That guy is definitely looking at Apollo.

He's used to it by now. Apollo usually wears something to cover up his ears, but this grungy little cafe is one of his usual haunts, and all the employees and regulars know by now. And you can't expect people not to stare a little when they've never seen a Viera before. Especially a male Viera with bright blond hair that sticks out like a sore thumb in the smoky din.

The man's not bad-looking, himself. If Apollo had to guess, he's got some Viera blood in him too, but his pointy ears make him an elezen to everyone else. He's certainly no Garlean. Ah, who is Apollo kidding—the guy is drop-dead gorgeous, and suspiciously so. The hairs on the back of Apollo's neck stand on end as he tries to figure out why this gorgeous stranger is surveilling him at this time of day.

Apollo heaves out a sigh and makes his way from his regular little corner booth towards the counter where the stranger is perched, almost expectantly. "Take a picture while you're at it, why don't you? It'll last longer."

—

“Perhaps, but much like a sunset, a still image would hardly do you justice.” Valoren smirks. “And besides, I already have your attention, which was my aim in the first place.”

Valoren swivels in his stool, hands folded like the maniacal supervillain he is.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Apollo stares at the man in disbelief. “I wouldn’t have come over if I’d known you were going to be like this,” he grumbles. He’s secretly pleased about the compliment, but he’s not going to let this guy know he thinks that.

“You can talk, but I can’t promise I’ll be listening.”

“Excellent!” Valoren gestures elegantly to the empty seat beside him, which he had already scared three people away from.

“Now, I’m not typically one to skip the foreplay, but I’ll make an exception and get straight to business — if only because your attention is too capricious to waste. My proposition is thus: I want a bodyguard, and you want information. Luckily for the two of us, fate has provided a perfect opportunity. Because you have the brawns I desire, and my own brain holds the answers you seek. To what question? Why, the fate of your friend Cassius!”

Valoren tilts his head, the hair falling away from his piercing eyes.

“Are you listening now?”

Apollo's eyes frantically scan the cafe before he leans closer to the stranger. "What the fuck do you know about Cassius?" he hisses, clearly incensed by the mention of his very recently departed friend. He's listening now, that's for sure. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't become the reason you need a bodyguard right here and now." He leans into Valoren, the pair looking almost like a close pair of lovers, were it not for Apollo's vice-like grip on Valoren's thigh.

He certainly has the strength. Impressive courage, too. But clever? That remains to be seen.

Valoren moves his head in even closer, his breath tickling the Viera’s cheek.

“Oh, darling, it appears you misunderstood. I want you. But I don’t need you.”

As Valoren speaks, his hand is already moving to Apollo’s. He presses a sharp nail painfully into the spot between the thumb and forefinger, angling it so the man should reflexively jerk his hand back.

“And word to the wise? Don’t touch what you can’t afford.”

—

Apollo curses under his breath, pulling his hand back like he's just been bitten. "Afford?" he scoffs. "Right now, you're not even worth my time." He moves away from Valoren, just far enough so the man's perfume isn't making Apollo's head spin. In one quick, fluid motion, he pulls out a switchblade and presses the delicate, sharp edge of it to Valoren's back.

"I haven't seen you around these parts, or heard any whispers about your type hanging around. So I'm going to be generous and assume you're simply not from around here, instead of the more likely option—which is that you're an entitled upper-crust brat who's just waltzed into the parts of town your mommy always told you to stay out of and picked the first tough-looking asshole you laid eyes on, like a little girl picking out a doll."

Apollo's eyes narrow. "Plenty of people want me. But they have to prove they have something to give a fuck about. Of course, this is a negotiation, so only a fool would give me his trump card. But if you don't cough up how you know Cassius's name, you're going to be losing much more than just your money."

—

Valoren sighs.

"Oh, so this is how it's going to be, is it?" Before Apollo has time to react, Valoren's got his own dagger against Apollo's wrist. He smiles, blinking his dark lashes lazily. "Seems we're at an impasse, my dear."

There's that smirk again. "If I just wanted any old thug, I wouldn't have gone to the trouble of learning about you and your late friend, now would I?" His curled lips reveal a hint of... is that a fang? "I'd quite like to resolve this peaceably, you know. So as a show of good faith, I will fold this round. I know about Cassius because information is my stock and trade. When I heard about his demise through my little grapevine, I thought I might follow those rustlings to the root of the matter, and what did I find but a golden opportunity?"

Valoren's blade twitches against Apollo's skin. "That's you, sweetheart."

—

So, not quite a helpless little rich boy, then. Apollo can’t tell if the man’s instincts are just that quick, or if they had the same thought. He heaves a sigh and folds his knife away.

“Name’s Apollo,” he says begrudgingly. “What do you need a bodyguard for? You seem quick enough with that dagger.”

—

Valoren sheathes his own blade, returning it to its concealed spot inside his thigh-high boot.

"I'm Valoren," he purrs. "And as I said, I don't need one, I want one. Quick though I may be, you yourself just demonstrated how others are quicker still to underestimate me. You see, I have this event to attend - the midwinter ball, which you may have heard of. Some rather irritating foes of mine will also be present, and I would rather discourage any violent inclinations before I'm forced to make a mess of the palace's nice floors."

—

Apollo has, in fact, heard of the midwinter ball. Mostly because one of his close friends, Lelia, has always wanted to go. It’s rich people bullshit, Lel. You wouldn’t catch me dead going. Ah, fuck. Lelia might actually kill him for this.

“Hmm. What kind of ‘foes’ should I be intimidating? And how does a pretty face like yours acquire such enemies?” Apollo leans back against the counter, giving Valoren an up and down look.

—

Valoren shifts so his sweater falls away from his body, giving his audience something to really look at.

"Information brokers like myself are hardly doing our jobs right if we don't learn a few sensitive things about people with sensitive egos. These particular people are unfortunately high-ranking officials, so while I could kill them easily, the repercussions thereof are really best avoided."

Valoren is staring at the Viera again. Obviously just to make sure he doesn't try any funny business. And not because he's easily the easiest thing in the room to rest one's eyes upon. Certainly not.

—

Apollo pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “Alright. Fine. You get a bodyguard, I get whatever you know about Cassius. You have a deal.”

He raises an eyebrow at Valoren. “Are you going to be eye-fucking me the whole time too, or should we get that out of the way first?” Apollo is joking. Mostly. He’s not thinking about it, he swears.

—

"Might as well get it out of our systems," Valoren shrugs, bemused. And not at all overcome with a sudden desire to sink his teeth into Apollo's muscular shoulders. "You free now? I'd recommend clearing your schedule if not. Block out a good six hours. Of course, we can also wait for tonight." He sips his coffee nonchalantly. It's cold.

—

“Six hours? I see we’re ambitious.” Apollo has long abandoned his own coffee, and now stands up from his seat. “You won’t last that long, but you’ve intrigued me. My place or yours?” He’s dying to know how this plays out. This skinny little twink going for six hours? Apollo will be impressed if he makes it to two.

—

"Yours. I have thin walls and neighbors who won't take kindly to hearing your whimpers and moans." Valoren hops off the chair, trailing a hand along Apollo's arm. "And darling, what did we just learn about underestimating me? I know I'm not hiring you for your wits, but really, I thought you'd catch on by now." Valoren makes a pitying expression that's extremely punchable.

—

Apollo snorts at the “your whimpers and moans” comment. “You’re quick with a blade, I’ll give you that. I only hope you aren’t as quick with your…other armaments.” He rolls his eyes at Valoren’s puppy dog eyes and grabs his coat.

The walk back to his place is full of banter and purposeful touches, and quite frankly, it drives Apollo insane. Is it a good idea to be fucking your kind-of boss immediately after he hires you? He decides it’s probably worse to let the sexual tension lie. Also, he really, really wants to fuck this guy.

Apollo hasn’t even gotten the coat off again before he’s being pushed up against a wall in his apartment with a surprising amount of strength from those string bean arms of Valoren’s. “You—fuck,” he swears, kicking off his boots as best as he can.

—

Valoren’s got a hungry look in his eyes as he stares at Apollo’s lips. “Yes, that was my plan,” he smirks. And then he goes in for a vicious kiss, tasting Apollo like a starving man. He wastes no time in tearing Apollo’s clothes off him, stopping just short of literally tearing the fabric (what, they’re fashionable). Valoren’s heart is racing in his chest. He’s so used to using his body to get something he wants, he’s forgotten what it’s like to want someone. And it’s exhilarating. —

Apollo’s always a little bit on edge when he’s hooking up with someone for the first time. It’s part of the thrill, of course, but he’s always on guard. Ironically, with Valoren, he finds himself completely at ease. It’s mostly the fact that Valoren needs him intact for something in the future. But it also feels like a part of him is letting out a breath he was holding.

“Such a gentleman to spare my clothes the massacre,” Apollo says wryly. He skips dealing with Valoren’s clothes for now, his hands sloppily undoing Valoren’s pants as the two furiously make out. Oh, fuck, he’s big. How does that make any sense?!

—

Valoren grins like a shark. It helps that he’s already got a throbbing boner, but he always loved when his size gave partners pause. Surprised? There we go underestimating me again. Tsk, tsk!

“On your knees, darling,” he orders casually.

“Really? Because I got the impression that—”

Valoren catches Apollo by the ponytail and yanks it. “That was not an invitation.” His other hand moves around Apollo’s throat, guiding the man as he’s pulled down.

[this works as a divider because my python script deletes things in brackets]

It’s late afternoon by the time Apollo taps out. Having entirely lost track of time, he’s incredulous to discover that they’re past the six hour mark. Valoren, in contrast to his own exhaustion, seems like he could keep going for even longer. Apollo wonders whether this guy on some sort of party drug. Then he notices the way Valoren’s wiry limbs are trembling as he lays close, and the ragged pant to his breath. Ah, so just a dedicated performer, then.

Valoren looks small, almost vulnerable, as he curls up against Apollo’s body. It’s quite the contrast to mere minutes ago, when he was ruthlessly driving Apollo to yet another climax, and Apollo has the strangest desire to protect him. A foolish thought, of course. The man can easily defend himself. But seeing him like this… well. Who could resist petting that soft, dark hair? If only to see those lips curl into a soft smile.

—

Of course, he lets the man stay the night. Apollo doesn’t know if he could kick the guy out even if he wanted to—his whole body is jello, and he can barely stay awake long enough to clean up and collapse back into bed. It’s been a long time since he purposely shared a bed with someone. Instead of feeling degrading, it feels…comforting.

Apollo wakes up next to a dead body.

His own body remembers the panic like an old friend. Nothing is familiar, and fear grips his heart in an icy vise. He’s back there again, with the chaos, the confusion, the smell of blood mingling with dirt.

Apollo doesn’t know where he’s going, but he’s up and fleeing somewhere that feels safe. He shoves himself in a corner (is this a kitchen? asks some foreign part of his brain) and just starts to sob.

—

Valoren barely wakes up when Apollo leaves the bed. It's still dark out, so he assumes it's the man's bladder calling. He pays it no mind.

Until he hears him crying.

It's a terrible, heartbreaking noise that wakes Valoren like a shard of ice to the gut. He sits bolt upright and spills out of bed, all but sprinting into the room it's coming from. He doesn't stop to think about what he's doing, or why. He's acting on pure instinct as he hurries into the kitchen. There, compressed into a corner, is Apollo. The man has made himself small, like a prey animal that's desperately trying to hide in plain sight.

Valoren doesn't hesitate to sit beside Apollo and fold him into an embrace, shielding him protectively from whatever unseen specters haunt the man's mind.

"Apollo, it's alright. I've got you. You're safe. I'm here." Valoren presses a kiss to his forehead. "Breathe. Apollo, can you hear me? Breathe."

—

Apollo shudders, but doesn’t flinch away from Valoren’s touch. He’s desperately grateful that he didn’t tell the guy to fuck off—he’s gone through these episodes alone before, and it isn’t fun. There’s a reason why he never goes to sleep sober anymore.

It’s much, much easier to get through it with someone there, though. He has something to focus on other than his own thoughts. He lets out jagged breaths, leaning into Valoren and shaking like a leaf. Focus, he reminds himself. He thinks about where he is and who he’s with. He focuses on Valoren’s touch, the smell of his hair, the softness of the shirt he’s thrown on…

Apollo can’t quite remember how they got back to bed, but he wakes up with a feeling of serene peacefulness. Valoren isn’t there, which makes his stomach lurch for a moment before he hears noise coming from the kitchen.

“What are you still doing here?” he asks, instead of what he actually wants to say: Thank you for helping me last night. I’m glad you stayed.

—

“I’ve no idea!” Valoren replies cheerily. I’m glad I stayed, too. “Do you seriously not have any cheese besides this crap?” He gestures with a slice of pre-wrapped orange… something. “The bacon is almost cooked, and the eggs are done if you like them over easy. Regardless, you’re just in time!”

Valoren is awfully cheerful for this hour in the morning. The sun is barely up, for gods’ sake, and he’s skipping about the kitchen like a damn Disney princess. If Disney princesses wore obscenely tight shorts and their hookup’s unlaundered hoodies, that is.

“Coffee?” Valoren offers, holding out a steaming mug.

—

“It doesn’t spoil …as far as I know,” Apollo says regarding the cheese. He thought he was in a good mood, but he’s downright grumpy next to Valoren.

He takes the offered coffee and leans in to brush some lint off the back of the hoodie Valoren has commandeered, but it’s really just an excuse to touch his ass. “I feel like I should be doing this for you. As thanks.”

—

“Thanks? What, I wasn’t that good in bed, was I?” Valoren says slyly. He was, actually, and he knows it. “But as for last night… well. That’s not something you should have to go through alone.” He goes quiet for a moment. “Nobody should.”

Without meaning to, he leans back into Apollo’s touch, letting out a soft sigh.

“Really, though, there’s no need to feel compelled. I’m an early riser by nature — gods know it’s not by choice — and cooking is somewhat of a specialty of mine. Besides, I was hungry!”

—

“Used to be a morning person. Nowadays I don’t see the point.” Apollo yawns widely. “I’m usually up until the wee hours of the morning. That’s the earliest I’ve ever gone to sleep.” He chuckles. “So far, you’re almost a good influence on me!”

He sniffs the air, nose wiggling in an uncharacteristically endearing manner. “I’m surprised you found anything worth eating in here, honestly.”

—

"Oh, my own bedtime schedule is much the same. Why, I slept more last night than in the previous four nights combined!" Now that Valoren mentions it, his dark circles are definitely noticeable. It's what gives his otherwise disarmingly beautiful face such a haunting look.

Valoren pauses halfway to the stove when he sees Apollo's nose twitch like that. What the fuck were those butterflies in his stomach about? ... He must just be hungry.

Right. Food. "Besides your own delicious self?" he flirts. The two breakfast sandwiches he's cooked up look remarkably good, and he hands one to Apollo. "But really, sometimes simple fare is best. You don't need elaborate techniques or rare spices to make a good meal." Valoren tilts his head, smirking. "That said, I did find my favorite secret ingredient in the back of your cabinet. It didn't taste expired, so I threw it in. If you can guess what it is, then I owe you a drink!"

—

Apollo takes a bite and chews, looking thoughtful. God, that shit is good. This came out of his dingy, understocked kitchen? Everything new he learns about Valoren just makes the man more and more intriguing. He ponders for a split second before chewing and swallowing. (His throat has recovered somewhat, to his relief.)

“Garlic powder,” he says. “I’m impressed. Mostly that you went to the trouble of looking for it.” He eats in silence for a moment before speaking again. “Not that I’m kicking you out or anything, but…don’t you have work or something? Spies to contact? Rich boy meetings to attend?”

—

Valoren has impressed even himself with this masterpiece. God, I am that good. He nods as Apollo correctly guesses his no-longer-secret ingredient.

“Right on the money!” he praises, wiping runny egg from his mouth — and intentionally missing a spot.

“And I do, but I’ve been working for… two weeks straight? Hence the late nights. I think I’ve earned a day off… or two, considering I also took yesterday.” He gives a lopsided grin. “It’s not like my absence is going to kill anyone. Or, well, anyone I can’t afford to lose.”

He looks at Apollo for a little too long before taking his next bite.

—

“A little worker bee, hmm? If last night was any indication, you are good at putting in work.” Apollo makes a face. “And making other people work.”

Apollo doesn’t even hesitate when he notices the egg on Valoren’s face. He leans in as if to kiss the man, but instead sticks his tongue out and slooooowly runs it over the spot.

“You know, people usually don’t season the eggs, but I noticed you did. Really adds something to the flavor,” he says in a low voice.

—

Valoren works his jaw. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, you fool. It’s all he can do not to grab Apollo and kiss him then and there. But that would end up with them fucking on the floor, and aside from his exhaustion from yesterday, it would be the waste of a perfectly delicious breakfast sandwich. Though he’s pushing the limits of his self control, he smiles brightly at Apollo instead.

“Why, thank you! I quite agree. There’s plenty of salt in the bacon already, of course, but a little touch of pepper goes a long way.”

There’s a pause in the conversation, but it feels strangely comfortable.

“And what of your plans for the day?” Valoren asks. “I don’t believe you mentioned what you do for a living.”

—

“My occupation is ‘being at the whims of a capricious mad scientist who dresses me like a doll’,” Apollo says wryly. “My schedule’s actually relatively clear for the next two weeks, but she might call me in for fittings whenever the fancy strikes her.” He takes another sip of coffee. “Her name is Charlotte, by the way. Honestly, you two would get along. You’re both insufferable in an inexplicably charming way.”

—

Valoren lights up like a holiday tree. He thinks I’m charming! …which means he fell for it, which is a good thing because I can use him more. Yeah.

He becomes abruptly aware of the dorky expression that’s commenced a hostile takeover of his features, and hurries to explain it away.

“Oh, if this Charlotte has designed much of your wardrobe, then I simply must meet her! I could hardly choose which outfit of yours to appropriate this morning. Do you suppose she’d let me model, too?”

It’s not hard to muster genuine enthusiasm for this opportunity. Apollo’s clothes truly are top notch, and Valoren is a sucker for fashion.

—

"Mmm...she likes them edgier than you. But you're also beautiful, so who knows." Apollo's just about to get up for more coffee when his linkpearl goes off. "Speak of the devil and she shall appear," he grumbles. "That's probably her."

"My muse~!" coos a familiar voice in Apollo's fluffy ear. "You're awake?! I wasn't sure, seeing as it's before noon, after all. But I simply must see you as soon as you can bring that adorable little fluffy tail of yours to my studio. Inspiration has struck me once more!"

Apollo gives Valoren a "yup, that's her" look. "I am at your command, your majesty," he says dryly. "Hey, do you mind if I bring someone along? I think you'd enjoy meeting him."

The shriek that comes out of the linkpearl makes Apollo wince. "A new paramour?! One worthy of me meeting?! Goodness, my heart is aflutter! Don't say another word. I'll see you in half an hour." And she's gone.

Apollo heaves a world-weary sigh and glances up at Valoren. "Well. She's excited to meet you, to say the least."

—

Valoren laughs, showing a glimpse of fang. "Well, isn't that just serendipity! Half an hour, she said? Good, that gives me time to head back to my place to get myself presentable. I'm usually a strict adherent to my nighttime routine, but seeing as I was rather occupied before bed last night, emergency measures will have to do. I mean, gods, look at my hair!" Despite his complaints, it still looks directly out of a shampoo advertisement.

"Where shall I meet you?" Valoren has that glint in his eyes that signals an impending Scheme. What to wear to meet a fashion designer who likes 'edgy'? He'd seen Apollo's clothing, which gave him some small inspiration, but it was going to be quite the challenge. Especially since he had half an hour. Well, he'd mull it over in the shower.

—

"Ah. Of course you're high-maintenance." Apollo rolls his eyes and gives Valoren the address. "I'd say 'be on time', but it really makes no difference to me if you do." Apollo's getting hot under the collar again at that little flash of fang, and it's really pissing him off, so he defaults to being an abrasive asshole.

To Apollo's surprise, Valoren is there before him. And he's dressed...god. Immaculately, for meeting Charlotte. How did he pull it off so well? It's really starting to piss him off at just how proficient Valoren seems to be at everything that's been thrown at him. Apollo feels like he's the one playing catch-up, and he doesn't like it. "You're dressed like an idiot," he says flatly. "Aren't you cold?"

—

"No," Valoren lies through his chattering teeth. "Besides, even if I were, it would defeat the point to cover up an outfit like this!" He makes a conscious effort to stop shivering. "Let's just get inside, shall we?"

Unfortunately for Valoren, inside the warehouse is barely any warmer than outside. He lets out an irritated little huff, which plumes in the air. But he's nothing if not stubborn, and that obstinacy is only magnified when he has a noble cause to uphold it. Anything in the name of fashion, spite, and the almighty Bit.

"Gods, and I thought my room was a mess of dark clothes. Looks like a hurricane of ink went through here."

—

“She dabbles in color. Mostly neon.” Apollo huffs angrily and shrugs off his coat. “I can’t stand watching you shiver like a wet rat. Put this on.” In the moment, it doesn’t feel like a big deal—just alleviating his annoyance at Valoren’s insistence on suffering for fashion. Apollo only gave him his coat to mess up the look Valoren so carefully curated, of course.

He won’t think about it too hard until later.

“Apollo, my bronzed statue, my muse!” trills Charlotte as she bursts into the main area from a random side door. She’s a short woman with white hair and plush red lips, but her presence fills the entire room. “I am simply dying to meet your new plaything—” She stops dead in her tracks when she sees Valoren draped in Apollo’s coat, speechless for a brief moment in her life as her eyes dart from Valoren to Apollo and back over the cat-shaped rims of her glasses.

Apollo makes a frustrated noise. “Valoren, meet Charlotte, my erstwhile employer. Charlotte, meet Valoren, who accosted me at my usual haunt yesterday and whom I have yet to be rid of.” He gives Charlotte an I’ll explain later look.

—

Valoren has to admit that the jacket is remarkably warm, especially when it's been preheated by one hunky bun. He cozies into it despite himself. I wonder how many others he's pulled the jacket move on.

"Thank you, darling, for that eminently flattering introduction," Valoren rolls his eyes. "...Though not entirely inaccurate. Charlotte, 'tis a pleasure to meet you. From what I've seen of your work, you truly do have a divine spark of creativity. And if you're the one I have to thank for the dark and delightful wrapper on my eye candy, then I owe you a debt of gratitude."

—

Charlotte, to her credit, recovers quickly. “My goodness, I see now why you insisted on our meeting. How auspicious!” She claps her hands together in delight before getting right into Valoren’s personal space to examine his clothing. “Don’t tell me Apollo dressed you to meet me, because you’ll simply break my heart! Whoever put together this outfit clearly has a very keen eye…” Apollo gives Valoren a helpless shrug. Better you than me.

—

Valoren rotates himself helpfully, raising his arms and striking little poses. He shoots Apollo a wink, clearly thriving on the attention.

“He did not! I’m pleased to report I dressed myself. I once aspired to clothing design, actually, but life had other plans, and I found my fashion skills were best used as supplementary to my current occupation.” He does not elaborate on said occupation. “Ah! While I have you, do you accept commission work? I know inspiration is an ephemeral thing, so I completely understand if not. But if you are compelled to design something formal, Apollo and I will be attending the midwinter ball in two weeks. You know Apollo’s wardrobe better than I, but most of my clothing is either too casual or too revealing for such an occasion. You would be duly compensated, of course; I can offer myriad forms of payment, including modeling for you, promoting your work, or pure gil.”

—

Apollo’s attention drifts as the two talk business. As chaotic as Charlotte’s workspace is, there is an order to the chaos, and he quickly finds her latest work. It’s easy to pick out which ones are intended for him—the floppy yellow ears doodled onto each faceless model’s head are hard to miss, after all.

As soon as Apollo seems suitably engrossed enough to not be paying attention, Charlotte rounds on Valoren, hands brushing along the sleeves of Apollo’s jacket. “Now, my latest fascination. You simply must tell me how you managed to get Apollo’s jacket onto these lovely shoulders of yours. What did you offer him, hmm? I’ve never seen him so much as offer it to another person,” she says, eyes wide. “I mean, having a personal brand is one thing, but I’ve seen him turn down people who ask for it as a ploy. I can only imagine how you’ve dazzled my star model in such a short amount of time.”

—

Valoren is confused to say the least. “Offer him for it? I, er…” He glances at Apollo, who seems otherwise occupied. “Nothing? He saw I was cold, despite my protests to the contrary, and insisted I take it. He put it on me himself.” Valoren’s heart lurches as he processes the implications of this. “He’s done that for nobody else?” he confirms. “But he’s slept with Twelve know how many people, surely…” There’s a feeling in Valoren’s gut that sends adrenaline rushing through his whole body. I’ve got him. That’s his first thought, but it’s accompanied by… guilt? And something else that he can’t — or won’t — put a name to.

Before Charlotte can respond, Apollo is moseying back over, holding a design. Valoren is admittedly a little checked out during the rest of the design session — which thankfully doesn’t last beyond noon. Even as he watches Apollo model, his head is more of a tangled mess than he’d like. When it comes time for them to leave, Valoren tries not to make a big deal about parting from Apollo. He’s known the man for barely more than twenty four hours, and he has no good excuse for wanting to hang around him more, but… no, a hug goodbye would be foolish. A kiss even moreso. And so Valoren gives a little saluting wave, and leaves for his flat.

His bed is colder that night than it has ever been.

—

Valoren hasn’t been stalking Apollo. No, he just happened to end up at the same dive bar he knows Apollo frequents, right at the time he knows Apollo’s usually there. Because technically, he’s been stalking Apollo’s friends.

You can tell a lot about a man by looking at the people he surrounds himself with, Valoren assures himself. It’s standard information gathering procedure, really. Only his due diligence. There are no ulterior motives here. Honest.

Valoren is never honest. If he were, he’d have to admit how disappointed he is that Apollo neglected to join his friends tonight. Or how his heart aches when he overhears them discussing Apollo, and he thinks about the sort of person his mark must be to inspire such loyalty from his companions. Then their conversation drifts to “Apollo’s little beau,” and no amount of self deception can cover up the wretched twist in his gut. Of course Apollo is seeing someone else.

“Yeah, apparently that’s where he disappeared to for an entire 24 hours. He and this ‘Valoren’ were fucking like rabbits.”

Holy shit. They meant him?! Valoren strains his ears to hear the next part of the discussion, but a shouting match has just developed elsewhere in the bar, and he can’t catch a word. I need to get closer.

Skilled spy that Valoren is, he’s not exactly adhering to his usual cautious methods. He can’t miss this, and he’d take risks in order to make it happen. However, he shouldn’t have been surprised when he gets noticed by the group. Shiiiiiiiit.

—

“Look alive, kids, we’ve got an audience,” Columba says, taking another swig of her beer.

“Isn’t that…” Lelia squints at the exposed eavesdropper. “I think that’s Valoren. Apollo said black hair and purple eyes.”

“Hey,” says the guy of the group. “You. You’re Valoren, aren’t you?” He beckons for Valoren to come closer. “We wanna talk to you.”

He leans in to Valoren, assessing him with narrowed eyes. “What’s your deal? What do you want from Apollo?” No greeting, no pleasantries, just straight to the point.

—

Valoren knows the game is forfeit. Now would usually be the time for him to lie until his pants caught fire, but something tells him that he’s not talking his way out of this one. Sometimes, the only thing you can do is fold.

“If it’s a deal you want, then I’d be happy to do business with you. Lucky for your curious mind, information is my primary product on offer, and I’m willing to give you a free sample. That’s what I sought out Apollo for, you see. A simple professional arrangement, where he will act as my bodyguard for the upcoming midwinter ball, and I will provide him with information he seeks. We couldn’t resist our mutual attraction, though, so it’s become something like business-with-benefits.”

—

Nico rolls his eyes at Valoren’s flowery, effusive language. “How the fuck did he spend 24 hours with you?” he grouses. “Good grief.”

Now it’s Columba’s turn to squint at Valoren. “Hey—” None too gently, she grabs Valoren by the shoulder and turns him to take a closer look at what he’s wearing. “That’s Apollo’s hoodie. I got him that one to commemorate when he passed out in a gutter during a bar crawl we did for one of Nico’s namedays.” Nico nods as if recalling a fond memory.

“Listen, you little shrimp. We don’t fuck with your ilk. The VU already watch us enough, we don’t need to be surveilled by nosy little spies who lie and don’t give a damn whether the people they fuck with live or die.” She pushes Valoren’s shoulder roughly as if to emphasize her point. “Apollo’s a dick, but he’s a dick we care about. If you make him worse, I promise you that an angry client will be nothing next to what we’ll do to you. Understood?”

—

Threatening Valoren has never been a very effective tactic in the past. Nor very good for the health of the one doing the threatening. And at first, the hostile words simply roll off him like usual. There's a witty retort easily on his lips.

"Make him worse? I should hope not. Because what you'd do to me for such an act would be nothing beside what I'd already do to myself."

Wait. What?!

Oh god, what did he mean by that? What the FUCK did he mean by that? The words had been automatic. He didn't have time to process them until they were already out of his mouth and hanging in the air, like some terrible cloud of smoke, choking the breath from his lungs.

—

That does take Columba aback. Nico and Lelia just look confused, but it only takes a few moments for clarity to dawn on the red-haired woman’s face.

“So you understand,” she says quietly. “It’s not personal. It’s just…Apollo already has a lot going on. Not my place to share, but…hopefully you won’t ever need to know.”

An awkward silence hangs in the air before Columba throws money down to pay for the group’s drinks and gets up. “Whatever…realizations you’re having, just. Don’t hurt him. That’s all we ask.” She gestures to her friends. “C’mon, we’ve got somewhere important to be.”

—

Valoren is grateful the group moves on, because his boots are glued to the floor. Don’t hurt him. That’s all we ask. And how could they ask that of him? All he did was hurt people. Had he finally found someone he couldn’t afford to?

Valoren doesn’t bother packing much. Look at that, his life fit in one designer duffel bag. Well, or the parts of it he could take with him anyway. Unfortunately, he was leaving his heart behind. Apollo would keep it safe, he knew. It wasn’t like he’d need it where he was going anyway.

The train is unusually empty. Valoren isn’t sure whether that’s better or worse than if it were full. The quiet is nice, but it leaves him entirely too much room to think. And think he does. Was he making a mistake, leaving behind the warmest bed he’d ever known? The only place he’d felt like home? But no, if he truly cared for Apollo, then running is the right thing to do. He’d only endanger him by staying — both emotionally and literally. Valoren hadn’t led a particularly safe life here in Garlemald, and while the man could obviously handle himself, Valoren couldn’t bear it if Apollo were hurt on his behalf. Just don’t hurt him. And so he was leaving.

Ishgard hadn’t been home to him in nearly two decades, but it meets his qualifications of “accessible without aetheryte” and “anywhere but here.” It will be a couple hours before he reaches the airship port, and then he’ll be flying back to Ishgard the next morning. He doesn’t know where he’ll be staying. He doesn’t really care.

Valoren is fiddling idly with his linkpearl when it comes to life, startling him out of his brooding thoughts. His heart lurches at the possibility of it being Apollo, before reason asserts itself again. It can’t be him, he has no reason to call me. It must be somebody else.

It’s Apollo.

—

He can’t call his friends.

Apollo promised them he’d be safe today, and while he knows they would drop everything to be at his side if he needed it, his priorities are fucked right now, and he can’t bear the thought of their disappointment.

But it’s bad. He knows it’s going to be bad. Apollo wishes he could pretend he didn’t know what was wrong, but deep down, he knows the reason, and he hates it. He’s spent days pining over a man who doesn’t want him for anything other than what his body can do, and it’s tearing his brain to shreds. Adding drugs into the equation is always a tossup whether it will help or harm, but this time it’s devastatingly bad. He can barely think, much less move, and it’s going to go downhill from here.

Don’t call him. He’s the reason you’re like this. Don’t call him.

“Valoren?” Apollo asks through cracked, dry lips, fingers pressed hard to his linkpearl as if he’s worried he’ll lose it. “I need…you. I need your help.” The memory of Valoren holding him that night when he had the episode is like a beacon in the darkness, a warmth he clings to as a stormy sea batters him. Apollo doesn’t care how fucked or pathetic he sounds. He only wants it to stop. “Come over…please.”

—

The relief Valoren feels at hearing Apollo's voice is short lived as soon as he really hears it. He's intoxicated, and in a bad way. Valoren can feel his heart breaking apart, miles away in Apollo's hands. By the fourth word from Apollo, Valoren is already standing.

"Are you at home?" he asks. There's a pause.

"Yeah."

"I'll be right there. Hold on, love, I'm coming."

Valoren knows there's an aetheryte right by Apollo's apartment. But he hadn't attuned to it, and to attempt to teleport to an unknown destination would be insanity. He'd have to be a fool to try.

He did know his destination, though. It was by Apollo's side.

And so, to the stares of the Garlean passengers, Valoren draws upon his meager aether and sends himself into the Lifestream. For a moment and an eternity, he's drifting in the ocean, alone and cold and suffocating. But not entirely in the dark. There's a light somewhere above him, gleaming gold, calling him home. He follows it.

And suddenly there's cold air stinging his lungs, and the world is spinning, and he's exactly where he needed to be. Despite the pain thrumming in his head, Valoren forces his rubbery legs to carry him to Apollo's door. He knocks on it not thirty seconds after Apollo hung up the call.

"Apollo? I'm here. Are you okay?" There's no response to Valoren's calls, and he tries the door handle. It's unlocked. "Apollo, I'm coming in."

—

Apollo thinks he must be hallucinating when he hears the voice. Has his perception of time already started to warp? How did Valoren get here so soon? It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Valoren is here, and he’s walking in, and his voice sounds like music.

He was on the couch just a few moments ago but now he’s on the floor, trembling and gasping for air. It feels like a terrible fever—he’s disoriented and distressed. Apollo knows he should get up and get in bed, or get a glass of water, but he can’t make his body do it. All he can do is let out a low groan in response to Valoren’s questions.

“Bad trip,” he forces out. He can only move his eyes, which fix themselves on Valoren’s face, trying to etch him into memory. “Don’t leave. Please. I don’t care what I have to do.” Destroy my life if you want. It’s not like there’s anything worth living for without you.

—

“I’m not going anywhere,” Valoren says. “I won’t leave. I’m staying, I promise.” He wipes the bangs from Apollo’s face, noticing how his pupils have constricted, and how he’s struggling to breathe. Valoren seen enough of his fellow escorts strung out on somnus to recognize the signs of an overdose. Though it takes every ounce of his strength to do so, he hauls Apollo into a sitting position, easing the strain on his lungs.

“Focus on your breathing. Slow, deep breaths. Try to feel it in your whole chest. Can you do that for me? Breathe, Apollo. Breathe.”

Apollo can’t have taken the drugs long ago, because the effects are continuing to develop. Without knowing how much was taken or what it may have been mixed with, Valoren has to think on his feet. But that’s always been what he’s best at, isn’t it? He just never thought his abilities to improvise would be used to possibly save a life.

“I’m going to go to the kitchen for a moment,” Valoren announces. “I’m going to keep talking to you while I make you some coffee. Listen to my voice, and keep taking those deep breaths.” Valoren continues speaking as he brews the pot of coffee, regularly prompting a response from Apollo. He’s now extremely grateful for Apollo’s preference for convenience, because it only takes a few minutes to make it. He brings a cup over to Apollo. To his relief, the man appears not to have gotten much worse. It won’t be pretty, but with caffeine to keep his system going, he’ll probably survive.

“I’m going to help you drink this,” Valoren says. “It’s hot, and you need to be careful not to choke. Just take a small sip.”

—

It's all Apollo can do to respond to Valoren's prompting and stay awake. You can't go to sleep. You won't wake up. But it's easier to keep his eyes open when he's looking at Valoren, drinking in his figure, clinging to the fact that he's real, and he's here. He sucks in another laboured, shuddering breath. He's covered in sweat, but he feels so cold.

Apollo takes in the tiniest bit of coffee successfully, and it helps ground him. Without warning, he pulls Valoren into his arms, desperate to feel the press of his body against his. "You came," he murmurs.

—

Valoren just barely manages to keep from spilling the scalding coffee as Apollo embraces him. Carefully, he sets the mug down, and hugs Apollo in return.

“You called.” For a man of many words, Valoren only needs to choke out those two for Apollo to understand him. I’m still in awe that you called. But how could I not answer?

He allows himself to be held for as long as Apollo needs. When the man’s breathing starts to slow again, Valoren shifts in his lap, helping him to drink more coffee.

“You’re going to have to stay awake for the next several hours,” Valoren says softly. “But I’ll stay up with you. I’ll stay with you.” Curled in Apollo’s lap, he toys idly with a lock of golden hair. “You’re not in any state for fucking, so we’ll have to find some way to entertain ourselves. We can keep talking — about anything. I could tell you stories, if you stay awake during them; I promise not to be boring! I could make you some food. Regardless of what we do, I’ll be here. We’ll get you through this together.”

—

You called. Just those two words make Apollo’s heart stop. In that moment, he wants to let every thought he’s had about Valoren spill out of him, every terrible possessive thought and unhinged yearning. Even the three words he knows he doesn’t have the guts to utter. For a split second he fantasizes about letting it all out.

But he can’t. He just can’t. It’s a poor position to put Valoren in. Even in this state, even with his aggressively complicated feelings, Apollo can’t bear to put Valoren in a difficult situation.

“Tell me about yourself,” he rasps. “Everything you can tell me. I want to know.”

—

"Well," Valoren smiles, "you can surely tell, but I was raised in Ishgard. I lived there for sixteen years, under the shadow of my elder sister, Trixia..."

Valoren then goes on to tell most of his life story. He spares few details, even those that paint him in an unflattering light, even those that he's told nobody else. Everything from the murder of his grandparents, to the discovery of his sister as their murderer, to the voidsent pact he made to execute her in turn, is given voice there in the dim room.

To Valoren's credit as a storyteller, he manages to keep Apollo awake and engaged until the sun rises, some six hours later. Perhaps he might have been a bard in another life. As it is, his skills have been put to noble use. When Valoren is sure that Apollo is sober enough to sleep without fear, Valoren guides him to the bedroom. His hands are gentle as he helps Apollo dress in clean sleepwear, then slips into bed beside him.

They fall asleep, bodies entwined, just after the first light.

—

Thank the stars he’s still there when Apollo wakes.

He shouldn’t have doubted Valoren, but he couldn’t help it. Waking to an empty bed is just a part of life, but this time, feeling like Valoren was just some beautiful fever dream would have been unbearable.

Valoren is still asleep this time. Apollo watches him fondly, enchanted by how peaceful he looks. Gods, he’s beautiful. Apollo should get up, stretch, maybe pay last time’s favor back by making breakfast this time, but he just can’t bear to leave the bed. Not when Valoren is in it.

—

Valoren has always been the first to wake. He’d be out of bed while it was still dark, and gone before the sunrise. He can count on one hand the number of times his partner from the previous night had woken up first. And he doesn’t need to count to know this is the first time someone has stayed.

“Good morning, Merry Sunshine,” Valoren greets, his voice rough. He reaches out to caress Apollo’s face, running his thumb along that freckled cheek. I wish I could kiss you. The thought is unbidden, but it doesn’t scare Valoren like it should. Instead, he smiles. With a big stretch and a remarkably catlike yawn, Valoren spills out of bed. He’s still wearing Apollo’s hoodie.

Trudging into the sunlit kitchen, he discovers that there’s new ingredients from last time. Is that green bundle spinach?! And… Apollo got cheddar cheese.

Valoren can’t be bothered to worry about the way his heart swells at this. When he turns to Apollo, he’s grinning like a fool.

“You have enough ingredients for a frittata!” he exclaims, just as delighted as though he’d discovered Apollo had hung the moon for him.

—

Apollo scratches the back of his head, a little embarrassed. “I, uh…wanted to try cooking actual food. You inspired me.” That’s a goddamn lie. He bought that shit in hopes that Valoren would stay the night again sometime.

Breakfast is nice. Domestic, even. Apollo catches himself wishing he could have this all the time.

“How did you even get to my place so fast…?”

—

“Excellent toast, by the way,” Valoren says as they sit down. “I always fear using someone else’s toaster — finicky devices that they are — so I’m glad I left that task to you.”

He chews on his toast and his answer. Surely Apollo wouldn’t realize he hadn’t attuned to the aetheryte, right?

“I teleported, of course,” he replies. “I’m not a Garlean, darling.”

—

Apollo furrows his brow. “You…teleported?” His face grows hot. “I…guess I didn’t realize you’d go to all the trouble for me.” Fuck. It’s been a long time since he felt like this about someone. He can’t quite put a name to it, but it feels juvenile and awkward.

“You attuned to the aetheryte near me, then. So you knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away,” Apollo says, quickly attempting to use smug braggadocio to cover him how he’s actually feeling.

—

“I, er…” The lie is right there on Valoren’s lips. Deny, deflect, distract, and he’d be back to their regular banter. Lying came as easily as breathing to Valoren. And yet, this time, he can’t do it. Not to Apollo. “I didn’t. Attune, that is.” Suddenly the toast is too dry in his throat. “I did know.”

He shouldn’t be admitting this. But he keeps talking anyway. “Of course I went to the trouble. You needed me.”

—

Apollo is struck dumb by Valoren’s honesty. How can he keep being snarky when Valoren is just. Laying it all out there?

“That’s…” pathetic. Desperate. Say it. Say something that hurts him. Push him away. “insane,” he finally lets out. “You don’t even know me.”

—

Valoren goes quiet. It’s the truth. And that hurts more than any barbed attempt at pushing away his feelings.

He looks down at his plate, avoiding eye contact. Partly because he can’t bear to look at Apollo’s beautiful face, and partly because he doesn’t want Apollo to see the way his own eyes are growing misty.

“You’re right,” he says eventually. “I gave you my life last night… my life’s story. Yet I haven’t learned the first thing about you. I don’t know you.” He exhales slowly. “…but I want to.”

—

“There’s nothing to know,” Apollo says. “I used to be a wood warder. And then I left. And now I’m here.” He swallows past a lump in his throat. “At the dead end of my life.” He looks up at Valoren, and the look on his face is heartbreaking. “I didn’t really have much to live for.” Until you came along.

—

Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation getting to him, but Valoren is about to lose it right here in this kitchen. He looks up at Apollo now, and there’s no masking that he’s upset.

“Gods, Apollo, what am I supposed to say to that? That I’m glad you’re here? That I’m sorry? That I’m.” He clenches his jaw, forcing the words back down his throat. “You’re right. I don’t know you. And you don’t think there’s anything to know. So what am I even doing here? You need me, but you’re trying to push me away? You think you’re worth my time, but you’re not worth knowing? Which is it, Apollo? Because we can keep playing this stupid fucking game, but I want you to know damn well that if I lose, that if I lose you, I’m not going to survive. And yeah. Maybe that’s dramatic. Or pathetic. Or insane. But I don’t really care, frankly. I care about you, and that’s the worst fucking part, isn’t it? The worst thing is that I love you.”

—

Anger is good. Apollo can do anger. But what he can’t do is what Valoren’s saying. He’s supposed to be mad. He’s supposed to spit insults and venom and walk out swearing to never see Apollo again. Apollo knows how to handle that.

The truth is, it scares him. It scares him that Valoren loves him so much he can’t live without him. Apollo doesn’t even know if he’s going to survive to see the next day sometimes. He can’t bring Valoren down with him—this beautiful, smart, talented man losing his will to live because he fell for some rotten 200-year-old pervert with PTSD and a death wish. Everyone Apollo’s ever loved, he’s watched die. He refuses to watch Valoren die, as well. Even if he has to carve his own heart out of his ribcage with a knife to prevent it.

“You know what? I’m just going to say it.” He can’t look at Valoren. He would know. He’d be able to see in Apollo’s eyes that it’s all a lie. “It is pathetic. And desperate.” I love you. “It’s not my fault you fell for the first sorry bastard to show some vulnerability around you.” I love you. “You’re not entitled to know who I am because you hired me to follow your prissy little ass around at a party for two-faced crimelords and fucked me like a common whore.” I love you. “And it’s…” Apollo falters, just for a moment. “And it’s not my fault you love me. I don’t…” I love you. I love you. I’m sorry. I love you. “…care about you.”

The silence is awful. Crushing. “I’ll do your stupid little event. For Cassius. And because you came to help me last night. But I don’t want you.”

—

Valoren is calm. Not the calm of a clear day. The calm that comes before a storm.

He reaches out, crooking a finger under Apollo's chin and tilting it up to face him. The gesture would be tender, were it not for the vindictive sneer on Valoren's lips.

"You will."

He holds the position for a beat, then drops his hand and stands abruptly. The bright smile is obviously a mask, but nonetheless unnerving for its insincerity.

"So! Because I'm obviously not going anywhere, what do you say to a little midwinter cleaning? Trick question! It's not optional. Having you endanger your own priceless life like you did last night simply won't do, darling. We're cleaning your house. And you're getting clean, too."

He can't help but let a deranged little cackle escape him. Sure, we can keep up this little game. But you're playing against a mastermind. And I can't lose.

—

Apollo shivers a little at the glacial change in temperature in the room. He knows he’s down bad for this man, because Valoren’s sharp return to his vindictive former self is kind of giving him a stiffie. He masks it by rolling his eyes at the chin-tilt move and quickly turning away.

Part of him is relieved that his ploy worked. Another part of him feels like he did die last night after all.

He lets out a groan when Valoren mentions getting clean. “You have no fucking right—“ Well, he kind of does. The man’s right—Apollo can’t destroy himself like he desperately wants to until the ball has come and gone. He can self-destruct afterwards. In the meantime, he has to make it hurt as little as possible for Valoren. By being a total asshole, of course.

“Whatever,” he mumbles. “I only have to put up with this for another week. Just…let me call Valentine.”

—

Valoren gets a very, very sharp look in his eyes. A scalpel couldn't cut like his stare as he tilts his head, smiling.

"And who is Valentine?"

—

Apollo gives Valoren the most sullen side-eye glance. “My dealer. And before you get your underpants in a twist, I trust him. My trip last night wasn’t his fault. Just telling him I’ll be clean for a week.”

—

"Oh. That's alright then," Valoren chirps. He trusts this man? Enough to try and take the blame for him? Oh, that won't do at all. "You're free to call him, if you like. I'll wait here if you need some privacy."

—

Well, Apollo doesn’t trust Valoren at all. Should he stay right where he is and make sure Valoren isn’t getting up to any mischief? …what if that’s what Valoren wants?

Fuck it. Apollo walks out of the room, hand moving to his linkpearl. He can eavesdrop all he wants. Apollo might even give him a little audio drama.

“Valentine, my one and only,” he coos in a syrupy, out of character tone.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Valentine grunts in his ear just as Apollo shuts the door behind him.

—

The moment Apollo is out of the room, Valoren beelines for his bag, moving silently. Nice try, darling, but you've just played right into my hands. He thanks his lucky stars that he'd thought to pack the linkpearl tapping device when he left for Ishgard. Wretched technological demon that it is, he had figured out how to get the thing to do what it's supposed to a solid 70% of the time. Now to just hope this is one of those times...

To his relief, he's able to pick up the signal on the second try. Gotcha.

—

“Nothing~! Listen, I just wanted to give you a heads-up. I’m not partaking for the next week. I’ve got a…thing that I have to be sober for.”

“Mmm hmm.” Valentine sounds apprehensive. “It’s nothing dangerous, right? Do you need backup?” Valentine almost sounds…caring, which is new. It catches Apollo off guard.

“You’re talking about me here, you know. And I’ll be sober, so I’ll be doubly fine. And since when do you care about my wellbeing?” Apollo teases, his tone just tipping over into flirting.

“Yeah. Hey, about that—next time you come to see me, after all your shit is done with…I have something we need to talk about, alright?”

Apollo snorts. “What, do I owe you another blowjob?” He tsks in faux disappointment. “Inflating how much I owe you after the transaction is low, even for a somnus dealer.”

“Are you offering?”

“In your dreams.”

“Maybe. Well, stay safe, alright? I’ll talk to you in a week.”

“Don’t trip and accidentally hang yourself~”

“A delight to talk to you as always, sunshine.” click.

Apollo walks back into the main room, having almost forgotten Valoren was there. What could Valentine possibly have to tell him? Oh, well. Couldn’t have been that important if he was willing to wait for a week, could it?

—

Valoren squeaks in surprise as he's caught red handed.... loitering by the door to the bedroom. The pearl-tapping device is long gone.

He grins, doing doing the perfect impression of somebody doing a passable impression of an innocent person - which is to say, he looks guilty as shit.

"Heyyyy, Apollo," he says. "Fancy seeing you here. So what did you tell him? That was an awfully long call." He pauses. "Not that it's any of my business, of course. Or that I care that much. In fact, forget it." His overeagerness to learn what Apollo was talking about shows that his eavesdropping met with little success, and his bluff about 'forgetting it' only corroborates that theory.

—

Apollo raises an eyebrow at Valoren. “None of your business. Just told him he won’t be seeing me until next week.” He moves back towards the main area. “You can be rest assured of my sobriety now, so feel free to head out.” I have shit to do—like jerking off to the thought of you like the sad lonely dipshit I am.

—

"Oh." Valoren 'tries' not to sound too disappointed. "I....alright. Sure." He huffs, his evil plans evidently stymied.

"Well... if I'm going to be staying here for the next week, then I ought to get out of work. I suppose I will head out after all." He appears torn as he chews on his lower lip with a hint of fang. "Fine. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone, alright? I'll be back this afternoon. And then we're going shopping!"

True to his word, Valoren does in fact head back to Plenilune. However, what he neglected to mention was what he does after announcing that he'd be involved in a project, and missing for the next week.

They're information brokers. Of course it's all together too easy for him to track down Valentine.

When he shows up at Valentine's door, his heartbeat is pounding in his head. Chill, Valoren. It's just another job. He knows he's lying to himself.

—

The door opens to a very handsome, very disinterested-looking dark-haired elezen. He’s very much not expecting visitors, so finding Valoren on his doorstep instantly makes him suspicious.

“I know you,” Valentine says, eyes narrowing. “You’re with Plenilune.” He doesn’t mention Apollo—too distracted by Valoren’s connections to connect the dots between the elezen on his doorstep and the one Apollo’s friends have been whispering about.

—

Fuck! That’s inconvenient. Change of plans, then. Time to pivot!

“Good, then you know I’m serious. I’ve come here to warn you,” he says gravely. “With no small risk to my own person, too. We should speak inside.”

“So,” Valoren sighs. “You’ll just have gotten a call from Apollo. He would have said something along the lines of being sober for the next week for an event. Allow me to inform you: I am the one behind that event. And he made that call against my advice.” Valoren frowns slightly, his face a mask of detached concern. “Because by contacting you, he’s just signed your death warrant.”

“You see, this Cassius business runs deep. At first glance, one might think that since Plenilune killed him, he’d simply learned something he shouldn’t have. But imagine my surprise when I discovered he was one of us.” Valoren’s frown creases further. “I dug into it, of course. Right under the organization’s nose, I sought the buried roots of the matter. And while I’m still sorting through the implications of what I found, I also heard whispers of a golden rabbit, who had also been nosing around. So I sought him out.”

“Catching feelings was not part of the agenda. That was a wrench in my plans, certainly. For in my business, there’s no better way to lose somebody than to start fretting about whether you might lose them.” Valoren grits his teeth, the emotion genuine. “And yet, here I am. Because the idiot cared about you enough to call you, and I care enough about him to clean up the mess he made by doing so.” Valoren drums his manicured nails on his leg. “The linkpearl was tapped by Plenilune. The people who killed Cassius, the very people I’m hunting, now have their sights set on you. And against my better judgement, I’ve risked my life in getting to you first, to make sure you’re long gone by the time they pull the trigger.”

Valoren fixes Valentine with an intense stare.

“And you have to be gone. Any further communication with Apollo will only endanger you both. I can deliver a message, either verbally or via a sealed note. Furthermore, I can buy you time, and if you need resources, I can help you disappear. But within twenty four hours, you must leave."

—

Valentine does let Valoren in, albeit reluctantly, and listens to his diatribe with crossed arms and a thoroughly unimpressed expression. He does appear to take Valoren’s warning seriously, but he makes no indication of urgency when he finally speaks.

“Right. Here’s the problem with your heroic little romantic plan.” He puts his hands in his pockets, completely at ease. “I didn’t know Plenilune was involved at all until you showed up on my doorstep. It makes absolutely zero sense that they would target me.” Valentine turns and walks towards the other end of his apartment towards a glossy black cabinet. “So I can only come to one conclusion.”

“You’ve put me in their crosshairs on purpose because you want Apollo for yourself.” Valentine’s face stretches into a mean, condescending smirk. “See, here’s the thing. You’re not the first of Apollo’s one-night stands to catch feelings, and you won’t be the last. I’ll give you credit for being smart enough to know where the real threat lies.” He opens the cabinet, standing in front of the open doors that block Valoren’s view of what’s inside. “All the same, though, you’re delusional. I’m the most stable, long-lasting relationship he has.” His hand goes into the cabinet and pulls out…

A sword. It’s clearly not of Garlean make—no, at a glance, Valoren can tell that this is an heirloom of an Ishgardian high house, lovingly maintained and as deadly as the day it was forged. Valentine wields it easily, nonthreatening at first, as if he’s simply showing it to Valoren.

“I have no difficulty defending myself from any erstwhile assassins, as you can see.” Valentine says. His expression shifts a little, his brow furrowing as his thoughts turn to Apollo. “I’ve made a life here, and I’m not interested in going anywhere else. I have nothing to gain from fleeing like a coward.” His sharp eyes return to Valoren, who instantly understands how Valentine truly feels about Apollo. “And everything to lose.”

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Valoren shrugs. “I suppose if you’re standing your ground, then I shall simply have to—”

Without warning, Valoren’s vision goes dark, and the Echo seizes him. He’s in the same house, at nighttime now, and he’s watching Valentine fucking… is that Apollo?! The two are laughing, and they look more like lovers than a drug dealer and his customer. And then Valoren is back in the present day, looking at the sword-wielding Valentine.

Change of plans once again! Valoren is going to murder this bastard himself!

Already he’s is analyzing how the man holds his blade, his stance, his movement. Another noble with delusions of competency. Too easy.

Then Valoren is darting forwards, daggers drawn by the time he reaches Valentine. The man just barely deflects with his sword, reflexes saving him while his mind catches up. Valentine is quick to swing in return, but the shorter man is already too close for a longsword to move effectively, and Valoren simply ducks under it. Valentine laughs at him. It hasn’t set in yet that he’s outmatched. A sword like that versus two tiny knives? Surely it would hardly be a contest.

And it hardly is. Valoren’s the one to draw first blood, just a nick on Valentine’s hip. And the second - a gash across the back of his shoulder. Valentine manages to take the third, a long but shallow cut down Valoren’s thigh. Their duel is almost a dance as Valoren twists around his opponent, just a few steps ahead of that deadly sword.

Then, just as soon as it began, it’s over. Valoren’s blade presses into Valentine’s neck, and the man freezes.

“Last words, darling? You’ve been fun, so if you choose them wisely, I might even pass them along to Apollo.”

—

Valentine struggles a bit, but even he can clearly tell he’s lost the fight. “We both know you’re not going to do that,” he snarls, a feral dog in the last throes of life. He winces as the wounds Valoren’s given him ooze more of his lifeblood, before his expression softens.

“For what it’s worth, I do love him.” His eyes go a little unfocused, as if recalling a precious memory. “I just…hope he finds someone who deserves him one day.”

His eyes laser focus on Valoren. “That’s not you, by the way,” he says, petty to his last breath. “But you knew that anyway, didn’t you?” Valentine hacks up a gob of spit at Valoren’s face as one last fuck-you.

—

Valoren’s mask shatters like obsidian, sharp and splintering and deadly.

“Of course I know,” he hisses. “Do you think I don’t resent myself every waking moment for that fact? Do you think I’m not scared shitless to know that he needs me?”

He pauses for a moment, considering something vile. But torture is hard to cover up, and he was taking credit for this kill. And besides, there are things worth than death.

So when he slits Valentine’s throat, he calls for his voidsent. The last thing Valentine sees is a horned mask. And then he’s looking back at his own lifeless body dropping to the floor. Valoren turns to face him, grinning with an expression that can only be described as evil, triumphant.

“Do you know what happens when a voidsent consumes someone? They’re not gone. Oh, no. Far worse: they’re trapped.” So I do hope you like your new perspective, sweetheart. You’d better get used to it. That will be your view as I make Apollo fall for me. And then for many years after that.”

Valoren wipes the spit off his face and onto Valentine’s corpse. Before sheathing his daggers, Valoren licks the blood off them. He savors the metallic warmth on his tongue, careful not to let a drop escape. It’s harder to control such impulses when the voidsent is present, but he makes no attempt to resist the urge.

He’s in an uncannily good mood as he makes his way back to Apollo’s flat, whistling a jaunty tune. When he arrives, he has to take a moment to compose himself into something less gleeful before knocking on the door.

“Apollo dear, it’s me. I’m home.”

—

Apollo is also busy trying to compose himself when Valoren gets back. He’s a little sweaty and disheveled, but not obviously so. “Were, uh—were you serious about staying here the whole week?” He asks. “Because I don’t know how the sleeping situation is going to work out.” Without thinking, he reaches out and gently wipes a spot of red from the corner of Valoren’s mouth with his thumb. Maybe he got something saucy to eat while he was out.

—

“I was serious, but I fail to see what that has to do with your sleep? Unless you’re referring to the nightmares you get while sober, which I will of course be by your side to help you through.”

Valoren is walking as he talks, and he’s got a slight limp. “Which, about that… you might have to be sober for a little bit longer than a week. Your dealer is dead.” As they arrive in the bathroom, Valoren rummages through Apollo’s cabinets. From this angle, the ugly gash on his leg is visible, spreading a darker shade of black across the entire thigh. “He tried to kill me, the insolent little shit! Called my linkpearl — which concerns me as to how he found it — and invited me over. And when I showed up at his house, he attacked me with a longsword!” Valoren seems more offended than anything about the attempt on his life. “I suppose these dealers don’t take kindly to those who rob them of their best clients. He must have had his nose into Plenilune business to find me. Nasty work, that.”

—

“Well, I just didn’t think you’d want to share a bed—holy fuck!” Apollo exclaims when he notices the wound. “Sit the fuck the down before you bleed all over the floor!” He all but shoves Valoren into a chair before looking in his cabinets himself. He may not have kept his food properly stocked before Valoren, but one thing he always had need for was first aid supplies.

Apollo bites his lip when Valentine is mentioned, looking morose. It’s impossible to tell if it’s an expression of grief or bittersweet relief at the news of Valentine’s death. “Is it…fucked up that I’m sorry he’s dead? Even if he was a dealer…” Apollo shakes himself a little and refocuses on the task at hand. “You’ll have to take your pants off. I assume you don’t want to have to cut them away from the wound.”

Apollo tucks the mention of Plenilune away in his mind for later. They have bigger problems at hand right now, namely Valoren’s wound, and the fact that he just casually confessed to murder. To Valoren, Apollo’s concern doesn’t seem too out of the ordinary. But to anyone who knew Apollo well, it would be a dead giveaway how much he truly does care about Valoren.

—

Valoren huffs, but obliges, peeling away the bloodsoaked fabric with hardly a wince. He’s glad he changed into disposable clothes, because the giant slash has already ruined these pants. And this much blood would be a bitch to get out, even of dark fabric.

“Look, love, I’m fine. I won’t even need stitches. Really, it barely stings.” Either Valoren has a remarkably high pain tolerance, or he’s a lying bastard. Still, he allows himself to be fussed over, at least for now. It’s been… decades, since anyone else tended his wounds for him. And he wouldn’t trust anyone but Apollo to do it.

—

He’s right, it’s not as bad as it looks. But Apollo can’t help but fret, cleaning and dressing the wound. “Well, I guess it’s good you called off work,” he says, sighing. “You’re not going to be moving much while this heals.” Now that the danger is addressed, Apollo is suddenly aware that Valoren is no longer wearing pants. He clears his throat and stands up. “We’re stuck with each other for the time being.”

—

"Not going to be moving much?" Valoren repeats, grouching. "There go my plans for tonight!" He looks up at Apollo with those big violet eyes and bats them like the harlot he is. "Unless... you'll just have to be the one doing most of the work, then!" Valoren, still seated, has to stretch to reach Apollo's neckline, which he does with a sly touch. He grabs the front of Apollo's shirt and tugs him right back down. "How does that sound, darling?" Valoren breaths, his lips barely an inch from Apollo's.

—

Apollo, surprised, ends up back on his knees again. “I—you—” His eyes dart from Valoren’s eyes to his lips and back over and over again, clearly fighting an internal war with himself. Sleeping with Valoren again is objectively a bad idea, but Apollo wants it so fucking bad.

“Make me, then.”

—

Valoren releases Apollo, letting the man sink back on his knees.

"Ah, but what did you just say about how I'm supposed to stay still? After all that work you just went to in patching me up, 'twould be a shame to undo it again. I ought to be a good patient and wait until this heals." He's got a wicked grin on his face, and judging by the obvious bulge - of course Valoren would wear a thong to murder someone - he's really enjoying teasing Apollo like this. He cups Apollo's chin in his hand.

"If you want it, darling, you're going to have to work harder than that."

—

Apollo pouts a little. “Judging by the state of you, I’m not the only one who wants this,” he says, sliding an exploratory hand over Valoren’s bulge before pulling down his questionable choice of undergarment. He lets out a sharp breath of surprise as Valoren’s length all but pops into his face. Fuck, is his mouth watering?

The hours go by in a blur. Despite his threat, Valoren’s injury barely slows him down, especially when Apollo discard all pretense and simply gives in to whatever Valoren commands. It’s thrilling to give in and not care about the consequences. And it feels good.

—

Valoren doesn't last quite as long as last time, but he figures between his earlier fight to the death and the injury sustained from it, he's excused. It's dark out anyway by the time he flops, exhausted, onto the bed. When he catches his breathe enough to speak, he says the first thing that pops into his endorphin-addled mind. With half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile, he turns to Apollo. "Shit. We forgot to go grocery shopping today."

—

"Do not ask me to leave the house right now," Apollo says, wincing as he shifts onto his backside. "Let's do that tomorrow." Surely he doesn't plan on fucking every day...? He glances over at Valoren, so cozy and breathtakingly beautiful in his bed. He could get used to this view...

No. No. Apollo steels himself again. This is temporary. All things are temporary. If you care about him, you can at least make this one sacrifice. "I'm going to get water," Apollo says stiffly, suddenly cold and distant again. He gets up and admirably avoids showing he's in pain until he's out of eyesight.

Valoren watches him go. Tired though he is, he can’t help but wait anxiously until his return. They fall asleep together, with Valoren wrapped around him like a glove, one leg thrown around his body.

The next few days are spent in something bearing an uncanny resemblance to domestic bliss. Valoren, after taking them shopping on his own gil, cooks up delicious meals at every opportunity. During the days, Valoren helps Apollo deep clean his apartment, apply for a job as a bartender, and generally get his shit together. The withdrawals aren’t pretty. But with Valoren by his side, Apollo faces them and comes through the other side. They visit Charlotte twice for more fittings, and she and Valoren get along like a house on fire. Valoren also gets to formally meet Apollo’s friends, who are… marginally less hostile with Apollo around. Oh, and the two are fucking every night, obviously. Mornings are joyful occasions, which is a remarkable change of pace for both of them. Waking up well-rested in a shared bed is not something either of them were used to. But they… could get used to this, if only they’d permit themselves to.

Late afternoon, the day before the ball, Valoren realizes he’s going to have to grab his full makeup kit from his own apartment if he’s going to look his best. Loathe as he is to part from Apollo, he drags the man along with him back to his place. While they’re there, Valoren also picks up a pack of cigarettes. For somebody trying to get Apollo to quit his addiction, he sure seems content with his own vices.

They trudge up together to the roof in order to smoke. It’s just after sunset, and it’s shaping up to be a lovely night. Stars glint in the hazy lavender sky, and a few clouds catch the last hints of sunlight. The heavens are gorgeous. And Valoren isn’t looking up.

Apollo is easily the most beautiful thing he can see.

His heart trips over itself as Apollo glances over at him, noticing his gaze. Gods, I really love him, don’t I?

Apollo is still in love with Valoren.

Of course their little domestic roleplay isn’t helping. Apollo was hoping his feelings had been some sort of fluke—delusional passion manufactured thanks to one wild night. But the more time Apollo spends with Valoren doing the most mundane of things, the more he wonders how he ever lived without them. Without Valoren. It also doesn’t hurt that the sex only gets better and better, too. The longer their little charade goes on, the more Apollo fears it’s no longer a charade. That once all of this ends, the loss will be what truly kills him—no overdose (or withdrawal symptoms) needed.

Apollo’s curious about what kind of dwelling Valoren inhabits. It both surprises and doesn’t surprise him. Of course it’s the kind of place a rich little rumormonger would own, but instead of being ostentatious and gaudy, the place is…tasteful. Minimalist. There’s a sort of sterility to it, too—as if someone lives here, but it doesn’t truly feel like a home.

“Is there something on my face?” Apollo asks gruffly when he notices Valoren’s gaze. The sky is absolutely breathtaking, but it’s taking all of Apollo’s effort to look up instead of sideways at his companion. He shouldn’t have bothered, though. His resolve crumbles quickly when he notices a stray lock of hair that’s fallen into Valoren’s face.

It’s the most natural thing in the world to reach forward and brush it out of the way.

—

The touch surprises Valoren. Even after these days spent together, casual affection has been infrequent. He leans into the gentle contact, resting his chin against Apollo’s hand.

Valoren has been wanting to ask this for a while now. Still, the words nearly catch in his throat.

“May I kiss you?”

—

It's the end of the world.

Of course, they've kissed in the sense that they've furiously made out in the throes of passion. But this sweet little request...what's the point of the pretense anymore? he has to wonder. Does Valoren know how hopelessly enamoured Apollo is yet?

Don't. Don't. Don't. You can't love him. You can't let him love you.

He leans in and kisses Valoren over the roar of his own thoughts.

—

Valoren has had hundreds of first kisses. In this moment, he knows he could have thousands more, and still never how a kiss like this.

It’s soft, almost hesitant at first, like the other was a pretty dream that would evaporate at the touch. Then their lips meet, and for how well they fit together, it’s a wonder either of them were able to breathe on their own. Contrary to the detached thrill Valoren had always gotten from kissing someone new, now he feels something far more powerful. It’s the same feeling that burned in his chest when Apollo put his jacket around his shoulders; when they’d woken up together that first sunlit morning; when Apollo had tended his wounds; when Apollo had called him on that train to anywhere but here. The same feeling that drove him to drive Apollo away. I care about you, and that’s the worst fucking part, isn’t it? The worst thing is that I love you.

But now, as Apollo kisses him so sweetly, Valoren isn’t sure that loving him is the worst thing anymore.

No, the worst thing will be losing him.

Valoren’s nose stings as he breathes Apollo’s air, and his lips quaver against Apollo’s lips. Still, he leans in, pressing their bodies together. His fingers entangle themselves in Apollo’s hair like he’s seeking shelter. Inside his ribcage, his heart feels set to burst. How could I have lived without this? How will I ever be able to live without him? But he can no more let go of this love than a butterfly can become a caterpillar again. For who could unlearn how to fly? I won’t live without him. I can’t.

—

It's only now that Apollo truly understands what having your breath stolen feels like. It feels like the air has been sucked out from the space around him. He doesn't need breath, he has Valoren. For a few wonderful, precious moments, he stops overthinking and worrying and lives in the moment.

It's Apollo who forces himself to pop this beautiful little bubble. "We should go," he says softly. "We have a long day tomorrow." A long day of attempting to dodge not just would-be assassins, but also the rising panic that this feeling is something neither of them will be able to shake.

—

Valoren nods, struck speechless for a rare moment of his life. He takes Apollo’s hand on an impulse, and Apollo doesn’t pull away as they make their way back to his place.

It’s Valoren who has a nightmare that night. He’s running from something, as he usually is in his bad dreams — something terrible which he can’t see, but he knows to be right behind him. In this dream, though, it catches him. But when he wakes up with a start, there’s Apollo, sleeping peacefully beside him. The gray pre-dawn light lands softly on his face, and Valoren’s heart wrenches in his chest. Is this the last time I wake up to this sight? Is today the day I say goodbye? He can’t bear to move until Apollo wakes.

As they pick up their attire from Charlotte and prepare for the ball, Valoren tries to ignore the undercurrent of dread running through his mind. It’s not the threat of a fight that worries him; together, he and Apollo would be unstoppable. Nor is it the deadly dance of political maneuvers, nor the prospect of seeing his parents again after all these months. What Valoren is actually concerned about is losing Apollo. He’s prepared a dossier on Cassius’ life and death, encoded on a tomestone that he brings in his handbag. The code to decrypt it would be provided to Apollo after the ball’s conclusion. It’s 1212, the date they met. If this is the last day they spend together, then Valoren knows no number of handpicked bodyguards could protect him from himself.

Still, the game’s not over yet. Apollo’s still there beside him, looking every inch the model he is in his tailored suit. The glimpse of muscular midriff would leave no doubts in the minds of onlookers that he was no mere arm candy. Charlotte truly had outdone herself.

Valoren loops his arm through Apollo’s, flashing a practiced smile at the door guard.

“Valoren Stormcrow, and guest,” he states, displaying his invitation. Apollo’s friends were some ways behind them to avoid suspicion. >>

When Valoren had heard Lelia’s offhand remark about wishing she could come too, he knew he had to make it happen. Commissioning a Plenilune associate to forge an invite had been a no-brainer, and a little bit of blackmail saw Lelia’s name onto the guest list. Though Charlotte had fussed about the need for additional formalwear, Valoren had appeased her with the promise of his future appearance as a model. And so Lelia was attending the ball, looking for all the world like a noble lady instead of a girl from the bad part of town.

“Check. Head on in.” The guard’s words pull Valoren from his reflection, and his smile returns.

“Thank you. Do have a good evening.”

And just like that, the pair are whisked into the world of petticoats and poison pleasantries. Noticing how Apollo tenses up, Valoren gives his arm a gentle squeeze.

—

"I can't believe you invited Lelia after........everything," Apollo murmurs, trying to distract himself from the curious eyes of the other attendees. Apollo's here to serve as protection for Valoren, but instead he feels like Valoren is escorting him.

—

“Of course. It was hardly any trouble.” Valoren steers them gracefully through the crowd, navigating the treacherous sea of bodies like an expert helmsman. “A trivial effort to grant her the experience of a lifetime? Would that all my schemes were so successful. Left, darling.”

Here, where the crowd has thinned, Valoren’s destination becomes apparent. Despite the above-average height of the Garlean attendees, the Vieran woman still sticks up like a sore thumb. She looms imperiously in ceremonial armor, head and ears above the other guests. Beside her, a bulky Elezen man stands, his uniform marking him as a Garlean diplomat. The two can only be Moralynn and Telisor Stormcrow.

Valoren twirls to the side, pulling Apollo behind a pillar. His smile shines like fool’s gold as he speaks.

“Now that you see what we’re up against, darling, know that you have no idea what you’re up against. Even my tales can do little justice to the firestorm that is my mother.” Though Valoren keeps his tone light, their conversation catches stray glances regardless. Valoren gives Apollo a performative peck on the cheek, using the gesture as cover to murmur by his ear. “You mustn’t let her get to you. Give her nothing. And trust me.” His warning imparted, Valoren is glittering again.

—

Apollo nods. So, not dissimilar to stepping onto a battlefield. Ordinarily, he prefers letting his fists speak over a battle of wits, but he’ll have to engage in the latter instead.

Moralynn cuts an imposing figure, and there’s an air of regality to her as well. Despite how intimidating she is, Valoren’s arm in Apollo’s grounds him. Just one glance at the man who doesn’t even know that he owns Apollo’s heart gives him courage, as corny as it is. Gods, this man makes him soft.

Apollo greets Moralynn respectfully, albeit simply with just a “Lord and Lady Stormcrow.” He sucks in a subtle breath as Moralynn’s appraising eye sweeps over him.

—

Valoren shifts, subtly drawing Moralynn’s attention away from Apollo.

“Hello, Mother, Father. This is Apollo, my escort for the evening. Apollo, my parents.”

“Escort?” Moralynn tilts her head in an eerily familiar way. “Is he from Plenilune too, then? I thought you were above hiring one of your own.”

“Apollo is in my employ as a retainer. He is not with that organization, and it is precisely because of the situation with them that I found this a necessary measure.”

Moralynn glances to her husband, prompting him to speak.

“Are you certain he’s up to the task?” Telisor frowns. “One amateur guard would surely be worse than going alone.”

“And appearing unguarded would be worst of all,” Valoren replies.

“Oh! So he’s just a decorative sheath, then, with which to conceal your dagger?” Moralynn smirks. “If that’s the case, you could do much worse.”

“Indeed I could.” Valoren appears to let the taunting innuendo roll off of him. “But let that suffice for introductions. Where have you—”

Telisor speaks over Valoren in a rare show of discourtesy.

“Has he told you he’s in love with you yet?”

“I beg your pardon?” Valoren deadpans. Inside, his stomach has twisted itself into an elaborate knot.

“Has Apollo told you yet, that he’s in love with you?” Telisor repeats.

“…He has not.” What else is there to say?

“Damn.”

“Oh, you’re right!” Moralynn coos. “He does have that look about him. Like a lost puppy!”

“This is none of your fucking business,” Valoren snaps, his mask cracking. “Why should you care about who I ‘sheathe my dagger’ with? Don’t pretend like it’s out of concern for either our hearts.”

“Concern for your heart? I thought you claimed not to have one,” Moralynn sneers.

“Just because you couldn’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there. You just couldn’t be bothered to look.” Valoren has gone against his own advice; Moralynn’s clearly gotten under his skin. “I think we’re done here. Have a pleasant evening.”

—

It happens so fast that it’s all Apollo can do to maintain his composure. Out of all the ways he was prepared for Valoren’s parents to disarm him, they managed to find the one that cut him the deepest.

Valoren, to his credit, doesn’t say anything about Telisor’s revelation. The two are back to walking on eggshells again, as if exchanging anything more than pleasantries will break the ice and plunge them into dark depths. Apollo doesn’t even know what he should say.

Besides, he has bigger problems to worry about when the dancing starts. Valoren had given him a few quick lessons, but one of them would always get too hot and bothered and the dance would end up horizontal. It goes well when he’s partnered with Valoren, but it takes all of his concentration to not step on the toes of his other partners. When he gets to Lelia, he lets out a sigh of relief.

She giggles. “You sound like you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Don’t,” Apollo mutters. “I’m going to step on your foot.”

“It’s fine. Just have fun! That’s what I’m doing.”

“Fun is the opposite of what’s happening here tonight, to be honest.”

“Why? It’s fun to dress up and watch rich people in their natural habitat.”

“I would be enjoying that, but Valoren’s father kind of blew up my spot as soon as we got here, and now everything is a mess.”

Lelia takes on an expression of concern as Apollo gently guides her in the waltz. “Valoren again, huh? None of us have wanted to say anything, but, well…what did his father say?”

“That I’m in love with him.”

Lelia bites her lip, looking pensive. “Are you?”

Apollo looks down, unable to ignore his inner turmoil any longer. “I am in love with Valoren,” he says, almost defeated. “I have been, ever since the first night.”

“That long…? Then what’s wrong? Did he reject you?” Lelia tenses, ready to go into fight mode. Apollo can’t help but feel his heart swell with affection for his friend. He’s never deserved any of the people in his life.

“No. I rejected him last week. I just can’t, Lia. You…you know me. It’s all I can do to not tear up my friends’ lives. I would ruin his life.”

Lelia furrows her brow, her ire redirected towards Apollo. “Why are you always self-sabotaging yourself?! You think the only person you’re hurting is you, but every single time you do it the people who care about you get hurt too. It’s not even just us anymore! If Valoren was being sincere like you seem to think he was, you’re not helping him by carrying out this drawn out torture sequence on yourself.”

Apollo clams up at that. He knows she’s right. He’s no martyr for doing what he did. But he knows he can’t trust himself, either.

The rest of the dance goes by without incident, but Apollo’s mind refuses to be quiet.

—

Dancing came naturally to Valoren. Whether that was the deadly dance of combat, the delicate dance of a social interaction, or the literal dance that he was doing now, keeping time was as easy as anything.

So he has all together too much space in his mind to focus on other things going on around him. As he twirls and dips his partners, he maneuvers himself back around to where Apollo is dancing with Lelia. Valoren doesn't mean to eavesdrop. In fact, he'd intended to catch Apollo's attention and have a second dance with him. But he can't help but overhear when his name is spoken.

"I am in love with Valoren. I have been, ever since the first night."

Though Valoren's limbs continue dancing of their own accord, he could swear his heart has frozen in place. Apollo is in love with him. He always has been. Apollo is in love with him, and for what? The man was still trying to run from Valoren just as much as Valoren was trying to run from him. Though their hands yearned to reach for each other, each of them were covered in thorns.

This has to stop.

Valoren says something to his current partner and calmly makes his way through the ballroom. The music is dull and distant in his ears. At a door in the back of the room, he stops.

ROOF ACCESS. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

It's unlocked.

—

Valoren’s missing.

Apollo curses himself as he pushes his way through the crowd. This is why he’s a liability to Valoren, he thinks. He got too lost in his own stupid thoughts and feelings, and now Valoren has surely vanished at the hand of some villain with ill intent.

“Have you seen—? Elezen, dark hair and purple eyes?” Apollo asks frantically, to anyone who will listen. Love of my life? The dearest ache of my heart? The source of all my longing?

Someone points towards a door, and Apollo is off like a shot. The roof? Gods, he’s terrified. He can only pray he isn’t too late.

He charges through the door and up the stairs, paying no need to the warning sign. So far, he can’t hear any sounds of a struggle, but that only alarms him even more.

There’s a full-on blizzard coming down outside when he gets to the roof. To Apollo’s relief, Valoren is alone and just fine, but the terrible weather is still cause for concern. “Valoren?” Apollo calls, already shivering. The man’s not even wearing a coat, and his dress is completely backless and sleeveless. “You’re going to catch your death out h—”

An awful white light fills the sky.

—

On very rare occasions, the weather conditions are right for a thunderstorm to form out of a blizzard. Even should one live in a location where such phenomena is possible, one would be likely to experience a thunderstorm with snow only a handful of times in their life. Because of how these uncommon storms are made, they carry a higher chance than rain thunderstorms of having positive lightning. In contrast to negative lightning, which makes up nearly all strikes, positive lightning is exponentially more powerful. Not only does it carry voltage multiplied a hundredfold, the current also lasts significantly longer.

So when a bolt of lightning arcs down to connect with Valoren’s shoulder, it is with hundreds of thousands of times the amount of electricity to kill him.

Valoren's last thought is of Apollo.

...

...

His first thought is of Apollo, too. When he rolls over in the unfamiliar bed, he reaches instinctively for the man he'd come to love so deeply.

But the hospital bed is empty. The whole room is.

"Apollo?" he whispers. "Apollo? Where are you? ...Apollo?"

It's some minutes before a nurse comes by and notices that he's awake.

"Where's Apollo?" Valoren asks her, his voice is thin and trembling.

"Hmm, I don't know anyone by that name. Can you describe them for me?"

"Vieran man, tall, golden hair?" A hundred freckles, warm tan skin, a smile like the sun, and eyes I could look into for a lifetime?

"Ah, I think he brought you in. But he left again. He hasn't been back. I'm sorry, hun."

Valoren is caught off guard by the wretched sob that escapes him then. Apollo was gone. Apollo was actually gone. Gone, gone, and he's alone, and he's so cold, and he wishes that lightning bolt had FUCKING killed him.

He doesn't even try to stop crying.

—

Apollo had tried to keep a houseplant once. Both in Golmore and in Gridania, he had been in such harmony with nature. How hard could it have been to keep the little plant Lelia gave him to brighten up his dreary living space alive? Impossible, as it turns out. I killed a plant once because I gave it too much water. Gods, I worry that love is violence.

It’s agonizing to not go see him, to spend every waking hour wondering how he’s doing. If he’s awake. If he curses Apollo with every breath the way the man himself does. But at the same time, Apollo can’t make himself go. He had wondered if it would be better or worse for Valoren to have Apollo in his life, and the universe had delivered an unequivocal response.

Apollo finds out later that Valoren had darted off to the roof after hearing something on the dance floor. He knows, immediately, that Valoren must have overheard his conversation with Lelia. He was only on the roof because of Apollo. How much proof do you need? Everyone you’ve ever loved has died before their time. You can keep this one alive, if only you’re brave enough to kill yourself in the process.

He can be brave. He can be brave enough for Valoren, Apollo thinks through a drunken haze. He’s at the bar again, thankfully somnus-free, but inebriated all the same. He has to cope somehow, or he’ll actually start listening when his brain whispers darker suggestions.

He’s here because Valoren is out of the hospital. They haven’t spoken, and Apollo can’t blame the man. He hopes Valoren truly does hate him this time. That this last act of betrayal is enough to snip whatever thread of destiny connects them. Everyone thinks he’s an asshole, including his friends, which Apollo knows he deserves. His friends want the best for him, but they can’t know everything. They don’t know about the trail of destruction and death he’s left in his wake.

Apollo hasn’t been so alone since his wood warder days.

“Hey,” comes the bartender’s voice, heard as if Apollo’s head is underwater. How did he end up slumped on the bar like this? Doesn’t matter. Nobody cares except this oddly friendly bartender, and he’s probably only concerned because it’s a bad look for the bar. “You don’t look too good, bud. Can I call someone for you?”

Apollo can just about manage handing his linkpearl over, but he can’t manage a word, or even lift his head. The bartender’s just about to make the call when three strangers approach the bar, crowding behind Apollo.

“Sorry about our friend,” one of the three Garlean men say. “He’s been having a rough go of it. Breakups, you know.”

You’re not my friends, Apollo thinks sluggishly. I don’t know you.

“Alright, well…it’s time for him to get home, don’t you think? I’m going to have to cut him off.”

“Hey, yeah, no worries. Sorry about that. We’ve got him.”

What’s going on? What happened? I didn’t even drink that much.

—

Valoren's linkpearl rings just as he's about to jump.

It was going to be more of a fall, really. He couldn't even muster up the energy to throw himself from his apartment roof. So much easier to simply... let himself tip headfirst over the edge.

He almost doesn't pick up. But what if it's him?

It's not Apollo. Instead, a stranger's voice speaks over the line.

"Hey, I'm the bartender at the Eventide. You're the last contact in Apollo's linkpearl, so I just wanted to let you know that Apollo is on his way home. Had to cut him off, but his friends've got him."

"Oh," says Valoren. I guess without his somnus dealer, he's turned to drinking. So he can survive alone after all. That makes one of us. "Well, I'm glad those three are there. Even if he can't walk, Columba can carry him. She's got quite the grip."

There's a pause at the other end of the line.

"These friends were all men."

Valoren's blood runs cold. He's already backing away from the ledge, mind racing.

"Which direction were they headed?" The closest aetheryte to the Eventide was the one in the plaza, and there were a few shards from there. He could make it in time. He had to.

"Uh, I think east? Why?"

"Those aren't his friends."

Valoren hangs up the linkpearl and makes the teleport.

—

This might as well happen.

Being mugged by a bunch of thugs in an alleyway after being drugged. Apollo realizes now that he’s been spiked, because his assailants seem a little too confident that he won’t be fighting back. Even with three of them, they’re having trouble carrying him out back.

“This is the one, yeah?”

“I’m sure, alright? How many blond ass rabbit fuckers can possibly exist in this city?”

“Damn, he’s pretty for a beastman.” Excuse me?

“Well, go on then.”

Apollo starts to panic when he feels the men pulling at his pants. Shit. Shit. Shit. It’s not his money they’re after. And here he is, unable to move a muscle. Nobody’s coming to help him, either. This is his rock fucking bottom, he thinks. Or where his miserable life finally ends. This is what he’s been wanting for a while, isn’t it? He’s lived long enough. He’s had enough suffering.

Apollo doesn’t realize all three of the men have quietly been dropped until a familiar boot steps into his vision.

—

Valoren hadn't even needed his voidsent to take down the three men. He'd crept up silently behind the one in the back and slit his throat in one quick, vicious motion. There was no show, no taunts, no dance, as he'd moved to the second one and done the same. The last one realized what was happening in time to dodge the first slash, but Valoren carried two daggers, and the second was plunged into his heart.

One look at Apollo's crumpled body and glazed eyes showed that he wasn't merely drunk. He'd been drugged - or poisoned.

Valoren crouches down next to him, gently cupping his face. Apollo's in no state to hold a conversation, and Valoren can't find his words regardless. And so he sits quietly as they wait for Apollo's real friends to arrive, holding the man tightly in his arms.

He knows he's never letting go again.

—

By the time his friends get there, Apollo’s able to move his head again. Not that he does much more than turn his face towards Valoren’s touch. The kind bartender lets them carry Apollo inside and stay there while he slowly regains motor function again. As his friends discuss what to do with the bodies in the alleyway, Apollo simply focuses on Valoren. His touch, his presence, his warmth. It’s all he needs. And he does need it. He was a fool to pretend otherwise.

“I’m sorry,” is the first words he utters when he can talk again.

—

Valoren has never been so happy to hear someone's voice, slurred and quiet as it is. He nearly cries as he cradles Apollo's head in his lap, still holding his cheek.

"It wasn't your fault, love," Valoren says softly. "There's nothing for you to be sorry for."

He pets Apollo's hair gently. "Whenever you're able, we can take you home. Would it be okay if I stayed with you again?" He leaves the last part of that sentence unspoken: is it okay if I stay with you forever?

—

“Only…if you promise not to leave,” Apollo says. “Ever.” His eyes flutter shut as Valoren touches his hair. “We should go somewhere warm sometime…I’m tired of the cold. Have you ever been to Costa del Sol?” Apollo hasn’t been there in years. Hasn’t left Garlemald at all, really. Bright, living places made him feel out of place. Now, he can’t wait to show his loved ones all the beautiful things the world has to offer. Especially the one holding him now.

Rediscovering his will to live feels just like his whole body returning to working order.

—

Slowly, Valoren smiles. “I haven’t been further south than Ishgard,” he confesses. “But I’ve always wanted to go.” He bends down to kiss Apollo’s cheek gently. “You know I’ll follow you anywhere, love. I want to see the world together.” Another kiss for the other cheek. “I think I’ve had quite enough of living in the dark.” The third kiss lands on Apollo’s lips, softer and sweeter than anything Valoren was sure he deserved. When he lifts his head again, he’s still smiling.

—