Chapter Text
Horses don’t have a gag reflex. That’s essentially what Stolas’ massive book read aloud, in an overly posh voice that made Blitzø laugh when he first heard it. Because of course a voice Stolas conjured with magic would sound like that.
“Due to the muscle’s location in the lower esophageal sphincter being much stronger than in other animals, it is nearly impossible for the valve to open under backward pressure from -”
Blitzø stopped his finger, looking up at the door Stolas and Octavia had left from as he sat in the high-backed, plush violet chair behind Stolas’ desk. He’d read through a decent amount of this section on horses and was starting to feel antsy, wondering when Stolas would come back, and what was taking them so long. He pushed back from the desk, moving to stand.
“Ha, sphincter,” he said, voice echoing in the quiet, empty space. He put his hands behind his neck, wandering towards one of the bookshelves spanning the wall to see if anything would catch his eye. Many of the books were fucking huge, bound in thick, expensive-looking leather. They looked old and important, too. Blitzø wasn’t much of a reader. He thought it was boring as shit - he’d rather be doing something than sitting around. And, although he’d never admit it, he wasn’t taught how to read properly, so anything he could read were things he’d picked up over time, or things his mom had taught him and Barb before -
Blitzø shook his head, choosing to jump off that train of thought as his eyes scanned through big, fancy books. It wasn’t lost on Blitzø that Stolas used his magic to make sure he could look through any books he wanted, without worrying about whether he’d actually be able to read any of it. Stolas didn’t make it a big deal, either, or say something that made Blitzø feel small and stupid. Inferior.
Some people would've thought it was an insignificant act. Others may have argued that Stolas was being condescending by assuming Blitzø needed the help - Blitzø himself probably would’ve seen it that way not too long ago - but after these past few days Blitzø was starting to understand that this was how Stolas expressed his care for others. He preferred actions more than words, which was surprising given how much of a nerd he was. Maybe he and Blitzø were similar in that way - they’d do anything for the people that mattered to them, but expressing that the person mattered to begin with was a lot fucking harder. Scarier, for sure, as much as Blitzø felt like a pussy for being scared by words.
Maybe that’s why Stolas never seemed to fully believe Blitzø whenever he said he cared about Stolas. It was a bunch of words, but where were the actions to back them up? Blitzø sighed. Then his eyes fell on a medium-sized book bound in a sturdy, scarlet cover. It had an image of two golden stars on the spine. He reached out, running a finger across the embossed letters.
“The Evolution of Binary Stars,” the posh voice read aloud, and Blitzø’s eyes widened slightly. He carefully pulled the book off the shelf, bringing it to Stolas' desk and setting it down. He opened it, still standing, and as he ran his finger along the pages he found a section that contained an alphabetical list of binary stars, with a blurb of information below each one.
“Fuck, what was it called?” Blitzø muttered, turning the pages impatiently. “Alberto? Albeero?”
“Albireo,” the voice read. Blitzø finally found it, fingertip resting on the word. He grinned.
“Gotcha,” he said, running his fingers along the short description. He was hoping to learn some cool new fact he could mention the next time they were looking at the stars. He imagined how impressed Stolas would be, that familiar, delighted look in his eyes as Blitzø taught him something for a change. Then he hesitated, stopping his finger at the part he already knew - that Albireo was part of the Swan constellation, and that the golden-red and blue stars looked like a double star, but weren’t, just like Stolas had said.
The next time they were looking at the stars. Blitzø was planning for a next time. Why? Why was he planning for a future where they were still spending time together like they’d been the past few days? It was so fucking naive to think, consciously or subconsciously, that things could stay this way forever. And he wasn’t the naive type.
And yet, the voice had mentioned there being a footnote about Albireo on another page, and he found himself flipping through the book until he found it. He ran his finger across new words, as if he could find answers in this book about the cosmos that could help him untangle the mess in his own mind.
“Although Albireo A and Albireo B do not make up a true binary star, Albireo A itself is, in fact, a binary star,” the posh voice read. “The stars are so close that it is difficult to view them as separate entities. They orbit around each other as well as move together across the sky. The brighter star - a red supergiant - is what gives Albireo A its golden color. Its mass is about 5 times that of the sun. Its smaller, hotter companion is a main sequence star, much like Earth’s sun, except blue in color. Investigations are being made as to whether there is an additional hidden star associated with this blue star, referred to as Albireo Ac, given Albireo A’s suspicious mass. Some researchers suggest that this additional, hidden star linked to Albireo Ac could be a black hole, although there is currently no confirmation -”
Blitzø stopped, looking down at the words that were just read aloud.
“Huh, so Alberto A has a companion after all,” Blitzø said, putting a hand on his hip. He wondered what Stolas would think about that, if he didn’t already know, that is. Would he be happy that Albireo had a binary star that was actually real? That there were two stars that existed so close, that were so in sync, that for a while people thought these two stars were one? Or would Stolas be disappointed to know that this golden-colored supergiant was tethered to something smaller and less impressive after all? Blitzø closed the book, putting it back on the shelf and looking around at the high ceilings. Once again Blitzø was hit by how huge and empty so many of the rooms in this palace felt, especially when Stolas wasn’t here with him.
Was it better to be unattached and impressive, but alone? Or to be intertwined with something that made you burn brighter, but risk having that attachment bring a black hole with it? As Blitzø stood in the middle of Stolas’ study, gaze landing on the phases of the moon carved into Stolas’ desk, he wasn’t sure what the right answer was. He glanced over at the large, ornate doors again, wondering when Stolas would come back, and what Octavia had to tell him.
Then the study was filled with the sound of ringing and screaming, Blitzø feeling an insistent vibration in his pocket.
“I need to change this fucking ringtone,” Blitzø grumbled, pulling out his phone. Fizz was calling. He quickly answered it, holding his phone up to his ear.
“Tell me you and Ozz have good news,” Blitzø said, cutting to the chase.
“Ooo, concerned for your ex-boyfriend, I see,” Fizz teased. Blitzø rolled his eyes.
“Piss on a dick, Fizz. More like I’m wondering what the fuck’s been taking you guys so long," he replied, putting his weight on one hip.
“Ozzie’s been working very hard, thank you very much,” Fizz said, putting a level of brattiness in his voice that Blitzø was all too familiar with. “He’s been so busy picking apart that weird bullet and running tests that we’ve barely been having sex -”
“Oh, so only once a day instead of five?” Blitzø asked, brow raised. “What a sacrifice.”
“Please, more like five times a day instead of twenty,” Fizz corrected, sounding smug. “This is the King of Lust we’re talking about.”
“Well shit, color me impressed, Fizz,” Blitzø said. “Didn’t know you had it in you. You were such a prude when we were teens -”
“You only say that because I didn’t fuck you,” Fizz shot back.
“Can’t blame me for trying, though,” he said with a shrug. Fizz scoffed. “Now tell me what’s going on. How do we fix the weird shit that’s been happening to Stolas?”
“First, what exactly has been happening since you two left?” Fizz asked. “That thing that happened here at our place - has it happened again?” Blitzø rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t like thinking about finding Stolas in the kitchen, or seeing him on the ground in the mine shaft.
“Yeah, a few times,” Blitzø finally said. He exhaled. “We think it has something to do with physical touch. Seems like when he’s left alone for too long his body freaks the fuck out and the only thing that helps is someone touching him -”
“And what do you mean by ‘touching’?” Fizz asked. “Like, how kinky are we talking here?” Blitzø rolled his eyes.
“Like zero, Fizz, very PG. I’ve basically just had to hug him for a few minutes, or, you know, hold his hand or whatever the fuck,” Blitzø explained. He cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his stance. He’d find it less embarrassing if he could say he fucked Stolas’ pain away, instead of admitting to doing this affectionate shit. It made Blitzø feel exposed in a way he really disliked.
“Oh,” Fizz said, sounding disappointed. Then he let out a laugh. “Is everyone at I.M.P. vanilla as fuck? Your employees almost gave Ozzie an aneurysm when they went to his club -”
“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” Blitzø said, cutting him off. “Maybe those two monogamous freaks are, but I’m far from vanilla, Fizz. You could’ve known that yourself if you ever took me up on one of my offers.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Fizz said dryly. “Anyway, I’m asking because Ozzie's currently checking something out in the Pride ring. He found some residue in the bullet that’s similar to those shitty love potions that some random bitch has been selling without his permission.”
“So he got hit with some kind of love potion bullet?” Blitzø asked. Was that why Stolas had been treating him differently? Was manufactured ‘love’ the only reason that Stolas acted like he enjoyed Blitzø being by his side? Blitzø furrowed his brow. It’d make a lot of sense. After everything Blitzø had done, why would Stolas still want him in his life if it wasn’t because of some fucked-up love potion? It was a relief, honestly. It meant that they could cure him and then Stolas and Blitzø could go about their separate lives, like they’d been doing for the past few months before this mess happened.
“Not exactly,” Fizz said. “Whatever that cowboy shot him with didn’t change anything about his thoughts or feelings, but something about his body,” he explained, and that’s when Blitzø felt true relief, although he didn’t want to admit it. Because it was easier to write off Stolas’ actions as being forced, than to confront the fact that Stolas was being so nice to him because he wanted to. “At least, that’s what Ozzie thinks. It seems like it’s some kind of curse that won’t go away until some condition is met. I figured it’s that the prince needs to get dicked down, but maybe not.”
“Shit, okay,” Blitzø said. “I mean, he hasn’t been super horny or anything. He’s actually been a lot less horny than usual.”
“Maybe you just haven’t been turning him on,” Fizz suggested. “You know, foreplay can go a long way, Blitzø -” Blitzø scoffed.
“I’m well aware, asshole.”
“Knowing and doing are two different things,” Fizz pointed out. Blitzø rolled his eyes. “Let’s think, then. When Stolas’ body - what did you say? ‘Freaks the fuck out’,” he quoted. “What’s the least common denominator?”
“The what?” Blitzø asked. “Why the fuck are you bringing math into this, Fizz -?” Fizz let out an exasperated noise.
“I’ll spell it out for you -”
“Now you’re switching to spelling -?”
“Dammit, Blitzø,” Fizz said, impatient. “When Stolas doesn’t feel like shit, what’s the same? And when he does feel like shit, what’s different? What changes?” Blitzø considered that. Stolas started to burn up when he was left alone for too long, more specifically, when he wasn’t in contact with anyone for too long. But that wasn’t quite right. He’d been riding with that farmhand fuck for a while, and yet he still collapsed when he should’ve been fine. What ended up helping was when Blitzø touched him again -
Blitzø’s eyes widened. Was it him? Was Blitzø this least common whatever-the-fuck? But why ?
“Hello? Did your brain overheat?” Fizz asked.
“No, dickhead, I’m just thinking.” Blitzø furrowed his brow, wondering if he should tell Fizz the truth or not. A part of him wanted to. He wanted to confide in him like he used to when they were younger, before everything went to shit. But what if Blitzø was one of those stars tethered to a black hole? Wouldn’t it be better to keep to his own orbit, and leave everyone else alone, instead of forcing them into his own mess? “I don’t know,” Blitzø ended up saying, because he was a coward.
“That’s fine, just wondering,” Fizz said. “Ozzie will have it all figured out by the time he comes back. We can update you then.”
“Thanks,” Blitzø said, hearing the somber tone in his own voice. He winced.
“Uh, you good, Blitzø?” Fizz asked, clearly hearing it as well. “Must be weird being your ex’s bodyguard.” Blitzø pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he was thoughtful for a moment.
“It’s - not as bad as I thought it’d be,” he found himself confessing.
“Oh?” Fizz asked, his tone pissing Blitzø off. He dropped his hand from his face.
“I never - it’s not like I - I didn’t hate spending time with him before -” he tried to explain, waving his arm.
“Oh yeah? Because I remember you calling him a fake, privileged, asshole when were in that cage -”
“And he was,” Blitzø said. “Or, I thought he was. But even then, I - whatever, nevermind,” he finished, rolling his eyes. He regretting saying anything to begin with.
“Hm. Maybe I should spend some quality time with the prince,” Fizz suggested, “if he’s such a delight to be around.” Blitzø scoffed.
“Are you saying you want to stop by?”
“It’s so lonely here without my Ozzie,” Fizz whined. “I’m bored out of my fucking mind, too.”
“I’ll ask Stolas. I’m fine with it, but it’s his place, so,” Blitzø said with a shrug.
“Sure I won’t be third wheeling?” Fizz teased.
“You won’t,” he said, unamused. “His daughter’s here too, so it’s not like it’s just the two of us -”
“Otherwise you’d be fucking in every room, right?”
“The fuck? No, Fizz. This is a job -” Fizz scoffed.
“There are many jobs that are extremely sexual,” Fizz pointed out. “Hand jobs, foot jobs -”
“Oh eat a dick, Fizz,” Blitzø said, putting a hand on his hip.
“Yeah, blow jobs, I was getting to that one.” Blitzø let out a groan.
“I’m hanging up, pervert.”
“Let me know if I can come over tomorrow,” Fizz requested in a sing-song voice.
“Fine, now fuck off,” Blitzø said, hanging up. He put his phone in his pocket, rubbing his temples. Fizz could be such an annoying bitch sometimes. But it was nice that they could talk like this. It was almost as if no time had passed, even though so much had changed. Blitzø thought that broken things could never be fixed. But maybe, sometimes, it was possible to salvage something good. Maybe it could be worth fighting for that possibility. He exhaled, relaxing the tension in his shoulders. Then the door to the study burst open.
“There you are!” Stolas said, using one arm to lean against the doorframe as he wobbled, a glass bottle of some clear liquid sloshing around in his other hand. He looked at Blitzø from across the room with unfocused eyes, grinning. “I forgot where my study was. How silly of me. Although you’re right, this place is fucking massive.” He giggled as Blitzø watched him in confusion.
“Uh, Stols, you doing okay?” he asked, slowly walking towards him. Stolas took a long swig from the bottle he was holding, wiping his mouth afterwards with the back of his hand.
“Pssht, yeah, of course,” Stolas said. “Never been better!”
“Where’s Via?” Blitzø asked. Stolas’ smile wavered, but then he grinned and tried to walk forward.
“Whoops!” he said as he tripped, Blitzø quickly moving to catch him.
“Stolas, what the fuck is going on?” Blitzø asked as he held this lanky-ass bird off the ground. It was as if they were ballroom dancing and Blitzø had decided to dip him, but a lot less elegant-looking. Stolas was light as hell, but his limbs were flopping everywhere. Stolas seemed unconcerned, though, giggling as he moved to stand, wobbling again but at least he was upright. He leaned down to boop Blitzø's nose.
“I’m being messy, Blitzø,” he said, as if that explained everything. Blitzø gave him an unamused look.
“I can see that, Stols, but why?”
“Because you told me to, duh,” Stolas said, giggling again. Blitzø raised a brow.
“And you just do everything I tell you to?”
“I do enjoy following your orders,” Stolas whispered in Blitzø’s ear. There was a sexy quality to his voice that made Blitzø swallow thickly. Then Stolas fell forwards, Blitzø barely managing to catch him before he hit the tiles. “Thank you, darling,” Stolas said, still holding Blitzø’s hand as he righted himself. He took another swig from his bottle. Blitzø cursed himself for liking the way Stolas called him ‘darling’.
“What’s in that?” Blitzø asked. He reached for it, but Stolas moved away from him, doing a few spins around the room. Then he stopped, desk now between them, and gave Blitzø a devilish grin.
“Absinthe. Want some?”
“Shit, Stolas, you trying to get fucked up?” Stolas shrugged.
“Why not? We’re just hangin’ ‘round for the night, aren’t we?” He was starting to slur his words.
“What we’re doing is changing those bandages,” Blitzø said firmly, looking at the dried spot of blood on Stolas chest. He walked around the desk, reaching up on the balls of his feet to wipe the volcanic ash from Stolas’ cheek. “And we’re gonna get cleaned up, okay?”
“I told you I’m fine,” Stolas whined, but Blitzø crossed his arms, looking up at him.
“Oh, so you don’t want to get into the bath with me. Fine, I just thought you liked it when we -” Before Blitzø could get another word in Stolas opened a portal and pushed them both through. Suddenly they were standing in Stolas’ bathroom. Blitzø had been in here one or two times before, when they’d both been in the mood for some thorough aftercare. He still couldn’t get over how fucking fancy it was. Walls covered in deep purple drapes with gold tassels, a large mirror lined with glowing lights shaped like flowers, a purple and golden bathtub with melted candles attached to the rim. There were even constellations floating across the drapes. It was ridiculous and over-the-top, but Blitzø secretly thought it was cool as hell.
“Where do you keep your bandages?” Blitzø asked, walking over to the mirror and bending down to open drawers. He tried to hide his smug grin. Stolas played right into his hands so easily. He also tried to ignore the spark of excitement he felt knowing that Stolas was still so eager to get into a bath with him. Because friends didn’t usually do that.
“I can’t remember,” Stolas said, tapping his chin. “I only really need them for gardening, so maybe I left them with my tools?” Blitzø continued to snoop through his vanity drawer anyway, furrowing his brow when he saw a half empty prescription bottle. He pulled it out, setting it on the counter. Then he turned to face Stolas, who was gulping down the rest of his absinthe. Blitzø winced. He was going to have a horrible hangover tomorrow if he kept going at that pace. Blitzø knew that from personal experience.
“What’s this? You never mentioned popping pills,” Blitzø said, straightening his back and nodding at the prescription bottle.
“Hm?” Stolas asked, blinking at him in confusion. Then his eyes fell on the prescription bottle. Blitzø watched him frown. Then he laughed, waving a hand. “Those help take the edge off.” Blitzø looked at him in confusion.
“Off of what?”
“Oh, life, I suppose,” Stolas said with a shrug, placing the empty glass bottle on the counter next to the pills and placing a hand down to steady himself. Blitzø watched as Stolas looked at his reflection, then quickly looked away. “When he had our nights of fornication -”
“Christ on a stick, Stols, just say we fucked,” Blitzø said, rolling his eyes as he leaned his back against the counter, facing away from the mirror but still keeping his eyes on Stolas. He was expecting to have to reach out and catch him again any moment now.
“Fine. When we fucked I found myself feeling better,” Stolas said. “Then I realized that simply being around you made me feel better. Not a - Lucifer, what’s it called? Not a panacea per se, I still needed my medication from time to time, but I felt less like I was drifting towards a black hole.” he confessed, waving his hand in a circular motion as he tried to explain. He was still smiling, but Blitzø could hear a note of bitterness there. He considered Stolas’ words.
“A boundary where nothing can escape, not even light,” Blitzø said quietly. Stolas eyes lit up.
“You remembered!” he said, sounding delighted. Blitzø shrugged, looking away and suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I ran out of them right before our fight on the full moon,” Stolas continued, beginning to ramble. “Terrible fucking timing, in retrospect,” he said with a laugh. “I’ve been taking them again, but the past few days have been so hectic that it’s slipped my mind.” Blitzø wondered if Stolas would be confessing all of this if he wasn’t tipsy. Was he only tipsy? It was hard to tell. He drank a fuck-ton of absinthe.
A silence hung in the air, Blitzø unsure of what to say. It definitely put some things in context, and made Blitzø feel like an even bigger asshole. It wasn’t too long ago when he was convinced that Stolas’ life was a fucking fairy tale. Blitzø, their arrangement, that was the blemish on Stolas’ perfect, royal existence. He remembered the tears in Stolas’ eyes when he sent Blitzø away on the full moon. Apparently he’d kicked Stolas when he was already down, not while he was on some high horse he assumed Stolas existed on. He still stood by some of what he said, but now he wished he'd been less cruel. Maybe that night would've ended differently.
“What the fuck is a pana-whatever?” Blitzø found himself asking, looking at the prescription bottle. He was finding it difficult to meet Stolas’ gaze, the guilt gnawing at him. Stolas opened a small portal and reached his hand in, pulling out a roll of bandages and placing them on the counter. Then he opened another small portal, pulling out a new bottle of alcohol. It was brown liquor this time.
“A remedy for all difficulties,” Stolas explained patiently, always so happy to teach without judgement. It made Blitzø feel even worse. Stolas sighed, loosening the black bandana around his neck before slowly pulling it off and letting it fall to the floor. Blitzø tried to ignore how enticing that simple action was, clearing this throat and reaching to grab the bandage roll. “Shouldn’t I clean my wounds first?” Stolas asked, watching him. Shit, right.
“I was just making sure there’s enough,” Blitzø lied. He walked over to the bathtub, turning the water on. Then he turned back to Stolas and put his hands on his hips. “Come over here.”
“Okay!” Stolas said happily, practically skipping over to him as he took a drink from his new bottle.
“Lemme try that,” Blitzø said, holding out his hand. Stolas handed him the bottle and Blitzø took a swig. His throat immediately burned, eyes watering as he tried not to cough. He could handle his liquor better than most, but Satan’s asshole that was strong whiskey. “Fuck, Stolas, trying to disinfect your insides?”
“You make a good point - maybe if I drink enough it’ll burn away whatever’s going on with me,” Stolas offered, eagerly moving to take the bottle back. Blitzø quickly held it out of reach.
“I highly doubt it, but maybe we can try after we get you cleaned up,” he compromised, setting the bottle down on the floor.
“Blitzø -” Stolas whined, but Blitzø gently grabbed his hands and Stolas stopped, blinking at him with wide, innocent eyes.
“Strip and sit, bitch,” Blitzø said. “Just the vest, for now.” Stolas smiled and shrugged off his vest, moving to sit on the tiled floor.
“Are you sure I shouldn’t take off more?” he asked, feigning innocence as he looked up at Blitzø and batted his eyes. Blitzø would be lying if that didn’t turn him on, but he wasn’t so desperate that his resolve would crumble from one look. He reached over to turn the faucet off, the bathtub now full of water.
“Just follow orders,” Blitzø said. “That’s the best quality in a good employee, you know. It’s why Moxxie sucks ass most of the time.” He sat down across from Stolas, reaching over to place his hands on Stolas’ shoulder, searching for the end of the bandage. Once he found it he began to unravel it carefully, dropping it to the floor and taking a look at the knife wound. He clenched his jaw once he saw it - Stolas was normally able to heal relatively quickly, he’d learned that early on in their full moon arrangement, pissed that his hickeys didn’t last very long and refusing to reflect on why that bothered him - but Blitzø could see the fresh, blackish-blue gash, deeper than it was wide. He also noticed scar tissue, realizing that it was probably from the last time Striker had kidnapped him. “Shit, Stolas,” Blitzø said, shaking his head as he felt his anger and frustration simmer. Stolas put a gentle hand on Blitzø’s cheek, smiling at him.
“It looks worse than it feels,” Stolas assured him, but that made Blitzø feel even shittier. Why was Stolas comforting him when he was the one who kept getting hurt?
“Whatever,” Blitzø muttered, moving Stolas’ hand away from his cheek so he could unwrap the bandages around Stolas’ chest. As he worked, he reached a point where he couldn’t resist glancing up at Stolas’ face, and found Stolas already looking down at him, watching as Blitzø’s arms were practically wrapped around him in a hug.
“Hi,” Stolas said softly, giving him a dumb-looking smile. Blitzø scoffed, drinking in the sight of Stolas up-close for a moment longer before putting his head back down and returning to the task at hand. It took a bit longer than the other bandage - there was a lot more to unravel, but he eventually reached the end, dropping the bandage and finally seeing this gunshot wound for himself. His eyes immediately blew wide. He was too shocked to even curse this time, feeling his anger quickly reaching a boiling point.
He was more determined than ever to fucking murder that shit-eating cowboy.
“Is it that bad?” Stolas asked, glancing over at the mirror and moving to stand. Blitzø put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. He took a deep breath. Now was not the time to be angry and freak Stolas out. He’d save it for when he saw Striker next.
“Let’s just…focus on getting you cleaned up, okay?” Blitzø said quietly. “You can look at it later, if you want.” Stolas pouted, but he sat back down, waiting patiently. Blitzø found it hard to tear his eyes away from Stolas’ chest. Flesh was torn in places, forming a gruesome five-point star and revealing a deep, charcoal-colored wound about the size of Blitzø’s fist. Blitzø had a feeling that if he rested his fingertips against it, it’d be hot to the touch.
He remembered Ozzie saying that Stolas being alive was some kind of miracle. Blitzø had been tempted to say that miracles don’t happen in Hell, but looking at this wound for himself, he could understand the sentiment. This didn’t look like the kind of injury anyone, even a demon prince, could simply recover from. Blitzø thought about his own wounds, the white marks on his body that would always be there to remind him of his biggest regret, and his greatest loss. His wounds healed eventually, but left him scarred in more ways than one. And yet here Stolas was, as soft and attentive as ever, acting as if what happened to him was an embarrassing inconvenience when Blitzø would be raging at the unfairness of it all. Was Stolas just that strong? Or maybe there was a part of Stolas, not so different from Blitzø after all, that thought he deserved it. Blitzø really hoped it was the first one.
“Blitzø?” Stolas asked softly, still blinking at him, his gaze curious.
“Shit, right,” Blitzø said, moving to stand and helping Stolas to his feet. “Let’s get you in the bath.”
“Aren’t you joining me?” Stolas asked, on the verge of pouting again as Blitzø held his hand, keeping him steady. “You’re dirty, too.”
“I can get clean later,” Blitzø said. He placed his other hand in the water, making sure it wasn’t too cold.
“I don’t want you to,” Stolas said, letting go of his hand to cross his arms. “Won’t you join me, Blitzø? I won’t take a bath unless you join me,” he decided, wobbling where he stood in defiance. Blitzø scoffed.
“You can be a real bratty drunk, you know that?” Stolas only continued to pout, not budging. Blitzø ran a hand down his face, letting out an impatient sigh. “Fine.”
“Splendid!” Stolas said, clapping his hands. In one fluid motion he took off his pants, getting in the tub. Blitzø scoffed again, feeling a surge of fondness as he undressed, adding his clothes to the pile of Stolas’ clothes before joining him in the tub. He dunked his head under, and when he resurfaced, wiping the water from his eyes, he noticed Stolas smiling at him, wet feathers sticking out in funny angles. Without thinking, Blitzø reached over to smooth them out.
“What’s with the dorky-ass grin?” Blitzø asked, dropping his hand in the water once he was done. “Is it because you got your way?”
“Maybe,” Stolas admitted, still grinning. “Or maybe I just like spending time with you.”
“What’s not to like? I’m a fucking delight,” Blitzø joked, but Stolas nodded in such sincere agreement that it threw Blitzø off. “Hand me that bottle,” he directed, and Stolas magicked the bottle of whiskey over to him. He took a hefty swig. Stolas took it from him when he was done, downing a few gulps himself.
“Octavia’s having dinner with her mother right now,” Stolas said, and Blitzø choked.
“T-the fuck?” he said between coughs. He cleared his throat, feeling the burn from the whiskey deep in his throat. “What the fuck happened?” Stolas let out a laugh, although there was no actual joy in it.
“Stella called her while we were doing that job,” he explained. “She said she wanted Via to stay with her, saying something about me being unfit to take care of her -”
“That whore-ass bitch,” Blitzø said, seething, hands gripping the edges of the tub. Stolas took another swig. “You’re doing just fine, even after she hired someone to shoot a damn hole in your chest -”
“Via assured me that she doesn’t agree with her, but she did offer to meet her for dinner,” Stolas said, frowning. “She - she’s convinced that it’ll help, but I’m worried.”
“Grab my phone,” Blitzø said, nodding towards the pile of clothes. Stolas used his magic to remove it from Blitzø’s pocket, and Blitzø watched as it floated towards him. He grabbed it once it was in reach. “Where are they meeting?”
“The Richest Cup,” Stolas said. Blitzø scrunched up his nose in disgust.
“I fucking hate that place. Full of privileged assholes,” Blitzø said, typing out a message on his phone. “I’m asking M&M and Loona if anyone can keep an eye on her,” he explained, pressing send. He glanced up to see Stolas take another swig of whiskey, sliding further into the water and looking down at the ripples he created.
“It’s where Striker showed up to kidnap me the first time,” Stolas said quietly. “That place is yet another thing I never considered to be wrong until recently, like a fool. Via thought it’d be a good choice because it’s public. It’s also full of people Stella knows and wouldn’t want to cause a scene in front of.”
“Smart,” Blitzø said, and Stolas nodded. Then Blitzø’s phone buzzed. It was a message from Loona.
I’ll keep an eye on her. Blitzø smiled. Then there was another buzz. A message from Moxxie.
She’s just trying to skip out on the work I asked her to do
Eat a dick, snitch. You’re not my boss.
IS A LITTLE RESPECT IN THE WORKPLACE TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR??
Blitzø scoffed, sending a ‘thcx’ and tossing his phone to land on top of their clothes.
“Loona will be around in case things go south,” Blitzø said. He reached to grab the bottle from Stolas, taking a swig. “It’ll be fine, Stols.” Stolas exhaled.
“Thank you, Blitzø. I really appreciate it.” Blitzø waved him off.
“Via’s a good kid. Is that why you started drinking?” he asked, holding up the bottle in his hand. Stolas took the bottle from him, tipping his head back and finishing it off. He set it on the floor, and then met Blitzø’s gaze. His cheeks were flushed from the alcohol.
“No. Well, yes, I mean -” Stolas tried to explain. He put a hand on his forehead, shaking his head a little.
“Hey,” Blitzø said, wading closer to him. “Let’s not worry too much right now, okay? Everything’ll be fine. It’s time to focus on getting you clean.” He reached past Stolas to grab the bar of soap resting on the lid of the tub behind him. He shook it in the air a little for Stolas to see, giving him a smirk. Stolas managed to smile back, moving his hand away from his face. Blitzø waded a bit closer to him, putting the bar of soap on Stolas’ chest, careful not to put it directly on either of his wounds. He started to scrub gently, creating a lather and spreading it across Stolas’ body, cleaning off the dirt and ash from a day of being shitty cowboys. Stolas let out a pleased hum, relaxing under his touch as he let Blitzø do as he pleased. “We really got dirty, huh?” Blitzø observed, moving to clean Stolas’ arms. He was beginning to feel a slight buzz from the alcohol, even after only a few sips. He wondered how Stolas wasn’t hammered right now.
“This isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted to be messy,” Stolas lamented, and Blitzø let out a laugh.
“Oh yeah?” Blitzø lifted his gaze to meet Stolas’ ruby eyes, and found, yet again, that Stolas was already watching him. He hadn’t realized how close they’d gotten, their bodies less than a foot apart, the warm water pulling them together in one moment, and pushing them apart the next. His hands were covered in soapy bubbles, and he tapped Stolas’ beak with one of his fingers, grinning when he saw a clump of bubbles stick to it when he pulled away. Stolas blinked at him in surprise. “What exactly did you mean? And don’t tell me you planned to do nerdy shit like unalphabetize your books -” before Blitzø could finish his sentence Stolas mouth was on his.
The bar of soap slipped out of Blitzø’s hand, plopping into the water. Stolas’ went to cup Blitzø’s face as he moved forward, gently pushing Blitzø backwards until Blitzø felt the curved edge of the tub against his spine. It was dizzying how easily they got into a rhythm, Stolas licking into his mouth, opening him up as his tongue started to explore, breath hot and heavy. Blitzø heard the broken gasps that escaped his own mouth, too turned on to be embarrassed by how much he wanted this. His hands moved through the water to rest on Stolas’ hips, pulling him closer. Stolas let out a pleased sigh and removed a hand from Blitzø’s cheek, moving to stroke one of his horns in such a way that Blitzø shuddered, biting Stolas’ bottom lip in retaliation.
“Blitzø,” Stolas gasped, now slowly scratching the base of Blitzø’s horn, in time with the slow glide of his tongue in Blitzø’s mouth. Blitzø wrapped his tail around Stolas’ small waist, using it to hold him there as he explored the rest of Stolas’ body with his hands, one hand gently grabbing Stolas’ neck, the other running down one of Stolas’ long legs to stop at his thigh, rubbing small circles with his thumb, quickly making Stolas putty in his hands.
‘When did Stolas get so fucking good at this?’ Blitzø found himself wondering, his thoughts scattered and fuzzy, distracted by the way Stolas was making him feel. It’s like he’d been taking notes this whole damn time, learning all the things that Blitzø liked, that turned him on. Blitzø hadn’t had such an attentive lover before, and never expected such expertise from someone like Stolas, who’d never even kissed anyone until Blitzø.
Stolas ran his hand down Blitzø’s chest, placing his long fingers on Blitzø’s lower back, applying a delicious amount of pressure that had Blitzø fucking melting. Blitzø moaned into Stolas’ mouth, squeezing the hand around Stolas’ neck slightly until Stolas shivered in response, baring his neck so Blitzo could have better access. They started kissing with a renewed vigor, licking and sucking in a way that was utterly depraved and exactly the way Blitzø liked it, sensual and slow at first, as if they had all the time in the world, and then hot and hungry, as if it was the last kiss in Hell. He could taste the whiskey and absinthe on Stolas’ tongue, could feel the heat in his mouth, and somehow it was more intoxicating than the strong-as-fuck alcohol. But then an irritating thought eventually reached his hazy brain.
He loosened his tail around Stolas’ waist, dropping the hand around Stolas’ neck to rest on his arm, pushing away slightly. Stolas mouth chased after him, and then his eyes opened in confusion when he couldn’t find Blitzø’s lips. Blitzø expected Stolas to ask him a question, curiosity in his ruby eyes, but then he moved to kiss Blitzø’s neck instead, dragging his tongue across his skin and leaving a trail of small bites.
“S-stols,” Blitzø managed to say, Stolas’ mouth moving down his neck. “You’re drunk.”
“Hm, maybe a little,” Stolas confessed, winding his arms around Blitzø’s torso to hold him close.
“And I’m not,” Blitzø said. “A little tipsy, maybe, but not as drunk as you.”
“I have a high tolerance,” Stolas said between kisses, and Blitzø laughed, feeling soft feathers tickle his collarbone.
“Not high enough that you’re fine after all that.” Then he felt fingers find the tip of his tail, and soon Stolas’ pointer finger and thumb were rubbing the triangular-shaped end, sending electricity up Blitzø’s spine in such a way that had him seeing white.
“Fuck, Stolas,” Blitzø breathed, leaning his weight back against the tub as Stolas continued to rub the end of his tail, still kissing and biting his neck. It was getting really hard to stop this, any resolve he had left quickly disappearing.
“If you’re worried about taking advantage of me,” Stolas whispered in Blitzø’s ear, resting his free hand on the lid of the tub behind Blitzø, caging him in, “then how about you just sit back and take the pleasure I give you?” Blitzø was breathing heavy now, turning his face to catch the edges of Stolas’ devilish smile. He’d gotten a lot better at the dirty talk, fucking hell.
“I guess I did say that - that you could do whatever you needed to do,” Blitzø managed to say, so turned on that it was getting harder to form coherent sentences. He didn’t remember ever feeling quite like this. He preferred being the one in control. He was better, more confident, that way. So why was he liking this so much? Stolas kissed the corner of Blitzø’s mouth, and Blitzø cupped his cheek, finding Stolas’ mouth as they started to kiss again. Blitzø could feel something slow and sincere building between them, a feeling that excited Blitzø, but also fucking terrified him. “Maybe friends can fuck each other, after all,” Blitzø decided to joke between kisses, trying to ease his fear that he was on the precipice of falling into something he couldn’t come back from. Maybe it would even be okay to fall. Then he felt Stolas freeze under his touch. He opened his eyes to see Stolas looking away, brow furrowed, a conflicted expression on his face. “Hey,” Blitzø said, hand still on Stolas’ cheek. “Something wrong?”
“Are we friends?” Stolas asked, and Blitzø’s eyes widened slightly. Then he laughed.
“I thought we established that a few days ago,” he said with a smile. Stolas frowned. Then he met Blitzø’s gaze, a new vulnerability in those wide, ruby eyes.
“And we’re doing…this,” Stolas said, gesturing between the two of them, “you’re letting me do this,” he corrected, “because it might make me feel better?”
“Is it?” Blitzø asked, curious, but based on Stolas’ expression that was the wrong response. He gently slid his hands off of Blitzø’s body and pulled away, creating some distance between them.
“I think I’m too drunk to tell,” Stolas confessed with a laugh, but why did it sound like he was about to cry?
“Okay,” Blitzø said slowly, not understanding why it suddenly felt like he did something wrong. It ignited the defensiveness in him, something that was always lurking below the surface. He opened his mouth to say more, to ask what the fuck was going on, but then Stolas got out of the tub, his robe floating over from a hook in the corner. He put in on, and Blitzø watched him in confusion.
“I believe I’m all clean now,” Stolas said, back to him. Blitzø felt a flash of irritation.
“Something’s clearly bothering you,” Blitzø said, clenching his fists where they were hidden underwater. Stolas exhaled.
“I’m - I just…I think had the wrong idea, that’s all,” Stolas said.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Blitzø asked. Stolas hunched in on himself.
“Nevermind, it was silly of me. I think I just need to rest -”
“Fuck that!” Blitzø said, quickly moving to stand, and he noticed the way Stolas flinched in response. His eyes widened, and then he remembered something that was bugging him back at Striker’s old hideout. “You said it was a reflex before,” Blitzø said slowly, tone gentler this time. Stolas turned to look at him. “What’d you mean by that?” He watched as Stolas bit his lip, eyes looking shinier than they did moments before, as if he was on the verge of tears.
“Oh, um,” Stolas said, voice wavering as he held his arms to his chest, reminding Blitzø so much of Via in that moment. He took a slow breath in, giving himself a moment to exhale as Blitzø waited. “I - it wasn’t anything related to you, Blitzø, to be clear. You’ve never - I’ve always felt safe with you.” Blitzø watched him in confusion. Stolas used his magic to bring another robe over to them, and then he held out his hand. Blitzø took it, and Stolas helped him out of the tub, the robe floating over to Blitzø. Blitzø understood, holding out his arms as the robe wrapped around him. It was comically large on him, but Blitzø didn’t feel like cracking a joke at the moment. It didn’t look like Stolas was in the mood, either, that giggly, drunk energy having suddenly soured into something somber and flighty.
“Someone’s made you feel unsafe,” Blitzø said, able to at least connect those dots. “And I’m guessing I know who that is. Stolas, did that bitch do more than hire people to hurt you?” Stolas let out a surprised laugh, one drenched in bitterness as he continued to hug himself.
“It was never too bad,” Stolas explained, and Blitzø’s eyes widened further. “Never enough to leave a mark that didn’t heal relatively quickly. She’d just get angry and lash out from time to time. Sometimes I’d just let it happen, because at least she’d calm down a bit afterwards, but it’s still hard not to flinch, sometimes.” Stolas must have noticed something in Blitzø’s expression, because his eyes widened as well. “It’s fine! I’m only telling you this because I don’t want you to think that I think that you’d ever - or that I - oh, I don’t know,” Stolas said, giving up on his explanation. “It’s fine, really. Especially now that she doesn’t live here anymore.”
“Shit, Stolas,” Blitzø said, the robe sliding off his shoulder as he looked up at him. He noticed the puddle of water they’d created on the bathroom tiles.
“That robe is simply too big on you,” Stolas observed, trying to bite back a small smile without being obvious, but the amusement in his eyes gave it away. Blitzø scoffed, amazed that Stolas could be commenting on something so trivial after explaining all that. He stubbornly pulled the robe back over his shoulder, putting his hands on his lips.
“I need to put new bandages on you,” Blitzø said, and Stolas looked over at the mirror, where the roll of bandages was still sitting on the counter. Blitzø noticed his hesitation.
“Okay,” Stolas finally said. A few moments later Blitzø was sitting on the vanity counter, Stolas’ robe now only hanging around his waist as he stood in front of Blitzø, Blitzø wrapping the clean bandages around Stolas’ chest, and then around his shoulder. He worked efficiently, refusing to linger over any part of Stolas’ body as he tried not to think about the things Stolas had been doing to him only minutes ago. But it also felt like a lifetime ago, or as if it’d been some kind of dream, and now they were back to reality. There were many times that Blitzø wanted to probe what made Stolas pull away as he was putting on the bandages, but Blitzø bit his tongue each time. He was afraid to know the answer, afraid of Stolas putting even more distance between them for asking, or for reminding Stolas of how Blitzø fucked up, even though he still didn’t understand what he did. But that was worse, wasn’t it? Fucking up and not even recognizing what the fuck-up was?
Once Blitzø was done Stolas put his arms back through the sleeves of his robe. They stayed like that for a moment, neither of them quite knowing what to say. Blitzø was too in his own head, worried about saying the wrong thing as he sat on the vanity counter, Stolas in front of him but out of reach.
“It’s occurred to me that I’ve never spent so much time with company,” Stolas finally said, not meeting Blitzø’s gaze. “I didn’t realize how accustomed I was to spending much of my time alone.”
“Oh,” Blitzø said. He felt like he should say more but wasn’t sure what Stolas wanted to hear.
‘I can always do better.' He remembered telling Stolas that during their last full moon, before he instigated a fight, before he convinced himself that Stolas was joking when he said he cared about him and wanted him to stay if he wanted to - before Blitzø fucked up. Because he couldn’t do better, after all.
“I think I need some time to myself right now,” Stolas confessed, and Blitzø looked at him in surprise. “I just need a moment to process the past few days, to sort out my thoughts,” he explained, almost pleading, as if he needed Blitzø to give him permission.
“What if -” Blitzø found himself saying, a selfish part of him not wanting to grant the permission he had no right to give. “You haven’t been alone for a reason -”
“I know,” Stolas said, looking down so that Blitzø could not longer see his expression, but he could still see the way Stolas was fidgeting with his hands. “I feel fine right now, and I can message you the moment that changes, thanks to the phone you gave me,” he said. He raised his eyes to meet Blitzø’s gaze, a sadness in his expression that Blitzø still didn’t understand.
“I can’t tell you what to do, Stolas,” Blitzø said, shaking his head. “You don’t need my permission, and it’s not like you owe me anything. This is your palace, for fuck’s sake.”
“Perhaps, but I still wanted to, to -” Stolas sighed, slumping his shoulders. “I don’t know. I felt like I should say all of that regardless.”
“Okay,” Blitzø said. “Yeah, text me if you need me and I’ll come find you.” Stolas nodded, moving towards the exit to the bathroom, but then he stopped by the door, his back to Blitzø.
“Do you really feel as if I owe you nothing?” Stolas asked quietly. Blitzø was caught off guard by the question.
“I mean, yeah,” Blitzø said. He watched Stolas nod, although he couldn’t see his face.
“Alright,” Stolas said. Blitzø watched as the phone he gave Stolas wiggled out of their pile of clothes, floating over to rest in Stolas’ open palm. The next moment he was gone, closing the door quietly behind him. Blitzø looked at the door for a long moment, and then he glanced down at the prescription bottle on the counter.
Blitzø was the type of person who was always going to be the problem, as much as he wanted to change. Maybe, like a bottle of absinthe, he could provide some kind of temporary relief, some burst of enjoyment, but the eventual hangover would always be a real bitch. As he sat on the vanity counter, alone, he was struck with a painful thought -
When you’re the problem, you’re never going to be the one to see any solutions, at least not ones that you’re part of.
Stolas said it himself - being with Blitzø had never been a panacea. Blitzø clearly wasn’t a remedy, and could only ever be a temporary distraction.
And yet, selfishly, he still wanted Stolas. He rested his fingertips on his lips, thinking about that kiss. An embarrassing idea had crossed his mind as Stolas kissed him - if Stolas was the only person who touched him like this for the rest of his life, he’d be more than content. Content was an understatement, even. He’d never felt this way about anyone before.
Blitzø dropped his hand, taking a deep breath. Could it be worth it to try, like Stolas had, to see if there was still a chance of there being something more between them? He covered his face with his hands. Maybe he was a monogamous freak after all. He could already picture Moxxie’s shit-eating grin.
The sun was long gone as Stolas sat on the edge of Octavia’s bed, holding his new phone in his hands as he hung his head, not feeling like turning on any lamps even as darkness had been slowly bleeding into the bedroom.
Octavia said that she'd text him when she needed a portal back after dinner, but there was no word from her yet. She’d been gone longer than he expected, and the worry twisted his insides, making it difficult to breathe, as if a constant weight was pressing against his chest, not enough to suffocate him, but enough to remind him that it was there.
He remembered the expression on Via’s face as she packed a small bag, assuring him that she’d be fine. He couldn’t help but feel like she wasn’t telling him something, and yet he didn’t know what to say for her to be honest with him, to tell him how she was truly feeling. He glanced over at the chest at the foot of Via’s bed, where Blitzø had hidden the machetes. Maybe if he’d been more willing to let her use them, hadn’t hesitated, then she would’ve stayed? Had he been holding her back? Did she feel like a prisoner here, too?
He turned on his phone to check his recent calls, just in case he missed something, even though he’d checked countless times already. There was still only one number at the top - Stella’s. As Via was getting ready to leave, Stolas had stepped away to call Stella. He’d gotten enough irritating calls from her the past few months, complaining about anything she could come up with regarding the divorce, that he ended up memorizing her number even though he had no interest in doing so.
“Who is this?” a familiar, grating voice had asked. Stolas remembered resting the back of his head against the hallway wall, sunlight spilling through the large window next to him.
“It’s me, Stella,” Stolas answered, trying to keep his tone even, although he could already feel his frustration simmering. He heard her cackle.
“Stolas,” she said, practically hissing out his name. “You’d be the last person I’d expect a call from. I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.” Stolas rolled his eyes.
“Don’t be confused. That is still very much true,” he said. “But unfortunately it is difficult to completely cut ties with someone you share a precious daughter with.”
“So you’re calling me about the dinner I’m about to have with my daughter,” Stella said, sounding smug. “Have a problem with that?”
“Yes, quite frankly, I do,” Stolas said, rubbing one of his temples. “Given what happened a few days ago -”
“Oh? And what happened a few days ago?” Stella asked, tone innocent. But Stolas knew her too well not to hear the underlying maliciousness. He sighed.
“Are you really choosing to pretend that you didn’t send an assassin to kill me? For a third time, may I add.” Stella let out a laugh.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said happily. “Although if I did, I would wonder how you managed to escape death yet again. I hope you didn’t get any nasty injuries. Poor thing.” Stolas scoffed.
“Your clearly fake concern is touching, Stella,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “but I’m not calling about me. I’m calling to warn you.”
“Warn me?” Stella asked, barking out a laugh. He could sense her building rage lurking below the surface.
“If you hurt Via, do anything to harm her -” he began, gripping his phone as he pushed away from the wall, now pacing in the middle of the hallway.
“We’re having dinner, you fucking idiot,” Stella said. “What, do you expect me to poison her tea? What would that get me?”
“I know what you did with my will, Stella -”
“Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about -”
“You used to be proud of your transgressions against me,” Stolas said, getting frustrated. “Are you suddenly getting embarrassed now that I’ve thwarted your schemes so many times?” Stella scoffed loudly.
“I’m still proud of them,” Stella said, seething, “because you deserved every one. You deserve every bad thing coming to you, Stolas.”
“N-no, I don’t,” Stolas argued, but the way Stella laughed made it clear to them both that he wasn’t entirely convinced.
“I heard you’ve really fortified the palace,” Stella cooed. “I also heard you got that disgusting imp to be your ‘bodyguard’. How do you think Octavia feels about living with her pathetic father’s fucktoy -?”
“Stop!” Stolas said, scrunching his eyes closed. “This isn’t about him. You don’t get to talk about him -”
“Oh? I don’t get to talk about the creature that ruined our marriage? That made me and Octavia miserable just so you could sate your repulsive urges?”
“It’s - it’s not like that,” Stolas said, wavering. He didn’t care how Stella felt, but did Via truly feel that way? Is that why she was meeting her mother for dinner? To escape? “Blitzo is more than that, to me - he’s not what you think -” Stella laughed.
“I see. So you’re not playing bodyguard, you’re playing house,” she corrected, still laughing. “You delusional idiot. You’ve convinced yourself that this imp has fallen in love with you.” Stolas’ eyes widened, but then he furrowed his brow, taking a deep breath.
“I don’t - it’s -”
“I wonder how long he’ll actually stick around,” Stella interrupted. “My dear brother and I should place a bet. I give it another day until he gets sick of you, if he’s not sick of you already.”
“He cares about me,” Stolas protested, placing his fingertips against his chest. There was no use in arguing with her, but Stella managed to find his weak spot, like she always did. She laughed again.
“He’s got you wrapped around his finger, hasn’t he? What a clever little thing.” she said. “You need to face reality, Stolas. He's only there for an easy fuck from a desperate prince. And then, once he gets that, he’ll steal something.” She let out a laugh. “Sound familiar? You’ve always been so fucking naive.”
“He won’t - he - things are different, now,” Stolas said, voice small.
“Why would they be? No one could actually love someone like you. Take it from someone who knows,” she said. “Even your own daughter is taking the first chance to leave you, too.” Stolas felt his bottom lip wobble, the promise of incoming tears in his eyes. He opened his mouth to protest, to tell her that she was wrong, that she hadn’t seen the two of them the past fews days, but the anxiety and self-hatred that existed deep within his chest stopped any argument from leaving his lips. “No one would ever want to be chained to someone like you because they cared about you,” Stella continued. “Give it a few days and you’ll see. And once you’re all alone, maybe you’ll finally get what you deserve.”
“Just don’t hurt Via,” Stolas managed to say, throat tight as he desperately tried to hold back his tears. Stella scoffed.
“You’ve hurt her enough for the both of us,” she said, and with that she hung up, leaving Stolas to stand in the hallway alone, hand clutching his chest.
“Dad?” Via asked, and Stolas quickly wiped his eyes, turning to see Via further down the hall, carrying a small bag on her shoulder. “I’m ready.”
“Right,” Stolas said, about to move closer to her, but stopping himself. He opened a portal by the wall, revealing the exterior of the Richest Cup. “I -” he began, wanting to ask her, not for the first time, how she was feeling, but more afraid than ever to know the truth. He managed to smile instead, feeling the way it wavered, but hoping that Via couldn’t tell from where she was standing. “Be safe, princess.” She rolled her eyes.
“I’m not about to enter a battlefield,” Via said. “I told you - I’ll be fine. This…this will be a good thing, for both of us.”
“Okay,” Stolas said, but he couldn't bring himself to believe that, as much as he wanted to trust her. Because he didn't trust Stella. Via nodded, adjusting the strap on her shoulder, and then she left through the portal. It closed behind her a moment later. Stolas looked at the wall for a long moment. He began to feel that familiar burn deep inside of him, pressing outwards with such a force that he could already feel it warm the hand he was resting on his chest. He needed to get back to Blitzø before it became worse, but the idea of facing him now, after everything Stella had said, scared him. He shook his head. Stella was wrong about him, about them. Right? He found himself walking into the dining room, opening the cabinet full of his strongest alcohol. He reached out his hand, wavering between the absinthe and the whiskey, and chose the absinthe, opening the bottle and taking a long gulp, appreciating this burn a lot more than the one already spreading through him. He exhaled, feeling a bit calmer. Then he took another long drink, wanting to forget about so much of the past few days, while being drunk enough to believe in the good parts.
And now here Stolas was, alone in Via's room, waiting for a text he was worried was never going to come. Maybe Via really had escaped, telling him what he wanted to hear so that he’d let her go. He placed his hand on his chest once again.
He thought about kissing Blitzø, about how dizzying and right and good it felt, not because it was a fucking good kiss, but because it was Blitzø he was kissing. He remembered when he made out with that stranger at Verosika’s party, also when he was drunk. It wasn’t a bad kiss, and it was nice to feel so simply wanted, but it made him realize just how different a kiss was with someone you had deep feelings for. With Blitzø only hours ago, Stolas found himself committed to making him feel as good as possible, and felt elated at every gasp and moan he pulled out of him, as if Blitzø’s pleasure was his own. It was unselfish, it was a give as much as it was a take. Stolas wasn’t just seeking his own enjoyment. That wasn’t enough for him when it came to Blitzø.
An insecure, anxious part of him had also wondered, as he deepened the kiss, if he could convince Blitzø to stay if he did a good enough job. Stella expected Blitzø to leave in a few days, and Blitzø himself considered this to be a temporary thing, but if Stolas could just be good enough, would Blitzø change his mind? They became friends, even after all they went through, so was it really so impossible for them to become more?
‘You wouldn’t leave me, too, would you, Blitzø?’ Stolas had thought, right before he kissed him. But soon enough he realized that friendship was all that he was going to have with Blitzø. Blitzø cared, but not in the way that Stolas cared about him. He wanted to fuck him, but only because there was a chance it'd help Stolas with his condition, and maybe because Stolas was an easy option for Blitzø, or, worse, because Stolas had once again forced himself upon him and Blitzø didn’t feel comfortable saying no. Whatever it was, the romantic feelings just weren’t there. And Stolas couldn’t blame him, not after the way Stolas had treated him in the beginning. He just hated that there was truth to what Stella had said. He was a hard person to love, maybe even an impossible person to love. And that was his own fault.
As he sat on Via’s bed, alone because of his own choices, he didn’t feel a burn in his chest, not yet, but rather an empty chill. One that felt a lot like defeat.
‘The perfect end for an unlovable prince.’ Striker’s words came to mind once again. He was starting to understand what Striker had meant - Stolas was like a dim star in the sky, ancient and solitary, part of no story, no constellation, no true pair, just a star that had reached the end of its life, and now it was time to burn until he eventually burned out. Whatever was happening to him, maybe it was simply facilitating the inevitable. He shook his head. He didn’t want to think this way. He knew that these thoughts were dangerous. He wanted to believe that he deserved happiness - but why did it have to be so hard? All Stolas knew for sure was that it was foolish to keep hoping for something more between him and Blitzø. He needed to fully respect Blitzø’s wishes, something that was long overdue.