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[M] When Did Your Words Change From Language To Magic

Discussion in 'Pandora, Year 1 - 7' started by Raphael Santiago, Jan 5, 2018.

  1. Raphael Santiago

    Raphael Santiago The Mortal Instruments
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    [​IMG]
    Maybe, Raphael would later think, there should've been a trillion of more important things on his mind then. His boyfriend, most importantly, who had no idea how the vampire was arching his body against John's touch, how he gasped into the pirate's ear when his lips found his neck. He should've held himself back from sinking into the utterly warm, wonderful kiss John was offering, or from letting the other trace his collarbone and chest with a million tiny feather kisses. Somewhere during all of this ride, this rush into unknown heights and unspeakably beautiful feelings, there should've been a voice reminding him of the mage who deserved better than being cheated on. More-so by the first man he had ever dated. And even more, than with the guy he had slept with all those months ago. Raphael knew Dorian wasn't a man for polyamory. He could tell how little he liked the fact that Raphael had feelings for Simon, even though he wasn't acting on them since the fledgling wasn't interested. And that was only one of many tiny problems the two were battling at the moment - adding this to the pile was neither useful, nor exactly the kind thing to do.

    But the vampire wasn't aware of any of these things when he melted into John's touch, every fingertip igniting a firework beneath his skin. They were locked away in the box of realism, and he couldn't even remotely be bothered to search for the key. Instead, he nibbled on John's lower lip teasingly, giggling adorably when John chased his lips for it in return. Every second of not being touched felt like torture, making Raphael sigh in distaste for the smallest of seconds now and then. And he too, wanted to touch, wanted to feel the other's body in all its beauty and flaws. Fingertips running across scars and muscles, redrawing tattoos and eventually sinking into velvety soft curls, pulling John as close as humanly possible while he pressed his lips against his as if his life depended on it. Maybe it even did, Raphael wasn't so sure in that moment and he cared very little about logic or reasons.

    How they, at the end of the night, ended up in John's bed, would stay a riddle for their future-selves to solve; maybe one of them had decided the bed was more comfortable than the couch - which, on its own, was already super comfy - or maybe it had some entirely different reason, but Raphael curled up against John's chest - after he had shut the blinds at least (he might've been high, but certain instincts never really went away) - when the sun slowly rose at the horizon, feeling exactly nothing else but safety and warmth. And that, as sad as it sounded, he had never experienced with Dorian before. All comfort between them aside, Raphael couldn't entirely shut off his thoughts when he was with the mage, and Dorian didn't seem very skilled in helping him with that; which, the vampire was sure, he wasn't doing on purpose or out of ignorance, but that didn't exactly change something about the general situation. Just, that Raphael accepted it for the sake of their relationship, and maybe, just maybe, that wasn't the healthiest of ways to go about it.

    That too though, the vampire wasn't thinking about anymore, when John managed to notice how sensitive his neck was as he trailed more kisses over his skin, even as they were cuddling and falling half-asleep. Raphael tasted feathers when he dug his fangs instinctively into one of John's multiple cushions to stifle the moan threatening to fall from his lips at the sensual pleasure. Somewhen, tomorrow morning - or was it today morning? - they would wake up with feathers scattered everywhere, but Raphael doubted even one of them cared about that in this very second. As so many problems and sorrows, that too would bury them under heavy rubble once the crash would happen, but for now, ignorance was bliss.

    "Sorry," the vampire mumbled, half-chuckling, when he lifted his mouth from the pillow and met John's gaze over his shoulder, small, white feathers sticking to his cheeks. "But that's all your fault," he added, more teasingly now, and a grin spreading on feather-decorated lips.
     
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  2. John Silver

    John Silver Black Sails
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    The rest of the night, or what they had stolen of it, were all kisses and gasps and draws of color from touch. It were smiles carefree and loving, it were whispers of admiration, and fingers exploring skin in patient curiosity, finding sensitive spots and scar-tissue.
    The way to the bed was a mere blur of room and color, forgotten, instantly drowned in cotton-candy-sweet kisses. John felt the sting of a soft bite against his bottom lip like a spark of a flame, and it reached all the way down his spine as if he's never experienced it before, even though the truth was that countless men and women had sunk their teeth into this same spot before.
    But none of this mattered.

    Their histories, their bed-partners, their lovers past and present and future - they were all somewhere else, written upon their sober selves, apart from the current ones.
    It was easy to forget everything but each other when a drug so skillfully manipulated the brain - but John could see no flaw in something that felt so fantastic.
    The last thing he'd experience would be the beatiful sight of floating feathers, whites on brighter colors wrapped in shadow, like fragments of clouds against a field of sunflowers. He would spark a silver-tongued, teasing comment in response to Raphael's quiet, peaceful mumble, and then he'd lose himself in the warmth and the joy within his ribcage, dreaming of feathers falling like rain upon a field of flowers.


    _____________________________________________
    _____________________________________________​


    The word crash was never defined by anything good.
    A car crash was tragedy and damage and blood; it was always ruin of some form or another, a kind of.... falling-apart like a shattering mirror.
    But, perhaps, to call a drug's comedown a crash was one of the most appropriate usages for this term.
    For it was one that felt most literal - like being dropped out of heaven, and landing harshly on the earthy ground a million miles below, one's soul being almost shoved out of the body, readjusting its position and finding itself cramped and ill-fitted in its flesh-made prison.

    John's crash was not much sudden but rather slow. His body was used to this landing, his back long since scarred from the amount of times he's been kicked out of paradise.
    He woke with a heavy headache and an exhaustion that tugged painfully at his muscles. He woke with a bad mood, a grumpy attitude, a desire to curl up in a dark corner after drinking five bottles of water, and spending the entire day watching Netflix. Just him, a pillow, and some crackers to chew on.

    Thus it was of little surprise that he took no notice of his surroundings whatsoever.
    With a hoarse groan he pushed himself into a sitting position. His leg was wrapped in tugging, pushing pain from the prosthesis he's not taken off, and the first grasp of his hand half-blind against the closed curtains behind which the cold winter sun was hiding, was the grasp for his water bottle on the nightstand, half of same bottle he downed eagerly right there.
    Then, his fingers found the handle of the drawer, pushing, reaching inside, fumbling through the pills until he found the right package - aspirin.

    The man who was curled up on his much-too-large bed was a concern for future-John to bother with, because current-John was far from friendly enough to put up with anyone at all.
    He fumbled out two pills with clumsy fingers and tossed them in his mouth, downing them with another 1/3rd of the water remainining in the bottle.
    He was not ought to move from his spot anytime soon.

     
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  3. Raphael Santiago

    Raphael Santiago The Mortal Instruments
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    After decades of resting inside a coffin overday, Raphael wasn't really used to sleeping in a bed anymore. Especially not such a comfortable bed like John owned, with two or three handful of cushions and probably five blankets. So fluffy and perfect for drowning inside their softness.
    No, he was used to a harder kind of bed, even though it wasn't a literal wooden box he was sleeping in. And that made his sleep almost restless. He had shuffled away from John somewhen during their slumber, and had instead taken to wrapping his hands around a rather large pillow, his hair still decorated with feathers.

    It must've seemed and looked so very weird, seeing a person lie in bed, almost entirely unmoving and most importantly not breathing, and yet not looking any more dead than the day before. Some of his mortal or immortal-but-not-undead partners, had described it even as very creepy - but hey, that was just a part of the vampire dating experience, right, and almost all of them had gotten used to it after a while. Just as to the coldness of his skin or the lack of heartbeat in his chest.

    When Raphael woke up, there was no loud intake of breath and no obvious rolling around. His eyes fluttered open at some point, and that was it. He regarded the ceiling for a few moments as memories came back to him from their hiding place into which they had retreated last night.
    And they brought presents of a horrible kind.

    For a long while, maybe 50 years now, the vampire had been able to deal with his anxiety-ridden mind for the most times. Intrusive thoughts were kinda always part of his everyday life, but at least he's learnt how to live with them.
    Not so now, when his brain came-- no, crashed down from a high into a serotonin-less pit like some plane that had run out of kerosene above a pitch black canyon.

    Slowly and quietly, Raphael sat up, wrapping the blanket around his hips even though there was nothing naked to hide. His mind ran thousands of thoughts at the same time, doing very unhealthy somersaults and overanalyzing every single thing that had happened yesterday that he could still remember, making sure he wouldn't, for one tiny second, attempt to forget any of it for the sake of getting through this morning at all.

    He didn't say a word when he got up vampirically quiet, and snatched that pair of jeans from the floor which he'd discarded yesterday before they'd fallen asleep - and where he hadn't cared for any wrinkles in the fabric. The shirt was still hung over the chair in the living room, and there was no way to get there without going up in flames now - no matter how much a part of him would've wanted exactly that after last night - judging from the soft light creeping through the cracks of the door

    His bare feet made no sound either, as the vampire walked to the window and leaned against the sill with his back. There was only so much light in the room, thanks to the curtains and the closed door, but his eyes had no problems to find the other person in the room. Scars decorated John's whole back. Scars, Raphael had traced almost lovingly a few hours ago.

    You cheated on Dorian.
    With the guy who's almost prevented you from getting together with him in the first place.
    You fucking cheated on someone. Kissed John like some highschool kid eager for affection.
    What the fucking hell, man.


    Raphael felt like he wanted to die right now. Carve his heart out and stomp on it; maybe that would fix something. He barely noticed his nails digging into his palms when his hands were curled into fists, barely noticed the pain, and barely noticed the few tiny droplets of blood pouring out of his skin, but not enough of them to drop onto the carpet.

    Why do you even think you deserve such a man like Dorian? The very moment you're getting high, he's suddenly not interesting enough anymore? Really, Raphael?

    The first sound the vampire made, was a stifled hiss when he accidentally bit too hard into his lower lip, tasting blood for a few seconds.

    Wrapping his arms around his upperbody in a search for safety, Raphael fixed his gaze onto the floor, enduring the tidal wave of regret and vulnerability washing over him, leaving an awfully bitter taste of discomfort in his mouth. He didn't seek out John's gaze, or even tried to talk to him. The vampire was trapped in his own mind after a night of cruising through galaxies of stardust and happiness. After tasting paradise on his lips - the one thing he was sure he had never actually been meant to taste.
     
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  4. John Silver

    John Silver Black Sails
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    It was too much of a bother to search for his shirt, not that it mattered - there was little Raphael hadn't seen yet. The only two things John would genuinely have been bothered about covering up were his scarred back and his prosthesis - both the vampire knew too well by now.
    Sometime during the remains of the night he must have kicked off his jeans for comfort reasons, and the navy blue boxers he was left with were at least not getting in the way when he pushed himself to his feet. There were still feathers clinging to his messy curls like scattered thoughts of a past done and over with.

    Fuck, he needed a fix.

    Perhaps, it should have concerned him how little it bothered him who was in his bed or in his bedroom, perhaps it should have worried him how his hands shook and how he almost wished for Robert to be here, just so he could fuck away the fragments of memory until the only pain that was left was nowhere near his soul.
    But Robert, too, had left. Or maybe he had made him leave and now... well, now John wasn't so certain anymore whether he didn't regret it. Didn't regret having said anything at all.

    Anger sparked up somewhere deep beneath his skin - the kind of anger that wanted to see the world break, burn, turn to ashes and hopefully never be reborn again.
    The kind of anger James had perhaps felt for so many years of his life.
    John's knees almost buckled when the name of his former captain shot through his head like a bullet to the skull.
    He pressed a hand to his temple, applied pressure until a humming sound present only within his own mind dimmed any other voice his thoughts might have conjured up like ghosts being risen from their unholy graves.

    Though his steps were unsteady on the way to the door, John didn't pause, eager to get... somewhere. Just move.
    At least until he reached the doorframe, where he paused then after all, as if only now consciously remembering he wasn't alone.
    "Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee... blood?"

    There was a certain casuality with which he offered that last item, as if he'd be willing to slice his wrist right here and now for the other - as if it didn't even matter anymore.
    And it didn't feel like it did at the moment.
    Or, maybe, nothing had mattered for quite a while now - but he simply hadn't even consciously thought about it, walking somewhere outside of his own life, scratching at the door but being chased away by the sounds of gunshots rolling.

    His voice was hoarse, worn out.
    Like the countless cigarettes he had already smoked and the one that was waiting for him at the breakfast table.
    Like the truth behind the facade and the smiles and laughter, like the every-day mornings nobody else usually got to see. All the ugly ways, all the hurting things.

    John didn't ask what was wrong with Raphael - partly because in this very moment he genuinely didn't care, and partly because he assumed it to be the same thing that was wrong with him; just the after-effects of the drug, the headache and discomfort and muscle pain. The dry throat and peculiar kind of exhaustion that could not be chased away by sleep.
    For if that was not what it was, then John didn't want to think of putting up with it.

     
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  5. Raphael Santiago

    Raphael Santiago The Mortal Instruments
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    There was no question then, at first. No gaze into his direction to acknowledge he was even there. John just got up, feathers raining down from his curls like the last evidence of last night's massacre. The vampire's gaze followed him silently; Raphael wondered if the other would just leave him there in the bedroom now, if he had forgotten about the fact that his nocturnal friend couldn't walk in the sun - and therefore not into the living room right now. He didn't protest though. Maybe that was the normal way John Silver started his day, even if there was someone at his side in bed? Maybe he just didn't want to deal with Raphael's presence right now, even if he had noticed him?
    The vampire had no experiences with waking up in someone else's bed - and where should he have gotten them, really? He was extremely unsure about what he could do and say right now to not upset John; which, really was a very important point for him to think about, the uncomfortable feeling in his chest skyrocketing into unknown heights.

    Suddenly though, John stopped, and asked his company a very simple question; just as if nothing had happened last night, just as if Raphael was simply one of his regular bedmates and already knew the drill - most importantly though, just as if the vampire didn't have a boyfriend living just a town away, who had not a single idea of anything they'd done last night.
    And only a second later did it sink in that he had offered him--

    "Tea. Without sugar," Raphael replied with just as much of a dry, hoarse voice as John had right now, before a dark whisper inside his stomach could convince him to ask for the mundane's blood - however John wanted to fill a cup with blood, was entirely beyond him. He wouldn't just slit his wrist open, would he? And, if he'd offered to get bitten by him, John would've run into serious resistance from the vampire. Raphael didn't want to ever bite the other again. Not after last night. Not after what that had caused. God knew that wouldn't work for long, as much as the clan leader was preying it would - for once.
    "And- Can you.. get me my shirt?" he added when his company pushed the door handle. It might not have been important for John to get dressed, but the vampire was very much convinced he'd feel a lot better, if there was barely any skin left uncovered on his body. Alone the thought of John's curious fingers wandering over inked up skin, made him sick - and not because it had been awful or unwanted, but because of the exact opposite. He'd asked John to touch him. To kiss him. He hadn't protested against the undressing or the sudden push onto the couch. He had done nothing to stop this and he had enjoyed every single minute of it. And that guilt was tainting every beautiful memory they'd made last night.
     
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  6. John Silver

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    Usually John treated his bedmates much more lovingly than he was currently treating Raphael. He woke them with a kiss and a few gentle words, offered breakfast and coffee and sometimes even a ride home - no matter how close they were or weren't, no matter whether they even knew the other's name.
    But Raphael was not a quick fuck, not a one-night stand to admire for a few hours and then never see again. He was something - someone - else entirely, and John would have known much better how to handle a one-night stand right now.

    Tea, without sugar
    He nodded tiredly, pushing the door open. He caught the matter about the shirt as well and nodded once more before leaving the room, glad to be out of the other's sight.
    Before going to the kitchen or the shirt though, he stepped up to the cage in the living room first, tugging the towel off it and opening the little door.
    The feathered Captain let out a greeting shout much louder than John was comfortable with, but he wasn't beyond himself to the extent of yelling at his bird. He let the cockatoo climb up onto his shoulder and nuzzle his cheek while making the short path to the kitchen where he prepared a mug of mint tea.

    The floor to his feet feld cold but the sun was shining through the window - the kind of cool, distant winter sun that made everything appear pale.
    John himself made himself a mug of hot chocolate - the cool floor was already beginning to make him freeze - and a simple grilled-cheese sandwich (however, after a moment of hesitation he also grabbed a package of lemon flavored jaffa cakes). He also sliced up some fruit and nuts and placed it on a small plate for the bird. Placing all of it on a tray, he snatched Raphael's shirt and draped it over his free shoulder, carrying everything back to the bedroom a little reluctantly.
    He'd rather stay in the living room, curl up on the couch and pull up his laptop, or even play with the bird a bit. But Raphael was here because of him, and no matter how shit he felt at the moment, he was responsible for the vampire in some way.

    John pushed the door behind him shut with his prosthetic foot and placed the tray down on the small desk in the corner of the room, handing Raphael his shirt wordlessly, before picking up the plate of fruit and returning to his bed, letting himself sink onto the egde with his healthy leg crossed beneath his left knee.
    The captain jumped onto same knee, tilting its feathered head and putting up its orange headfeathers - despite everything, the view made John smile.
    Picking up a piece of mango, he fed it to the cockatoo for a silent moment, careful not to get his fingers too close to that beak.
    With the second slice of mango, he finally looked up towards Raphael.

    Something was... off. And it wasn't just the down from the drug, not just the ache and the near-depressive bleakness of the high's absence.
    "What's the matter?"

    And for the first time this morning, John's voice didn't sound annoyed or frustrated, there was no underlining touch of I don't actually care there this time around.
    His eyes remained fixed on the other man while he picked up a walnut which the bird took out of his hand with its own clawed, finger-like toes, observing the nut curiously for a moment before breaking a piece off with its beak.

    Whatever Raphael's issue was - John clearly couldn't see it.


     
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  7. Raphael Santiago

    Raphael Santiago The Mortal Instruments
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    Raphael slipped into his shirt, just as wordlessly as John had handed it to him, buttoning it up until the very last button, in what could've easily looked like great discomfort. Perhaps, because it was. With every button, he felt a tiny bit less vulnerable, a tiny bit less like an utter asshole - though it didn't work entirely, or even so well that his mood would've changed from it. He had his arms wrapped around his upper body again, tightly so, and didn't even think of meeting John's gaze. From the corner of his eyes, Raphael could watch how the former pirate fed his bird, and it might've lured a smile from him, if not for his terribly tense mood and the guilt that was pulling the noose around his neck tighter and tighter.

    Only, when John seemed to have found some energy to devot to Raphael, asking what was wrong as if nothing had happened last night - only then, did the vampire meet his gaze again, with quite the blank stare. Did he really not know? Was this all normal for him, waking up next to his friend after a night full of drugs and making out? Perhaps it was, and Raphael just didn't know. And didn't want to know either. He felt lost and wrong and fucking vulnerable and quite miserable on top of that.

    Dark eyes lay on John, Raphael's lips pulled into a thin line. He didn't wanna spit acid. He was too tired to spit acid. Too tense and anxious. "What the hell did we do last night?" It was more of a low murmur, but still loud enough to be heard. "Why the hell did we do, what we did last night?"
     
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  8. John Silver

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    The stare he received in response to his question was about as blank as John felt. Empty. Meaningless. Cold and aching and somehow, somewhat lonely.
    But he knew where that was coming from, was well used to it now, and he knew the cure to it, too. So he put up with it in silence.

    For a moment he merely stared back at the other, uncertain what to expect. It wasn't that love had no meaning to him, and it wasn't like he didn't know what loyalty was.
    But, somehow, in his state, he had considered Raphael to be beyond such things. Or, at least, not care much. It didn't cross his mind even once that the issue was as simple as it was serious to the other - and certainly that said quite a lot about just how much experience John had when it came to proper relationships and letting anyone close.

    What the hell did we do last night?
    Why the hell did we do, what we did last night?
    The questions lured a faintly confused frown from the sailor, too tired to make sense of the pieces he couldn't be bothered to puzzle together.
    "We were high. And it felt good."

    A pause. Casual, almost. A moment of distraction as he fed a piece of walnut to the oblivious bird which appeared quite satisfied with the current circumstances.

    "Are you suddenly having second thoughts now?"

    The touch of almost cruel mockery had never meant to sneak into his words - but it had. Though it was subtle, it dug its acid-stained fangs into the air that seemed to have solidified between them, dragging it down harsher yet.
    But, still, John couldn't be bothered to even attempt fixing his slip-up there. Not ready nor willing to lead any kind of relevant conversation at the moment.

     
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  9. Raphael Santiago

    Raphael Santiago The Mortal Instruments
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    The worse thing about this, was that John was right. It had felt good, not even Raphael could deny that. He'd felt safe, and respected and appreciated, and there was not a single moment, he could've labeled as bad, or maybe as horrifying, even.

    No. If there hadn't been the general situation and his relationship holding him back, the vampire might - might - have even been eager to do this again now, where they were awake and not high anymore; that certainly would've helped with his suffocating anxiety. Because it'd felt so wonderfully pleasant and nice, much better than their heroin trips usually did. Because looking at John Silver now, and finding those beautiful features in his face, felt less appalling than he would've like to.

    It wasn't, of course, that the vampire had suddenly fallen under a crush for the former pirate; no, that would've been the most ridiculous thing he'd heard in a while - John was not what Raphael was searching for in a romantic partner, and the vampire doubted, he'd ever be, but that was fine, it didn't matter for their little arrangement. In fact, it would've made a lot of things worse.

    Still, his disinterest in romantic endeavours with John, didn't mean that what they'd done last night was in any way better, in any way less cheating.

    Second thoughts.
    The way John said those words, it seemed to Raphael as if he thought it had been the vampire's decision to take MDMA last night - and that was absolutely not true. Hell, up until now, Raphael hadn't even consciously thought about it, but - he hadn't known that his friend had taken something different, and said friend hadn't bothered mentioning it to him either. Raphael wouldn't have bitten John if he had known, and perhaps the former sailor had known that.

    "Second thoughts?" Raphael echoed, sarcasm slowly but surely filling his voice. "You say that, as if I had first thoughts last night." A pause, the vampire's fingertips digging deeper into his upper arms, while his eyes held John's gaze. "But, as it is, amigo, I wasn't even aware that you'd taken MDMA - which, might've been worth a mention, don't you think?"
     
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  10. John Silver

    John Silver Black Sails
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    It was too early and too late, too warm and too cold and too... everything to be leading a discussion right now.
    John wasn't daft, he knew he couldn't kick Raphael out now - he would literally die.
    But a part of him couldn't help but wish he could kick the other out. Could shut all the blinds and curl up in his bed alone. Telly in the background, nothing to think about, to focus on. And ocne he'd feel like he couldn't handle it anymore, prepare another needle.

    Yet, as matters were, Raphael wasn't going anywhere. And as if that wasn't bad enough - he wasn't keeping quiet either.
    The sarcasm wasn't sharp and cutting yet, but John had little doubt it would get there soon enough.

    might've been worth a mention
    Oh there we go
    He couldn't stand hearing this - not now, not anymore. He couldn't stand being blamed for shit much longer, as if he didn't know he was at fault always anyway.
    But this - this especially he wouldn't let Raphael blame him for.
    They were in this together, it was their thing. They shared the trips and the risks and the troubles, and if the vampire couldn't fucking put up with it anymore all of a sudden, then John didn't know what to say either.

    This time he didn't bother hiding his eye-roll.
    As if to calm himself - even though it wasn't really anger he felt at all, but rather bone-deep exhaustion - he ran the fingers of his free hand through the soft feathers of the cockatoo; the bird leaned into the touch lovingly, rubbing its head up against the sailor's hand.
    "If I would have mentioned it, you wouldn't have agreed."

    He placed the statement casually, as if there was no passive violence behind these words, no questionable issue of consent. It didn't seem to be something he was aware of in this moment at all.

    "What are you complaining about anyway? You liked it - we both did. For a while, you were relaxed and fine. How is that bad?"

    Perhaps he was in so deep that he truly didn't know the answer anymore, or perhaps it were an addict's igorant musings.
    It was a child's logic, but John was fine with that for now - what felt good couldn't be bad.
    Because everything else demanded the confrontation of thoughts he simply couldn't bear at the time.

     
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  11. Raphael Santiago

    Raphael Santiago The Mortal Instruments
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    Yes. He'd known. He'd assumed and figured so. Because of course he wouldn't have agreed. Heroin was bad enough, he didn't need more serotonin level manipulating substances running through his blood as it was, and he was more than aware that he would need days to recover from the lack of joy chemicals in his brain, thanks to no other than John Silver who though it was cool and definitely not bad to just slip Raphael pills he hadn't agreed to. The former pirate might not have known about the chemical repercussions of the drugs he was taking, but ignorance wasn't always bliss, especially when there was someone who violently tore down those walls of ignorance.

    Not that Raphael was violent. Never had been. Never would be. Not willingly and not if he was clear in his mind. He wouldn't yell and he wouldn't get physical - especially not with the bird snuggling against John's hand. He didn't even have the desire to do any of these things.

    The edges of his words turned sharper as he continued. "I cheated on my boyfriend last night. Because of a drug that I didn't know about. A drug you provided me with, all generously, without telling me about it. So, please forgive me if I feel entirely unable to appreciate the relaxing properties of that experience you gifted me. An experience, I might add, that I will have to explain to Dorian, and not you."

    The vampire wished he could've just taken his stuff and left the room, the apartment, this part of town - and perhaps even the city itself for a while. Not hear and see anyone for a while, a few hours, maybe a day or two. The thought alone, of talking to the mage about this whole thing, felt like the worst nightmare Raphael had experienced in quite a while, and he sensed the first choking tears ascend his throat, though he did well in swallowing them down. For now.
    Everything was too much and Raphael couldn't find it in him, to talk to himself positively right now. Without no mental shield, with his heartstrings lying entirely exposed in front of John, for him to stab into them however he liked - and that without having to be romantically involved with him - the vampire wanted nothing more than to vanish into the floor or curl up inside a bed and not come out of it until night fell.
     
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  12. John Silver

    John Silver Black Sails
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    Probably he should have suspected this would end in disaster - but wasn't that the reason for why he was here in the first place? To not think?
    And, somehow, it had not crossed his mind yesterday that Raphael might wind up having a problem with this.
    And, somehow, now that he did, it almost felt like betrayal.
    Which was ridiculous, of course - but an addict's way of thinking rarely tended to carry much rationality.

    To John the matter was simple - they were both in this together, and they were both dedicated. They both wanted, needed this to some extent, and they accepted the consequences because it was just part of the deal - as with all things in life, nothing ever came without a price.
    Why would this be any different here?

    Just that he though that Raphael was on the same page as him - that he knew of this price they'd need to pay, and had accepted it being so.
    Clearly, John's been mistaken.
    I cheated on my boyfriend last night
    This time it wasn't an eyeroll but rather a snort.
    Softly, he petted the bird and then rose to his feet, placing the plate aside before striding to the door, bird on hand, and opening it for the Captain. With a soft motion of his wrist he guided the cockatoo into the air and towards the living room, waiting only long enough to see the bird land on the couch before he pulled the door shut again and turned towards Raphael.

    If the other wanted a fucking discussion about this now, he'd get it.

    "I think you're confusing something here - we didn't do anything."

    To him, clearly, that was the case.
    They've kissed, fine. And undressed - also fine. Raphael had see him shirtless multiple times, because John didn't much care for it - that was one of the advantages of being a man, after all. He could discard his shirt without much societal issue.
    Whatever problem the vampire thought to be seeing at hand, John couldn't.

    "Besides, Dorian hasn't been here. He doesn't ever need to know about this, if you're so scared of what he'll say."

    And yet, despite his state, John was still falling in the habit of picking his words with consideration.
    He could have picked concerned or worried, or even doubtful - but he's picked scared.
    Because scared was degrading. Because it showed without further ado just what he thought of this whole thing, and how little he felt like there was any need to discuss it at all.
    The fact that he might hurt Raphael with it would only come to him much later, and perhaps then he might care, regret, feel guilty about it - but that moment wasn't now.

     
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  13. Raphael Santiago

    Raphael Santiago The Mortal Instruments
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    He wanted to ask what was so funny about any of this, while he watched John let the bird out of the room. He wanted to know why John's face was the perfect picture of amusement, when there was nothing amusing about this. At least not for Raphael, and the fact that there seemed to be such a huge difference between their perceptions of last night, hurt. It felt like betrayal, almost. Because he'd trusted the other to care enough about him, especially when it came to the things they were doing now. Hadn't John been then one getting offended at the mere suggestion of being unclean and insincere about his drug taking habits, especially when it came to the people he took as lovers during that time? The vampire believed to still hear his words echo through the cold streets of Blackhaven as the walked towards this very flag, roughly two months ago. That night, that John had already erased from his memory, if Raphael knw anything about him.

    "Oh, forgive me, I didn't know that cheating only starts for you when you're sleeping with someone," he gave back, not at all searching for forgiveness, and not at all being friendly anymore. Though he wasn't raising his voice, the biting tone was certainly there, but so was the instability, the tilting and cracking, which the vampire tried to hide desperately. "What we did last night, was the closest I can get to ever cheating on someone, in case you didn't realize that." After all, the chances of Raphael having sex with anybody, were exactly zero, and just because that was usually how people defined as cheating, it didn't mean that Raphael was innocent because he had 'just' made out with John. Heavily so, too.

    John clearly didn't get why the vampire was freaking out right now, why he was clenching his teeth and swallowing his tears to not seem even more vulnerable than he felt - especially when he picked up the degrading tone in his friend's words. Scared instead of other things, like worried. Dark brown eyes were staring into deep sea blue ones, and if looks could've killed, John might've fainted right about now. It was a bitter chuckle that escaped Raphael before he spoke. "That's the difference between you and me, John. I tell people I care about, when I made a mistake. So I can fix it. No matter how hard it is and no matter what it will do. I did something wrong, I own up to it, end of story." A small pause. Raphael chose his next words wisely, though admittedly with his own defense in mind, trying to cut back, where John was poking him already. His voice slipped dangerously low. "But you? Let me guess, you won't tell Aaron about this? Because hey, we only kissed, nothing happened, right? Are you gonna slip him a pill too and then say you only 'wanted him to relax'?"
     
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  14. John Silver

    John Silver Black Sails
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    Things easily escalated when exhaustion and soreness were in play, when emotions ran high but the high ran low, and the world started to spin out of its place.
    John was used to that. He's seen things escalate in a milion different ways, from arguments to straight out murder, to actual war.
    But most of those things had been understandable, to some extent. They had made sense in the eyes of the person who's caused them.
    This, now, however, John couldn't see the sense of at all.

    Perhaps he could understand why Raphael was upset, if he'd pause for a moment to truly thing about it - no matter how foreign relationships were to him, he knew that all relationships were different, and to all people different matters regarding same relationships were relevant.
    But he could not understand the sense of getting upset about it in the first place.
    What had happened had happened. It was in the past, and neither of them could turn back time if they'd wanted. Neither of them could change what had already happened.
    Being upset or angered or hurt about it was of no use at all, a waste of time and nerves.

    The words that followed were clearly the beginning of an ugly argument, not trying to be nice any longer, and John didn't think he wanted to be putting up with this.
    I tell people I care about, when I made a mistake. So I can fix it.
    It sounded like an accusation, but he couldn't see what was supposed to be accusing about it. He saw no reason nor need, and especially no positive aspect to spilling all of one's mistakes to somebody one cared about.
    In fact that sounded like the dumbest possible thing to do to John.

    He just shook his head at the vampire's words, as if he couldn't even be bothered to get into this conversation because it wasn't worth it.
    Let me guess, you won't tell Aaron about this? Because hey, we only kissed, nothing happened, right? Are you gonna slip him a pill too and then say you only 'wanted him to relax'?
    The glare left the former sailor cold. He's faced such glares from Flint for months on end, nothing would shake him quite as easily anymore.
    And the words merely angered him. They were ignorant, lazy, such a simple thing to jump on, and it only proved that there was nothing here to discuss.

    "Make up your fucking mind on what it is you're actually blaming me for here - the drugs, the kiss, or the existence of Aaron."

    The words were sharp and cutting, the blue of his eyes stormy, but he wasn't yelling yet. Even now, even here after this stupid crash, he wasn't yelling yet.

    "What I tell or don't tell Aaron is none of your business, much like it is not my problem how you're intending to handle your crap with Dorian. If you've got issues with yourself, go work them out - but don't drag me into them."

    Friends was clearly as loose a word to John as cheating was, and perhaps it was hard to blame him for either, taking into consideration how all the worst in the world had shaped him. It wasn't an excuse, of course, but Silver saw no need for one either.
    He was the way he was, it worked for him, and if it didn't work for someone else then it wasn't his problem to handle.

    "I need a shower."

    With that, he snatches his sweatpants and t-shirt off the chair he's left them on, and turned to leave through the door.

     
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  15. Raphael Santiago

    Raphael Santiago The Mortal Instruments
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    In the end, it wasn't clear anymore, what was ignorance, what was defensiveness and what was actual argument. Deep down, Raphael knew John wasn't entirely wrong about the things he said, how the vampire had to fix his own trash, and no matter how angry he was at John for slipping him that pill, the fact that it had even come to this situation, clearly was in both their hands. They were both addicted to each other in the unhealthiest way. Raphael again and again visited John, where he could've just stayed away and leave the former sailor to figure this stuff out by his own. He had made the decision to lie to his boyfriend, his daughter and all of his friends. And why? Because he was convinced that he could fix this on his own and that it wouldn't take long and that he didn't need to tell them anything before he had taken care of it. None of this was John's fault. None of this could be blamed on him.

    Of course, that was just, what Raphael knew deep down. What he was faintly aware of. Directly under the surface, sat nothing but burning anger, and despair, and perhaps a lot of shame too. And that all mixed into venom that burned the skin above. Raphael didn't think rationally anymore.

    "Unless I tell him," the vampire hissed, when John was already on his way to the door, his voice trembling just a bit too much. "How you care about nobody in your fucking life. Not about me and not about him. Not about anyone but yourself." Raphael knew he was losing this argument, but he was absolutely unwilling to give in, and he knew he was being entirely unfair and wrong on top of it, but he absolutely didn't care anymore. The softness he usually had running through his veins, holding him back from being awful to someone when he should know better, was nowhere to be found, swallowed by probably his darker instincts. He didn't care about those few tears running down his cheeks now either; just that he stayed where he was and not ran after John like some desperate one night stand who didn't understand the meaning of one night stand.

    "But please, by all means, take your goddamn shower if you want." Arms still crossed in front of his chest, Raphael diverted his gaze towards the floor then, biting onto his inner lower lip until he tasted blood. The same blood he had tinting his cheeks now, a stifled sob dying in his throat. He wanted to be anywhere but here at this moment, and he wanted to turn back time so Magnus may have never stopped him all those decades ago, from waiting until the sun rose.
     
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  16. John Silver

    John Silver Black Sails
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    If there had even been the smallest part of John that had cared this morning, any spark of sympathy, or perhaps even guilt, then it was slowly being drowned out in exhaustion and annoyance.
    Every person and every person's body was different - thus everyone reacted differently to the comedown from drugs, anywhere between the worst kind of sickness to feeling utterly unfazed were possible. It just so happened that both of them seemed to be experiencing the comedown in ways that crashed much too willingly with the other's.

    The sailor had already wrapped his fingers around the doorhandle, weight shifting in an attempt to escape the pain that drew along his left leg.
    He was already mentally making his way to the shower, turning the water to burning hot and letting the fog chase away the tension in his muscles and the swirl of his thoughts.
    But he would not find it in him to leave quite yet.

    Unless I tell him
    John froze at the door, fingers white from tension against the silvery surface of the doorhandle.
    Truth be told - he didn't know whether Aaron would mind. He didn't know much about the man at all, frankly, and he was confident enough in his abilities to communicate any issues, misunderstandings and hurt out of the way like adults should.
    But the wave of fear caught him in its tide anyway - because he didn't know. Because he didn't put it past Raphael to actually do it, because he didn't put it past anyone to backstab him and attempt anything to make his fragile world crumble to pieces.
    Because he didn't want to lose Aaron - lose the possibility of having Aaron to lose.

    How you care about nobody in your fucking life. Not about me and not about him. Not about anyone but yourself
    The vampire wasn't wrong. But he wasn't exactly right either.
    And none of the options really mattered - the truth and the reasoning never did in such situations.

    When John turned away from the door to face the other man once more, the stormy blue of his eyes was cold fire and an authority once drawn in blood.
    "You're right - I don't care about anybody but myself. And I don't care about you. So if you truly think there would be no consequences to you spilling this little thing between us to anybody, then you are disappointingly mistaken. There is nothing at all I wouldn't do to save myself. You, of all people, should know. Nothing."

    There was a pause, a lingering moment of shared tension and staring and John feeling himself stumbling back into the man he's been forced to be, back then, in the West Indies.

    "Take this as a warning - it's the only one you'll get."

    The cutting edges were not without weight, the words not without meaning. It didn't matter in which colors the past painted John, it didn't matter how many deaths he was responsible for or how many he's saved.
    What mattered were the parts from this past that had stuck - the parts that made his glare dark and promising no good, the parts that made his words sound far from empty.

    Without another sound, the former pirate left the room to take his much desired, goddamn shower, as suggested.


    The End


     
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