He doesn’t want anyone but E touching him right now.
“Shh, relax,” E says, petting his hair. “They’re just here to help. It’s okay.”
Pentar sighs and closes his eyes. He’s lying on top of E, and it feels so nice. E’s body temperature is cool, like a balm against his aching, overheated body. He could lie here forever. He’s pretty sure he can. He felt like shit when they unlocked the cage and let him out, but he feels amazing right now.
“That’s okay,” E says. His soft laugh again. Pentar feels like he’s sinking into a blissful cloud or something. He just wants to stay right here forever.
The other hands come back, and Pentar isn’t necessarily happy about it, but E’s still petting his hair, and he supposes he can tolerate the intrusion, as long as it goes away soon enough.
Words. He can make words. Pentar swallows down the growl that’s been building in his throat as if he’s some kind of animal and tries to get his eyes open. Unsuccessful, but he hears a nice-sounding hum from E.
“You saw it?” Pentar mumbles.
“Yeah, I saw it,” E says. “That was crazy. I thought you were about to start eating them with how hard you were going. Even though you told me humans aren’t usually cannibals.”
Well, who knows, maybe he will eat the other competitors, someday. The doctors keep touching him, and Pentar thinks about biting to end the continued unwanted contact. He doesn’t need them, he only needs E.
“Shh, stop that,” E says.
Was Pentar growling again? His throat is about the only thing that doesn’t hurt right now, although it is dry as hell. Dry as a desert, full of sand and no water and no Ecorridor. There’s no sand in the arena, just a shiny white metal floor that shows off the blood from hundreds of different species so nicely. A hundred different shades of blood, splattered all over the floor, hosed off every morning for more brutal rounds of fighting the next day.
“Pentar? They’re asking you how your head is feeling,”
Who has? Pentar hasn’t been paying attention to anything but E, and even that’s kind of hard. He does his best to roll his body up so he’s even closer to E, so he doesn’t miss anything important.
“Come on, Pentar, I know humans are tough, but brain injuries are serious,” E says. “How’s your head?”
Hands— cool, gentle, loving hands— touch either side of Pentar’s face and tilt it upwards. Pentar finally manages to blink his eyes open. Ow. Light hurts. But holy shit, that’s E. He’s so beautiful. He’s everything. He’s the only thing that matters. He’s Pentar’s whole world. Pentar hopes he’s smiling at him, so E knows how much he fucking loves him.
“I think you have a brain injury,” E says.
“I love you, E,” Pentar says. At least he’s pretty sure he says it. E doesn’t seem to react like Pentar thinks he should, so he tries to say it again. “I love you.”
E’s expression softens. “Okay. Can you do something for me, Pentar?”
Anything. Anything. Pentar will do anything for him.
“Stay awake and don’t hit the doctors for a little bit, okay?”
Hm. Pentar doesn’t like that second suggestion. E will have to hold his hands if he wants Pentar to keep them from smacking anyone intruding on their moment, and right now he’s not doing that. Pentar really can’t be held responsible for his actions right now. They’re intruding on his very important Ecorridor time.
Eventually, E does end up holding Pentar’s hands, which is a fantastic win, although it does mean he’s not petting Pentar anymore. Terrible. Pentar shuts his eyes and bumps his head against E’s chin.
Ow.
“Careful,” E says. His fingers are gently massaging Pentar’s hands, which also hurt, but it feels so good. E is careful around the split skin and the bruises, applying just the right amount of pressure on Pentar’s palms.
Pentar loves it. He loves E.
“That’s good,” E says, and maybe Pentar still has the capacity to cry at how E treats him.
He’s good. He’s so good. He can be so good for E.
“Don’t leave me,” he whispers.
E doesn’t say anything, and Pentar feels panic start to set in. Did E not hear him? Did E hear him but he doesn’t want to answer? Is E going to leave him someday? He can’t, he’s not allowed to do that, Pentar will die if he doesn’t have E—
“E,” he says. It hurts to move his head, and those stupid doctors keep poking at him, and he can’t even hit them because he’s trying his best to be good for E, so E will keep holding him and telling him he’s good and won’t leave him.
“It’s okay,” E finally says, and the panic fades as quickly as it came. “You’re doing good, Pentar. Just relax. They’ll have your concussion fixed up in a few more minutes. Just stay awake for me, okay?”
Okay, yeah, Pentar will try his best to do that.
He manages to open his eyes again, because awake means eyes should probably be open. Also eyes open means he can look at E again.
E smiles at him. “Good,” he says, and Pentar’s heart swells with warmth. “It’s going to be okay.”
Of course it’s going to be okay, Pentar thinks. He’s got E. And E has got him too.