Touch
"Touch it."
"...Huh?"
Altair felt like he could have taken a backwards leap off Masyaf's tallest tower- with no hay to soften his fall- and he wouldn't regret it, simply to avoid the look Malik gave him because of his less-than-intelligent response. It was a look he was unfortunately all too familiar with- the one that made him feel like a total, blundering idiot.
"Pay attention, you novice," Malik growled, and Altair nodded dumbly. "I said to touch it."
Well, the fact of the matter was was that Altair had been paying attention. He had heard Malik loud and clear the first time. His brain had simply shuddered to a screeching halt, and the resulting momentum had caused the word 'huh' (a light word, airy and soft and prone to being flung around a lot) to come out instead of anything else.
"I-" Altair swallowed thickly. "I-"
The two sat in utter silence. After about a minute, Malik huffed out an impatient sigh and rounded the counter that separated him and Altair.
Altair wasn't sure if he appreciated this or not- it made them a little more equal, put them on even footing, but it also brought Malik closer. The man was dressed in nothing more than his sirwal- his black robe of office was gone, as were his white robes and grey undertunic. This left his chest bare, and the finely bandaged stump that was left of his arm exposed for all to see.
Altair's stomach twisted in horror at the sight and so he tried to avoid looking. He had caused this. He had done this.
"I said to touch it, Altair," Malik said again, and he moved the stump forward. He leered- a dangerous expression. "Unless it disgusts you?"
"No." Altair's response was forceful enough to surprise himself. Malik's only response was to tilt an eyebrow. "I'm just- I-"
His hands were shaking at his sides.
"What is it, Altair?"
"I'm not disgusted by you," Altair said firmly, "Your arm is a part of you and therefore it does not bother me at all. I'm just- I am-"
I am a coward. I am a fool. Please, I've wept these words to you and you said you forgave me, so why am I still-
Malik must have seen his distress. He raised his hand and took Altair's elbow, giving it a good squeeze.
"You can start by taking off your gloves and bracers," he said quietly, a reassuring edge in his voice. He was not going to let Altair go, but he wasn't going to be forceful in this endeavor. For the reassurance, Altair was thankful, but now he was rooted completely to the spot. If he ran now, if he bolted in fear of facing this mistake, it would be yet another thorn in their relationship- a relationship that owed it's existence to Malik's capacity for forgiveness and that alone.
Altair nodded, his voice lost to him. He slowly unbuckled his bracers and slid them off, letting them fall onto the counter. He stripped away his gloves, one finger at a time in order to give himself some time.
He could not stall forever though, not with Malik's dark eyes on him and watching his every movement. His hands bared, he slowly raised them up, but did not touch Malik.
"...It's an arm, Altair," Malik said, deep accent soft in the quiet of the bureau. "A little mutilated, but it's still an arm. It is alright."
His hand left Altair's elbow and found Altair's shaking one. Altair almost started- the man's skin was weathered, but warm, and he did not force so much as guide Altair's hand until he had laid it on what remained of Malik's left arm.
Altair's breath left him in a single rush of air. His lungs felt like they were bound in iron, but he raised his other hand up and took Malik's stump completely in his grasp. Malik shifted it just a little, but let Altair handle it on his own.
I did this.
Malik's hand found his elbow again and squeezed.
I forgave you.
Altair inhaled. His fingers caught the ridge of the wrappings. Altair looked up at Malik sharply when the man moved uncomfortably, and he slid his fingers under the fold of the white bandages.
"May I?"
Malik hesitated just a little. Now he was pushing on his own boundaries, and the two were both stepping into unknown waters.
(Well. Malik was stepping into unknown waters. Altair had been drowning in them this entire time.)
"Yes." he said quietly. An admission, an acceptance, an aquiescance. Altair watched him a moment longer, studied his face for any sign of total discomfort (because in no way was this ever going to be completely comfortable) before he undid the fold of the bandage, letting it slide away. Altair sucked in his next breath at the scarring on the end of the stump. The surgeons at Masyaf- skilled as they were- could not prevent the white crisscross of scars across Malik's skin.
Altair nervously traced one of them with his fingers.
"A mace?" he asked, and Malik nodded.
"One of the soldiers grabbed my other arm so that I couldn't escape it. I was struck repeatedly- much more and I would not have needed a surgery."
Altair flinched. Malik steadily ignored it, watching as Altair traced the scars of the mace with his fingers. His nails were jagged and dirty from climbing the rooftops, and felt strange against his skin. The two men were silent until Altair brushed against the spot where the surgeons had folded his skin over to close the wound. Old nerve endings flared to life and Malik hissed involuntarily.
Startled, Altair let go. Malik felt almost deprived at the loss of contact. He mentally pushed that thought out of mind.
"...I'm sorry," Altair said softly, "...Does it hurt?"
"Not really," Malik replied, bending to pick up the bandage on the ground. With expert deftness, he one-handedly wrapped it back around the stump. "It's... sensitive. When it rains, it hurts like a demon. But that's really all."
"Right," Altair said quietly, watching as Malik tucked in the edge of the bandage. "...I... I should go. There is an informant waiting for me."
Avoidance. The need for some space. Malik nodded his acceptance- he needed his own space now, and whether or not there was actually an informant waiting around in the middle of the night for Altair did not concern him.
"I will leave the grate unlocked for you, Brother," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "...I will see you in the morning."
Altair did not flee- he still had just enough pride to keep himself from running away, but Malik could see the fast pace of his step and how his hands shook so badly he kept them fisted in the loose ends of his robes. His boots scuffed against the wall outside, the latticework rattled a little under his weight, and then he was gone.
Malik let out a deep breath and looked at the lantern, reaching out with the cup to douse out its flames. Tomorrow was another, brighter day, and he needed his rest.
I wasn't sure if this one had a slightly yaoi undertone, so I was going to make it a short one-shot than include it here. But I guess you can read it however you want.
(Not that I have any problem with yaoi because AltMal is simply hot. Sorry Ezio/Leo friends... Ezio just doesn't get it.He is way too much into pussy for me to see him in a gay relationship. Maria for whatever reason annoys me heavily so that's probably why I ship AltMal when I read/write yaoi.)
aaaaaaand rest.
