"I know you're awake."
Sting sighed and opened his eyes, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. From the itchy blanket covering him, he guessed he was in the guild infirmary. Freed sat in the chair next to his bed, and Sting frowned at him.
"I sent Rogue home this morning," Freed explained, absently picking at a bandage on his forearm. "Laxus had to practically carry him away, but he hadn't slept in two days, so I felt it was necessary."
"Two days?" Sting meant to sound incredulous, but his voice came out as little more than a whisper. His hand moved to his throat, wincing as he felt the raised, bruised skin. His hand began to tremble as he recalled the reason he was here.
A tendril of shadow snaked across the ground and wrapped it around his neck faster than anyone could see. It pulled at him until he was standing on the tips of his toes, then dragged him toward Rogue.
He shuddered, pushing himself up into a sitting position. Everything hurt. His arms were burning, and he realized they were wrapped from wrist to elbow. His left hand was also bandaged, and he could feel the sharp puncture wounds underneath where Rogue had bit him.
The shadows curled around Sting's arms, filling with magic and burning into his skin.
"Yes, you've slept for quite some time," Freed replied. Sting realized that the green-haired man looked exhausted as well – dark circles under his eyes and pale skin.
"It was…in you." Sting whispered, frowning. He coughed, wincing at the sharp pain. It felt like he had swallowed broken glass.
"Don't talk," Freed said, handing Sting a glass of water, which he drank gratefully. "Yes, we encountered the demon in the desert. I managed to trap it, for a while at least. I didn't realize it would move to Rogue so easily." He looked downcast. "I'm sorry."
It's not your fault, Sting replied automatically. Did…it hurt you? Freed nodded, gesturing to the bandage on his arm.
"A little. It was using me as a host," he admitted, shuddering. "If Natsu and the others hadn't found us when they did, it might have killed me." His words were matter-of-fact, but Sting could see discomfort written clearly on the rune mage's face. "I didn't see your fight with it, but Laxus assured me it was quite impressive. High praise, coming from him."
Sting dropped his gaze to the blanket and dug his fingernails into his palms, catching a heavy lump as it rammed into the back of his throat. Impressive isn't the word I would use, he signed, hands still trembling slightly. I nearly killed Rogue. He growled in frustration, pushing himself up out of the bed and nearly tumbling to the ground. Freed grabbed his arm to support him, but Sting yanked it away and stubbornly stood on his own, swaying unsteadily.
"It was a sadistic creature," Freed said, unruffled by Sting's aggressive behaviour. "It also wanted me to harm someone I care about. I'm sorry it came to that for you."
Sting squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold in the tears he knew were waiting to spill out.
"It's alright to cr—"
"I KNOW!" Sting shouted, immediately regretting the outburst when he broke into a coughing fit and saw blood spotting the back of his hand when he covered his mouth. "Fucking…shit, fuck, fucking, fuck, shit, fuck…" He snarled, snatching the water from Freed's hand again and swallowing the whole glass in one gulp, trying to ignore the stinging.
I'm fucking sick of crying. He slumped back onto the bed and brought his legs up underneath him, refusing to meet Freed's gaze. I feel like that's all I do. Rogue was fucking possessed by the demon he spent years fighting, and I'm the one losing my shit. He dropped his head into his hands and sighed.
"From what Laxus described, that whole incident was very emotionally charged," Freed replied gently. "And I'm certain it didn't help that the entire guild was witnessing it." Sting groaned into his hands, ears going hot with embarrassment.
Sting's chest heaved and he realized he was still crying. They were ugly tears, sharp and hard and spilling down his cheeks and onto the floor. His body shook with sobs, and he knew the entire guild could hear him but couldn't bring himself to care.
He cared now. He felt his pulse increasing again, and bit his tongue, focusing on the pain and blood in his mouth instead of the impending panic attack. He would not freak out again. Not in front of anyone.
Whatever. He ran his hands through his hair, still refusing to look at Freed. Everybody's got shit. He heard Freed sigh.
"I understand the desire to minimize what happened to you." Sting stiffened.
Could we please not talk about…that? Any of it? His arms were aching under the bandages. I just wanna… He trailed off. What did he want? Part of him wanted to go back to sleep, while the other part wanted to find Rogue and never let him go. A final, tiny part was terrified of seeing his partner.
"If you don't talk about it, it's going to fester," Freed replied. "You've been on the edge of breaking down completely since the games, haven't you?"
Sting didn't reply, just stared numbly ahead of him. That wasn't true. He had been on the verge of breaking down completely since he was twelve years old. Always feeling that buzz in the back of his mind, that persistent anxiety that kept saying don't fuck up, don't fuck up, you fucked up, you're worthless, you deserve this, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, you should die, just kill yourself already, you don't deserve to be alive.
A slight tingle of cold on the back of his hands was enough to snap him out of his reverie, and he realized with horror that he was whispering those things out loud. Gray was sitting on the bed in front of him now – when had he arrived? – and was pushing a thin layer of frost over the backs of Sting's hands and up his arms. His mind flashed back to a few days ago, where Gray had used the same thing on Rogue.
"Hey." Sting looked into Gray's eyes, fearing the disappointment and disgust he would see there, but his gaze instead held an emotion that Sting struggled to pinpoint. Sting licked his lips nervously, glancing over to Freed, who was still sitting in the chair with a neutral expression on his face. Something clicked in Sting's mind and he frowned.
You're here to make sure I don't kill myself. His signs were sharp and angry, and Freed didn't deny his accusation. Everyone saw me lose it, and now you're all worried I'm gonna off myself. He squeezed his eyes shut and ran his hand over his face.
"Is my presence here unwarranted?" Freed asked quietly. Sting didn't reply, couldn't promise that if he had woken up alone, he wouldn't have found the first sharp thing and ended it. His brain screamed at him, how could you do that to Rogue, but another part screamed back, he would be better off without me.
"I just feel so fucked up," Sting whispered finally, and when Gray reached out tentatively for him, he surprised the ice mage by slumping forward and pressing his face to Gray's shoulder. "I feel like I can't function. It's just too much, it's all so loud and angry." Gray wrapped his arms around Sting gently and rested his chin on the blonde hair, running a hand comfortingly up Sting's back.
"I know," he replied. "When…when Deliora attacked my village, I felt so much guilt for surviving. I saw my parents – I saw them die, and there was so much blood." His voice wavered, and Sting squeezed his knee. "When Ur found me, I had nightmares that would freeze the whole house – I lost control of my magic. I felt like all I could do was cry and feel guilt."
We're all a little broken.
"Then Ur died too, and it was like…everything inside died with her." Sting rubbed his thumb over Gray's knuckles comfortingly. "I…well, I know Natsu knows, but I haven't told anyone else. I wanted to die." Something in Sting's chest clenched painfully. "I spent ten years basically just…waiting. I was too much of a coward to do it myself, but if something killed me, that would be fine. When that chance came, I was so…eager. I felt like I could finally atone for my sins and stop existing at the same time."
We're all a little broken.
Gray sighed, grasping Sting's shoulders with both hands and pushing him away enough to force him to make eye contact.
"Natsu didn't save me," he said finally, and Sting frowned. "Nobody else can save you. Rogue can't save you, I can't…nobody can." Sting's chest tightened. "It took a long time even after that for me to feel like I wanted to be alive. It's not something that's fixed overnight. You'll get better, you'll get worse, you'll have great days and days where you still want to die. It won't necessarily get better, but it'll get easier to live with."
We're all a little broken.
"That sounds exhausting," Sting mumbled, eyes downcast.
"It is if you're alone," Gray replied. "And you aren't. You ready to go home?"
"STING!" A familiar red ball of fur barrelled down the path and leapt into Sting's arms, burying its head into his chest.
"Lector," he whispered, pressing his face into the soft fur and clutching the tiny Exceed tightly. "Lector, are you alright?"
"I'm sorry." Sting felt tears dampen the front of his shirt and he looked down at Lector, puzzled.
"You don't have anything to apologize for." Sting stroked Lector's head gently, rubbing behind his ears and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
"I wasn't t-there to h-help you," Lector sniffled miserably, wiping his face with a paw. "We went f-fishing with H-Happy cause he was sad that N-natsu was gone." The Exceed looked up at Sting and his heart melted.
"Lector, I'm glad you weren't there," he murmured. Before Lector could become indignant, he added, "I couldn't bear the idea of you getting hurt."
"But you got hurt." Lector looked up at the angry purple and black welts winding around Sting's neck. "Did Rogue really do that?" Sting shook his head vehemently, wincing at the pain.
"The demon did," he replied, voice still scratchy. "Rogue wasn't in control."
"Rogue is sad." Sting glanced over to Gray, who had been walking beside him, and realized that the ice mage had scooped up Frosch and was cuddling them. Gray seemed quite taken with the little Exceed. "Rogue loves Sting." Sting smiled, reaching out to pat their head.
"And Sting loves Rogue," he murmured, not even caring if Gray heard him. "It wasn't his fault."
They were nearing the house now, and Sting could see a flash of Natsu's pink hair from the garden, and could hear him arguing boisterously with someone. As they turned the corner, Sting could see that Erza and Lucy were out there as well, sprawled out on the couches and drinking what appeared to be lemonade.
Sting hesitated for a moment, conscious of the bruises on his neck and his likely dishevelled look, but Gray bumped his shoulder and pushed him around the corner.
"Sting!" Natsu saw them round the corner and jumped up, making his way over and spreading his arms with a questioning look on his face. Sting felt something in his chest soften at the gesture, and he nodded, setting Lector down and letting Natsu embrace him. He buried his face in the fire mage's scarf, reaching around to grip Natsu tightly.
"You're okay," Natsu whispered, and Sting wasn't sure if it was a statement or a reassurance. "We were so worried." A strong hand gripped the back of his head as Natsu pressed his face into Sting's shoulder. Sting didn't trust his voice, so he nodded into Natsu's chest instead and took a shaky breath.
After a moment, Natsu gave Sting a final squeeze, then raised his head and pressed a soft, quick kiss to the top of Sting's head.
"You're home now, and everything's okay." Natsu grinned at him, then inclined his head toward Erza and Lucy. "They just stopped by with some food – apparently it's a thing to bring people food during – what did they say again, Gray?"
"During 'times of duress'," Gray replied, smirking. Natsu rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, that. Anyway, don't feel like you gotta socialize if you don't wanna." Sting smiled, grateful. Natsu must have seen him peering into the house, because he added, "Rogue's in your room. He's been sleeping a lot." He squeezed Sting's hand again and lowered his voice. "You're both gonna be okay."
Sting nodded, returning the gesture, then waved at Erza and Lucy and quickly ducked into the house.
"They are gonna be okay, right?" Natsu said worriedly, grabbing Gray's hand and pulling his boyfriend closer. He rested his head on Gray's collarbone, and pulled the ice mage's arms around him. Gray laughed, and his breath tickled Natsu's ear.
"As okay as any of us are," he replied.
Sting didn't bother knocking on the bedroom door – Rogue likely wouldn't have heard it anyway – and slipped into the room. The curtains were open, letting the afternoon sun spill onto Rogue's sleeping face, which was pillowed in his arms. The dark-haired boy was curled up on one side, and had unconsciously pulled one of the pillows toward his stomach and was now hugging it as if it were Sting.
Sting sat down gently on the edge of the bed, not wanting to wake his partner. Snippets of conversation and a cool breeze blew in from outside, and he let everything wash over him, trying to cement this moment in his mind for later. The curve of Rogue's hip, the way his fingers clutched the pillow so tightly, his foot poking out from under the blanket. Sting shuffled until he was lying parallel to Rogue, and took in the scar across his nose, the wayward wisps of dark hair that were falling across his cheek, the soft sound of his breathing.
"Hey." Sting blinked in surprise and realized that Rogue's eyes were open. He propped himself up on one elbow, reaching out and brushing the hair from Rogue's face.
"You feeling okay?" Rogue gave a noncommittal shrug, then shifted until his position matched Sting's and they were facing each other. His face looked contrite, and Sting ran his hand down Rogue's jaw until he could tip the dark-haired boy's face toward him. "It wasn't your fault." Rogue sighed.
"Know that," he said softly. "Could...see him. Hurt you." He scrubbed a hand across his eyes, then stared directly at Sting. "You...saved me." His eyes travelled down to the bruising around Sting's neck, and his fingers drifted toward it, stopping when Sting flinched at the contact.
"It's still really sore," he admitted. Rogue's face fell, and he shook his head. "Not your fault. It was the demon." He paused for a moment, and could see that Rogue knew what was coming next. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Scared," Rogue admitted, looking down and running his fingers over the bite-mark shaped scar on his wrist. "Didn't want...hurt you. Anyone." He worried his lower lip between his teeth.
"You never did," Sting replied, smiling gently. "You were so strong and so brave." Rogue let out a sharp breath, looking down uncertainly. "There's so many things I could tell you," Sting continued, wrapping his fingers around Rogue's wrist. "But I'm going to show you instead." Rogue blinked up at him, and Sting pressed the other boy's arm back into the bed until he was lying flat on his back. Then he hesitated. "Okay?" He asked. Rogue thought for a moment, then shook his head, frustrated. "It's okay, love."
Sting rolled over and leaned against the headboard, then pulled Rogue gently towards him, nudging his leg until the dark-haired boy swung it over Sting and straddled his hips. Sting reached up and ran his fingers through Rogue's hair, then grasped Rogue's left hand and brought it to his lips.
The scar was red from Rogue rubbing it, and Sting ran his tongue gently over the mark, teasing a sharp hiss from Rogue. Sting smiled, then pressed a soft, gentle kiss to the area before moving on to the next silvery-white mark. His lips brushed over it and Rogue inhaled sharply.
"I meant what I said," Sting murmured, moving up Rogue's arm and pressing feather-light kisses to each scar. Rogue was trembling now, and he looked at Sting with a strange reverence in his gaze. "You're perfect." A stuttered breath that almost sounded like a moan. "And I love every-" kiss "-single-" kiss "-fucking-" kiss "-thing-" kiss "-about-" kiss "-you."
Rogue shuddered, falling forward on his forearms and pressing his forehead to Sting's. He felt Sting's hand run up his cheek and coax his face downward until their lips met.
It was soft and tentative – even more so than their first kiss during the Grand Magic Games. It was chaste and tender and if Rogue hadn't already been sitting, it would have brought him to his knees. He made a soft, almost imperceptible sound of pleasure into Sting's mouth, and Sting took the opportunity to grab Rogue's lower lip between his teeth and bite it oh so gently.
"I love you," Sting whispered against Rogue's lips, kissing him more deeply now – slowly and languidly, while running his hands over Rogue's face and through his hair. "I love you, I love you, I love you." Rogue's hands curled into Sting's shirt as he moaned against his partner, pulling him tighter as he felt a heat spread through his body.
"Love you too," he whispered, running his fingers down to the hem of Sting's shirt and tugging at it questioningly. Sting raised his arms in response, allowing Rogue to slip the garment off his body and then returning the favor. Rogue exhaled sharply at the feel of Sting's chest against his own, and he pressed the blonde boy backward into the pillows, settling himself between Sting's legs. He began pressing soft kisses down Sting's jawline and earning himself a soft gasp of pleasure when he licked the sensitive spot behind Sting's ear.
Rogue swallowed thickly as he trailed the kisses lower, down over Sting's collarbone and then down to his nipple, which Rogue swirled under his tongue. Sting groaned and pressed his head back into the pillows, fisting his hand into Rogue's hair. Rogue grinned and moved to the other side, repeating the tongue flick and causing Sting to arch off the bed slightly. Rogue could feel Sting's hardness pressing into his own and he rocked against it experimentally.
"Fuuuuuck," Sting whispered, tightening his fingers in Rogue's hair to show his approval. Rogue hummed and returned his lips to Sting's chest, kissing further and further downward until his lips touched the prominent hip bone and Sting cried out loud enough for Rogue to hear. He hesitated, glancing up at Sting, whose face was open and flushed.
Whatever you're comfortable with, Sting signed, sloppily and with one hand, but Rogue understood him. Rogue bit his lip, torn between continuing the downward (and preferably pants-less) trajectory of his ministrations, and not opening that particular box of emotions right now. After a moment he decided on the latter, crawling back toward Sting and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
"Sorry," he murmured, nuzzling Sting's cheek and pressing his face into the crook of the blonde boy's shoulder. His face flamed with embarrassment.
"Never be sorry," Sting replied, pressing a kiss to Rogue's hair. "I never want you to be uncomfortable." Rogue nodded, then reached downward and grasped the blanket, pulling it over them both. Sting shuffled until he was facing Rogue, whose head was pillowed on his arm.
"We have all the time in the world," he whispered, then pressed a kiss to Rogue's nose and promptly fell asleep.
