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125 » falling six feet underneath the floor now
[They'd been a cute couple at first. Sure, Aether pretended to tut disapprovingly at his sister's boyfriend, like any brother would — and sure, on some level he was a little hurt by the idea that he wasn't the most important man in his little sister's life anymore — but he didn't hate Childe, really. They seemed good for each other; they seemed well-matched. She'd looked like a princess on his arm, and he her gallant knight. He was gentlemanly, and handsome, and wealthy; she was loving and gentle and beautiful. She had him wrapped around her little finger, and she was always just stern enough to keep him in line when his more puppylike tendencies came out to play.
Maybe Aether had thought, once or twice, that it would have been nice to have someone like that. And yet, at the same time, maybe he'd also thought that he'd be better off alone.
When did the fighting start? Aether can't remember. At first, the disagreements were minor — things like the way Childe would stay out all night doing who-knows-what, and then Lumine wouldn't answer Childe's texts for days on end just to get back at him. They'd try to forgive each other, but the petty grievances would pile up; both were just as likely to let bygones be bygones as they were to hold grudges, and eventually, the relationship became a petty cycle of "forgiving" each other for perceived slights only to start fights over the same thing again.
It was mutually toxic for a while, Aether thinks, as he makes his way to a less-traveled street and smoothly parks his car. He doesn't want to think that about his sister, but it's true; part of the reason she and Childe would constantly fight with each other was that they both liked fighting, liked breaking up just to make up, and Aether wonders, sometimes, if he played his own role in the conflict. Growing up, he'd always given Lumine anything she wanted, always conceded that she was right even if he felt that she was wrong. At the time, he'd only wanted to be a supportive older brother, the kind of man who would always be by her side when the world would surely throw its share of obstacles in her path.
He meant to protect her. Maybe he only succeeded in sheltering her from compromise.]
Maybe Aether had thought, once or twice, that it would have been nice to have someone like that. And yet, at the same time, maybe he'd also thought that he'd be better off alone.
When did the fighting start? Aether can't remember. At first, the disagreements were minor — things like the way Childe would stay out all night doing who-knows-what, and then Lumine wouldn't answer Childe's texts for days on end just to get back at him. They'd try to forgive each other, but the petty grievances would pile up; both were just as likely to let bygones be bygones as they were to hold grudges, and eventually, the relationship became a petty cycle of "forgiving" each other for perceived slights only to start fights over the same thing again.
It was mutually toxic for a while, Aether thinks, as he makes his way to a less-traveled street and smoothly parks his car. He doesn't want to think that about his sister, but it's true; part of the reason she and Childe would constantly fight with each other was that they both liked fighting, liked breaking up just to make up, and Aether wonders, sometimes, if he played his own role in the conflict. Growing up, he'd always given Lumine anything she wanted, always conceded that she was right even if he felt that she was wrong. At the time, he'd only wanted to be a supportive older brother, the kind of man who would always be by her side when the world would surely throw its share of obstacles in her path.
He meant to protect her. Maybe he only succeeded in sheltering her from compromise.]
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He's already permanently banned from the Angel's Share. Tonight, apparently, he's at the Cat's Tail, and poor Margaret called Aether over because she didn't know who else would take responsibility for him.
He's fighting with the other customers again. I've already asked Cyrus to kick him out, but can you pick him up? she'd asked.
Why me? Aether asked in return, though he'd already slid out of bed to grab his shoes, and was yawning as he looked for his keys.
She was quiet for a minute, though he could hear the din of the bar behind her, the sounds of muffled shouting and yelling and the clink of glasses and laughter. I just don't know if he has anyone else, Margaret said, and then she hung up.
She could have called Lumine, and she probably knew that. But really, what sane person in today's day and age would call a woman to have her pick up her violent ex-boyfriend? Even if he never laid a finger on her; even if he'd never hurt her. Aether wouldn't have Lumine in his place anyway; nothing good can come of Lumine making contact with Childe again, after their last explosive argument. What would be the point? He'd think he had a chance at getting back together with her. He'd be hopelessly wrong.
So. It's not Lumine who comes to the entrance of the Cat's Tail to pick Childe up, but her twin brother instead. Then again, in Childe's drunken state, it might be hard to tell — as siblings, they have the same slight build, the same round face. Aether's hair is too long, though, braided and gleaming gold in the lamplight. He sighs and crouches where Childe is seated and leaning against a lamppost.]
...Come on, Childe, what are you doing?
[He has no doubt that Childe probably won the fight he got himself into — doesn't he usually? — but someone gave him a nasty blow to the cheek that looks like it's going to bruise horribly in the morning. Wary, Aether reaches his fingers out to brush Childe's hair from his face — though all his senses are on edge and he's ready to deflect a blow, just in case Childe doesn't recognize him in his drunken stupor and lashes out.]
You're a mess.
this ended up being really long also i rewrote this so many times aaaaa
The on-and-off breakups were just a part of being in a relationship, he reasoned. It wasn't like he had much to compare it to; he'd been busy throughout school and he'd been busy after, when he'd graduated and immediately entered the work force. What "relationships" he'd had were the kinds that only lasted for a few hours and usually with people that he'd picked up from bars or parties whenever he wanted a break from his studying or a chance to let loose a little.
Lumine was the first girl that didn't laugh at all of his jokes and that hadn't slept with him on the first date. As a matter of fact, she'd ended up kicking his ass pretty hard at arm wrestling and things had fallen into place from there.
Perhaps that was what had soured their burgeoning relationship. Childe had a mean competitive streak and when he could not beat her in acts of strength - not to say that he hit her, but occasionally they did wrestle with varying results - he sought to beat her in other ways. Whenever she was frustrated he would tease her about it until she would snap and yell at him, whenever she revealed some insecurity of hers he would latch onto it break her apart over it, and so on and so forth.
It wasn't that he particularly hated her; she was just too perfect. And for Childe, who had never had a relationship that lasted more than a few hours, well. The situation spoke for itself.
He wasn't sure when they had started spending more time yelling at each other than laughing together. He wasn't sure when he saw Lumine cry more times in a day than he'd seen her look at him with genuine love and affection. It very quickly became a chore to stay around her, and he'd stay out all night with his friends - not cheating, never cheating; though people had tried, of course, (especially when Lumine stopped bar-hopping with him more and more with the excuse she didn't want to play drunk babysitter) - ignoring her texts and calls and documenting his night on Instagram or Snapchat for her to see. Maybe if she saw how much fun he was having, she'd be able to lighten up and actually start coming out with him again.
But, unsurprisingly, that made things worse.
The last break-up conversation they had felt heavier than the others. For a few hours Childe waited, secure in the knowledge that she would be back at the end of the day and they'd make up by tumbling into his bed together.
Lumine did not come that day, or the next. Childe drank every bottle of vodka in his cupboard out of spite.
At some point he ran out of alcohol completely which prompted him to leave his depressing apartment in the search for more, and that was how his nightly bar-crawls started. It didn't take long for him to get permanently barred from Angel's Share over starting a fistfight with a snobby redhead who turned out to be the owner and forcing him to find a new bar to drink at. There were a few just within walking distance and he spent the next few weeks cycling through them until he'd become a familiar face.
His night usually started at around seven, just after he'd get off of work. Some nights he wouldn't even bother changing out of his uniform before he hit the streets and it was a miracle he managed it home in one piece. Even more so if his clothes managed to avoid getting vomited on.
Childe had been on something of a streak lately. Every night leading up till now for the past five days he'd managed to drink so much that he couldn't remember what happened in the morning. It started to become a challenge to see how much he could remember the next day, and as Childe's binges continued his memory got progressively worse and worse.
He won't be able to recall how he came to be sitting against a lamppost or who it was that had punched him in the face. It's probably rightly deserved, honestly. But he will remember the way Aether looks now; the epitome of an angel, with his long lashes and soft face, his hair like spun gold in the light. If his hair were shorter, perhaps ...
Childe remembers teasing Lumine about her brother, joking about whether or not it would be weird to try and persuade him into a threesome. It was one of the things that, while they hadn't argued over it, was something that Lumine had thrown into his face the last time they'd argued. She hadn't accused him of cheating outright, but there was a certain implication. It probably hadn't helped he'd brought Aether up himself, asking Lumine why she couldn't have been more level-headed like her brother instead of jumping down his throat all the time.
Aether's voice cuts through the alcoholic brainfog smoothly, and he finds himself hanging onto every word, every lilt in the blond's voice. The touch of fingers against his forehead, brushing his bangs out of his eyes, makes him lean a little into them, seeking out any semblance of touch even if he's not all there at the moment. His eyes, when he turns them up to Aether, flicker briefly with recognition. ]
You're a mess.
[ A brief wave of nausea makes him tense up, lips pursing tightly together because Aether would probably be really upset if he threw up all over him. It would also be mildly embarrassing if Aether somehow got the idea that he wasn't able to hold his liquor. Maybe he'd tell Lumine how pathetic he was. ]
Did Lumine send you or something? [ He doesn't think Margaret would have called her, but also it does kind of sound like something she'd do. Goodness knows he and Lumine have been to this particular bar enough times to become familiar faces around these parts. ] You can tell her if she comes to get me herself I might consider getting back together.
[ Even as he says it, he doesn't hold out much hope. It's been weeks, after all. Maybe they really were done. ]
shh shh you're fine
Margaret called me.
[Seems like safer territory than mentioning Lumine at all.]
And I could have said no. But someone has to take you home at the end of the night. I guess I figured it'd be me.
[He has the feeling that Childe is going to be a belligerent drunk, so maybe it's better to keep him pliant for the time being. On instinct, Aether pets Childe a little more, carding his fingers through the man's ginger red hair, gently sliding them up his forehead and through his scalp. Sort of like petting a nervous dog before a long ride home: you expect it might make a mess on your back seat, but at least you'd like it to be comfortable and quiet on the way there.
After a moment more of this treatment, the younger man offers his shoulder, sliding his body underneath one of Childe's arms as if to nudge him to a standing position.]
Come on. Can you get in a car? I'll drive you back to your place.
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Even with the haze of alcohol numbing his senses, this kind of sensation is still enough to send tingles through his head and down the back of his neck. Aether and good are two things that have never really gone together - for the simple fact that he'd never been in this situation with his (ex) girlfriend's brother - but they are by and large two things that fit almost perfectly together in the moment, like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
It works to temper down whatever foul, drunken mood Childe had been in, if only marginally. He blinks up at Aether through a fringe of reddish-brown hair, and in this light his blue eyes are almost wondrous, like the blond has said or done something particularly compelling in that moment. ]
Aether... [ His body rolls easily over onto the blond's, and if Aether were a lesser man, if he hadn't prepared himself to endure the full brunt of Childe's weight he might be alarmed by how easily Childe drapes over him. How his chest feels against the other's slim back, muscled torso and abdomen clearly felt even through the layers of their clothes.
In essence it's almost like he's rolled over on top of him in bed with full intent to crush him; but he doesn't, and the arm he has draped around the blond's shoulders squeeze, drawing Childe closer to huff out a breath that smells suspiciously like lime and vodka. ]
Aether -- [ He begins again, closing this eyes -
and then suddenly lurches forward and heaves all over Aether's $2,000 Offwhite x Nike Air Force 1 lows in university gold. ]
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The one thing sparing Childe from Aether's utmost wrath right now is the fact that Childe himself bought these $2,000 Offwhite x Nike Air Force 1 lows in university gold, because otherwise, Aether would be beside himself with rage at the thought of cleaning them.
And, well, really, most of Childe's bile is alcohol than solid foot. Aether wrinkles his nose, suppressing the urge to gag; reflexively more than anything else, because he knows full well that Childe must be nauseous and spinning right about now, he strokes the man's reddish-brown hair, doing his best to be soothing and patiently not thinking about how that might only encourage him next time.]
...You're — [he stops short of saying disgusting, but just barely. He decides that he'll at least allow himself a groan and a deep sigh.] You're a sloppy drunk, you know that?
If you piss in my car, I am going to take pictures. [k... kinky???] Come on. Up, you big baby. Arms over my shoulders and just walk.
[He eases Childe's arm onto his shoulder, sighing as he thinks about how he's going to have to figure out some way to clean his shoes before he gets into his car.]
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Childe can only vaguely register what it is that Aether is saying but he barks out a laugh anyway, like he's just heard the funniest joke in the world and his draping becomes progressively more aggro the longer time goes on. He's all dead-weight and slackened muscles and there's perhaps an uncomfortable amount of time where he just breathes in Aether's ear with the deep sighs of someone that might have just passed out then and there.
Eventually, though, his feet move and he's able to get into something of a standing-ready position, though he's still got his face turned into the blond's neck. Given their size difference he can only imagine what kind of picture they paint now. ]
I can't walk. [ And if it comes out as more of a whine than anything, maybe Aether won't tease him too much about it. ] I don't have any feet. Your sister took them with her when she - [ He hiccups and there's a cloud of vodka and lime and something acidic hanging in the air for a moment. ] - when she left me. Hey, she's not running around with that Denmark guy or whatever his name is, is she?
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You mean Dainsleif? [Aether wrinkles his nose.] I'd hope not. Dain's basically our weird uncle.
[Childe's slipping; Aether has to kind of grab him by the waist and hitch him even closer, and then his sister's ex is practically breathing directly into his neck. It's weird. It's weird because Childe is dead drunk and he smells awful and he reeks of puke and vodka, but —
But it's kind of sexy. Aether swallows and tries to ignore the way Childe's hot breath is ghosting over his throat. Tries to ignore how good that feels. Archons above, how long has it been since he had any kind of physical intimacy at all? He'd never make a move on Lumine's ex like that, would never move on anyone Lumine had ever dated at all, but he's been guilty of thinking it a few times before. Ajax is so hot. But then he'd feel guilty, and ignore it, and try to pretend that he didn't think his sister's boyfriend was hot. Like, okay. Good for her.
It's fine. He's never going to admit to this; no one even has to find out. Mustering some normalcy, Aether suppresses his vague sense of arousal and pulls himself together, mustering his best guy-to-guy, man-to-man voice as he hauls Childe's dead-drunk ass to his car.]
Come on, buddy. It's not so bad. I know, I know, she's my sister, and she's beautiful, and she's perfect. But you're a good-looking guy. You're rich and you're funny and you're nice. You've got a lot going for you, you know? It doesn't have to be like this.
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He hardly has enough presence of mind to appreciate efforts valiant efforts in dragging him to his car, partly because he's already checked out in some weird, happy-drunk haze when the blond says that Dainsleif is more weird uncle than potential boyfriend material, and also because Aether smells pretty good for a guy. It's not as though he hadn't thought the other was cute - since he and Lumine were more or less twins, it was impossible not to - but he'd never really cared to acknowledge it as more than anything than a passing thought.
Now, though, draped over the other blond like he is, it's easy to feel the shift of muscle and bone under clothing, easy to feel every firm, hard plane of the other's body against his own. Aether provides a warmth he'd sorely been missing these past few days and Childe shouldn't be blamed at all when he indulges in it, adding more and more of his weight to Aether's tiny frame by degrees until his feet are hardly helping him along so well as the blond is.
Belatedly he catches what the other is saying and, while it takes a significantly longer amount of time to process due to his alcohol-induced haze, it gets processed regardless and Childe responds by shoving his face into Aether's neck and huffing out a breath. What he grumbles is mostly unintelligble, but they're close enough that the blond will be able to pick out his sister's name muttered over and over again.
And then, for absolutely no reason at all except that maybe it's instinct - which, enjoy having a sneak peek into your sister's love life with Childe, Aether - he latches his mouth to the other's neck and starts sucking a hickey into his skin. ]
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— and then he remembers that he can't be doing this, that Childe is much too drunk to be doing this, and suddenly he snaps to attention.]
Ch-Childe, you're — you're drunk, come on... [He tries to shake Childe off, nudging him as gently as he can manage, but that only seems to make the redhead cling harder, and, fuck, why does that cologne have to smell so good] — Childe!
[He struggles; it gets a little violent. He's red-faced and breathing hard by the time he finally manages to disentangle himself from the taller man's arms — he's my sister's ex, he has to remind himself, my sister's goddamned ex — and Aether shoves him into the backseat of the car, but he lingers once he's thrown Childe in, staring down at him with a slightly wild and cornered look in his eyes, somewhat panicked.
The panic is mostly because of this: he's never been so incredibly turned on before, and he hates himself for it.]
Just — just. Just stay there.
[Licking his lips with anxious impatience, he slams the door shut, then goes around to the driver's side and gets behind the wheel. He tries to think of anything else. Thinks of how Childe has probably kissed Lumine like that before, and that's enough to make him feel slightly sick. Good.]
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He catches a glimpse of blond hair in the driver's side and it's all he really needs to get going. ]
Lumine... [ It comes out as a croak, followed by a sniffle. A sob hiccups out of his throat, and - yeah. This is happening. ]
Lumine-- wasn't I good enough?
[ It's like a distressed cat yowling on the back of the neighbor's fence. His leg kicks out, bashing against the side of the door. There's a hand trying to fit through the space between the door and Aether's chair, trying to grab at whatever part he can reach but coming up short, so the most the other will see is probably a bunch of wiggling fingers. ]
I'm sorry I said I liked anal more --- Is this because I wouldn't wear the cat ears? Lumine--
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Groaning, the young man tries to resist the impulse to slam his face against his steering wheel; he just wants to get this stupid Snezhnayan slug safely back to his own apartment and then sleep for the rest of the night, though it occurs to him that if this is the kind of violent drunk Childe is, then it might not actually be safe to leave him in his own house without supervision. Ugh. More importantly, he can't drive if Childe is going to throw a man-sized tantrum in the backseat.
He doesn't even start up the car. Heaving a sigh, Aether turns around in the driver's seat and — there's no good reason for it, he's just sort of responding the way he would to a very small child — catches Childe's fingers in his own.]
Hey. Hey. Look at me — I said look at me, damn it!
[Aether is trying to keep his voice stern and angry, though it's a little hard to hide that he's also a little amused. Even so, he does a generally good job of keeping his brows furrowed and eyes narrowed as he glares at Childe in the backseat.]
I'm not my sister. Don't you fucking call me Lumine again. Do you understand?
[He's not actually that mad about it, but violence seems to be the only language Childe understands.]
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Aether's stern voice and the firmness in his tone belies the usually calm, easygoing demeanor he'd come to associate the blond with. It's testament to the reality of the situation that he's pushed Aether to this point, and while he may have only intended to startle Childe into silence he still has the added effect of making his lips pinch together, teeth grit in the apology that has to practically fight its way out of his mouth. ]
... Sorry, Aether. [ Comes the mumble, and he emphasizes this by asserting his grip on Aether's hand and giving it a firm, but gentle enough squeeze that it's impossible to take it as a threat. There's enough awareness in him now that he can realize fully how dizzy and fucked up he feels, his head throbbing with a mixture of dizziness and nausea and his stomach roiling like a tempestuous sea.
For Aether's sake, he quickly lets go of his hand and tucks himself longways along the back seat. His legs are bent at an awkward angle and he doesn't have a seatbelt, but for his part he seems content to simply lay here like this and accept his fate.
A beat later and he pipes up, his word running together and slurring at the ends. ]
Where we goin'...?
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Aether keeps his face straight and his eyes on the road, but his tone is much more patient and soothing when he answers Childe next. That moment of anger seems to have passed.]
Well, I was going to take you back to your apartment, but — [a moment's honest hesitation] — I kind of don't want to leave you alone like this.
[Because: what sort of person would leave Childe alone like this? He could take Childe home, sure; fish his keys out of his pocket somewhere and dump him into his own bed, sure. But then he'd wake up on his own, feeling hungover and fucked up with all the stressors of the day staring into his face, and really, won't that just make him more tempted to repeat this self-destructive cycle all over again?]
And I want to scrub the puke out of my shoes. So I guess I'll take you back to my place.
[That's pretty conscientious of him. Maybe if Childe weren't so drunk, he'd be able to remember that Aether's Very Expensive Sneakers looked remarkably well-kept for a gift he'd been given months ago as a sort of courtesy "girlfriend's brother" present. Sure, they were expensive, but Aether's kept them looking almost new. But again... that's a tall order to expect from a guy who's currently so drunk that he can't tell his girlfriend from his girlfriend's brother. Aether's being very careful to brake slowly at stoplights so that the car doesn't jerk as much as it could when it slows to a halt; that'll make Childe feel even more sick, and he doesn't need that right now.]
You don't mind, do you? [He tries to keep his tone light.] It'll be like... uh... a guy sleepover. Or something...
[...This is the language of a boy who very clearly grew up only having girl friends.]
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There's a lot to consider about their relationship, all the ways it worked and didn't work. Sex was probably one of the best things about it, he thought, because seldom was he able to find someone that was so easily able to challenge him, unafraid and unwilling to back down from a fight. Perhaps that was also what had contributed so heavily to their downfall.
Out of all the times they'd argued and fought and broken up only to get back together, this one was the worst. Even drunk him didn't think they had a chance of reconciling, even if he wanted to hope otherwise. ]
Wha...? [ Aether's asking him a question. He paws at his face, wiping at his brow like he can wipe away all the terrible, depressing thoughts from his mind. He's not crying, not yet, not anymore, so really he just ends up scrubbing at his eyes a bit before he turns his gaze to the back of Aether's head. ]
Oh... Yeah. Yeah, sure. [ There's only a little bit of slurring. Progress. ] Whatever you want, Aether.
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It's nice to be called Aether, and not Lumine.
He's careful to keep driving slow, gentle on the stops and starts, until at last he slides his car into the driveway of a home on a quiet street in a quiet neighborhood. It's dark, and all the neighbors already have their lights out; only a single streetlamp illuminates the vicinity.
Sighing, Aether kills the engine, puts his keys into his pocket, flips the flashlight function on his phone, and turns over his shoulder to look at Childe in the dark.]
Almost home. Just wait right there, okay? I'll come over to pick you up.
[As promised, he slides out of the car, closes his door, crosses the short distance to the back seat, and then he's there, his small round face peering anxiously at his sister's ex-boyfriend's in the dim residential light.]
Come here. You can put your head on my shoulder, right?