Work Text:
Third Person POV
“Hey, III?” IV asked, his voice breaking through the quiet sounds coming from the television that was currently playing a movie. His hands moved swiftly but carefully as they mixed a small bowl of hair dye.
“Hm?”
“Why do you keep dyeing your hair?” The smaller of the two questioned. “Don’t get me wrong, I think you look good with any colour hair, but I feel like you just had it dyed red.” He set the bowl down onto the nearby coffee table. In his right hand held a soft brush, which was soon liberally lathered with the thick dye, and he started to gingerly spread the dye onto III’s just-bleached hair, using his left hand to avoid getting any of it onto the other man’s skin. His eyes were trained downcast at his hands the entire time. III’s eyes were closed at the first touch of the brush, and his shoulders slacked as IV worked away. He was silent for a moment, contemplating his answer as he sat against his bandmate, sitting on the floor with his legs crossed and his back against IV’s front, while IV sat on the couch, legs slightly spread to allow him to be closer to III. His shoulders rose and slumped.
“I like the variety,” he simply answered. There was more to the answer, but that was the surface reply. His eyes opened once more, staring at the tv screen in front of him, though his mind remained on the man behind him, how careful the usually outgoing and energetic guitarist was being at the moment. In truth, III really enjoyed it when IV was close like this. When IV had to be close to him, even. Not that he’d admit it. The silence filled the room again after III’s answer. As IV continued dying his hair, III relaxed further, his body leaning back against IV’s front and his head resting against his shoulder. It felt comfortable, having him close like this. It was nice to let himself melt into IV, let his guard down in his presence. He couldn’t do that with Vessel or II. They’d be weirded out in an instant if he tried being so relaxed, and so clingy. But with IV, it was different. He could breathe. IV was different than the others. He was different in ways III still couldn’t fully explain. He was loud, but had his quiet moments. He was playful, and he was kind. He had a personality that kept the day interesting. With a body that was small but served as a warm, inviting presence to III. His eyes slipped closed again, a slight hum slipping his lips. This felt natural, his body pressing into IV’s. The brush moving so carefully through his hair was relaxing, and the closeness made his chest feel tight, but in a good way.
They sat like that for a while, in the quiet. In this moment, when it seemed like time stood still, and III wished that the moment would never end. That IV would never pull away, that his body would never move, and that he could simply have the presence of his bandmate holding him close and taking care of him. His heart felt like it was fluttering in his chest, and he felt a bit breathless. Why was he feeling like this? They sat close like this often, so why did he feel so odd about it this time? His stomach felt like butterflies. As IV moved to a different section of III’s hair, his thighs shifted, rubbing slightly against the taller man’s sides, the touch making III’s heart skip a beat. Why was he like this? Was it the closeness? The touch? …It was wrong. It was so utterly wrong for him to feel this way towards another man, but at the same time, something about it felt so right. He shut his eyes again, trying to focus on the sounds coming from TV in front of him, to ignore the way his heart was beating faster and how his face felt a bit warm. He tried to focus on that, instead of how he felt being cradled by IV. To ignore how he felt safe, how this moment he could pretend was something more than just platonic, like he had wanted to for a while, now. It was strange that one of his bandmates affected his body in such a way to make him feel such things.
But why was it IV?
Vessel was the most attractive and the leader of their band. II was creative and extremely kind towards III and the others. And IV was a self-entitled attention-whore. Yet somehow, IV was the one to make the butterflies flutter in III’s stomach and make his heart beat just a little faster in his chest. For whatever reason, IV was the one he wanted to be this close to.
He tried to ignore the way his cheeks warmed as IV’s thighs rubbed against his sides, his mind racing and unsure of what to do to distract himself anymore, as the TV obviously wasn’t doing anything. He was sure this was wrong, and he was sure that IV would be weirded out if he ever knew just how III felt in these moments, that his touch was enough to make him feel like this and have these thoughts. IV was touchy with all of them, but somehow, III could tell that the guitarist was never like this with Vessel or II. It was always just with him. The same went for how III himself viewed and treated the others. But he would never admit it, how could he? If he did, IV would be disgusted, and push him away for always craving this closeness, for his touch. He swallowed thickly, closing his eyes once more and trying to will away the butterflies from his stomach.
But IV was being so calm and gentle right now, and he was warm, so warm. It made III drowsy and it made him relax. It was comfortable to be close to his bandmate like this. His head rolled to the side to lean against IV’s shoulder. It was hard to not enjoy the proximity and the closeness, when it felt so good. He was so caught in this daze, that he nearly forgot that IV was dying his hair, and that his hair was probably dripping a bit of dye onto the other’s shirt. And yet, IV did not push him away. He simply remained there, hands moving to another few strands of hair to coat them with a generous amount of dye. He had definitely noticed the action, eyes briefly darting towards the few white stains on his shirt, but had decided to let III be. He seemed to have assumed the bassist was tired, or perhaps just bored.
But III was far from tired or bored, though it was easier to let IV think that. If he knew that the closeness alone was enough to make him feel this way, he would be pushed away for sure. He kept his eyes closed, feeling IV move again to the next part of his hair to spread dye. He felt more than just comforted to have him close, which would likely be off-putting to IV. He felt something like comfort, but also it stirred up… some strange, confusing feelings. It felt so good. And it confused him. His heart was racing, and his stomach continued to churn with nervousness, but he didn’t move. He forced himself to stay still, allowing the closeness, and trying to remain relaxed. He was so confused. What was this? Why did his bandmate make his heart beat so fast in his chest? Why did his stomach churn, and why did his mind start to feel fuzzy? Was he sick? Or worse, was he attracted to his bandmate? No, it wasn’t possible. III pushed the thought aside, hoping for a better explanation. He swallowed again, and felt himself grow dizzy, just from the proximity and touch. His mind kept racing, though it started to go a little slower from the drowsiness that came from being close like this. He pushed his weight back against IV, trying to ground himself. The closeness felt good, it felt amazing, it felt better than it should, it felt perfect. It made no sense. Nothing made sense.
Suddenly, the feeling of a pair of arms gently resting around his neck pulled III out of his thoughts. As he glanced down, he saw IV’s hands, now ungloved, meaning he was done dyeing his hair. Now, they just had to wait for the dye to set in, before they washed it and were done. There was no reason for IV to have his arms around his neck. III bit the inside of his cheek, and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. The gesture seemed so oddly… intimate. He could feel the heat spreading through his cheeks. It… it felt really nice, and he wanted to melt against IV, but he held back, his breath feeling like it was stolen from his lungs. What was this? Why was he getting so hot and bothered, over something he’d seen IV do a dozen times before? He wanted to lean into IV, and he wanted to curl against his bandmate and be swallowed whole by the warmth he received from their closness. But he couldn’t. He had to stop this train of thought, now. This was IV. IV, who was close to the others too, who never shied away from physical affection. It meant nothing. So why did his heart ache, feeling like he was going to be sick from this closeness?
He kept silent, his eyes remaining closed as he tried to focus on slowing his racing heart and breathing.
———
“III?”
III’s eyes fluttered open, blinking once or twice, before his gaze finally focused on IV, who was still sitting behind him, but now looking down at him.
“Hhmnn?” The bassist groggily responded.
“You fell asleep,” the smaller man briefly explained. He took a small pause, eyes glancing up at the clock on the wall, before returning to III. “Come on, get up, we need to go wash your hair now. I can’t move if you’re leaning on me.”
III blinked a few more times, letting out an exhausted sigh before lifting his head as he sat up. But as he sat up straight, he felt IV’s arms slip away, leaving his neck feeling cold. It made him feel oddly empty for a moment, missing the warmth from his bandmate so soon. He swallowed the feeling, standing up and shaking his head a bit to clear the slight dizziness in his head.
“You could’ve woken me up,” he murmured. His voice carried exhaustion, but there was a hint of disappointment. As soon as III moved, IV got off the couch, standing up and stretching his arms a bit.
“I didn’t want to,” he said, hands moving up to flatten out the wrinkles on his shirt. “You looked peaceful.” He then shoved his hands in his pockets, turning around and starting towards the stairs. III followed IV, trailing behind his bandmate as they made their way up. It was quiet between them as he thought of what IV had said. ’You looked peaceful.’ He had been so comfortable, he had passed out. And even then, IV hadn’t woken him. Because he looked peaceful when he had been asleep. He kept his head down, following him up the stairs. It… it felt so sweet, but III felt odd about it for some reason. He was sure he was overthinking this.
IV opened the door to the bathroom, turning the lights on as he entered, with III following close behind, before closing the door. He walked over to the shower, turning it on and sticking a hand under it, waiting for the water to warm up to a comfortable temperature. III went and sat on the edge of the bathtub as IV started up the shower. He was still feeling a little drowsy, his head felt fuzzy and he felt oddly disappointed that IV wasn’t as close as they just had been downstairs. III sat there, his eyes staring at the floor. He felt… cold. He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping it would help him feel a bit more centred.
“Aren’t you going to take your clothes off?”
III quickly looked back up as he was spoken to. IV was now turned towards him, one hand still under the water and the other resting on his hip.
“They’re going to get wet,” IV added, his eyes flickering down for a second to III’s t-shirt, before trailing down to his trousers. III hadn’t even thought of that. With a small sigh, he pulled off his shirt and set it aside to be washed later. His pants soon followed suit. The moment he did so, he realised he was freezing. He sat there, in the cold air of the bathroom, with only boxers on and shivering ever so slightly. He felt so much more cold when he wasn’t being warmed so closely by IV as they just had been. He kept his gaze down at the floor, his arms wrapping around himself to try to get a little more warmth. It felt so cold, and his mind was racing. Why was he feeling so lost and lonely all of a sudden? III did his best not to shiver openly, but it felt unusually chilly in here. His head still felt a bit hazy. He must have just needed some sleep. Nothing more.
He was just so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice that IV was walking over. He felt a bit too vulnerable, sitting there with nothing on. His body ached at the idea of how close he had been to IV when last awake. But why did it feel worse being so far away? Why did that closeness feel so good? Why was he so cold now? Like suddenly the warmth that was once there was never there to begin with? His thoughts were interrupted as IV placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m gonna head out and get some drinks while you’re showering. You want anything?” IV inquired, his head cocking to the side. III wasn’t sure if he was just imagining things, but his friend’s words were just a tad bit softer now, compared to how he usually spoke on other days. III’s body was stiff, but he quickly tried to relax. IV didn’t notice, evident by the lack of further questions.
’I want you to stay with me,’ III wanted to say so badly, but all that came out was a,
“I’m fine.” His voice was quieter than it typically was, and a little hoarse from sleep. His words were barely a murmur, barely audible enough for IV to hear. He felt so cold when IV pulled his hand away.
‘Stay,’ III wanted to say, ’instead of leaving to get drinks.’ But how could he ask for that? It sounded like a ridiculous idea. Yet even then, the moment IV turned to leave, III felt so much more empty. He wanted to reach out, to have IV stay close with him and make him feel warm. But why? Why was he so cold, and cold so deep in his chest? III shivered as IV walked away, leaving him sitting on the edge of the tub and feeling more cold than before.
———
III perked up at the sound of the door opening. The sound was followed by the door closing, and soft footfalls approaching the living room, where the two of them had been sitting, dyeing III’s hair, and where III was now seated, on the couch with his newly-dyed hair. Soon enough, IV turned the corner, and was greeted with the sight of the other man staring directly at the ground. His eyebrows raised at the sight of III’s hair, as if surprised but pleased by how it turned out. He walked a little closer, setting his drink down on the coffee table, before crawling onto the couch. He sat on his knees next to III, their bodies barely touching. III tensed the moment IV approached, feeling his body grow warm in response. He tried not to lean into IV’s proximity, though he wanted to desperately. To have that warmth back so badly. He couldn’t bring himself to look up at his bandmate, staring at a point on the ground to try to keep himself calm. The closeness felt incredible, but at the same time, so horrible. His mind was a vortex of conflicting emotions, and it made him feel sick to his stomach.
“I think it looks good,” IV suddenly spoke up, tilting his head slightly, eyes scanning over the bassist’s hair. It was dyed a white, and had been cut short again. He scooted a little closer, one of his arms resting on top of III’s shoulder, while his hand found itself in the fluffy, white locks, gently playing with the strands. III felt his body shiver the moment IV placed his hand on top of his shoulder, his fingers in his freshly dyed hair. It sent a new rush of heat through his entire body, and his mind went into a further whirlwind. His body was telling him to lean into IV more, to allow himself to be touched and feel warm once more. But he couldn’t. He swallowed thickly, his head still downcast, but his gaze unfocused. His stomach hurt, and he could’ve felt tears form in the corners of his eyes. This was so, so wrong.
The silence continued for a few more moments, with IV’s hand languidly toying with the strands. However, his movements momentarily halted as he spoke. “III?”
III was hyper aware of his every sensation. The hand on his hair, the warm touch of his body beside him, the way his thoughts refused to cooperate. He felt his breath quicken a bit, his eyes clenched shut.
"Yes?" He managed to rasp out, his hands now gripping the edge of the couch tight. IV was quiet for a few seconds. III could sense his gaze on him, even with his eyes closed. He could feel it. And in no way did it help the way his body was acting right now.
“Are you alright?” The smaller of the two eventually asked, leaning down slightly, in an attempt to see III’s face. His voice held a genuine hint of concern in it, as he had never seen the other man act like this before. No matter what III tried to do, the tears were still prickling in his eyes. He just wanted to curl up close to IV, to melt into the warmth that surrounded them. He took in a deep breath, trying to quell the nausea in his stomach that threatened to make him sick.
"Fine,” he replied. “Just tired." The words left his lips as a lie. He felt himself shaking slightly. Meanwhile, IV didn’t seem to fully believe the response he was given.
“Are you sure?” He asked, speaking at a quieter tone now. He wasn’t quite convinced that III was telling the truth, but at the same time, he didn’t want to push the other man. All he wanted was to make sure his friend was okay.
"’m fine," III repeated, trying to sound more sure of it. He didn’t. His voice was wavering more than he cared to admit, but it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t tell the truth. Why should IV care about him anyway? He felt another shudder run through his body, and he curled his fingers tighter into the couch. It felt more wrong than he would like. III felt himself close to falling apart right here, feeling that odd need to sob his heart out. It felt so unfair.
IV’s brows furrowed slightly. It was becoming increasingly obvious that III wasn’t okay, and that there was something he wasn’t telling him. He didn’t want to press too far into the subject, but IV felt it was necessary in this situation. He had never seen the other man like this. It worried him.
“You can tell me, you know,” he started. “I promise I won’t judge, if that’s what you’re concerned about. I just wanna help.”
God, III wanted to. He wanted to just spill his heart out to IV in this exact moment, to tell him every feeling, every thought that was currently making him feel like he was suffocating. Everything that he felt when he was close to him. But he couldn’t do it. He felt his chest burn. He felt his throat tighten up with emotion. Of course IV would be concerned. He just had to be so selfless, and sweet, and kind… but it hurt. It hurt more than III wanted to admit. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed around them. He shook his head. He couldn’t tell IV just how much he wanted to melt into him, hold him and be held by him.
"There’s… nothing to tell,” he lied again, his nails digging into the couch. III hated himself for it. The lying, the way he felt so miserable when he was so close to IV, but he just couldn’t say what was wrong. He couldn’t bring himself to admit it, not to someone who so clearly cared, and who would care so much. He didn’t even know how IV would respond if he did tell him. Would he push him away? Laugh? Leave him, disgusted? The thought of it made his heart ache. He wanted to reach out and embrace IV more than he ever had before in the moment, but he forced himself to hold back. God, in that moment he just wanted to collapse in IV’s arms, but it wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay to want these things that he wanted. It wasn’t okay to want to be so close to him. It wasn’t right, and it never would be. He swallowed a sob, his breath shaky. He was trying to hold it together so hard. But his body betrayed him. A single tear slipped down his face, and he wanted to curse himself for it.
Without warning, III found a pair of arms around, embracing him in a warm hold. IV’s eyes were shut, the closeness between their bodies allowing them to hear each other’s heartbeat. Both were quick from worry, though for different reasons. III was worried about his bandmate’s reaction, while IV was worried about what was causing III to act like this.
”Please, III…” IV mumbled, words quiet and almost pleading, a way III hadn’t heard him speak before, “tell me what’s wrong.”
III’s heart ached. IV was so close, his body was warm as always, like he was made of fire and sunlight, and his words were soft. III felt so, so weak. All he wanted was to let himself embrace IV’s warmth, as always. He felt vulnerable, his hands still gripping at the couch, trying so hard to ground himself.
"I-… I just want-" he tried to speak, but his voice came out broken, hoarse. His breath hitched, and he felt another tear slip. He hated this. He hated himself. Why did his bandmate have to be so sweet? It hurt that this would never be something real. That he would never get to experience IV being his… anything more than just his bandmate in this moment. He couldn’t stop another little sob, feeling himself become more and more lost in the warm hold IV had him in.
"I-I-" he tried again, his voice barely a whisper now, the words just barely not reaching IV. He just wanted to be close, and loved.
“It’s okay, take your time,” IV murmured, hands gently and slowly running up and down the other’s back. This was a side of the guitarist III had never even thought existed. The same went for IV’s perspective towards III. And yet, he seemed truly genuine about his words of comfort. III felt more tears slip now, with every pass of IV’s warm touch down his back. He wanted to bury his face in IV’s shoulder, but he couldn’t allow himself that luxury, no matter how much he wanted it. He swallowed hard, trying to keep himself from choking on words and sobbing in IV’s arms. He was sure that he was trembling. He felt like he was being torn apart, and that everything he had been keeping bottled up was about to spill out. He knew he should stop, he should push himself away, keep from spilling all these feelings and hurting himself more. But when was the next time he’d get to feel the comfort that was IV’s body warmth, his embrace, his words, his touch? He let out a shaky breath, trying to keep himself steady before trying to speak again.
"I… don’t want you to hate me," he managed to whimper, another tear rolling down his cheek as his eyes clenched tight.
“And why would I hate you?” IV’s words were soft, unusually so, but provided further comfort. His arms, still loosely wrapped around the taller man’s body, tightened their hold just a little bit, for a split moment.
III had to swallow before trying to talk again, his breath trembling when he felt the grip tighten.
"You- you might think I’m sick or a pervert if I tell you, a-and I don’t want you to- I don’t want you to hate me for my thoughts," he choked out, his voice growing weak, his body shaking. III bit his lip, but it wasn’t enough to stop another sob from escaping. He felt so fragile and weak, just wanting IV so desperately, but he knew that he shouldn’t even be feeling those things for IV in the first place. He should feel like this for a woman, not his bandmate. But the way he felt was different with IV. He never felt such strong, or intense emotions for a woman.
“I’m not going to hate you for your thoughts, III,” IV said, words quieting to just above a whisper as he shifted his body just slightly, now gently nuzzling the crook of the other man’s neck, as if trying to get him to open up. “It’s okay,” he repeated, now speaking slower. “Everything is okay, III.”
III felt his body grow tense the moment he felt IV’s face in the crook of his neck. He felt so sensitive, vulnerable, and emotional. He shivered. He was fighting so hard to keep the tears back.
"You- you promise…?" He managed to ask, his voice breaking. More tears fell, and he felt his body tremble in IV’s arms.
IV nodded. “I promise.”
"I…” he tried again, “I-I want… you," he managed to say, his voice trembling with emotion. It was too much. All the emotions he had been hiding in his heart, for several years now, were spilling out, and III felt himself becoming lost in the arms of his bandmate. "You… you make me feel safe, and I want to be close to you. I want you. I’m sorry," he managed to say, his voice still quivering.
IV was silent, afterwards. What made it even worse was that, with the position they were in, III couldn’t see his expression. But he could not bring himself to move or even look at IV. Maybe the other man was disgusted. Perhaps he was shocked and was just processing the confession. Or maybe he was angry. It was impossible to tell right now, but III assumed the worse. The silence was terrifying. III felt like his heart was pounding in his ears, his head was spinning, and his bandmate was still and silent. He was frozen, tears still slipping down his cheeks, while he hoped for some sort of answer. A response. Anything other than the stillness that plagued him just now.
Did he hate him? Did he think that III really was sick? He wasn’t sure that his poor heart would be able to take the silence, and worse: IV’s answer.
“III…” IV pulled back, though his arms remained around III. Finally, his expression was visible. And to the other’s surprise, he didn’t look mad or appalled. Instead, the corners of his lips were ever so slightly turned upwards, and there was a soft look in his blue eyes. III felt his breath hitch. Was he dreaming? Was he hallucinating? It couldn’t be real. He felt hope rise in his chest, but he was scared to open his mouth. He was frozen, shaking as his eyes scanned over IV, unblinking. He felt his throat dry, like he couldn’t find anything to say in response. He simply stared, his own eyes still glossy from the tears.
IV leaned a little closer, bringing their faces closer. His eyes briefly glanced down at III’s lips, before he looked back up into the other’s eyes. It was clear what he was implying, despite the lack of words.
“Can I…?” He asked, voice coming out a quiet murmur. III swallowed, his gaze locked with IV’s, with their proximity so close. His body felt like it was burning and shivering in equal measure. He swallowed again, before a single, breathy word left his lips.
"Yes.”
He was hardly able to get the single word out, his voice so vulnerable and weak. He was terrified that this was all just a dream, but he hoped and hoped that it was real and he wasn’t going to wake up alone, only to be disappointed. With that response, IV slowly inched closer and closer, before only a few mere centimetres separated them. And before either of them knew it, their lips met, softly pressed against one another’s. IV’s eyes were shut, and his arms moved to wrap loosely around III’s neck. III gasped, the kiss making him go completely still for a moment. Just from that soft kiss, he felt butterflies in his stomach and his arms shook, but he pushed through his frozen nerves, letting his eyes close as he kissed IV back. His hands shakily reached out to hold the sides of IV’s t-shirt, clinging to it as if he was afraid IV would slip away if he didn’t hold him close. III felt his heart beat loud in his ears, the kiss rather desperate from his side. IV’s taste, his body against his own, made him feel so warm and lightheaded. He was trembling, his lips moving slowly against IV’s, the faint hint of tea on his lips was like heaven. He didn’t want the moment to end as he let himself melt into IV’s warm embrace.
Eventually, of course, the two of them had to part for air. IV pulled away, breaking the kiss. His eyes opened, the smile still present on his face as he gazed into III’s eyes. His cheeks were flushed a subtle pink, and he was lightly panting, his chest moving up and down with each breath he took. III felt dizzy when they pulled away. His body was numb, and he felt a small smile spread across his face, though it was more of a subconscious reaction. His lips were parted as his cheeks flushed bright red, his chest heaving as he shakily tried to catch his breath. His fingers clung to IV’s shirt when they pulled away, and he felt like his body was on fire. He was in utter disbelief, he was certain that this couldn’t be real. But IV was still there, right in front of him. He didn’t pull away. He stayed.
“Do you… do you like me?” III asked, his words coming out in a whisper. It sounded like a plea, as if he was almost begging to know the truth, to make sure this wasn’t just him getting his hopes up for something that would never be. His fingers held on tight to IV’s shirt, his heart still beating so loud in his chest that he felt like he could hear it over the blood rushing in his ears. His eyes searched IV’s. He felt so vulnerable in that moment, and his voice shook as he asked that question, his throat felt so dry and like it was growing tighter as he forced the question out. He wanted to know if this moment was truly something they could share, something meaningful, or if it was just another passing moment of weakness between bandmates.
IV’s smile softened. “Of course I do,” he confirmed. The answer was like heaven to III. He knew that IV wouldn’t lie to him, especially not on this matter. He pulled IV in a little closer, pulling the embrace just a little firmer, a small, desperate sigh tumbling from his lips. He closed his eyes again, his forehead pressed to the side of IV’s neck. He let himself melt into him, shaking ever so slightly. His heart ached so badly in that moment, but it also felt like it was racing faster than it ever had before, and he felt happy to be like this. He felt so vulnerable in the moment, but in a way that made him feel safe. He felt so warm in the other’s arms. It didn’t matter if his feelings were right or wrong. They were reciprocated, and that was all that mattered.