Work Text:
'Cause it still makes my blood run cold
To remember what they did before
The stories that you never told to me
Oh, but worry not
To say the day had been long and overwhelming would be an understatement. But what day at the Academy hadn’t been long and overwhelming? It seemed every time he wandered the halls, something new and dire was happening.
Finding out his childhood friend had effectively become a murderer fell into that category. He’d had his suspicions when Pyro danced around how Tim had died; his friend wasn’t the best liar in the world (or maybe Scott just knew all of his tells still). It seemed like everybody else bought the lie, but not Scott.
He’d been proud when Pyro had admitted to it so openly, even if he hadn’t wanted it to be true. War was coming, was here, and it was getting dangerous. Scott wished it didn’t have to be this way already. He still hadn’t told Pyro about Tegrith. Would he even care that it was so close to their home? He wasn’t sure.
He broke off from the remaining group, noting that Pyro had already disappeared (the Tegrith goodbye, as they called it). Pyro’s door was open (as it always was), but he was nowhere to be found when Scott poked his head in. He was unsure about leaving Pyro alone right now, but if he wanted to hide, then that would have to be it.
Scott shut the door for him then made the three steps across the hall to his own dorm, pushing past the privacy curtain. He blinked hard in shock upon spotting Pyro curled up on his sofa, knees up to his chin, staring into the roaring flame in the fireplace. Pyro didn’t budge nor did he speak when Scott came in. Scott hung his cloak on a hook then sat on the opposite end of the sofa.
Silence hung between them, growing colder and stranger. Pyro had never been one to talk about feelings and emotions. When they were very young, maybe, but as they got older? Never. It wounded Pyro Dagmeare’s precious pride to seem weak or vulnerable. He’d caught that earlier, in their journey to the tower, calling their classmates weak-willed.
It was covering for the real softness at Pyro’s core. He often seemed aloof and above it all, but it was a front. Pyro felt fiercely, emotions volatile and powerful, but admitting to that would damage the image he’d built for himself. Scott saw through it, was perhaps the only one that could. The way Pyro doted on him when they were alone, away from prying eyes, said everything.
Back then, back in Tegrith, Scott had been the first to feel anything, but it was clear that Pyro felt the deepest. That was the nature of the flames, to burn hot and bright. It was why their arguments in the days leading up to Pyro’s departure had been so fraught.
It should have been obvious that Pyro would leave, but he’d been left blindsided. As he was now, staring down his friend-sort-of-lover-sort-of-not on his couch.
Scott got up to make tea at his kitchenette, silently forcing a cup into Pyro’s hands once it was ready. Pyro held it between his palms, the steam rising up into his face. Where the cold never bothered Scott, Pyro remained unbothered by the heat.
But he could still burn; Scott could see the constant pink, blistering skin on Pyro’s palms, but he never complained. Scott would hold his hands, would hope the natural chill of his body soothed it, but then Pyro would cast his magic and the cycle would begin anew. Every day he wished to connect with Aurora more, to deepen their bond enough that he might learn a solution, to heal the obvious burden Pyro held. He wanted to cool the fire, to be a salve to the pain.
Just as Pyro was in pain now.
When Pyro didn’t touch his tea, Scott went to pull bandages from his storage. He had Pyro set down his mug, spreading a cooling ointment on the red-and-yellow skin before sealing them up with the soft white fabric.
Scott kept a hold of Pyro’s hands, gentle as his grasp was to not hurt him, but Pyro gripped onto Scott for dear life, as if he were trying to not fall into a chasm. Or down a tower, perhaps.
“I did the right thing, didn’t I?”
Pyro’s voice was so soft Scott could barely hear it over the crackling fire. He’d never seen Pyro so meek before. He’d been contrite before, when caught doing something naughty as children, but never like this. It unsettled Scott’s spirit.
“You did.” And Scott believed it to be true. After the ghostly looping death he bore witness to, any doubts he’d had were wiped away. “He was dangerous.”
“Was he really?” Pyro’s voice was still so, so quiet, barely audible. “I… I don’t know for sure.”
Scott brought Pyro’s knuckles to his lips, kissing each one. Pyro scoffed but refused to take his hands back.
“I think you’re right. I think the others would have put us all in danger. You did the difficult thing.”
Pyro scowled, bared his teeth for a moment, expression falling again. Scott could see the emotions roiling on Pyro’s face, those ocean eyes churning with uncertainty.
“It wasn’t difficult, though. I just… I just did it. Isn’t that worse? Killing with no hesitation?”
“War requires decisive action. Leadership requires decisive action.”
“But shouldn’t I regret it? Scott, shouldn’t it matter that I did that? I killed somebody, Tim is dead because of me–”
"I think you do regret it, Pyro.”
“Fuck you,” Pyro spit back, “I don’t– I don’t–”
Pyro tried to take his hands back but Scott held firm. Pyro didn’t put much effort into trying to escape, and Scott put equal effort into keeping him. His friend-sort-of-lover didn’t want to be apart, despite every word to the contrary.
“It’s okay to be hurt doing the right thing.” Sometimes the best course of action was the path that changed you fundamentally. Pyro wasn’t a killer before yesterday, and now he was. There was no going back. “But it’s important that you did it.”
“What if they were right, Scott?” The heat left Pyro’s voice, that small, meek tone returning. “What if I’m just a killer?”
“I don’t think they were. I think… our classmates have big hearts. And it makes them blind to the truth around us. I think we’ll have to pick up the pieces they leave behind. I think they’ll force us to do worse to protect everybody else.”
Pyro swallowed hard, bringing Scott’s hands up to cup his face. Scott ran his thumbs over the mounds of Pyro’s cheeks, focusing his cool touch into the skin. Pyro’s eyes fluttered shut, tight grimace blooming on his face after a beat.
“Every time I close my eyes I think about it. About him. When I dreamt last night it was of him begging for mercy, swearing I had it all wrong.”
“Isn’t that what the corruption does? It lies, it deceives, it sows chaos.”
Pyro’s voice broke as he said, “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this, Scott.”
Hot tears spilled out of Pyro’s eyes, still slammed shut as tight as they could, still unable to dam the flood. Scott could count on one hand how many times he’d seen Pyro cry; Scott’s blood ran cold realizing how deeply this affected his lover. It was an unexpected confession; Pyro Dagmeare didn’t admit to weakness. Ever.
“Isn’t this what you wanted? The stories to bring back to your folk flame? To come back to Tegrith brimming with glory?”
Pyro huffed a raw, humorless laugh. “What glory is there in killing innocent men?”
“There’s no glory in death, Pyro. But maybe there’s some in keeping people safe. Which is what you did. You kept everybody safe. You kept people from making a stupid decision. You kept your eyes open while they kept theirs closed in their naivete.”
“Am I naive for thinking I could handle this?” Pyro opened his eyes again, the whites of his eyes rimmed red. “Am I naive for thinking war could ever be glorious? Every book is about how we’re going to die. I… I can’t die. If I die nobody will know my story, Scott. I can’t die. I don’t want to.”
“I don’t want to either. There’s too many people back home that rely on me. There’s too many people here that rely on me, frankly. You included.”
Pyro rolled his eyes, but the fresh wave of tears betrayed his true feelings. “You don’t mean that, Scott. You don’t care about me. Nobody does, really. They all think I’m some heartless beast that killed because he could.”
“You don’t know anything I feel, Pyro. You think you do, but you’re not as good at reading me as you think you are.”
“What’s there to care about? Some hothead murderer that sent an innocent man to his death.”
“Some quick thinker that prevented disaster.”
“Stop… Stop countering everything I say! I’m trying to hate myself! Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” Pyro threw Scott’s hands off his face, teeth bared as he snarled out, “You hated me for leaving, you hate me now for going after what I want, why don’t you hate me for being a killer?”
“I’ve never hated you, Pyro,” Scott sighed, “But you have made me sad. Just like you’re doing now.”
“Fuck you. Stop lying to my face– I’m a monster, Scott.”
“I haven’t lied. Not once.”
“I don’t– I can’t believe you. I can’t. I don’t understand it. Everybody else here hates me anyway! Who gives a fuck about the pyromancer that’s so up his own ass that he thinks he can be the arbiter of life and death!”
Scott grabbed Pyro by the front of his surcoat and forced him into a deep kiss, made Pyro part his lips for him, poured every ounce of everything he’d ever felt for Pyro into it. Words weren’t working now; actions would have to do.
Pyro gasped, melted back into the sofa as Scott kept their mouths together. He held Pyro’s face again, Pyro wrapping his arms around Scott’s body and holding him as tight as possible. They stayed like this for a long, long time; Scott lost track of it all. He was still so exhausted, but he’d get through to this stupid man one way or another. He’d never be able to sleep knowing Pyro was suffering in silence.
When their lips had grown swollen and red, when they could barely get a breath between each other, they broke apart. A string of saliva connected their mouths, snapping when Pyro wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He panted for air, eyes hazy with want as he gazed up at Scott.
Scott felt an equal amount of hunger. He wasn’t sure doing more than this was a great idea, but he’d be lying if he didn’t want more.
“I think we should sleep this off,” Scott said instead.
Pyro groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re gonna leave me like this?”
“For your own good, yes.”
“But you want it too. I can feel it, Scott. Really.”
Scott smacked Pyro’s arm in good nature. “Don’t be crass. I’m not doing anything with you when you’re this emotionally compromised.”
Pyro huffed. “How very responsible of you, o great leader.”
“I was going to surprise you in the morning, but maybe I’ll just make you go to your room instead.” That was the wrong response; Pyro looked genuinely devastated at the thought of being alone. “Come to bed. It’s warm, Pyro. Be warm with me.”
The genuine relief on Pyro’s face made Scott’s heart ache, feeling as though a hand were wrapped around it and gripping tight.
They clambered up the ladder, then up the stairs to Scott’s bed. He was glad to have installed one wide enough to fit both of them. Scott dressed down, leaving himself in his flowy, cozy pants. Pyro hesitated but did the same.
Scott’s brows furrowed the more he drank in his friend; his hands weren’t the only visible burns. Raw, red, twisted skin covered his shoulders, patches of his arms, some across his chest and back. Scott felt ill knowing that Pyro was so burdened by his own magic. How cruel a fate.
Scott slipped under the covers, layers upon layers of quilts he’d brought from back home in Tegrith. Pyro mirrored the action, pulling the quilts up to his face.
“Smells like home.” Back to that meek volume, but this time tinged with a wistful air. “When I used to stay with you as a kid.”
“I missed this,” Scott admitted, “Sharing a bed with you.”
Pyro rolled onto his side to face Scott, eyes darting all over his face. Scott faced him in return, examining Pyro, really looking close. There were new bags under his eyes, the shadow of a beard that rimmed his more mature face, the rich mahogany brown that faded to gray at the ends. The gray was new. It looked good on him, but it worried Scott at the same time.
“It does feel… right. Being next to you,” Pyro whispered.
“It does,” Scott whispered back. “Any time you doubt yourself, think of me, Pyro. If you make a mistake, I’ll tell you. You know this. But this… this wasn’t a mistake. Okay? You did the right thing.”
Pyro kissed him, a soft, tender thing that lingered, that continued without any fervor or urgency, only to feel, only to be connected.
“Is this a mistake?” Pyro asked, “Am I a mistake?”
Without hesitation, Scott replied, “No. You’re not.”
Pyro sighed. “Maybe one day I’ll believe anything you say about me.”
“You never have before,” Scott sighed back, “No matter how much what I say matters.”
“No, I suppose not.”
Pyro snorted then leaned in to kiss Scott again, body half on top of him. They rolled around more, mouths unable to separate, mouths fitting together so perfectly. It was maddening just how perfect they fit together.
“Sleep, Pyro,” Scott said, mouth burning from the constant friction and tongue, “You should sleep.”
“And what if I dream about death again?”
“You’ll have me this time. I’ll reassure you every time.”
Pyro huffed a laugh, settling on his back now. “You love me.”
It seemed less an accusation and more a disbelieving wonderment. Most days, Scott couldn’t stand how huge Pyro’s ego was, but right now, when it was the smallest it had ever been? It made his heart flutter to see that confidence return.
“Maybe,” Scott offered in reply, “Maybe.”
“I’ll work with maybe,” Pyro whispered, “I can do that.”
When they woke again, they were a tangle of limbs, both bodies needing each other more than they were willing to admit. Scott was still shaken by Pyro’s hesitation, by how rattled his lover (definitely lover) was by Tim’s death, by how he’d had to take a life for the greater good. Scott couldn’t judge, wouldn’t. There would be more hard choices ahead of them, but he wanted Pyro by his side for all of them.
That much he knew for certain.