AN:So someone on tumblr had this really cute Harklight/Slaine idea about a super hero AU, and I thought 'thats super sweet' and went to sleep, and here we are. This is what I do, I ruin good ideas with angst. Hopefully someone else does the idea and makes it adorable and cute?
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Harklight hears the loud, thumping of his feet as he walks down the hallway to Slaine's room, and hates that now; the house is mostly silent. The only sounds now are his own foot falls, shuffling from one place to the other. Before, there was laughter, and humming, and music that Slaine liked to listen too, and sometimes soft singing, and food sizzling, and Slaine's beautiful ringing laughter, and from time to time Slaine would scold him for something. Now, it's only him, shuffling from one room to the other, as the silence eats away at him until he can't bear it any longer. When he can't handle it any more, he either leaves for a quick escape that never solves anything, or travels down the long hallway to Slaine's room, like he is doing right now.
They have an agreement, he and Slaine. Harklight isn't supposed to do this more than once or twice a week. It's dangerous, he needs to find a better way, but he's tried, and he hasn't had any luck yet. It's been two months, and he's getting desperate. This is the fourth time this week, and Harklight is too lonely and scared to care. He's terrified that one day, it isn't going to work. He's terrified that he'll never find a solution. He's terrified that he might have a time limit, and he won't know until it's too late. Every book he's looked at says that over five weeks is too long, not that there are any books about this exactly. Every instinct tells him that he needs to work faster, needs to find the answer sooner, but he keeps running into dead ends. This is the only thing that works. Even if it's dangerous, he's too scared not to do it.
He doesn't hesitate when he gets to Slaine's closed door. Harklight simply swings it open, and shuffles in. He needs any reassurance he can get. It's only been two months, but the room is dusty, and in need of a good cleaning. Normally, he'd keep it immaculate, but he hasn't had the time or focus for anything. It makes him feel worse, keeping Slaine in such a sad, unkempt room like this, but it's easy to forget how it looks when his eyes fall on the figure in the bed.
Slaine looks as he always does. As he has for the past two months, with only slight interruptions. He is immobile, serene, and quiet. He looks like every fairy tale princess that fell asleep to be woken by their true love's first kiss. But they aren't living in a fairy tale. He almost wishes there was some dragon he could fight to make all this better, because he could do that and he would in a heartbeat. Nothing is ever that easy.
The thin layer of ice that encases Slaine glistens in the sunlight that cascades from the window. Slaine loves the sunshine, and the heat it provides, so Harklight went ahead and moved his bed closer to the window. If he had waited longer, if he hadn't been so desperate this week, the ice would be thicker. But he is desperate, he can't help it.
He hurries to Slaine's bed side, and gently lays his hands on Slaine's chest, where his heart is. He feels heat bubble and coil inside him, and lets it slowly seep out of his hands. Slowly, he starts to hear the tell tale signs of ice cracking, of feeling things shift under his finger tips. It is a beautiful sound, and he makes sure that he keeps his breathing even and slow, so that he won't lose control of his powers. He doesn't want to burn Slaine in his eagerness.
As the ice beneath his hand melts, he can feel the slow but steady thumping of the heart beneath his hands, and his relief is a tangible thing. It worked again. He hurries about melting the rest of the ice, placing one hand on long legs, and another over Slaine's abdomen. When those areas are no longer icy, he moves onto Slaine's face, brushing away stray bits of ice from his hair, and warming his cheeks. Slaine has started to shiver, which is a good sign.
"Slaine" He calls, and he makes sure that his voice is even and not desperate. He is desperate, but he can't let Slaine know that. He can't let on. He has to be stronger than this.
He sees Slaine's lips fumble for a few moments soundlessly, before his blue green eyes flutter open, and settle on him. They're dazed, and unfocused, but just as vibrant and gorgeous as always. "H-ha-arkl-ligh-ht-t." Slaine's lips stumble around the sounds and the cold that encases him in violent shivers. Harklight lets his relief leak into his face, and keeps his hands warm as he reaches down to lift Slaine up. "N-n-no, I c-ca-an-"
Slaine is asking to walk on his own; they've had this conversation before. They've both agreed that it's probably better for him, that he needs what scarce exercise he can get, even if it's slow going, even if Harklight has to pick him up when he falls. It is better for him, but this time, Harklight can't. He can't watch Slaine on shaky legs, and he can't watch him stumble and fall, and he can't watch the frustration the whole thing will bring. He can't do it. Not today. "I'm sorry, but please let me." Slaine must see the desperation that he is trying to hide, because after a few second, he nods his head around his shivers.
Harklight picks Slaine up as if he was carrying a bride into her new house. It seems Slaine is past the point of being embarrassed by it, because he folds himself against Harklight's chest, and snakes his trembling arms around Harklight's neck. It's for warmth, they both know that. Harklight strains to keep the violently shivering figure securely in his arms, as he turns, and heads straight for the bathroom. He fumbles with Slaine in his arms for a few seconds, before he's able to turn on the shower, and put it as hot as it goes. He then gently places Slaine in the tub. The reaction is instantaneous; steam envelops the room as the hot water touches Slaine's cold skin and Harklight watches as relief plays across Slaine's face. The heat would scald normal people, but they aren't normal.
He plugs the tubs drain, and then goes about fumbling to get Slaine's wet clothes off. They've thought about leaving him without clothes, because they just get wet when Harklight has to thaw him, and they make him even colder in that small interim between the bed and the bathroom. Despite all of the very rational reasons, in the end, Slaine wants them, so they keep them. Slaine is so visibly relieved by the warmth, that for a few moments, he just basks in it, before blinking his eyes open in a daze, and fumbling to try and help with the clothes. They get them off fast enough, and Harklight discards them on the bathroom floor. He then quickly takes off his own as the tub starts to fill, and sinks into the tub as well. They were embarrassed about this at first too, but if he doesn't stay in the water, and heat it, it'll freeze, leaving Slaine stuck. It isn't fair, but they've found that baths together aren't bad either. In fact, they both agree that it's nice, around Slaine's shivers, of course.
Harklight closes his eyes, and lets his powers reach out; counteracting the chill Slaine gives to the water. It isn't easy, since Slaine's powers are so strong, but they take a while to turn things to ice, and he can turn his heat on and off at will. Well, he can now, as long as he doesn't use it to much. That was what got them into this horrible situation to begin with.
His emotions must be as clear as day on his face, because when he opens his eyes, Slaine is reaching out to him, his hand hesitant, and his eyes worried. He's supposed to be stronger than this. He's supposed to be strong for Slaine, who is suffering, and he can't even do that. His thoughts must show, because Slaine's hesitation disappears, and his cold hands are cupping Harklights cheeks. Slaine places their foreheads together, smiles a sad, little hopeful smile, and locks their eyes together. There is so much warmth in Slaine's eyes that it's ironic. Since Slaine himself is never warm anymore, needs him for that. Harklight wonders if his eyes are equally cold, and thinks that they should be. His eyes should be cold and desolate.
"S-stop, Harkl-light." And Harklight does stop. He watches Slaine, how he's still shivering, but how he can shape words more easily, how it isn't violent anymore. The shivers are just trembles now, the jumping of his lip, the twitching of his limbs."Not y-your fault-t." Slaine states it, as he has every time they do this. Every time Harklight brings him out of the ice that encases him, every time he can't hide the hopelessness on his face, Slaine selflessly reassures him. It's as if he's the one that so desperately needs help. As if he deserves the comfort Slaine so readily gives him. Harklight knows he doesn't. He hasn't had any success. Slaine needs him, and he hasn't been able to come up with anything. His desperation shows, and he can't help it. Slaine came back this time, is here, with him now, but for how much longer? Will it be the next time that Slaine doesn't come back, that Harklight doesn't feel the familiar thump thump thump of Slaine's heart under his warm hands? He doesn't know, and it terrifies him.
"Harklight!" His eyes slide open again, and he looks at the depth and warmth in Slaine's eyes. He thinks about how hard Slaine is trying, how it must frighten him to fall asleep, and not know if he'll ever wake up. He feels so very selfish. "Not, your, fault." Slaine measures his speaking, taking noticeable pauses between each word, so that he doesn't stutter them around his shivers. For Slaine's sake, he tries to smile back, he tries to think of solutions, he tries to be optimistic, but it's so very hard when Slaine can see right through him.
Harlkight swallows, and nods his head once. He shouldn't be grieving, Slaine isn't dead. He's so horrible.
"Y-y-you look-k tire-ed, H-harkl-light." Slaine states, no longer trying to stop his shivering.
He should deny it. He should play the dutiful role he's taken, and tell Slaine that he is well, that he is eating well, that he has a lead, that there is hope, but it's been two months. He has nothing. Nothing but fear and dread, and as much as Slaine says it isn't his fault, it is. Slaine wouldn't be this way, if he hadn't lost control. Slaine had never been able to control his powers, the coldness that permeated him, but when Harklight lost control, Slaine pushed himself to his limits. Now, it's unstoppable, Harklight can only provide temporary relieve, at great risk. Food turns icy in his mouth unless its scolding, water freezes around him, unless Harklight warms the water, Slaine can't even sit still for long unless Harklight's hands are physically on him, staving off the frost and ice that creeps along his skin.
"I'm sorry." It's the only thing Harklight can find to say. The only adequate thing he can put into words, and even then, it isn't enough.
"I-t's oka-ay. N-not your f-f-fault." It isn't okay. It is all his fault. But he can't fight that. Not with Slaine as he is. Harklight need this. He desperately needs this. "W-what da-ay is it-t-t?"
Harklight swallows, and looks away. "Saturday. The 23th of January."
Slaine frowns, and pulls away. "H-harklight" He stutters and stops once at the beginning, but makes an effort to stay it without pausing after.
All he can do is look down at the water, as it falls from the shower head, and pools in the tub around them. They've talked about this. Twice a week is best. It gives Harklight enough time to get his powers in check so that he doesn't over tax himself. It leaves Slaine weak, but he says he can manage it. It gives them a schedule, it gives them stability. Harklight is only supposed to break it, if there is good news, and Slaine certainly knows that there is no good news today. But Harklight can't keep to it. He can't live in this empty house alone. He can't toil endlessly trying to find solutions and always coming up empty. He can't stop imagining that one day Slaine is just not going to come back. "I'm sorry." He says it again, because it's all he can say. There isn't anything else better, no words that can express the terror that holds him. Not even Slaine can help him, but it's so much better than being alone.
As if Slaine knows exactly what he's thinking, cold arms envelop him. Harklight blinks in shock, at both the chill of Slaine's skin, and the action itself. He has accepted personal contact like this, because Slaine needs it, needs the warmth, but this is not that. This is different. This is Slaine reaching out for him, this is Slaine holding him, instead of the other way around, and this is Slaine's cold breath on his neck. "Stop" The statement is a plea, a wretched hopeless little plea, and it wasn't he who said it, but Slaine. Slaine who actually needs comfort, who is weak not by choice or guilt, who is always so strong for him when he needs it.
"P-please, don't-t giv-ve up on-n me." The realization hits him like a punch to the face. It rattles every part of his being, and he winces in pain. He wraps his arms around Slaine's smaller frame, and holds tightly. Slaine is right, that's what he was doing, wasn't he? He'd given up on himself, when Slaine needed him. The shame and relief that overtake him are both painful and liberating. If he can believe in anything, he can believe in Slaine, who is also trying his best, who is also working hard, who hasn't yet given up. He can do better, for the now frail figure in his arms.
"Never." Harklight says, and he means it with absolute certainty; every syllable, every letter. "I'll never give up on you."
And this time it is Slaine apologizing, stumbling over the sounds. But it isn't only the shivering that wracks his frame; it is also the tears that are freezing on his cheeks. Harklight reaches up, and thaws them, so that the tears tumble down, and drip into the tub's water. He's crying too, because the weight is suddenly gone. He holds tighter to the malnourished body in his arms, as Slaine sobs and shivers.
He did need this, but not in the way he imagined.