foulplayed | INBOX

[Later, when he's thinking, he'll feel bad about shredding what was probably Yuri's third-favorite scarf completely asunder.

But that's just it: right now, he's not thinking. There isn't a thought in his head because it feels like there's an ocean roaring in his ears, and his vision has gone white and his clarity narrowed down to a pinprick. One second there's pressure on his face and the next second his cheek is burning from where he'd scraped it against the bottom of Yuri's stupid perfect shoe, yanking out from underneath him in the same movement that ripped his arms free of their illusory bonds.

He hasn't heard that sound in a long time. That scornful, disapproving tch, the click of the tongue that always preceded something predictably degrading, something to keep him in his place, something to remind him that no matter what he did or how he tried he'd never be enough, never be her son, never be the right son —

He doesn't even realize he's crying until he feels the heat drip down his face, messy and ugly.]

Why are you doing this?!

[It's barely even an accusation, but only because it's too raw for that.]

Damn it, Yuri, if you're trying to sound like my bitch of a stepmother you're doing a damn good job of it!

[He shakes his head, angry and frustrated and confused, and scrubs at his eyes with the back of his hand as he stumbles to his feet, furiously trying to dash the evidence of his own hurt away.]

Saints, is this — is that what I do to you? Shit, I —

[He shakes his head again, harder this time, and lets his instincts take over, knocking Yuri carelessly out of his way as he fumbles on shaking legs toward the attached bathroom and slams the door shut behind him, sliding down the length of it to the floor as he huddles on the tile and hugs his knees and tries to collect himself enough to think in a straight line.]

( The penny doesn't drop until its far, far too late, and when it does? It hits with a resounding clang that shatters Yuri to his core.

If you're trying to sound like my bitch of a stepmother you're doing a damn good job of it! )

Wait, Balth—

( He's crying.

Balthus is crying, and it's entirely Yuri's fault. He'll curse himself for days for not going with his gut-instinct and just asking if he was okay — if there was anything he needed to change, if it wasn't working for him, if he should stop comparing their play to what he had with his fucking paying clients.

Still reeling from the sudden shock of Balthus's wet, crimpled expression, Yuri finds he doesn't quite have time to steady himself when the man pushes up and barrells past. Those heels can only withstand so much: he's knocked out of the way and teeters back over onto his ass, his left ankle twisting painfully as his shoes demonstrate the limits of their practicality.

Fortunately, he's pretty good at keeping his pain to himself. He'd be a damn useless rogue if he cried out every time he suffered a twisted ankle or a cut; there's a short exhale, that's all, before he's kicking off those stupid pumps and pulling himself to his feet again. )

Balthus, please! I thought—

( It's strange, isn't it, how quickly panic sets in when someone you care about is this distressed. Yuri hurries to the bathroom door and tries the handle a few times — locked, no surprises there — before looking around helplessly as though their bed or their nightstands might offer some kind of solution. )

Fuck, I thought you wanted it like that! It— my clients in Enbarr, they—

( Yuri pulls in a shivering breath as he rests his forehead against the door, his eyes scrunching closed. )

Please, B. Please talk to me.

Edited 2021-12-02 00:42 (UTC)

[He's barely even got his forehead against his knees before the feeling that he's made a terrible mistake starts to settle down around his shoulders. Guilt about the notes of terror in Yuri's tone, about the memory of the torn scarf, about the vehemence of the reaction that even now he can't really explain. He shouldn't have run off like that. He shouldn't have come in here and locked the door. But he did and here he is and now Yuri sounds nauseous like he's nauseous and he just wishes he could sulk and be quiet and calm down a little, before having to get into the messy business of sorting all this out.

He almost says a lot of things, in trying to figure out what to say to begin with. Almost reacts to the idea that Yuri was comparing him to one of the Enbarr bastards of his youth, apparently. Almost snaps something about how he'd promised never to scare or humiliate Yuri when they played, and doesn't understand why it wouldn't go both ways. Almost whispers that he thought Yuri was the one who wanted it like that, and he'd do anything to make him happy — or so he thought.

But what he finally says is: ]

I tried to like it. For you.

[It sounds so stupid now; he regrets saying it almost instantly. He's acting stupid, and he's naked and cold. Uselessly, he fumbles for one of the towels on a nearby rack and pulls it around his shoulders, pretending it's warm even though it isn't.]

I thought it'd get better. That you'd just — make it good, like you always do.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Balthus, I didn’t— I’ve only ever done it like that before, so I thought it was just … that you’d want it like that too.

( Yuri pushes away from the wood for long enough to press the heels of his hands into his eyes, feeling the nausea roil deep in his stomach as he tries to figure out how he could have done so much damage in such a short period of time.

In a word? It’s devastating. )

I wouldn’t have carried on if I knew it was really hurting you, B. I couldn’t—

( His own voice catches at that point — an unusual occurrence for Yuri. He preemptively brushes at his cheeks before sinking down to kneel on the floor outside the bathroom, unwilling to stray too far from Balthus even if they have to have a panel of wood between them. )

All that, it wasn’t me. I don’t think those things — I’d never think those things. I just said them because it’s what people have wanted me to say before.

( It’s a desperate explanation, and he kind of hates himself for it, but it’s the truth nonetheless. Yuri falls silent for a moment before letting his head thunk back against the door. )

I should have checked in. I’m sorry — I’m sorry I let it get so bad. I can’t—

( He killed four men for hurting Balthus, didn’t he? How is it he’s ended up causing him harm, too? )

What can I do? Do you need tea, or— should I find some clothes, so you can keep warm?

Edited 2021-12-02 01:31 (UTC)

[When he puts it like that, it makes a terrible kind of sense, doesn't it? The thing Yuri thought he needed to do more of was the very thing that made it all go sideways. He didn't know, and he should've checked in but he didn't. But it's not solely and squarely his fault, either. He, Balthus, let it go on, too. He could've said something, too, and he didn't.

Considering that, being so damn sensible about it, grates on his nerves in a way he's not expecting. There's a part of him that doesn't want to be understanding; it's a part of him that's still raw and aching and wants this all to be someone else's fault. It's the part of him that's tired of believing that no one in the world will ever protect him, and wants the slim consolation of being petty about being proven right in that belief one more time.

But that's not Yuri's fault, and he knows it. Knows he'll regret it, too, if he lets the wobbly feelings shaking around in his chest lead him to being childish for the sake of being childish, and takes it out on him for no good reason.

(Because Yuri would let him, he thinks. Because right now, Yuri would let him take it out on him for no good reason, and that's what started this whole mess in the first place.)

He huddles, staring at the darkness swimming behind his closed eyes. He's got things to apologize for, and he should do that. It's his turn, too.]

I shouldn't have...said what I said. Comparing you to my stepmom. M'sorry.

[Nothing. Nothing. You're nothing.]

Please don't cry. I'll just — I'll just get over it. So we can try again, yeah? That's me, the...hhh. The Exalted King of...

[Nothing.]

...It's not your fault. I don't even know why I said that stuff. Just...just gimme a minute, I'll — I'll get it up again, yeah, and you can — just, ride me or step on me or whatever, it'll be fine, it'll be like it never happened.

... What?

( It takes Yuri a few moments to understand the implication of Balthus's words — that right now he's saying he'll just shake it off, try and get hard again, that they can move on like this never happened. It leaves Yuri feeling sick to his stomach that Balthus feels that way about him — if only because he knows what it's like to have to continue with sex he isn't enjoying. )

C'mon, Balthus, we're not trying again.

( Yuri scrubs his hands over his face, then rakes his fingers back through his hair as he pulls in a slow, calming breath. He's beginning to feel frayed around the edges — like there's nothing he can do or say that'll stop the both of them from unravelling — but then something occurs to him that makes his blood run cold. )

... Wait, is is that what you think I want? To keep going, even though I know I've hurt you?

( It's a heavy realisation for a lot of reasons, but some of them aren't for him to consider right now. He could fall into a hole of wondering what he's ever done that's made Balthus feel like he can't 'no' to him, and he could begin picking apart their sex life from the moment it started to try and identify more moments like this that he's missed. He could let that nausea take hold completely, at the idea that Balthus thinks he's the kind of person who'd want to carry on trying to have sex after knowing he'd hurt his partner.

Later. Later. For now, he has to address the most concerning revelation that's come from all this: )

Balthus, you should't offer to do things you don't like just because you think the other person is enjoying it. You matter just as much as anyone else — more than anyone else, to me.

( He exhales shakily. )

Minya, right? First ... first person? Most loved?

( He doesn't speak Kupalan, but he remembers how something had just clicked into place when Balthus explained to him what that little pet-name meant. )

That's what you are, to me, and— and you're hiding from me, Balthus, which kinda suggests you don't wanna carry on.

( Hiding from him. Balthus is hiding from him, because he hurt and scared him. Yuri's pretty certain he's never felt worse in his entire life. )

So no, we're not having sex. Not now.

It's what I want...

[He says, a little miserably, and knows that he can't just leave it at that. It's confusing enough for himself, much less for Yuri, and Yuri's stuck working off of a lot less information than he's got right now, even if he doesn't wholly understand all of his own emotions at the moment, either.]

I mean it. I wanted it, it's not like you twisted my arm or something, I — I just, I don't understand why it wasn't good. It was great, until all of a sudden it just...wasn't.

[But even as he says it, he knows why. He knows exactly why, he just doesn't want to say it.

But the sound of minya in Yuri's voice is the first thing in a while that's drowned out some of the horrible empty echoes of his stepmother's memory, and he clings to it, sucking in a long breath before letting it out with a sigh.]

I guess it...it didn't feel like a thing we were doing together anymore. When you were...looking at me like you didn't care about me. Just felt like a thing happening to me. Without you.

[He presses his face to his knees, harder this time.]

You're always there when we do stuff. Even when you've got fangs and tentacles and whatever. But it's — I mean, you said it yourself, that's not how it was this time around. That wasn't you. Right?

( Yuri sags a little, nods, then realises Balthus can't see him through the door. )

Right. It was ... ( Yuri draws in a deep breath, then sighs it out as he leans up against the wood. ) It was a version of me, I suppose. That's the guy those Enbarr nobles wanted — someone to break them down, make them feel like they didn't have control over a damn thing — and I guess it's the guy who comes out when I've gotta take out the trash.

( He sounds a little flat now — like someone who's talking about a part of himself he's come to hate. )

But it's not me, it's just— it's work. I put myself away and become that ... thing, because it's what I need to do. What I thought I needed to do for you, too, because— because I thought you wanted something you couldn't ask for from someone else.

( A beat. )

I didn't ... talking down to people like that, being cruel, it's not really something that gets me going. I mean, I liked all the stuff before that, but when I began thinking I had to go further with it ...

( Ugh. He's about to sound like a huge hypocrite, but he has to be honest with Balthus now: )

I did it because I thought you liked it. And— you do so much for me, B, even though I'm damaged goods, so I thought if I could just give you something you needed ...

( Yuri shakes his head. )

I don't know. Maybe I thought it'd make you more likely to stay. Pathetic, huh?

( Kind of ironic, really, that it's had such a drastically inverse effect. )

Edited 2021-12-02 13:54 (UTC)

[The flash of sudden, fleeting resentment that burns through him as he listens to Yuri explain himself — it's unexpected, to say the least, and more than a little startling. Maybe that's still just the pettiness and hurt working its way out of him, he thinks, as he carefully lets himself feel what he feels without trying to snuff it out or rationalize it away.

That's what got them in all this trouble to begin with, isn't it?]

...I know that's how you feel. Like you're not good enough, I know that. And you know I can't begin to imagine the hell you went through, growing up. All that shit you and Aelfric talked about, not being able to do anything worse to you than you'd been through already.

[He runs his hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp beneath the thick mess of rumpled locks. It makes him feel a little better. Not as good as if it were Yuri doing it.]

I don't know why you put me on such a pedestal by comparison. I — look, I know I didn't have it as bad as you. Hell, I probably had it the best of any of the Wolves. Nobody put me in a cage or killed my whole house or made me do what you had to do to survive. I just got kicked around, you know? Told I was nothing.

[It sounds so stupid, even saying it, but he makes himself press on anyway.]

But I hate it when you call yourself damaged goods like that, like — like I'm not. Nobody ever wanted me either, you know...? So, I just.

Nobody ever protected me. Either.

I want you.

( Yuri replies fiercely, unable to hold back the flare of anger that ripples through him at the thought of Balthus's no-good family. )

I'll protect you, B, I'd tear down Garreg Mach if it—

( Oh.

Oh.

And just like that, it all makes sense. Balthus grew up unwanted, pushed aside, forced into the shadow of his younger brother — all the while his step-mother lorded over him and threatened him with the possibility of breaking him down into nothing. Falling in with Yuri might not have been the best thing he could have done for his personal safety, but the Ashen Wolves are a family of misfits who'd do anything for each other—

And Yuri, in particular, has promised him all of him. Promised he'd protect him, promised he'd stand by him, promised he'd kill anyone and everyone to keep Balthus alive, and safe, and loved. To take that away from him so suddenly — and with no warning — must have been like tearing away his lifeline and leaving him to drown at sea.

Worse still, Balthus didn't cry for help because he thought Yuri wanted to watch him go under. )

Fuck.

( Just a soft murmur, as Yuri drops his head into his hands for a long moment. )

Would you come out of there? Please.

( Another shaky breath. )

Please.

...Yeah. Yeah...all right.

[He doesn't know how to fit into words the reason he did it in the first place, taking off and holing up in the bath like that. It's not like he likes being locked in places. There's an irony to that if he thinks too hard about it, even, so he doesn't.

Running is just what he's always done, when there's no one looking out for him but himself. Running from his stepmother. Running from his debts. Resolving the situation by taking himself out of it. He's never liked to think of himself as a victim. Getting away from it all just makes it easier, is all. Quieter.

It would've been so much harder to do this if he'd had to look at the expression on Yuri's pretty face while he was trying to manage it.

Slowly, he pushes himself away from the door, getting up to his feet with the towel still around his shoulders, and unlocks the door.]

I never thought it was real, you know. I mean...I knew it was a game. Not you.

[And so he emerges at last, eyes low but face dry, looking a bit like he's been through a wringer but at least not trembling anymore.]

I think that was the whole problem. I knew it wasn't you, when I needed it to be you. I...I think I still need it to be you. Okay...?

( Yuri manages to pull himself to his feet just before the door swings open. He can't hide the fact that he's devastated in the same way Balthus can't hide the fact this has been mentally exhausting, and the glassiness in his eyes wobbles just a little as he finally lets himself look at his partner properly. )

Yeah. Just me. No more pretending to be someone I'm not.

( He reaches for Balthus's hand, but manages to stop himself just short of linking their fingers together the way he wants to. It aches — Saints, it aches not to just reach out and comfort him — but he doesn't want to fuck it up any more than he already has right now. )

Is it — can I touch you?

( There were times when Yuri didn't want to be touched after a particularly miserable experience, and he wants to extend Balthus the consideration that wasn't always afforded to him. )

I just— all that stuff I said. I'm yours, B. Okay? Yours. None of that stuff ever could have been true, because I'm a gonner for you.

Let's, uh. Can we — I want to get in bed. With you.

[It's awful, all the dancing around and uncertainty. He's glad for it, for the space and the care; he just also hates that it has to be a question to begin with, whether or not Yuri can touch him. But he reaches out and takes his hand himself, bridging the gap that Yuri couldn't or wouldn't. He weaves their fingers together, and breathes out a slow sigh.

It never feels good when they're out of sync. They work too well together otherwise; it makes the dysfunction all the more pronounced by comparison.]

I don't want you to beat yourself up over this, either. I can't — I can't reassure you like I normally would right now. So I need you to just trust me and...

[He swallows hard.]

And make good on what you said. That you'll protect me. Just do that. 'Cause you do it better than anyone.

( Yuri feels his pulse stutter just a little when Balthus slips his hand into his own. It's better, so much better when they're touching while they're together, and knowing that Balthus isn't repulsed or afraid of him calms the tempest of self-loathing somewhat. )

I will. You know I will, B. I might not get it right all the time, but I'd— I'll do anything to make sure you're safe.

( He squeezes Balthus's hand just the once before moving to guide him over to the bed. When they reach the edge he lets him go so that he can peel out of the rest of his outfit: skin-to-skin sounds like a nice compromise for a time when words are failing the both of them, and he takes a moment to dim the lights before slipping in to the plush warmth of their bed. )

C'mon, get in.

( Honestly?

Good shout, Balthus. Their bed is immediately familiar: it smells like them, it creaks just a little, there's a little lipstick smudged on the corner of one of the pillows, and in many ways it's like sinking into a safe little corner of the world that's reserved just for them.

A hesitant smile touches the corner of his lips. )

Fair warning, my feet are pretty cold.

[It's sort of funny to watch Yuri strip down — arguably one of the sexiest things that exists in the entire world, watching Yuri Leclerc shed his clothes like leaves in the fall — and yet not feel even the slightest twitch of arousal from it because he's too caught up in being grateful for the simple comfort of being warm and snug on a soft mattress beneath a pile of covers. It's sort of like running away of a different variety, making a barricade out of blankets instead of bathroom doors, except this time it's one they can do together.

He'll have a bruise on his thigh later, from the grind of Yuri's heel. His cheek is starting to sting a little from the friction burn; he should've washed it when he was in the bathroom, but he forgot.

(He reminds himself to turn on his side so that part of his face is pressed against the pillows, so Yuri doesn't see it and keep feeling bad about it.)

But that's all for later. For now he just crawls under the covers himself, getting comfortable and taking up slightly more than his half of the bed in the way he gravitates to the center, so that Yuri will basically have to snuggle up against him if he intends to make their sleeping arrangement work.]

Hey, I'm a Ruby, remember? I've got it covered.

[It's nice, though. The thin slivers of humor. It's like remembering who they're supposed to be, and not who they've been.]

It's nice when you, uh...y'know, run your hands through my hair? When I was a kid my stepmom, she'd grab me by the hair and drag me around, so. When you do it, I don't think about that. I think about you.

( Balthus in the center, Yuri cuddled up against him where he fits snugly under his arm. This is just how things are supposed to be between them: no masks, no pretending, just two people caring for each other without caveats or conditions. )

... I noticed you liked that, y'know. Whenever I pet you like a puppy you get this look, like you're seconds away from melting.

( Yuri reaches up, his fingertips momentarily tentative as they skim over the curve of Balthus's jaw, before sinking into the warm mess of his hair and stroking through to rub circles into the back of his head. For all his hesitance Yuri's touch isn't shy or overly gentle; the pressure is good, the same way it would be any other time, as though he wants to remind Balthus by touch alone that this horrible moment will pass. )

The way that woman treated you ...

( He takes a second to nuzzle a little closer, their legs slipping together beneath the covers into a comfortable tangle. )

I don't ever want to do anything that makes you think of her when you're with me. Not ever again.

( At this, his voice sounds a little tight. )

So you'll tell me if it starts going that way, okay? While we're—

( Fucking, playing, exploring withing one another's boundaries. Yuri presses his eyes closed for a moment, then shakes his head minutely as he continues stroking Balthus's hair. )

Please.

[Unseen beneath the covers, once they start to make contact, Balthus's gemstone begins to glow faintly as it so often does when they're together; indeed, within a minute or so, it's started to gently radiate heat that has the blankets warming cozy around them.]

I should've said something. I...I don't know why I didn't. It seems stupid, now, that I didn't.

[But he's visibly unwinding like this, surrounded by comfort and spoiled, as his expression starts to take on the precise puppy look Yuri mentioned before.]

I really like it when you do stuff to me. M'sorry, Sacha. I'll tell you. Promise.

( Sacha.

Balthus says his name — the name no-one in Noctium but the two of them know — Yuri feels little pinpricks of heat begin to tickle at the corners of his eyes. It's stupid that something so small could carry so much weight: his eyes go wide as he realises what's happening, and he sniffs just the once before exhaling irritably and tucking his head against Balthus's throat. )

... Sorry.

( Another sniffle, but he manages to kepe his voice relatively level. )

It's— I didn't know if you'd ever call me that.

( His lips meet the apple of Balthus's throat, just a hint of a soft kiss. )

It sounds good coming from you.

I know who's with me right now. Who m'talking to.

[His cheeks heat right along with his Ruby as Yuri tucks in against him, fluttering kisses that make his own breath catch in his throat.]

Figured I should make sure you knew I knew, too.

[And he curls a little more solidly around him, drawing him close until there's no space left between them, sharing space just like they're sharing everything else.]

( Yuri nods minutely, as much as he's able, as the last vestiges of his own upset melt away along with the space between them. It isn't gone — this will be something that stays with Yuri for a long, long time — but he's beginning to think it might be ... manageable. Something he can learn from, as he strives to be better for the both of them. )

It's me. Just me.

( Just Sacha and Balthus. )

... I love you, okay?

( The hand in Balthus's hair slows it's scratching before sliding down over his neck, over his shoulder, to come to rest against his chest. )

And— and I don't think I'd be okay, without you. So no matter what your stepmom or anyone else says, you mean everything to me.

( Never nothing. )

...Heh. Just you. Sacha von Albrecht.

[He ducks his chin, pressing that thread of faint humor against Yuri's hair in the form of a hidden smile, and lets his focus drift to the warm feeling of Yuri's hand finding its way to cover over his heart. He'd been afraid, for a minute, that Yuri's desperation in trying to atone for what happened would turn to a reluctance to touch him at all, but — really, it's the exact thing he needed. Just this kind of soft touch, this sweetly possessive sort of caress.

It's the kind of thing his stepmother would never do, finding all these ways to make him feel safe and wanted. There's no better shield against her memory than tucking up against Yuri and pulling the blankets up to their chins, and luxuriating in doing nothing at all in the dark and the decadent quiet.

I love you.

That's his. His. And no one is ever going to take it away from him.]

Mmmhey. In Kupalan, it's...mélinyel. I love you. Mélinyel, minya, órenya. I love you, my first, my heart.

[He holds on to Yuri, a little tighter still.]

Doesn't matter how I say it, though. It's true, every way there is.

( Sacha von Albrecht, huh? This is the second time that name has made its way into the conversation, and this time it brings with it equal parts warmth and amusement that warms Yuri through to his core. Balthus mught feel a pulse of it through their bond — a heart-felt glow that echoes relief, pleasure, and a steady kind of hope — before it settles back into their usual affectionate exchange.

He knows that this particular moment isn't supposed to be about him — and still, Balthus has managed to find a way to soothe him simply by being himself. Yuri really did luck out with this guy, didn't he? )

Mélinyel, minya, o-órenya.

( He repeats, trying the words out as best he can as he slides his hand back up into Balthus's hair. To love someone, and know that you're loved in return ...

It's kind of terrifying, really, but in the very best of ways. )

I'm gonna have to get fluent if we're gonna be doing this thing for a while, huh?

Aw. It sounds cute when you do it.

[It's because Yuri's got a voice made for music, he decides sort of sleepily, without a whole lot of conscious recognition of where the thought is even coming from. Of course he'd be able to hear something and sing it back, pitches and tones and stresses. It doesn't sound like a native Kupalan speaker would, of course, because he's not one. But that doesn't make it any less comforting; if anything, it's better, having that extra certainty that it's Yuri who's the one talking.]

I wish I knew more. Mostly I just remember stuff my mom used to say. Like to my dad, or to me. Love words. Family words.

[He nuzzles against Yuri's hair.]

S'why I really only say 'em to you.

( Love words. Family words.

The thought makes the beat of his heart stutter in his chest. )

Oh yeah?

( Yuri smiles into Balthus's throat, his words warm against his skin as he tilts his head to kiss his pulse. )

I like that. Something that's just for us.

( He manages, before having to take a moment to yawn against Balthus's neck. Yuri is tired — Saints, but this has taken it out of him and then some — and as much is evident in the way the had rubbing through Balthus's hair begins to slow. )

Mm. Just ... you and me.

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