Once they've both laughed themselves out, Gale waves his hand, extinguishing the only candle in the room and leaving them in darkness. The heavy drapes over the window keep even the moonlight out. His heart beats a steady rhythm, and for a while, their breathing is the only other sound in the room.
It's so peaceful that he hates to shatter the quiet, but he can never stay silent for long.
"I'm very glad that you came back." She is warm and always so much sturdier than he expects. "I thought you were gone for good." She is tucked against his side, and he wraps his arm around her back. "Tara never doubted you'd return, for the record, so she'll be pleased to tell me 'I told you so' once she returns."
She had worried that she would feel trapped in a room after so long underground, and had planned to drag a mattress to the balcony to sleep in open air, but Gale is a familiar comfort. Rest is easy to find with his heartbeat under her ear and she burrows closer as his arm curls against her back.
"Didn't mean to stay gone so long," she whispers in the dark, the words stretching around another yawn. "Where is Tara?"
"She left to find more magical items, a little farther afield than we typically search, but with the hope that she might be able to bring back more than one," he says to the darkness overhead. "It's... going to keep being like this. What happened today will likely happen again. So I would not fault you if you did think it best to stay away."
"Ow." If doesn't really hurt, but when her chin lands on his chest, he has to complain on principle.
Her declaration makes him laugh softly, because he doesn't yet realize she's serious. "Because... There is so much unknown about my condition, and it's all the more dangerous for it. Dealing with it will likely only become more difficult and complex. Why would you want to put yourself through that?" Another soft puff of laughter, then, "I know, I know, for Tara. A worthy cause, indeed. But you would be able to keep Tara's acquaintances without..."
Without bothering with me. But he doesn't say that thought aloud.
"Without troubling yourself with all of this," he finishes with a gesture that she can't see, but can feel instead.
Her body goes tense against his side and she untangles their limbs to sit up.
"Gale." She says his name like a warning, but as her eyes adjust to the dark and she can pick out the shape of him next to her... This isn't about her, she realizes, and goes all soft inside.
She hasn't seen signs of any other guests. No other names mentioned. He doesn't even see his own mother, who allegedly exists and likes him.
Harley's fingers trace his face in the dark and she bends down to kiss his forehead, temple, the bridge of his nose.
"The people who love you will stay if you let them."
He regrets saying anything as soon as she sits up and a chill settles into the spot she had occupied. He tenses, expecting a lecture, or maybe for her to just pick him up and toss him out of the bed.
Instead, her fingers brush his cheek, and he sucks in a surprised breath. Harley kisses his face, and it's the kindest anyone's been to him in some time, certainly kinder than he ever is to himself. It makes his sinuses sting with unshed tears again, but at least he doesn't have to try to hide it in the dark. In a rare turn of events, he doesn't quite know what to say. Part of him believes her, but worries that anyone near him is just as doomed as he is, and another part has known enough loss to doubt it at all.
"You're very difficult to argue with, you know?" He wraps his arms around her and pulls her down in some kind of clumsy approximation of a hug. "And that's coming from someone who debates like it's breathing."
She lets him pull her back down and wraps her arms around him too. Her head tucks under his chin and her breath tickles against his neck.
"Think of this," she sighs and rubs a soothing hand over his side. "If your friend told you that they were sick, that they didn't know how to fix it and that sometimes they'll have bad days. Would you walk out on your friend?"
"Just to clarify, this friend's condition is possibly dangerous to others and the only palliative treatment is very expensive?" He heaves a heavy sigh, which lifts her along with it. "No, I don't suppose I would." But it's different when it's me, goes unsaid. "I did try to convince Tara to leave, too, for the record. As you see, it did not work."
"I suspected," he answers. Surely, not all of what Tara has acquired was legally purchased either. His intentional ignorance doesn't absolve him, though. "Still, that just means it's dangerous instead of expensive. There is still a cost."
"So I get to start lecturing you about being healthier, then?" he counters. He blows a puff of air to get her hair out of his face. His arms are still around her middle, and he leaves them right where they are.
But she's right. At the end of the day, you can care people, you can point out potential consequences of their actions, you can ask them to make certain choices, but you can't choose for them. Not if you truly care about them. "Alright," he says softly. "I won't ask you to go again."
"Now the lectures, that might actually chase me away. If I listened to any, which I will not."
She settles back down on top of his chest and tries to let sleep come, but they've chatted enough for her to get a second wind. Plus she has a lot more pieces of the puzzle to turn over in her mind.
Her head pops back up.
"Is it sexually transmitted? Is that why you sidestepped a rebound?"
I don't have a flabbergasted enough icon for their interactions
"Noted," he replies, grinning to himself. No lectures, then, but he will sneak her more vegetables.
"What? Gods, no!" he sputters. "I'm not sure it's even removable at all, though I'm working on theories, and none of them involve that. You've seen the marking, it's lodged in my chest, not elsewhere." He flicks her arm. "I just have no interest in anything so casual. Not that I never tried... romantic companionship of a briefer nature, before Mystra, when I was a younger man. It never brought me much enjoyment though, the way it did others. You may think it ridiculous, but I'm afraid I'm just uninterested unless my heart is in it."
"It's not the sort of thing most people would take well from someone they've just met, so I don't exactly bring it up unprompted." Not that he meets many new people these days, but who's counting. " 'Yes, hello, I have a magical bomb in my chest, and I have to consume magic to keep it from killing me and blowing myself and many others up. Would you care to come over for tea?' "
Gale is silent for a moment, thoughtful. "It's that easy? I rather thought you would put up more of a fuss about it than that."
"Hmm." She twirls the ends of her hair around a finger. It's a shame he can't see how absurdly shit-eating her grin is. Coquettish fluttering of lashes. The whole bit. "My magical bomb was in my head."
And that's the end of that story!
"I could put up a fuss if you want, but it's got nothing to do with me so I don't really see the point."
"Wait, what?" That's some sort of odd joke. Right? A metaphor about mental health? "Not literally, surely?"
"Oh." That isn't what he expected, and he has to reshuffle some things in his mind. He had assumed that Harley was the type to simply barrel right through any boundary at her leisure, but perhaps that wasn't quite the case. "No, I appreciate it, honestly. I didn't realize it was an option."
"Literally. Here." She twists to move one of his hands from around her and guides it up the back of her neck, to a knot of scar tissue no bigger than a fingertip at the base of her skull. "Feel that?"
His fingers are gentle but still curious, running over the knot of scar
tissue to discern the details in the dark. "Someone did this to you." It's
not a question, because of course she didn't do it to herself. He thinks of
the former lover she mentioned, though, and wonders about the unspoken.
"But it's gone now?" Not a question asked in fear - two bombs in one bed
would hardly be worse than one - but with hope.
Harley isn't used to gentle hands and goes tense at the first touch, but melts over him as curious fingers explore the scar. She drops her head to his shoulder again with a sigh.
The way she goes from tense to taffy reminds Gale of a stray cat that has
been kicked too many times. Once he's understood the details of the scar,
he keeps stroking his fingers over the back of her head and neck, rhythmic
and gentle. If it weren't so late and so dark, he wouldn't dare, but this
feels like a liminal space outside of time. Like the Astral plane, but
instead of infinitely large, this space is so small that it exists only for
the two of them. "You're safe here," he whispers. From him, but also any
one else who might try to find her.
The dark and quiet doesn't feel oppressive with company. Gale is a soft place to rest. She's grateful that she doesn't have to ask him to keep touching her in that careful, soothing way, and that he won't press for more to keep her place here.
"Yeah," she answers, just as quiet, in a voice thick with sleep.
It's hard to say who falls asleep first, though Gale will claim it was Harley just for the sake of banter. Regardless, he falls asleep with his hand on the nape of her neck and his fingertips in her hair, and it's the first time in months he sleeps easily.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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It's so peaceful that he hates to shatter the quiet, but he can never stay silent for long.
"I'm very glad that you came back." She is warm and always so much sturdier than he expects. "I thought you were gone for good." She is tucked against his side, and he wraps his arm around her back. "Tara never doubted you'd return, for the record, so she'll be pleased to tell me 'I told you so' once she returns."
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"Didn't mean to stay gone so long," she whispers in the dark, the words stretching around another yawn. "Where is Tara?"
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"Why would I want to do that?"
She doesn't call him an idiot out loud this time, but it is absolutely implied in her tone of voice.
"If anything, I'm moving in."
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Her declaration makes him laugh softly, because he doesn't yet realize she's serious. "Because... There is so much unknown about my condition, and it's all the more dangerous for it. Dealing with it will likely only become more difficult and complex. Why would you want to put yourself through that?" Another soft puff of laughter, then, "I know, I know, for Tara. A worthy cause, indeed. But you would be able to keep Tara's acquaintances without..."
Without bothering with me. But he doesn't say that thought aloud.
"Without troubling yourself with all of this," he finishes with a gesture that she can't see, but can feel instead.
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"Gale." She says his name like a warning, but as her eyes adjust to the dark and she can pick out the shape of him next to her... This isn't about her, she realizes, and goes all soft inside.
She hasn't seen signs of any other guests. No other names mentioned. He doesn't even see his own mother, who allegedly exists and likes him.
Harley's fingers trace his face in the dark and she bends down to kiss his forehead, temple, the bridge of his nose.
"The people who love you will stay if you let them."
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Instead, her fingers brush his cheek, and he sucks in a surprised breath. Harley kisses his face, and it's the kindest anyone's been to him in some time, certainly kinder than he ever is to himself. It makes his sinuses sting with unshed tears again, but at least he doesn't have to try to hide it in the dark. In a rare turn of events, he doesn't quite know what to say. Part of him believes her, but worries that anyone near him is just as doomed as he is, and another part has known enough loss to doubt it at all.
"You're very difficult to argue with, you know?" He wraps his arms around her and pulls her down in some kind of clumsy approximation of a hug. "And that's coming from someone who debates like it's breathing."
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She lets him pull her back down and wraps her arms around him too. Her head tucks under his chin and her breath tickles against his neck.
"Think of this," she sighs and rubs a soothing hand over his side. "If your friend told you that they were sick, that they didn't know how to fix it and that sometimes they'll have bad days. Would you walk out on your friend?"
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She sighs and kisses the underside of his chin.
"Dummy. So dumb."
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"Gale, everyone I know and everything I do is dangerous." She pauses, considering. "And also everyone I do."
There's a sweep of her hair across his face as she shakes her head. Focus up, Harley.
"Anyway, it's my own choice."
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But she's right. At the end of the day, you can care people, you can point out potential consequences of their actions, you can ask them to make certain choices, but you can't choose for them. Not if you truly care about them. "Alright," he says softly. "I won't ask you to go again."
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She settles back down on top of his chest and tries to let sleep come, but they've chatted enough for her to get a second wind. Plus she has a lot more pieces of the puzzle to turn over in her mind.
Her head pops back up.
"Is it sexually transmitted? Is that why you sidestepped a rebound?"
I don't have a flabbergasted enough icon for their interactions
"What? Gods, no!" he sputters. "I'm not sure it's even removable at all, though I'm working on theories, and none of them involve that. You've seen the marking, it's lodged in my chest, not elsewhere." He flicks her arm. "I just have no interest in anything so casual. Not that I never tried... romantic companionship of a briefer nature, before Mystra, when I was a younger man. It never brought me much enjoyment though, the way it did others. You may think it ridiculous, but I'm afraid I'm just uninterested unless my heart is in it."
she flabber on my gast til i con 💦
"Well I don't know! You've been very cagey about the whole thing! There could be other marks!"
She tries to boop his nose, misses and pokes the apple of the cheek on the first try, and then finally gets it.
"It's not ridiculous. If that's not your thing then it's not your thing and I won't bring it up again."
LOL
Gale is silent for a moment, thoughtful. "It's that easy? I rather thought you would put up more of a fuss about it than that."
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And that's the end of that story!
"I could put up a fuss if you want, but it's got nothing to do with me so I don't really see the point."
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"Oh." That isn't what he expected, and he has to reshuffle some things in his mind. He had assumed that Harley was the type to simply barrel right through any boundary at her leisure, but perhaps that wasn't quite the case. "No, I appreciate it, honestly. I didn't realize it was an option."
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"Literally. Here." She twists to move one of his hands from around her and guides it up the back of her neck, to a knot of scar tissue no bigger than a fingertip at the base of her skull. "Feel that?"
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His fingers are gentle but still curious, running over the knot of scar tissue to discern the details in the dark. "Someone did this to you." It's not a question, because of course she didn't do it to herself. He thinks of the former lover she mentioned, though, and wonders about the unspoken. "But it's gone now?" Not a question asked in fear - two bombs in one bed would hardly be worse than one - but with hope.
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"Mmhm," she murmurs in soft, sleepy confirmation.
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The way she goes from tense to taffy reminds Gale of a stray cat that has been kicked too many times. Once he's understood the details of the scar, he keeps stroking his fingers over the back of her head and neck, rhythmic and gentle. If it weren't so late and so dark, he wouldn't dare, but this feels like a liminal space outside of time. Like the Astral plane, but instead of infinitely large, this space is so small that it exists only for the two of them. "You're safe here," he whispers. From him, but also any one else who might try to find her.
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"Yeah," she answers, just as quiet, in a voice thick with sleep.
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