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The sky is eerie after the raid. Low-hanging smoke like cloud cover glowing from the moon surrounds the base when Theobald has Parrot follow him to the field. They should be in bed. The air raid is long over and so is the party, the whole base dark, quiet. Right now, it feels like the whole world is quiet. But Theobald had woken Parrot up after just a few hours of sleep and told him to get dressed quickly. Meet him outside. His mouth was set in a firm line and Parrot obeyed without a second thought, no clue what was going on, half lost in sleep and half awake.
They're on the far side of the base now, having walked for a good fifteen minutes. Theobald is ahead of Parrot, silent and walking with determination. He hasn't said a word since Parrot met him outside. The air smells faintly of sulfur and wall plaster from the raid against Cindercrest. Parrot is about to ask him what the hell is going on, because they're not even supposed to be out here, when Theobald stops. He doesn't turn around. Parrot stares at his back.
"Theo?"
He gets no answer. Just the broad expense of Theobald's back for another few seconds before Theobald turns around quicker than Parrot can comprehend and tackles him to the ground. Parrot hits the grass with a grunt and his crown falls, hands scrambling for Theobald's shoulders to push him off.
"Jesus, what the heck has gotten into you, Theo?"
Parrot looks up at him and his breath catches. There's nothing playful about Theobald's face. He has the same look he gets before they're about to go out for a mission, like he's hoping he doesn't die. He's caging Parrot in with his arms on either side of his head, and suddenly Parrot feels trapped.
"I caught you," Theobald says.
Parrot can't get his mouth to work.
"You said I'd never catch you, but I did," Theobald says.
Parrot flushes and flashes back to earlier in the night, during a bike race they'd hosted to get their minds off this petty war and Cindercrest. He'd been joking when he'd said that, but then, he didn't need to word it like that. He didn't need to say those words at all. So maybe he wasn't joking. Maybe he'd been goading. Egging Parrot on to do the one thing he has always been sure he'd never do. It makes his throat burn, to think that Theobald would do this now, do this here.
"Come on," he says. "We're not playing around anymore."
He tries to roll out from under Theobald and Theobald doesn't move. He keeps his hands planted on either side of Parrot's head.
"I'm not playing around, Parrot. I caught you, fair and square. So now what?"
"Don't do this," Parrot says. There's a hot mixture of fear and anger brewing in his gut. "You can't do this to me."
It feels personal, somehow, not about them but about Parrot in particular. And it feels terrifying. Parrot can't even name the now what Theobald is referring to. The image goes warped in his mind.
Theobald sighs above him and rolls off Parrot so that he's sitting in the grass. Parrot stays on his back a moment, paralyzed, then scrambles to get up. He doesn't leave, even though he tells himself that he should. He sits next to Theobald on the grass. Wrings his hands together. Crown still lying on the ground behind them.
"You can't joke around like that," he says.
Theobald laughs into the night air, near silent and humorless, arms draped over his knees. They're sitting too close together.
"I told you already, Parrot, I'm not. You know I'm not."
Parrot looks down at the grass. He's not ready to do this. He's not ready to admit that the way Theobald touches him, the way Parrot allows it and covets it, is more than just friendship between two men. They'd agreed, Parrot thought, to never talk about this. They had never said that out loud, but they'd agreed to it, hadn't they? It doesn't matter if they'd kissed together a few times under the cover of darkness and their blankets. Or if Parrot daydreamed in secret to the shape of Theobald's shoulders. Doesn't matter if Parrot walked in on Theobald with a girl once, and Theobald had caught his eyes, sunk back into her slow like he was imagining it was Parrot he was screwing and Parrot, Parrot didn't look away. None of that matters because they never called those times out for what they were, never did a thing about them. Parrot focuses on the grass, the rustle of it beneath his boots as he shifts.
When he looks up again, Theobald is staring out at the trees.
"Why now?" he asks.
Theobald turns his head. His hair has grown out a little, a few strands curling at his forehead. He looks tan and wild in the darkness. Handsome. He's so handsome it makes Parrot sick to think of it. Makes him want. And worst of all, it makes him want to reveal.
"Maybe I got a thing for guys telling me I remind them of their dead best-friend."
"Theo," Parrot says.
Theobald stares at him. He looks ripe with it, the need to confess. Surrender.
"No one trusts me the way you do," he says. "I'm not talking about out there, in the battlefield. I mean right here. Christ. Your face when you told me all that stuff, Parrot. I could've kissed you right then. And I'll slip up real soon if you don't let me down hard right now, I mean it. Swear I mean it, Parrot."
Something warm and traitorous wedges its way into Parrot's chest. He can't gauge now what his face had looked like. Just remembers how he'd felt, even with the bombs dropping so close to them—safe, and not because they were in the shelter, but because Parrot was nearby, because he knew Theobald would understand. Parrot had never told anyone those things about Wifies before. But he'd told Theobald. It wasn't something he had to think about. Theobald would know how to hold those parts of Parrot. It's not something he can lie about.
"I do trust you," Parrot says. "But you scare me, Theo."
He should say no. He should let Theobald down right now so they can both let this go and walk away clean. Only when Theobald tilts his head closer, Parrot doesn't put distance between.
"I'm about as scary as a week-old kitten," Theobald says. "You, on the other hand…"
Parrot can't help it, he laughs. Theobald always knows how to pull that out of him.
"You sayin' you're scared of me?"
"Terrified, Parrot."
Theobald is looking at his lips, breathing coming faster, close enough that Parrot can feel the warmth of it against his own lips.
"Tell me no, Parrot," he says. "Tell me no and I'll get up and walk away right now."
Parrot says nothing. He holds his breath in his chest and waits, terrified, filled with awful hope. Theobald's hand finds a familiar place on his thigh. Then Theobald leans in, and Parrot meets him for it without thinking too much about what they're doing at all, eyes falling shut. Theobald's lips are rough. The kiss is chaste, almost frustratingly so, just their lips slotted together.
Then Parrot remembers to breathe and inhales, takes Theobald's lips between his own, and Theobald pushes closer to him, hand squeezing Parrot's thigh as his tongue licks into Parrot's mouth. Parrot kisses him back, hands still gripped together because he's afraid if he touches Theobald now, he won't stop. They just kiss like that in the darkness, drink each other up. Theobald's free hand cups the back of Parrot's neck.
Holds Parrot to him like he might float away otherwise, thumb caressing the edge of Parrot's hairline until Parrot forces himself to break free from Theobald's mouth. He pants against Theobald's cheek, both soothed by the touch of Theobald's hand on his thigh and borderline hysterical because of it.
Theobald kisses the apple of his cheek, so tender that an odd whimper escapes Parrot's throat. He doesn't know what to say. He's trembling. He's happy and he's frightened.
"You know I'm never walking away now," Theobald says.
Parrot lets his head drop, and there the feeling remains. Terror. Happiness. A trembling he doesn't want to ever let go of. Something dangerously close to hope. Theobald's lips brush against his forehead. Parrot doesn't think he can live without them now that he's had a taste. He's ruined.
"I know," Parrot says. He's ruined.
But he's always known that