Chapter Text
Desire, to Ewron, is an affliction.
Something that will pry open your ribcage with dulled nails, intrude within your guts to find your softest parts. Desire will consume, will devour. A yearning that will splay your chest open and let you bleed out.
It'll lower your inhibitions; it forces Ewron to make himself vulnerable to accommodate its heat, a victim of his own mind.
Desire—this want curling in his guts—leaves Ewron's throat raw, leaves him with burn marks and scalded lungs. Still, he can't rid himself of this want. It's turned into something that sits, primal, in his chest. Instinctive, visceral, an innate part of him that he's almost used to the pain of.
Hunger, at least, will go away. This doesn't.
The more he has of Katie, the more he needs; his desire, his craving, is a bottomless pit dug deeper each time she finds herself in his grasp and slips through his fingers all over again. They're trapped together in a cycle.
Ewron never wants to escape it.
Ewron is not an individual who indulges. He'll hold back from consuming beyond his needs to prevent it from becoming something he craves. Yet he looks at Katie, and his want has grown teeth, sought with an appetite more pressing than even his survival instinct. He wants to never see her again, to be around her all the time, to make her his, to be hers.
The taste of hunger isn't something Ewron has let himself grow used to, and so he doesn't know how to hold it back.
Desires, thoughts, his very sense of self: all made irrelevant in Katie's wake. Ewron's world has been singled down unto her.
Yet, Ewron can't have her. Katie isn't something that can be contained. She's some wild force that exists outside of social rules and hierarchies. The knowledge that Ewron wants something he cannot take only serves to fan the flames of his hunger. His craving becomes insatiable, starved; it almost fucking hurts, to have this desire eat you up from the inside and not be able to do anything about it.
Not while she already has everything she wants. Not while she's with him.
Sunlight flits through the church's stained-glass panes in soft shards, casting a haze of dusty pink upon the nave where Katie stands.
"I have a feeling," she begins, corners of her lips edged to a coy grin, "that I'm going to get proposed to."
A beat. He imagines himself officiating at the altar, imagines that neighbour of hers walking her down the aisle, imagines Mike giving his best man speech, and feels so fucking ill that dread pools at the pit of his stomach.
"I see," Ewron intones, running a tongue along his teeth as he considers his words. "He isn't worth you."
Katie looks at Ewron, underpinned with depth. Makes a crater out of his heart with the impact of her eyes upon his. She's the only person to look through Ewron like that—he wants her to never look at him again; he wants her to never stop looking at him. "Right, right. Well, I'm just thinking if I need to get married somewhere, y'know?" Katie spreads her arms apart in a grand gesture to the church. "I have a sneaky suspicion that it'll happen very soon. This place would be perfect for us, Evs."
Within the attic of his throat lay a bitterness; Ewron's desire is the kind that you have to hold tight between your teeth, that your tongue has to curl back to evade the taste of. Swallow it whole before the flavour rots your mouth.
He can't stand her relationship with Tomate any longer. He'll taint Katie's tongue with his bitterness.
"I mean, sure. Hypothetically, of course, you could get married here." Brows creasing, low and sardonic, twisting his face with it—Ewron doesn't bother hiding his disdain. "Can he repeat the wedding vows, though? I'm not sure marrying him is the wisest decision, Katie, even ignoring the fact you couldn't actually legally confirm your marriage."
"Look what he gave me, Ewron." She pulls a tulip from her pocket, battered from being held so long. There's a poetic comparison to be made from that. "He picked it himself. Tomate really does care, even if he doesn't say it out loud. This will work out between us—it'll be nothing like the complete trainwreck that you and I have going on. Tomate is stable, it'll be good for me. Can you not be happy on our behalf?"
Ewron has touched the knife, kissed the hurt; Ewron has tasted want for the first time, and he will gut himself to rid himself of this hunger.
It'll only go away once he has her, and he'll do anything to make that happen. Anything.
"Katie, be logical. Despite the Cameraman documenting everything during your absence, I've had to pick up his slack. I've had to tell you everything. Have you considered, perhaps, that he intentionally left you in the dark for his own deranged benefit?" Ewron's shoulders come forward, curling into his chest to accommodate the violence rattling his ribcage. "He doesn't give a fuck about you. Not like I do."
"How the hell would that benefit him at all? That's just—he's shy, Ewron."
Ewron looks over to Tomate, standing within the arching doorway of the church, recording it all. Body language betraying no emotion.
He's a natural antithesis to the Machiavellian calculation that Ewron has spent his whole life constructing.
More of a concept than a person, the Cameraman is something reified only by Katie's presence. He doesn't have human flaws that Ewron can use against him.
Ewron is a forest fire, a petrol station set ablaze, a fiery collision; the burn is all he holds.
Tomate, though, is flameproof. He'll kill the burn upon impact.
"I'd like for him to leave my church."
"Oh my god, you're blowing things way out of proportion. I'm not saying we're a hundred-percent getting married at this exact moment, it's just a suspicion—"
Ewron steps through the pews, walking past Katie, and stands by the church's doorway where Tomate is. He instinctively bodyblocks Katie from the Federation worker's line of sight.
"This is a sacred space, Katie, and if he continues to invade it, I'll deem him a threat and ensure he is barred from Polish territory permanently." Ewron understands that he doesn't have the power to do this, but he's always gotten away with playing his aces face-up. Referring directly to Tomate, he says, "I'd like to speak to my best friend in private, please."
Tomate's only movement is the pan of his chin towards Katie in a silent request for confirmation.
Katie hesitates briefly. She decides, though, that Ewron isn't a threat. "I'll message you when we're done, 'kay?"
A pause, a held gaze between the couple. After a moment, the Cameraman gives a curt nod, shouldering the church door open to leave. It closes with a slam, and Ewron lets out a breath that aches his lungs—Ewron's heartbeat has been rioting beneath his skin from the confrontation.
They're alone together. It's now or never.
Ewron's able to set his plan to isolate Katie in motion.
"Lovers don't keep secrets from one another. I really wouldn't have minded him staying," she gripes.
Ewron pivots his body to meet Katie head-on. He walks towards her until she's crowded against the altar. Their height difference has Ewron craning his neck skyward to meet her eyes, his gaze reverent.
Voice low, breath warm against the shell of her ear: "Keep your voice down when you respond to me. I haven't been able to confirm yet if the Federation has wired the church behind my back."
Katie creates distance between them with a forearm pressed against his chest—curled with muscle, their position is intimate enough that he's able to feel the strength hidden beneath her sleeper build.
"Okay, back up," she bites, looking at him through the iced cut of her lashes. He takes half a step back, still close enough for their breaths to entwine, close enough for him to see where the sun had kissed her skin. "What's up with you? Why do you always get so fucking weird about my boyfriend?"
"I have not been entirely honest with you," he begins. All the impact of a finger within the pin of a grenade.
"When are you ever?"
"Katie," he drawls, laced with condescension, with a soft raise of his brows. "I'd appreciate it if you treat this situation with the gravity it deserves. I have been holding this information back from you as I believed it would be best dealt with behind the scenes, but clearly the stakes have risen; you are going to marry a Federation worker, Katie."
"Spit it out."
His lashes fan shut, internally regulating his heartbeat, his desire to possess—isolate, destroy, hurt—so hot that it could cleave bones.
"You are being targeted by the Federation," Ewron lies. "They are planning an assassination attempt against you."
Ewron is a man whose lies come as easily as his breath. This feels more dangerous than his usual manipulation, though: perhaps he's flying too close to the sun. He'd burn so long as it meant Katie would burn with him, though.
Katie is the stag, who will learn to fear the mouth of the rifle; Tomate is the rifle, unsentient but made deadly by its use; Ewron is the hunter, grasping it and aiming for the kill. He'll happily use Tomate as his weapon to destroy Katie.
Survival instinct ices Katie's spine with unease, betraying how she—even by the slightest—is affected by Ewron's lie.
Caught on hook, line and sinker.
Made cautious by their history, she bites: "Fuck off, Evs. Why the hell would they do that?" Breath riding on the back of a laugh, the teeth of it dancing moreso on warning than incredulity. She keeps her voice down, though, and Ewron can't help but appreciate her compliance.
"You're a member of the Regime; formally affiliated with the North; a candidate for the Polish elections; allied with the Dutch. Surprisingly enough, you hold political power during a period of political instability—by taking you out, each of those groups receives a message. It'd put the fear of God in them."
Breaking the distance between them once again, he steps into her personal space, their bodies almost flush. Ewron's nose finds the concave of Katie's throat. Skin doesn't touch skin, but the threat of it is made by his words brushing against her body.
Ewron continues to speak, an undertone of predatoriness embedded in it. "The Federation wants to prevent a coup. Perhaps there's been talk of a resistance, or perhaps they're ensuring everyone stays in line before one is formed. Who knows? Their authoritarian rule goes beyond our heads." Voice pulled on a low hum, he says, "What I do know, though, is that you are in danger."
Fear beckons Katie's spine into a curl, makes her dip her head closer to his. So close. Ewron feels no sympathy for the sacrifice he must make to keep her within his palm, for the lies he spins.
"Why couldn't they have just taken me out by now? Why all the... the theatrics?"
"You're a pawn, Katie. Simple as that." His cadence hangs on a dry note. "You have de-alienated the Cameraman, portrayed him as an individual outside of his labour—because of you, he's seen as a person."
"So what the fuck is the issue, then? That doesn't hurt anybody."
"You're allowing him to infiltrate civilian circles. They no longer perceive him as a threat, allowing the Federation's surveillance to penetrate their affairs further. So long as you persist in this lovebirds' tirade, the Federation will benefit." Something primal curls in his gut at the way Katie falters, her glare losing its fever and making room for internal conflict. "The damage has already been done. You've knocked everyone's walls down and let our enemies in. Now, though, your usefulness has been used up."
Katie looks like she'll throw up. "You've got it all wrong, Ewron. Tomate isn't like that." It doesn't escape Ewron's notice how she refers to her lover as Tomate, rather than her boyfriend. She doesn't use his name often. "He cares. He genuinely does, he's not like the rest of those freaks."
"Sure. And you know what? Maybe he will marry you." His fingers brush against hers where she's clutching onto the altar—she flinches as though a ripe wound. Ewron's lip pulls into a placid upwards curl; it'd be nice on anyone else, but dangerous on him. "Your marriage will act as a union between the islanders and the Federation. It'll allow them to invade us fully: your marriage will solidify their totalitarian reign."
"What the hell am I meant to do, Ewron? Why are you putting this all on me? I'm not trying to fucking doom everyone."
"I'm sorry, Katie. You were never meant to know this," he lies, tracing his fingers higher to encircle Katie's wrist. Thumbing her pulse point, he feels it beat feverishly beneath his touch. Her fear doesn't soften his edges; to Ewron, tenderness isn't anything but a promise to rot. "I shouldn't have put this pressure on you. I knew you wouldn't be able to handle it."
Katie, ever the unpredictable, slides her hand to fit into his. Interlinks their fingers before Ewron even registers it. "I can handle it. Please, just tell me what I'm supposed to do."
Heat presses into Ewron's lungs, the seams of his chest, flames encasing his whole being—the feeling of getting what you want, the feeling of knowing you'll lose it, the feeling of perhaps being wanted yourself. Blood rushes to Ewron's head, and he feels dizzy with it. Possessiveness unleashes something primal within.
"You have what it takes?" He asks, a conniving lilt to his tone. "To finish this?"
"Of course I do. I'll do whatever it fucking takes," Katie's hand tightens against his. Intimate. "It's me and you against them all, Ewron. Always has been."
"Always has been," Ewron mirrors. He'll tear Katie from her lover's hands. He'll make Katie his.
If Ewron can't have what he wants, he'll take it by force.