contact part deux

[bouchonne]

if this were modern times byerly would probably make you listen to total eclipse of the heart before you were able to leave a message

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[bouchonne]

[ A laugh. ]

Alas - she's frigid down south.

[cozen]

[ Bastien choke-cough-laughs with an absence of dignity that can only mean he is genuinely started (and delighted) by the punchline.

Good interlude. ]

Do you still worry? That it will stop meaning something.

[bouchonne]

[ He's quiet for a moment. Pensively: ]

No. I don't think I do.

[cozen]

Mmm.

[ In self-doubting-Byerly-speak, that’s practically confidence. ]

Good. I don’t think you should. And if it ever does start to slip away, tell me— [ it will sting; he’ll live ] —and I will seduce you all over again, from the beginning. Like a stranger.

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly smiles over at Bastien, and shakes his head. ]

Don't mistake me. I'll never stop loving you. It's just the worry that sometimes unsettles me.

[cozen]

[ There’s a twitch and startled blink from Bastien—both rare—because he had not even realized they might be talking about losing love, rather the particular piece of it that makes the sex so great. He might have panicked, otherwise. Briefly. Quietly. Unfairly, with everything he knows and trusts about By, but abandonment issues die hard.

Instead he realizes and is reassured in the same breath. He finds steady ground without needing any time to flail around for it. He smiles. ]

Then tell me when you worry, and I will tell you, ils mélangeront nos cendres.

[ An old cliche. Silly, but sincere. ]

Did you ever try? With others, I mean, before. Did you want to hold onto them?

[bouchonne]

[ He catches onto that miscommunication and winces in apology for it. But no harm done, it seems - or the harm is concealed. (Maker, it's the danger of being in love a Bard; By could break Bastien's heart and Bastien could choose never to make it known. But - But. But Bastien wouldn't conceal it from him, not now. He hopes.) ]

Ah.

[ He gathers his wits, and says - ]

No. I'd always thought that - Well. [ With the air of something practiced: ] That, as the Maker did not shape nugs to fly, he did not shape me to love.

[cozen]

[ Bastien squeezes By’s hand and says, with firm warmth, ]

Absurd.

[ A seagull lands on one of their adjacent crates, eyeing their little feast with its dark eyes. Bastien wiggles a foot to scare it away, but it only hops to a higher crate, just as close. ]

No one has ever loved me as well as you have. And they have tried.

[ A little smug, a little regretful. There might have been something fucked up about the way he let go of Vincent and then became him, but worse. In six years he found a dozen people who treated him like the first greenery of spring, and he didn’t love one of them back. Even his interest in Byerly was first sparked by the way By looked at him, that evening of the drinking competition. By the way he seemed susceptible to Bastien’s charm.

He doesn’t look directly at it. ]

You decided to try for us. [ Holding on. ] Our two-pronged assault must have worn you down.

[bouchonne]

It did.

[ His voice is quiet. His eyes fall on that seagull - ratty old thing, with dark smears on its feathers and shit on its feet. He feels a curious little swell of affection for the dirty, bold little monster. Tosses it a little piece of bread, which it gobbles down with horrifying swiftness.

A little smile. ]

Though as I recall...I was the one who came begging for you. You don't have to say yes, but I need you in my life, dearest Bastien.

[cozen]

[ Bastien half-smiles, looks up at By’s profile, and smiles the rest of the way. ]

In your sash.

[ For all Bastien prides himself on thinking about other people’s perspectives, this might be the first time he’s thought about that evening from Byerly’s, free of what clouded his vision at the time. No sickening certainty he was there to be let down gently, coloring everything even after it had been disproven. No stubborn irrational fixation on a few scattered signs Byerly didn’t love him, no ignoring the flood of evidence that he did.

Just By setting his sweet, bruised heart on the table, nervous and brave in the face Bastien’s inscrutable breeziness. ]

Please never get rid of that sash.

[bouchonne]

Ha.

[ If Byerly were someone to blush, he'd be blushing. As it stands, he just lifts his eyebrows and tilts down his chin and smiles a funny little smile. ]

I do look incredibly dashing with it, don't I?

[cozen]

Like someone out of a story.

[ His grip on By’s hand turns into a massage, thumb knuckle kneading into his palm. ]

You know when I really should have realized I could have you, though?

[ Byerly’s bedraggled seagull friend, emboldened, hops a crate closer, and this time Bastien doesn’t try to scare it. For By’s sake. ]

When you let me kiss you with my jungle breath.

[bouchonne]

[ A laugh. By tosses another little bit of bread to the seagull, then takes a corresponding bite from the roll's filling. ]

I believe that you'll find that you let me kiss you with my jungle breath.

[cozen]

Pff. You tasted like cream and sugar.

[ He takes By’s wrist and pilots his hand down so Bastien can steal a bite of the filling, too. While he chews, a second seagull arrives, feathers in puffed-up disarray, like it heard there was food and rushed over without getting dressed. Bastien laughs at them. ]

Thank you, [ is unrelated to the laughter— ] for being so brave for me. I’m sorry I didn’t see it as well at the time.

[bouchonne]

I - Hardly. [ He compensates for his self-consciousness by throwing another crumb of bread. The second seagull lunges for it; then the first seagull lunges for him; and the two of them have a squawking, screeching fight with spread wings. It's a charming little diversion until the first one establishes his dominance.

Once they settle down - ]

I was just greedy. You were the brave one - Risking someone who could have been awful.

[cozen]

[ Bastien’s tickled grin at the seagulls cuts promptly short. ]

That was never a risk. Not ever.

[ A subdued sort of urgency, because they’re in the bright morning light, surrounded by people. If they were curled up alone somewhere he might be holding By by the face, to mandate eye contact. Here he only gives his hand an emphatic squeeze. ]

That has never been something I have worried about. I knew you better. I’ve known you better since we met.

[bouchonne]

It was a bit of one.

[ He squeezes back, but says: ]

There are people, at times, who are tolerable on their own, but monsters when they're in love. You never really had known me when I had something to lose.

[cozen]

[ Bastien shakes his head as he’s leaning it against By’s shoulder again. The seagulls watch; every move could be a move that gives them more food. ]

You had Alexandrie. And you lost her.

[bouchonne]

And became a bit of a beast.

[ But it's not an unfair point. He could have been a beast far more vicious than the one he became. ]

But...I am glad that you felt so - [ Well. ] That you came to feel that you could say yes. You are...the wealth of my life. The only thing I need to make kings envious.

[cozen]

[ More stubborn protests threaten to bubble up, more explanations for what it was he was deciding during that month’s delay, what it was he was afraid of before he decided on his yes. It was never that Byerly would be a beast.

But what By says next sweetly steals all the wind from those sails. At least for now. Bastien sighs, in a good way, and melts more heavily into Byerly’s arm and shoulder. ]

I love you.

[ He says it like thank you. Buzzing with happiness. And after a beat, ]

Do you know what else I have in common with wealth?

[ He doesn’t make By guess the punchline. ]

You leave me spent.

[bouchonne]

[ That pulls him out of his sentimental little reverie - he laughs, a buoyant ha! ]

You filthy little minx.

[ He nuzzles the side of Bastien's neck. He's certainly never been bad at sweet nothings, but - Maker, Bastien turns him into a poet. How intolerable.

The seagulls, emboldened by the two of them being so utterly lost in one another, swoop down. The first one to arrive misses the mark, but the second one manages to make off with a whole bun all on its own. Byerly turns his face towards it, says with mingled delight and fury - ]

Little bastard! After I fed you -

[cozen]

[ Bastien dissolves into snickering, even though he’s also pulling their crate-table closer and putting a few of the remaining rolls and pastries back into his basket. Not all of them. Just enough to know a few are safe. ]

Thieves. Now I have to like them. We should—

[ Adopt them, he was going to say, but the squawking kerfuffle being caused by the two seagulls and the big roll in the street attracts the attention of a dozen more. For the moment they’re all focused on the one scraggly gull and its prize, but— ]

Shit.

[ Bastien holds his arm over the others, fingers spread wide, like a shield. ]

We’re outnumbered.

[bouchonne]

Dear Maker.

[ Byerly clutches at Bastien in mock-panic. (Though, to be altogether fair, there is some meanness in their beady eyes. And those wings could probably do damage.) ]

Run, Bastien. I'll hold them off.

[cozen]

[ Clutching back with as much drama and urgency as if they really were besieged by enemies: ]

I'm not leaving you.

[ He evaluates their positions and defenses with a few quick glances. ]

If you are done with your coffee— [ serious battle plan consideration ] —we can sacrifice a roll to distract them and make a run for it.

[bouchonne]

[ By nods solemnly and tosses back the last of his coffee. Though, a complication: ]

Which one, though? They were all devastatingly good. Maybe the mixed berry?