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“Have you ever tasted vex magic?” Cub asks slowly, leveling his gaze with Scar as he wheels a rickety yet elegant cart to the side of their uncomfortably isolated dinner table.
Scar smiles back, his gaze flitting to the covered dish, watching his reflection warp in the metal dome sitting innocently to the side.
“I could hardly call myself a vex if I hadn’t. Why do you ask?”
Cub doesn’t respond, humming under the scrutiny of Scar’s knowing gaze. He instead moves to placing down two tall glasses of a shimmery liquid. He looks to Scar expectantly, gesturing towards it before pulling his own chair out and sitting at the table.
Scar brings the glass closer gingerly, holding the drink up and swishing the drink repetitively. He stares at his reflection as the liquid warps and shimmers, maintaining its state while having an air of unreality to it. He watches Cub from the corner of his eye, the man in question staring at the drink with the ghost of a smile.
“You want me to drink this.” It isn’t a question, Scar knows full well what Cub wants, the quiet static between them conveying every slight sensation, every unspoken word, every unfulfilled desire.
Scar downs the drink without a second thought. It tastes tangy, sweet. The initial fizz fades into an addicting numbness.
He licks his lips, a smile creeping across his face as he tilts his head, propping it up with one hand.
Cub tilts his head in response, his eyes never leaving Scar’s. He almost reaches a hand over to brush Scar’s face, a quiet want to be near him lacing his every movement. Almost. He keeps his hands on the table, drumming it lightly.
Scar knows, of course. His smile only grows wider as he searches Cub’s frame for any indication of what he wants, the burning feeling in his own chest giving away Cub’s.
“Do you like it?” Cub breaks the silence, leaning back in his chair. “How does it taste?”
“It tastes like vex magic.” Scar answers simply, closing his eyes with a dreamy sigh. “Addicting.”
Cub nods, moving hair out of his face with a quiet hum. “Right.” He speaks curtly, sitting up straight to reach for the plate covered with the plain silver dome.
It’s placed conspicuously in between the two. Scar looks at his reflection on the dome, anticipation clouding his face. Cub looks at Scar, his eyes flitting over every bit of his visible body, lingering on the blue crystal dangling from Scar’s ear.
“Who is it?” Scar looks back up at Cub, meeting his searching gaze softly.
“What a fast evaluation. You haven’t even seen the dish.” Cub hums, looking away with a smile. “You shouldn’t jump to conclusions so quickly.”
“Oh, stop. I’ve known since you wheeled that cart out. You can tell, you could tell. You don’t have to lie to me, Cubby.” Scar narrows his eyes, pushing himself up and shifting the chair closer to the table. “You can’t lie to me.”
“I suppose that’s a courtesy that should be shared both ways.” Cub snaps his eyes away from Scar’s, reaching down to lift the dome and set it to the side gently.
Scar looks away with a harsh exhale, a sour mood settling over his face as he effectively shuts up. He insists on looking away, staring at a stubborn and perfectly placed speck of dust on the otherwise pristine floor.
He doesn’t hold for long. It’s inevitable, of course. Scar was never the type to hold grudges, at least not against Cub.
Eventually, the sour face softens into a calm as Scar pokes at his food. Cub furrows his brows, leaning forward to rest his chin in his palms.
“Are you not going to take a bite? I made it just for you.” The sickeningly sweet tone of Cub’s voice coils around Scar, a grin finding its way back to Cub’s face.
Scar stares at his meal, a complicated expression spreading across his face as he continues to prod at the suspiciously delicious looking food before him.
“You can cook?” Scar arches a brow at Cub, a lighthearted tone slowly working its way back into his demeanor. “This is new information for me.”
“Contrary to popular belief,” Cub adjusts his glasses, staring at Scar in the eye. “I can in fact cook.” He hums, leaning closer across the table to Scar, letting his hand shift to continue supporting his head. “Though it is quite impolite to not even try it after all this built up anticipation.”
Scar rolls his eyes, grabbing a fork that Cub had apparently placed down from the side of his plate, stabbing a piece of meat and raising it to his mouth, all while maintaining eye contact with the man that he loved and despised sitting across the table from him.
“It’s not bad.” Scar admits slowly, savoring the taste of meat. “It’s…good. It’s delicious.”
The grin on Cub’s face softens into an adoring smile as Scar continues to eat. The only sound was the quiet clinking of utensils against a plate and the all too loud sounds of chewing.
Scar is done with his plate quickly. He washes it down with another of Cub’s strange vex magic drinks and grabs a napkin, dabbing at his mouth and sighing quietly. He leans back in his chair, letting his eyes drift close.
They sit in silence, neither wanting to break the fragile state of a calm in a conversation that would surely get out of hand if it was allowed to continue.
Scar brings his knees up to his chest, curling up in his chair as he messes with the crystal dangling from his ear, watching the reflection of his own face paired with the glow of magic. He does not dare look up at the man sitting across from him, the sickeningly sweet, spiteful, intense love radiating from someone he deemed his partner seeping into his very bones.
Surprisingly, Scar is the one who breaks the silence. Cub didn’t expect him to have the courage, or guilt, or perhaps pity to even engage in a conversation. It’s a pleasant surprise, but a surprise nonetheless.
“The meal was okay.” Scar straightens himself, his voice silky smooth and devoid of the vulnerable yet closed off oxymoron of a man left. “I think I should go now, though.”
Perhaps it wasn’t so much of a pleasant surprise. Nonetheless, they both know it’s an act. Every uncertainty retraces its steps in Cub’s mind, every unexpressed feeling and need closed off from sore eye burning and coiling in Cub’s own chest.
“Okay? I remember you stating quite clearly that you thought it was delicious.”
Scar’s gaze hardens at Cub’s words as he erases every vulnerable and emotion driven part of him to be swept away into storage for another time, another place.
“You and I both know that closing yourself off from me is pointless.” Cub spits out. “I can’t lie to you, you can’t lie to me. It goes both ways.”
“It feels like you’re hinting towards something unrelated to this pleasant dinner we’re having.” Scar hums, a metaphorical mask rising to his face as a literal one hangs just out of reach. “Which is rather unappreciated.”
“You’re a bad liar, at least with me.” Cub softens the hard edges of his voice, leaning over the table slightly to look at Scar. “All your secrets are whispered to me, whether you like it or not.”
“I was told this was simply going to be dinner together. A date, even.”
“You ate the food because you were afraid. Not of the food, not of me, not of what I've done, you’re afraid that rejecting me will end everything we’ve built.”
Scar frowns, standing up at the table, his shoulders tense. “I think we’re done here. I was under the impression that we were going to have a pleasant moment for once.”
“We could’ve had a pleasant moment, it was a pleasant moment.” Cub hisses through his teeth before taking a deep breath and slumping back into his chair, his face relaxing back into a soft and sickeningly understanding face. “You can’t keep running. We both know how the game plays out.”
“This doesn’t relate at all to the matter at hand.”
“Which is?”
Scar goes silent, and Cub gestures for him to sit down. He pours Scar another glass of silky sweet magic and pushes it towards Scar.
“Drink.” It isn’t a suggestion written in between lines this time. Scar drinks slower, taking a few sips as he stares into his constantly changing reflection at the surface of his drink.
It’s silent again, this time not as pleasant as before. Scar doesn’t look at Cub, instead choosing to endlessly swirl the drink in his hand. He gets jolted out of his trance when Cub gently places his own hand on Scar’s. Scar’s fingers curl but he doesn’t move his hand away, instead opting to take another sip of his drink. His eyes are still cast away from Cub, ignoring how wonderful it feels to be near Cub for once.
He finishes his drink quicker than he would have liked. Finally, he looks back to Cub, meeting his eyes. He doesn’t say a word, but both of them know of the suppressed need for more. Scar stands up, Cub tugs his hand gently and guides him around the table until they’re closer than they have been for what seems like ages.
“Did you miss me?” They both know the answer to that question, but Cub asks it anyway. It’s a reassurance, an already answered inquiry that needs to be spoken out loud.
“More than anything.” Scar whispers, the rigid stance he tried so desperately to hold collapsing into a desperate claw for them to just be one again.
The kiss is short, Cub holding Scar at an arm's distance and gently guiding him away with a tug of his jacket. Scar finally, finally lets himself crumble as he grabs for more, desperation leaking into his every movement as he collapses into Cub to just hold him close. Cub lets him sniffle and tremble in his arms for a bit, gently petting his hair and relishing in every shaky breath rocking Scar’s body. He presses a gentle kiss to Scar’s hair, humming as the shell of a man cradled in his arms allowed himself some affection from whom he swore he would leave behind.
Scar’s breathing calms eventually, his face buried in the crook of Cub’s neck. Cub isn’t quite sure if he’s asleep, or just waiting for Cub’s next move, the next word that would break the comfortable nothingness they find themselves in.
Cub just barely shifts, gathering Scar closer towards him and humming quietly as he observes every detail on the terribly fragile man. Scar is just barely breathing, shallow rises of his chest being the only indicator that he was even alive.
Of course, it would come time that Cub would have to push Scar away again. It would come time that Scar would run again, and perhaps this would happen all over again. But for now, Cub just strokes Scar’s hair and lets him rest for a while. For now, the only sound in the room is their breathing and the quiet sniffling from Scar every so often as he buries his face further into Cub’s neck. For now, it’s just the two of them.
Maybe there was a chance they could stay like this, but as long as Scar kept persistently running from Cub every chance he got, this game of cat and mouse would never end. It’s as evident as ever that Scar didn’t intend to stay. Soon, the desperation would pass and it would just be a mask talking back to Cub again.
Cub relishes in this moment for just a bit longer. For now, for now, for now they could be together, and he wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip from his hands.