Work Text:
The imbalance shook the world that evening; the mockery of the nobles, the injustice suffered, the empire weakened. Underneath the all encompassing darkness of the night, Yuder sat there; the toxins from the glass of Quelochet he had drunk earlier slowly stirring around in his bloodstream while his body worked to neutralize the poison. His exhausted eyelids plunged him into a darkness that reassured him somewhat. He could finally exhale softly, a semblance of rest even though his tense body betrayed his alertness.
“...-der?”
The voices sounded far away. When he thought about it, no one had ever dared to approach the Commander’s office. Even Ever, as professional as she was, did not venture into this place while he was drinking. Thus, no one else had witnessed the effects that the drink had had on the half-baked omega that Yuder was.
“Yuder...”
Kishiar had never known him like that. His soul had surely already left him and his body had been buried in flowers for a long time already. He still had the image of the red stain he had left dripping from his skin, of the blade shining as brightly as the blood that covered it. Why then was he hearing his voice now? Yuder had not yet been subject to hallucinations. He hoped that Kishiar was not there, he didn’t want to see him. He didn’t want Kishiar to see him. Not in this state. Painfully, he opened his eyes wishing to dispel the illusion that had taken him. His gaze focused on the face he knew too well. Unconsciously, his back regained the righteousness he normally had. This face in front of him did not sparkle with pride but with concern. It was painful. He couldn’t even say that everything was fine. Everything felt numb, stopping him from freely doing what he wanted.
“Yuder, can you hear me?”
He blinked weakly. His vision was dark, save only for the radiant aura emanating from Kishiar. Had he always been so bright, bursting with health?
“Can you take my hand and squeeze it, please?”
At that moment, when a large hand entered his field of vision, he noticed. No gloves, just skin, soft skin that Yuder recalled running his fingers across many times. Kishiar was here this time. Yuder was not that unloved and murderous commander. Kishiar was really here this time. He could feel the warmth of his body when Yuder placed hand on his.
“Good, Yuder.”
It was pleasant. Although everything else still seemed fuzzy, the face he could trace for hours was clear. Kishiar would remain there, by Yuder's side, for eternity. That sweet smile that adorned his lips could not promise anything less. The body that embraced him quickly warmed him up. He inhaled and let that pine smell cover him completely.
Yuder wanted to stay like this for a very long time.
His chest was under a pressure that felt similar to that of a monster crushing him, wishing to break his ribs. Breathing was possible, but quite difficult. Feeling suffocated without actually succumbing to it.
With that nearly unbearable sensation, Yuder opened his eyes. That’s at least what he had thought he was doing. An invisible mist veiled his gaze and prevented him from quickly understanding where he was. He sat in the formless, undulating and menacing darkness that ruled this space. Neither welcoming nor reassuring. Wherever his pupils moved, the immense emptiness accompanied them. In the distance, Yuder could see the distorted image of things that made no sense. Shadowy figures continuously appearing and disappearing in strange patterns. Strangely, he was not unfamiliar with this phenomenon.
He couldn't be when the smell of blood and stale dust assailed his nostrils. His heart automatically responded to the characteristic smell of a disturbing memory. He closed his eyes for a few seconds.
An abrupt cool sensation on his neck startled him out of his thoughts. A slight pressure, resembling that of a hand taking a pulse. Yuder tensed himself. His senses were suddenly alert. The blood. The cold. The weakness.
“... Kishiar.”
Speaking his name unleashed a wave of nausea upon him. The memories that accompanied the scents with the sound of that name did not reassure him. That hand —that glove?— on his neck gave no sign of immediate danger, no revenge — It did not try to escape when Yuder caught it with an uncertain gesture.
It was at that moment that his reason abandoned him. The effect of the Quelochet weakened his senses quickly and transformed his thought pattern. The place no longer seemed so dangerous when followed by the idea that in front of him was Kishiar, checking if he was okay. He thought that Kishiar had been by his side and hugged him the whole time, before taking him into a lazy dance to the rhythm of the calm night that accompanied them.
Yuder's lips lifted gently, a degree of vulnerability on his face that only Kishiar could see and that he was happy to freely show. When he opened his eyes, his gaze seemed to focus on a silhouette. The gloved hands had a body, a radiant face, a look of softness, and a reassuring smell that no blood or dust could change. It was his Kishiar.
Yuder grabbed the second glove that he found frozen in the air.
“Kishiar.”
His voice was not properly audible, yet, the sensation that occurred against his skin gave him proof that he was heard.
“Would you grant me this dance?”
Without the slightest hesitation, the words left his mouth. Yuder imagined the surprise on this face that he enjoyed so much. He liked Kishiar's reaction and took advantage of the small amount of time given to him to straighten his body correctly.
The gloves escaped Yuder's grasp, slipping against his arms to find their place in the hollow of his back. The omega could feel an invisible force against him that vibrated stably. This reminded him of Kishiar’s ability. It was, however, a body invented purely by his own mind. Weakly embracing him, Yuder relaxed against those incessant movements and clumsily placed his hands around Kishiar’s neck.
The dance didn’t need to be rhythmic or precise, after all, they weren’t there to prove anything. Only they mattered. Yuder moved his feet a few centimeters, swinging his body to guide their embraced bodies in a slow dance.