Chapter Text
Occtis is staring down into the fire, watching the sparks dance like pixies, throwing shadows against the walls of the cave. The warmth of it does not penetrate his lifeless skin. He’s always cold, these days, and yet his body does not shiver.
His gaze falls on a slumbering Thimble as he closes his eyes and opens them again in his best approximation of a blink.
Everyone else is asleep, now, it seems. Even Vaelus has fallen in to a cross-legged trance, a peaceful look on her face. Besides Occtis, himself, the only one who still seems to be awake is Julien, who’s watching his shadow on the wall with rapt attention, as if it’s going to spring to life and attack him any moment.
It’s been a long night.
Occtis isn’t really sure what he thinks of the other man at this point—they’re not friends, that much is clear, but over the past two weeks, Julien has somehow managed to worm his way onto the very small list of people he considers close. Perhaps he even cares about Occtis. Perhaps he simply fears him.
The flames shift and Julien’s shadow with them, eliciting a sharp intake of breath and a violent flinch from the man.
Occtis finds himself standing up and walking towards his turned back. There’s no way he could sneak up on the man normally, but they’re all deathly tired and Julien’s had who-knows-how-many bottles of wine.
“Julien,” he says when he reaches him, barely more than a whisper.
The man startles, almost jumping to his feet before Occtis’ voice seems to register and he relaxes a bit. His stare remains trained on the wall.
“You should be sleeping. Or, whatever it is you do.” Julien’s voice is rough and low when he speaks, a quiet rumble like distant thunder.
“Probably.”
Julien finally turns his head, eyes traveling down Occtis’ ichor-stained face to the puncture wounds that litter his body. He grimaces and looks away again. “Sleep. We have a long journey ahead of us.”
Occtis sits down next to Julien, leaning back on his hands and joining in watching their silhouettes on the wall. It’s a strange sight, their two shadows sitting side-by-side. Almost like friends. “Julien, I— I’m sorry. For what I said back there. It was cruel and I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine.”
Occtis shakes his head. “No, it’s not.”
Julien meets his gaze again, looking almost confused at the response. His eyes search Occtis’ face. For what, he’s not sure.
Occtis sighs. “I do give a shit about you. You have to know that by now.” He’d wanted to put that a bit more eloquently, but he’s trying his best in his tired, pained state.
The other man simply hums in answer.
“I don’t know if you hate me or fear me, or if you’re just here out of some twisted amalgamation of honor and vengeance, but you were acting entirely reasonably tonight and I should not have spoken to you the way I did.”
“I don’t hate you.”
It isn’t the response he anticipated, but it’s not a bad one.
Julien takes a long breath, screwing his eyes shut for just a moment. “In the past two weeks, I have lost everything I ever cared for to the Tachonis—my father, my sister, my home.” He shakes his head, a hollow laugh escaping him. “I need you to not go die in a hole somewhere I can’t find you,” he says through gritted teeth and a dark humor that Occtis can’t puzzle out, an inside joke he’s not part of.
Occtis cocks his head to the side. “I’m not trying to get killed, you know?”
“You sure as hell could’ve fooled me.”
And maybe Julien is right—maybe some part of Occtis isn’t sure he deserves this second chance at life, out of every soul his family slaughtered—but he’s not going to solve that by arguing with a sleep-deprived Julien Davinos right now, so he bites his tongue instead.
“Are you alright?”
Occtis looks back at Julien, surprised by the question. The man’s eyes are set on the place in his chest where his heart once sat.
“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, his hand coming up to settle over the hollow cavity in his chest.
“Fuck,” Julien spits out, and there’s something raw in his expression, something Occtis hasn’t seen since he knocked on Julien’s door that first night in the Schneffenkeep. “I thought you were dying. I thought Thimble and Teor and Cyd were all lost and then you started fucking dying in front of me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be—” his voice raises before he cuts himself off to take another breath. “I told you before that wherever you go, I will follow. I would rather not follow you into death at your family’s hands.”
Occtis had thought he understood Julien, when he met him. He thought he was a simple man with a simple code that Occtis could follow to predict his actions. He thought he understood, but Julien keeps saying and doing these things that catch Occtis by surprise, throw him off balance. He just wants to understand, and his confusion pools into frustration as he throws his arms into the air. “What do you want from me, Julien? I never asked for your protection. I never asked you to follow me. You say you don’t trust me, and then you beg me not to die, and I just don’t understand why—”
The words die on his tongue as Julien’s lips meet his. It’s a short kiss, barely a brush of lips before Julien’s pulling away again, but Occtis’ brain short-circuits at the touch. He’s been privy to more physical touch in the past two weeks than in the rest of his life put together, but this… this is something altogether different. Occtis has no heart to flutter in his chest, no blood to rush to his cheeks, and the closest he’s felt to butterflies was when his gut spilled onto the ground. Still, it changes something in him, he thinks.
“Oh.”
He’s never really seen himself as the sort of boy who people wanted to kiss, and dying had all but solidified that in his mind. Here he is, though, sitting next to Julien Davinos—Julien, who could have any man or woman in Aramán—and for some reason, he’d chosen to kiss Occtis. Was it just supposed to shut up his rambling? Was it meant to be an answer to his question? Maybe Julien was looking for company—but, no, he wouldn’t have just kissed him and left, if that were the case. What does it mean?
“Occtis,” Julien’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He’s laying out his bedroll, now, as though he hasn’t just upended Occtis’ entire world. “Go to sleep.”
“Right, yeah. That’s… a good idea.”
His thoughts are all over the place as he leans against the wall, closing his eyes. He tells himself that it can wait until tomorrow. After all, they still have the entire trip back to the Orchard ahead of them. They managed to survive the night, mostly, and now they need to rest.
Occtis’ hand is still resting over his chest as he drifts off into a trance. He wonders absently what it means to lose two hearts in as many weeks, what it says about him. He dwells briefly on the feeling of warm lips against his and wonders, in his last moments before consciousness leaves him, if Julien likes the cold.