expiationlogs | dead to the power of two

[Octavian huffs, amused, and presses another kiss to Viktor's temple. Much as he relishes Viktor's sass, takes it as a sign he's feeling better than he was, please—]

You died. It was grueling. I would not have you hike back and forth for my whims.

[This said mostly as they walk back to the house; Octavian is, of course, keenly aware of the discomfort of literally dying, and as it happens, the strange detachment of finding oneself in a body after not inhabiting one for a time. Any length of time, from a week to years and years, even the handful of hours he needs to spend letting his summoned vessel recharge its magic. It's strange and disorienting, so if he's inclined to fuss over Viktor more than usual, well— he died! He gets to rest!

Specifically, he gets to rest on the couch, while Octavian runs fond fingers through his hair as he passes said couch to the kitchen. This is a small house; he isn't going very far. From behind Viktor comes the sounds of cabinets opening and closing, a pot being moved... and moved again, while he tries to remember the steps of cooking in order.

He was good at this, give him a minute. Hmm.]

Something simple. [This is a given; he doesn't keep much in the way of fresh meat or produce, given he much prefers to go out and be given prepared food when he wants to experience eating. But he's got, like, pasta? It's going to be noodles. He sets a pot to boiling and then immediately leaves it, to come and lean on the back of the couch and poke two fingers into Viktor's shoulder and 'walk' them up to the side of his neck. Hey. He really missed this.]

How do you feel now?

Offering to feed me isn't a whim, [ he says quietly, as they walk, ] It's a kindness.

[ one that he appreciates tremendously, at that. just as much as he appreciates the fingers running through his hair — it is like that week with them apart, unable to touch each other is now making octavian reach for him whenever he is within reach at all... and frankly, viktor finds he likes it quite much, finds the same kind of urge making his fingers twitch with the desire to reach out to him, to stop him from going into the kitchen, to make him stay right here.

but no; food is imminent, and he can manage on his own for now. though that doesn't mean he isn't looking up at octavian when he appears again, that the fingers doing their little one-two walk up to his neck doesn't make him smile. ]

Better, [ he says and means it entirely in the romantic sense, tilting his head to the side and down, pressing the side of his cheek and the tip of his nose against octavian's hand.

and then, because he can only be a romantic for so long, and because he knows octavian is asking in earnest, ] It is strange. My body feels better than it was, but my mind... [ with a twist of his lips, he looks down. ] I keep weighing every breath in my mind. Is this the one that will catch in my lungs? Or the next one? Or the one after? Because if I have died once, then I will die again.

[ and again, and again — until this place grows tired of that, or until he finds a solution that will stop the cycle. ]

[Well, it was immediately making him go somewhere else right after arriving... It doesn't matter; Octavian can let it go. Better to focus on Viktor, the living whole of him and the press of his face against his hand. That's cute— he loves that actually, and if he wasn't so dedicated to getting some food into Viktor, he would absolutely abandon the heating water to stay here and get lost in affectionate touches, the simplicity of being here, together.

But the water is heating, and he shifts his hand to run his fingers through Viktor's hair again.]

I cannot say I know the precise feeling, [he says, because he's only technically died the one time, and not here; but the body he inhabits does literally dissolve, so he thinks he has some kind of a handle on this feeling of waiting for the inevitable, at least a little.] So I cannot say it will leave you. But perhaps with time the terror will lessen. Shrink.

[A beat. Well,] Like grief.

[Only, you know, on a personal level.]

[ once again, he tilts his head into the touch, almost instinctively so, like any time octavian's fingers touch his hair or face or any part of him, all he wants to do is to lean into it, to feel as much of it at once as is humanly possible.

and maybe octavian doesn't know the precise feeling, but he does certainly know something similar — perhaps better than anyone else in this whole place, which is why everything he says matters more to viktor than anything coming from anyone else.

like grief — yes, an apt comparison, for it is grieving except for yourself, for the injustice, the pain, the lack of choice... all of it. ]

You believe I will grow used to it? If I die enough times, here? [ because yes, he believes the terror would recede, if he didn't have to be afraid of dying over and over again, but like this? he chuckles humourlessly. ]

What would that be like? Oh, another month has passed, time to die again. [ a pause, and his expression crumbles. ] No, I cannot do that.

Not exactly. [No, never used to it, not so much to expect it like one expects a clock to turn, that would be grim even for men in their relative, hm, health positions. Octavian's hand stays in Viktor's hair, a smooth and repetitive comfort, while he thinks.]

But I do think you will overtake it before it overtakes you. The grief.

[Not, at least not yet, the dying— he's not unconvinced the two of them could come up with a way to set back Viktor's symptoms, if not eliminate them entirely. Perhaps a bit of intricate runework, like his body? It's worth thinking about.

That's for later, though. Here, it's the grief, and he believes Viktor is stronger than the weight of it, too clever and driven to get lost wandering in the halls of despair. He wouldn't call that "getting used to it," though; it's subtler than that.]

I do not believe you persist to move from one death to another. You shine far too brightly for that.

[ for a moment that seemingly stretches on and on, into minutes into hours into infinity, it is only octavian's hand in his hair that keeps him anchored — there is a certain irony in octavian believing him stronger than the grief, all the while viktor feels that very grief pulling him under the waves, threatening to drown him in the hopelessness of it all.

quietly, with a twist to his mouth, he says, ] Those who shine the brightest burn the fastest. Professor Heimerdinger said that to me when he found out I was dying.

[ because of course he'd been so back home, too; it's not an aldrip development. he tilts his head, to try and look at octavian even as he presses his head against his hand. ]

You say that, and yet... that is what waits for me. I will die here, and if I go home, I will die there, too. Only to be brought back, just like here. [ he looks down, then. ] It is different to remain when you yourself have chosen it, than to have it all chosen for you.

Your professor is careless and inconsiderate. [Because really, that kind of greeting card-ass nonsense isn't something you should say to anyone, let alone a dying man. It doesn't help.] You do not shine brightly because you will fade.

[Broadly, in any case— it isn't a case of being brilliant and wonderful and so full of innovation because he is going to die, like the greeting card phrase implies. It rankles Octavian, to hear people have spoken of Viktor like a tragedy, puttering around before his inevitable demise. As if the rest of his life has been reduced to the single point of his death before he even gets there. And now Viktor speaks of this morbid cycle, a black hole emptying into that very point over and over and over—

He leans down a bit more, staring down at Viktor in his usual lightly intense way.]

Your companions from home told you this? [The gross misuse of his body after death, even to bring him back, the disrespect of it—] Then from now you must choose. Every moment a choice.

[Choice keeps coming back to linger in the room with them, it seems. Octavian brushes Viktor's hair back again, then slides his fingers down to brush against his cheek.]

Become unrelenting. Bigger than death and those who would choose for you.

[ oh, and that — yes, that is why it had sounded so wrong to him, isn't it? the implication that he is like a supernova, that his brilliance (and yes, he knows it is brilliance, there are many things he's not proud of but he can stand behind the knowledge of his own intelligence on steady feet) is the result of his short life, like there is a correlation between them, like one follows the other. and he refuses to have that, to let it be like that; his death may be inevitable, but it has no bearing on anything else.

he looks at octavian, meets his stare and nods. ] Yes. My partner.

[ an answer to two things at once: who told him, and who is behind it, both at once. granted, jayce doesn't believe that he'd died... but viktor thinks he knows better. jayce is convinced, but there is no way he was left breathing after the bomb. and he knows the hexcore. ]

Choose... yes, [ he says, lifting his hand to cover octavian's. ]

Will you be here with me? [ he doesn't say, i can't do that without you, but it rings in the silence between the words, regardless — or perhaps rather i don't want to do that without you. because there are so many things he can do — he knows he's capable of it, all of it, if he just tries. he's always believed in himself, after all. and yet — none of it seems worth much, now, if octavian isn't by his side. ]

[Hm, Octavian really does not like that; of course he prefers Viktor alive and well, so on some level he understands the urge to... act in that kind of situation. As always however, he is uniquely disposed to view it from the other end: here he is, a thing that should not be mucking around in a body that is, generously, a science project, and it is miserable, and most significantly, he did this. He thinks if he had woken after his death without his consent as the thing he is, he would be...

Upset.

So he understands. Whatever Viktor's partner has done to him, the thing Viktor has not yet experienced, there is an indignity to it— to being stripped of choice, for someone else's benefit. Octavian will never bring his family back from the dead the way he's done to himself; an injustice, that Viktor would not be allowed the same respect.

He frowns about it. There isn't anything to do about that, at least not yet.

Now,] Of course. [There's nowhere else he'd rather be— whether being at Viktor's side is merely literal or if there is some actionable goal to push towards, he'll stay. How could he do anything else.] As long as you will have me.

[The water is boiling behind them somewhere; he ignores it.]

It may be difficult. Choosing. I know what that is like. Outside of this body it is a constant. A restless mind. [He ducks lower, a bit of an awkward twist, but all in the service of kissing Viktor's forehead.] Which is to say I am here for you. No woe is too great.

[ there is a relief to hearing that — enough so that viktor smiles, almost helplessly adoring as he turns his head to look at octavian; and once again, the words are right there, and it would be so, so painfully easy to speak them... but he doesn't, not like this, not after all of this. octavian deserves better than viktor speaking out his feelings like in gratitude, or in response — he deserves them without caveats, without any words said to viktor first.

and so instead, what he says is, ] That may be quite a while. I hope you are prepared.

[ at least he hopes so; however long they have here, his own failing health cycle aside.

still; no one else understands him in this like octavian, who knows what it is to choose and to make a choice every single day, and viktor closes his eyes against the surge of pure feeling as octavian presses his lips against his forehead. ]

There is always a choice, I know. [ just as he knows that those choices aren't always easy to make. rarely, when they are things that matter. ]

With you, it doesn't seem... too daunting.

[Even that is lovely to hear, the promise laced through it, that they will be here together like this for as long as they're able. Octavian hums, smiling lightly. He could say something quippy about how the work simply never stops, but— it isn't that kind of work, being at Viktor's side. There is work, one must always put in the work, but it is the kind of work that buoys him rather than weighs on him. Work, as any relationship is, and yet being with Viktor is the most enjoyable kind there is.

So,]

I am already prepared. I know you would correct me were I to make some critical mistake.

[But they've definitely been nailing this relationship thing so far, so that doesn't feel like it's going to be a problem. He cards his fingers through Viktor's hair once more as he moves to stand, slowly, the touch lingering.]

You are eminently capable. Of this and whatever else you choose. I will be here to remind you.

[Literally and not so literally, as he looks over at the stove. Ahem,] But first I must rescue what is left of the water.

[ how silly, to think octavian could make any kind of a mistake that could be classified as critical, when it comes to the two of them — no, he trusts octavian implicitly, holds him so dear that there is very little he would not excuse, between them or outside of them.

what is not silly at all is the way octavian promises that there is no reason for him to prepare, for he is so already — a return of the commitment that viktor is offering him in not so many words; however long they have. whether it is days, weeks or years... this is where he wants to be. and he would never have expected it to feel so — easy, in a way, the way they are together, the comfortable understanding they have. ]

You wouldn't, [ he says, softly, with a tilt of his head; make mistakes, that is. not in anything that truly matters... or perhaps simply in his eyes.

and the rock-solid belief that octavian has in him — nobody's ever believed in me, he remembers, and yet, here he is, speaking of viktor being capable like it is something obvious.

wordlessly, he lifts his hand, touches octavian's hand with his as it lingers in his hair, takes it for a moment before he has to pull away to, ] Oh. Yes, the water.

[ he'd, hm, forgotten about that entirely. ]

[Look, he can't in good conscience rule out the possibility that he might do something wrong— even something minor, even while trying his best. He is just one dead man, after all, and as easy and wonderful as being with Viktor is, he's never done this thing before. So, just in case.

It's still lovely to hear Viktor say he wouldn't, though, to hear that faith in him expressed so simply and earnestly. Even if he does make a mistake it shouldn't be a disaster; no matter how much time they have, he doesn't anticipate any earth-shattering errors. Just this, more of this, on and on and on.

And also the pasta. He huffs his quiet little laugh and catches Viktor's hand again, tilting down to kiss the backs of his fingers. Yes, the water, one of them does have to eat.]

I promise I will make it worth your while. [To eat these noodles and spend the twenty minutes or so not holding his hands.] You must eat. Later I will even convince you to sleep.

[Look forward to it! Anyway, let him go put pasta in this pot. Cooking.]

[ that quiet little laugh, as it turns out, is on its own enough to fill viktor's heart, like it isn't blood cells and oxygen and a number of other things in the veins that circulate the blood through his heart but something else entirely; like he's woken up from death and instead of needing air or water or food, that little laugh alone is enough to sustain this new body of his.

a romantic thought, that, if untrue; octavian kisses the backs of his hands softly before letting go, and viktor stares at him, transfixed, before saying, ]

I was unable to knowingly miss you while I was dead, but I believe whatever part of me remained in this simulation, waiting to be brought back... I believe that part wanted nothing more than to be here with you.

[ read: yes, he's going to eat, and sit here waiting for octavian to finish cooking. he would argue against sleep, but, hm, he also doesn't want to argue with octavian about anything... so perhaps, perhaps.

for now, though, he will sit right here and wait. ]

[It's lucky— for this pasta, specifically— that Octavian has already moved away to deal with the food, or else Viktor saying all of that right now would have drawn him right back in to kiss his hands and stare at him adoringly for the rest of the night and then some. And while that wouldn't be a terrible way to spend time at all, it's still true that Viktor needs to eat something.

So, the pasta, but he does pause to wrap that feeling up and tuck it away for a rainy day, just in case. Then he hums, still busy with the pot.]

Romantic. You are eminently distracting. [Lightly chiding, if not at all serious; please, let him make these noodles, it's moderately important.] All that is left of my heart is yours.

[Things to say while stirring pasta. Anyway, give him a few minutes to return with Buttered Noodles in a bowl, and a fork. He delivers these to Viktor and sits next to him on the couch, close enough to touch as always. Immediately, his fingers go back into Viktor's hair.]

Eat.

So are you, [ comes the immediate response — because octavian need not do anything else but simply be and he will be distracting enough, command all of viktor's attention; even now, his eyes follow his movements in the kitchen.

though he has to look away, then, when octavian decides to say that while stirring pasta, of all things, and really, who's the one who's romantic, here? as ever, viktor finds it easier to say things than to hear them said back to him, and looks down, trying to commit the exact cadence of octavian's voice to memory, so that he can always remember those words, so simply said and yet meaning the world to him.

in any case, give him a moment to stare with adoration as octavian finishes cooking the pasta; and when it's delivered to him, he sets the fork in the bowl and the bowl in his lap, to turn to octavian, lifting his hand to touch the side of his face tenderly. ]

Thank you. [ a pause. ] I still have all of my heart left, I believe, and all of it is yours, too.

[ don't mind him if he's leaning in to press a kiss to octavian's lips, then, before drawing back and reaching for the noodles; wouldn't do if they went cold, would it? ]

[This is still not eating, good gracious— not that Octavian does anything more than huff lightly, amused even as he leans into Viktor's touch. The words and the kiss are so profoundly sweet that he feels all over again the depth of how much Viktor's absence this past week has affected him; even knowing in advance, the hollow feeling of it...

Well, Viktor isn't going anywhere tonight, that much is certain. Octavian wriggles an arm around his waist and leans his head against his shoulder, which isn't the optimal place for him to be so Viktor can eat the dang noodles, but at least Viktor's hands are still free.]

I imagine tomorrow will be a busy day for you.

[Because surely at least some of the people from his world will want to talk or something, and Octavian can't actually monopolize all of his time. But,]

After that however. We can continue our project. [wobbles.]

[ it doesn't matter that it isn't optimal — it is exactly where he should be, and with the arm around his waist and the head against his shoulder, viktor feels tethered, instead of adrift, like his recent death has not returned him here entirely whole, like a part of him has not been truly here until this very moment, settling back into place with octavian's help.

for a moment, he thinks of what it might have been like, dying without octavian here to ground him; he doesn't want to entertain the thought long. ]

Yes, [ he says, to both of these things, one of them more pleasant than the other. ] I will return to the lab in the morning... but I will be back. And if I can stay, that would be — good.

[ he doesn't exactly want to be in his lab, right now. not with how suffocating it feels, there.

but for now, let him eat these noodles, let them sit here together, let him tilt his head to the side to rest against octavian's once the food is consumed. there are many people out there who he needs to talk to... but not right now. not tonight. right here, only octavian matters. ]

dead to the power of two | OPEN

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