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„I did perfectly fine on my own countless times. And in far worse conditions, mind you!“ Arthur bristled, but a large steady hand under his chin tilted his head to look a bit higher again.
„Even the first time at the hospital it—“
„It was patchy at best“ John’s deep voice cut him off, coming from above, close behind him. The shaving kit laid open on the bathroom countertop, razor already in John’s hand.
Arthur huffed but leaned his hands on the edge of the sink for support. He was facing the bathroom mirror, he couldn’t see it but he knew there was the reflection of his shirtless body, his weathered pale face, staring back at him. He didn’t need to be told how the last months wore him down, he could feel it. The still too prominent rib cage, the scars marring his frame wherever Arthur touched… But he was getting better, he was *doing* better and yet John still insisted-
„I know what you’re about to say and you know what I am about to answer to that too. Let’s just skip all that and let me do this.“ John said, his voice deliberately patient, but the exasperation was seeping through. His hand still keeping Arthur’s head still and Arthur felt the goosebumps on his bare back, John’s torso just shy of brushing against him. Despite his more corporeal form now, he still had presence around him Arthur could feel few moments before he would actually touch him… as rare as that was.
„John, I swear, if this is about that cut again. It was WEEKS ago, and I barely nicked myself.“ Arthur grumbled, but held still, with John looming over him, unsure where he held the razor in his hand, it would be remarkably stupid to try and squirm now.
„It’s not.“ John’s voice came out a bit sharper from above him, and Arthur felt the cold blade touch his cheek.
„Then what is, John?“ Arthur spat out, frustrated and fucking tired of being treated like he was still on death’s door.
The blade withdrew from Arthur’s cheek. John was completely silent, staring at their reflection, his golden eyes meeting Arthur’s unseeing ones. He desperately tried to pry out the words that felt stuck in his throat ever since returning home, back from the dark world.
“John?”
A beat of silence.
“Are you afraid of me, Arthur?”
“What? No, no! John wh—“
“I mean after I got my body back. The same body in which I- I had…” John’s throat tightened, refusing to let those words escape.
“John… I told you already. I forgive you. I already did long time ago.” Arthur turned his head to gaze over his shoulder, where he felt the presence withdraw a step back. The words came quick, almost asa reflex at this point. He made him mind already. And he told John so too, so why this again?
“It’s different now though, isn’t it? When I am as present as I was when I… hurt you… hurt so many of you.”
“John…” Arthur turned around fully now. His voice lost all the edge. And John could see the wide brown eyes staring into the space where his voice was coming from.
Then Arthur could hear a metallic clink on the sink. John had put down the razor.
„I am sorry Arthur, I should have not been so pushy… I-…“ John’s voice trailed out once more with frustrated grunt as he failed yet again to just SAY what was constantly on his mind. It was right there, the feelings, the fear, but to put it into words felt like running again and again into a wall.
„John, deep breath“ Arthur quietly reminded him. „No need to say it all at once, let’s just… eat the elephant, okay? One piece at a time.“
John listened, breathing in deeply and slowly exhaling, like he forgot to do so until he was reminded. Which was technically true, he didn’t need to breathe, yet the simple act, even a pretend one, always slowed his racing mind for a moment. He let his eyes fall back on Arthur’s face, who was still patiently waiting for him to gather his thoughts. John was still finding himself getting caught off guard by Arthur’s perceptiveness, almost as if he could read John’s mind… if only it was that easy.
„I know you’ve said that you forgave me, that you are okay with me around, with my presence.“ John started slowly, from what he knew for sure. „But I think… I am still not.“ The words felt weird on his tongue. Even trying to be as open as he could, getting some bits out there still felt like pulling teeth.
„John…“
„Arthur, I- I still SEE it, this body, the terrible things I did. I feel like it’s staring me down anytime I catch a glimpse of myself, anytime I get close to you. I try again and again to push past it but…“ He had to take another deep breath for this one „How does one forgive oneself? How- When can I just… let go? *He almost spat out before the thought had the chance to retreat back once again.*
Arthur stayed silent for a moment, his eyes stayed in John’s direction without wavering, but his expression grew more solemn.
„I am not sure, John. But…“
Arthur reached out his hand towards the tingly almost buzzing aura, until it landed on a firm arm. He squeezed his fingers gently in silent reassurance.
„One day… you will realize that the morning was more bearable, that the night wasn’t as tormenting. And it will get better from there, eventually. Somedays it won’t be. And it will all come back with full force but… I’ll be there, okay? On all of those days. I am alive, John. And I am still here with you.“
John took a shuddering breath. He hesitated for a moment, but finally he placed his large hand over Arthur’s. It was calloused and marked with scars, but warm. Alive.
„Let me help.“ John whispered, as if afraid to break this moment, it was weird how selfish even offering his help felt. „Please, Arthur. Let me treat you kindly... as I always should have.“
Corners of Arthur’s lips twitches upwards into a small smile. Right, so this is what it was all about. He should have guessed. He sighed, with this context… accepting help felt better, like he was somehow helping too. By at least putting John’s mind at ease a bit.
„Okay…“ His hand slipped down John’s hand as he let go, turning back towards the mirror. He leaned over the edge of the sink.
„I trust you, you know that. Right, John?“ Arthur mumbles as he tried to move as little as possible as John gently lathered his cheeks with the shaving cream where it got rubbed off in the meanwhile.
„I guess I still want to do stuff on my own, I don’t want to feel useless, especially now when I think I had come to terms with the fact that my eyesight isn’t coming back.“
„Arthur…“ John started in that soft, gentle voice, but Arthur continued.
„All I want to say by this, I guess I was projecting a bit. I am sorry, it wasn’t about you… So please, keep going.“
„Alright.“ John once again picked up the razor. Now with more confidence, his hand once again gently tilted Arthur’s head up where he could see in the reflection Arthur’s face fully. His features now relaxed and John pushed to focus only on the task, not how lovely that content trusting expression was, even with John holding the sharp blade to his cheek.
With careful slow strokes of the blade, the shaved beard was falling into the sink. A comfortable silence settled between them. Over the week of a normal life back at Arthur’s old apartment they had much more time to enjoy these small peaceful moments. Initially John was unsure if he was suited for this kind of life, no threats, no larger goals to pursue, just one ordinary day after another. But so far, he only found himself yearning for more.
„There, you can wash your face now.“ John cleaned the razor and set it aside, looking over Arthur’s now clean shaven face, safe for the mustache like he had before, as if evaluating his work. Arthur cleaned his face with cold water, letting his fingers explore the smoothly shaved skin, humming in appreciation.
„You are surprisingly good at this“
„Surprisingly, huh?“ John scoffed but Arthur could hear the smile in his voice.
„Well, how do I look?“ Arthur asked with small chuckle, looking up into the mirror. John tilted his head, for a moment taking in the sight, the smile still on his face without him even realizing.
„Much better. The mustache suits you and the summer sun had done you some good as well. You look… much healthier, a bit more tan, I think I can see faint freckles over your cheeks and nose. You look good, Arthur.“ John said honestly, enjoying how Arthur’s corners of his mouth twitched upward. John didn’t even realize how many of those small expressions he missed, while seeing the word from Arthur’s perspective. And he loved each and one of them.
„Flatterer“ Arthur smirked „And how about you, John?“
John’s thoughts came to a screeching halt at that, his eyes snapping up to the reflection of his own face.
„What about me?“ He was stalling, he knew what Arthur meant and what he was so far dodging as best as he could.
„You always brush me off.“ Arthur reached behind him feeling for an arm, but all he grabs is the hem of John’s cloak, the tendril of fabric slightly leaned into the hold, its texture like that of a silk but Arthur can feel John’s — now slightly elevated — pulse thrumming within.
„Just humor me, John. Tell me what you see.“
John behind him grunts, for a moment pondering if just clamming up right now and refusing would be easier, but… he really should. He should tell Arthur himself before Arthur finds a way to find out for himself — gods know there’s no stopping him once he sets his mind on something. Just like before, John takes a deep breath.
„We are standing in front of a plain mirror, our reflection bathed in the morning sun pouring in through the window. We- I can see myself standing right behind you, taller, by a good margin, your head right now is in the height of my chest. I look human-like, but even on the first glance it’s clear that is only illusion, the inhuman, grotesque mask only pretending to be human. “
„John.“ Arthur sighs, he wanted for John to speak freely, but he wasn’t going to let him spiral.
„Now, try not to focus on the whole. Try starting with the details. Like, what do your eyes look like?“
„My eyes…“ John forces himself to look in the mirror again, into his own face, trying his best to ignore the rest. „The mask of the King, where the empty eye sockets were, is shattered. I can see my irises, glowing, golden, staring back now. But not much else.“
„So the mask is still there in some form, right? How does it look now?“
„Like a… shard of a porcelain, but warm. Still a living part of me. Like the pallid mask we had before, the features that remain are sharp, pointed. Also, while on the King it had a crown on its top before. Long thorns, or horns perhaps forming the appearance of a crown, but most of those are broken off completely now, only two remain intact. But most of what it used to look like is missing, it only barely covers a half of my face now. Just one eye and its jagged broken edge ends right above the right corner of my mouth.“
„Only a half? I- I had no idea.“ Arthur let out a small surprised laugh. He had an image in his mind’s eye of what John might look like, he often thought about it, of course he did. But so far he got so little actual descriptions to go off of, it kept him now almost holding his breath for more as he encouraged John to continue.
„So… you can see your face now? Or I suppose what is underneath the mask?“ He prompted.
„Yes, I- look, Arthur, I do not look human, okay? Underneath the mask especially. More than you can imagine.“ John let out yet another heavy sigh, in that specific tone when signaling to Arthur he wasn’t keen on going into details.
„Please? Or maybe…“ Arthur tilted his head slightly as if it would make it easier to gauge John’s reaction. „Would it be easier if I… touched you? And saw for myself?“
That made John sharply recoil back, as if afraid that Arthur might immediately reach up of him.
„No.“ He bit out with a low warning growl reverberating though his chest. His silky tendrils of his cloak, that were as much a part of him as his arms or the mask quickly coiled around his body. Arthur didn’t even flinch. This was on him honestly, he knew he was pushing his luck and John’s boundaries. So far this was the most information he got from John regarding his body, he should drop it, despite his nagging curiosity, this was not something he was entitled to pry out of John.
Maybe it was more than curiosity, Arthur thought, it made him feel bitter, whenever John would recoil from him, dodged any question or physical contact. So far he figured out that John’s hands and arms and his tentacles were the limit of his comfort zone, where Arthur could reach and hold, for assistance or reassurance, even if Arthur suspected it was more out of necessity to somehow be able to live in their small apartment.
John was able to hold a human form or more accurately an illusion of one, even if for a short while and it broke Arthur’s heart a little each time he saw the shift in John’s demeanor, back to his naturally confident, resolute self he knew from when John was still in Arthur’s mind and body. He couldn’t physically alter himself, but just as the king did, it was a temporary costume that John could hold only for a few hour at max.
Just as his true form, his abilities returned in fractures as well.
Arthur wished for him to be able to live the way he clearly desired, human not just in mind but body as well. But he wished even more John would be able to feel happy the way he was now, the way Arthur was with him right now. He despised the invisible barrier that now separated them, after so long when Arthur grew comfortable with no boundaries or shame between them, he felt cold… alone even when they were at an arm’s reach. One day, Arthur promised himself, they both will get past this. But clearly that day was not now, John needed the time more than Arthur needed his own comfort.
„Alright, I am dropping this.“ Arthur turned back towards the sink, giving John as much space as the tiny bathroom allowed.
„But… thank you. For telling me.“ He said, his eyes looking up at the mirror, hoping John could read from his expression how honest those words were.
John didn’t answer, he stared into Arthur’s eyes that were vaguely meeting his direction in the mirror. Still settling down from how he, well overreacted, John supposed. He still could surprise himself by how violently he could react to something as harmless as a mere suggestion of Arthur reaching to his face.
For a moment he considered letting Arthur to do just that. Just pushing himself past it, ripping it all off like a bandaid. Let Arthur feel for himself the true face of the monstrosity looming just behind him, that he shared his home with. To get it all out there, to see his disgust, fear maybe all at once instead of waking up each morning fearing that he will see those emotions on Arthur’s face anyway.
He shook his head, no, he knew already he won’t do that. As selfish as it was, he was too scared of loosing this bit of comfort they both carved with their own bloody hands. He was too afraid of ruining this and shattering again Arthur’s life as soon as he just began putting the pieces together.
With noncommittal hum John left the bathroom, his form flowed through the space like a shadows passing on the wall, letting Arthur to get dressed. He felt tired… drained from just his small conversation, how pathetic, really. His hands on autopilot began tidying up the kitchen, even though it was already spotless. Making himself feel useful always soothed the creeping tendrils of anxiousness threatening to pull him under again. He heard Arthur exit the bathroom, without needing to turn around he felt the brown eyes questioningly staring in his direction. He was grateful that Arthur said nothing, the tension was still there, but it slowly melted into their usual routine.
This was fine… for now. He tried to shake off the feeling of being on a borrowed time. This topic will come up again, John was sure of it. But for now he allowed himself to simply not think about that right now.