Guys, I am FLOORED by your feedback after last chapter and I'm so sorry for making all of you cry. I wish this was the early 2010's so I could put all my replies here in the A/N but I have a feeling that isn't cool anymore. Thank you for everyone who's commented, fav'd, and talked to me via Tumblr and Discord!
Part two is strictly Mika's viewpoint/internal dialogue. I've included snippets of their stream of consciousness, / and they're formatted like this./
All the dialogue and SOME of the commentary will be the same as last chapter. But the tone is completely different IMHO. Personally I like this version better. Truth be told, there's nothing I love more than writing Mika's innermost thoughts. I adore this sassy little disaster with my entire soul.
Pasting this from chapter 8's A/N because it still applies: This is a really heavy chunk of storyline, so be warned. It's emotional, raw, and extremely chaotic because how could it not be after the way they left things between them? Again, dropping a precautionary TW for allusions to something that could be loosely considered self-harm.
Without further ado.. let's see what's on Sad Boy #2's mind!
Chapter 9 : SOBER II - Mika
Song: Sober II (Melodrama) by Lorde
You asked if I was feeling it
I'm psycho high
Know you won't remember in the morning
When I speak my mind
Lights are on and they've gone home
But who am I?
Oh, how fast the evening passes
Cleaning up the champagne glasses
After his week-long retreat to the modern comforts of his daughter's high rise apartment building, Mika rejoined his strike team and and got back to business. As much as he'd miss the Uber Eats, the hot running water, and the hours spent watching television with Gracie she came home from work, he still had a job to do. And the sooner he did it, the closer they came to ending this long, ugly war. Mika's troop was miraculously intact after almost five years in the field but the fact remained that both vampires and vampaneze were being slaughtered at alarming rates. All the human comforts in the world couldn't take his mind off that.
They hadn't made as much progress as he hoped, but the vampaneze forces they encountered sporadically in their travels didn't exactly seem like an united front. They'd raided eight vampaneze strongholds since leaving the mountain, yet despite their best efforts they weren't any closer to locating the illusive Vampaneze Lord. But there was a silver lining. Despite their lord's best attempts, the vampaneze morale proved to be low across the board.
The vampaneze seemed to be in a pattern of increasing their numbers in order to better their odds of winning the war, but that wasn't the most disturbing part to Mika. The rumours that they were recruiting unblooded humans to do their dirty work was highly concerning but so far Mika hadn't personally encountered any of them.
He'd been speaking back and forth with Arrow regularly, but he'd taken to only giving Paris monthly updates. Communication via telepathy, while convenient, did take a toll on one's body and mind. Younger vampires like Mika or Arrow were able to withstand more than an older man would; anyone their age could sustain a lengthy conversation before feeling dizzy or getting a headache. But Paris had a a good five centuries on Mika and although he'd never admit it, Mika could tell he had to work harder to sustain their connection than he used to. So Mika backed off; he was planning to return to the mountain by the end of the year anyway so he could update Paris in person then. There was another vampaneze stronghold he wanted to attack on the return trip, but he had one more piece of business to attend to first.
He'd quit Kurda cold-turkey the night of the exile. Not once, not even at his weakest moment had he reached out telepathically. And honestly, he was proud of that fact. The betrayal still hurt but he'd made peace with the fact that it always would. He'd learned to coexist with his trauma. As Mika reached the halfway point of his fifth year in the field, he quietly congratulated himself on the simple fact that he was still here, and he was okay. Some days, he'd even go so far as to say he was good. And better yet, Gracie was okay. Actually, Gracie had surpassed Mika by a long shot in that area. She was more than okay, she was excellent. While he'd been surviving, she was thriving.
Mika had always hoped one day she'd be able have some semblance of a healthy relationship with Kurda again. Mika really had no idea how they'd even go about that, but he did know Kurda loved Gracie just as much as Mika did. It was all he knew these days.
Mika promised Gracie when - if - the time came, he'd make it happen. Whatever it took.
Then one night they were sitting together on the couch eating the finest tacos Uber Eats had to offer, and Gracie handed him a letter out of nowhere and asked him to deliver it to her estranged Other Dad. And in that moment, Mika realized he was woefully unprepared to follow through with his promise.
And several months later, he was woefully unprepared for the blizzard of titanic proportions that just about buried him as he set about tracking Kurda's location.
He had a good idea of where Kurda was, but he didn't preface his visit with a telepathic warning. The second he felt Kurda's voice in his head he knew he'd lose his nerve. So basically, Kurda was in for a hell of a surprise.
/ Not like it'll be any worse than the last time he surprised me. /
It'd be quick. In and out.
"Hey, remember me? Your ex-other-half who you completely fucked over beyond comprehension because of a doomsday prophecy? Just wanted to let you know our child is thriving despite all of that psychological trauma and apparently has some words for you." Something along those lines would get his point across nicely.
Then he'd hand over the envelope and get the fuck out of there. At least that was the plan, but at the rate he was going he didn't even know if he'd make it to Kurda before he froze to death. Not to mention he had no idea what Kurda's living situation was; for all he knew Kurda was living in the wild and just as exposed to the elements as Mika was.
He flitted when he could, until the whiteout conditions made it impossible. So he walked, and walked. He slept in a shallow cave, and walked some more. He was no stranger to harsh elements but this took the cake for the worst conditions he'd ever endured. And he was alone, having sent the team back in the direction of the mountain without him. He'd link up with them when he was done here.
/ If I don't freeze to death first. Fuck me, I hate camping. /
He tracked Kurda's signal to a small fishing village, closer and closer until his weary legs carried him to a small, red cottage that seemed like it overlooked the harbour but the driving snow was so fierce he really had no idea.
/ The fuck are you doing in a cottage this nice? /
For several moments he stood there in the snow and summoned every fibre of strength he possessed. He double-checked the iron walls he'd reinstalled around his heart post-Kurdapocalypse. He supposed they were as strong as they were going to get. But truth be told, if hypothermia hadn't been closing in on him so imminently, he would've stood out there a hell of a lot longer than he did.
So he approached the door, and with a violently shaking hand he knocked three times.
A complete eternity elapsed.
And then like a mirage, the lock clicked and the door opened slowly to reveal Kurda Smahlt standing there, like something out of a fever dream.
And he looked... gods, he was still fucking gorgeous. That was truly the only word for him. For a fragment of a second, Mika didn't feel the cold. As he stood there on the front porch step a mere foot away from Kurda, all he felt was safe.
"Mika?" Kurda choked out at last. His voice was harsh, confused, almost frightened.
And the spell was broken.
/ No. It's Santa Claus. /
"Unfortunately." Mika replied stiffly, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.
Kurda gawked at him as though seeing a ghost. Mika supposed he couldn't blame him, but his frozen, aching body was throwing up every red flag and warning signal in its arsenal. Physical discomfort trumped emotional baggage and Mika knew he couldn't stand outside for one second longer.
/ Against my better judgement, it's time to take this inside. /
"Either you move, or I move you." Mika added.
"Sorry. Come in." Said Kurda. The man looked stunned. But he stepped aside. Mika brushed past him and into he house. He breathed a deep sigh of relief as he was finally sheltered from the biting wind. Even though it was Kurda's home, it was shelter all the same.
He heard Kurda's footsteps pause behind him abruptly.
"What are you doing here? Is Gracie okay?" Kurda demanded sharply.
Mika supposed that was a fair question. There weren't many scenarios in which Mika would seek him out in exile. One of the more likely possibilities being that something was seriously wrong. But mercifully that wasn't this.
"Gracie's fine." Mika responded curtly. He continued to explore the house, purposefully not looking at Kurda. It was a nice place. Small, but cozy. One floor, open concept, natural wood-panelled walls. A subtle nautical theme but not to the point of tackiness.
"Don't I get a hug?" Kurda inquired sarcastically. Mika had a momentary urge to walk back out the door and take his chances with hypothermia. The audacity of this man.
/ Pardon the fuck out of me? /
He shot Kurda a withering glare.
"It was a joke." Kurda added meekly.
"Comedy was never your thing. Who's house is this?" Mika grunted as he kicked his boots off."
"Mine."
"How do you have your own house? I don't even have a fucking house." Mika commented as he stared around the living room. "Glad exile has been so kind to you."
"Won it in a bet. Just the right place at the right time." Kurda explained. "It's a funny story, actually. I met this guy-"
"I don't care." Mika interrupted icily.
"What are you doing here, Mika?" Kurda asked cautiously. "I don't suppose this is a social visit."
Mika slowly turned to face him and finally their eyes met. At first glance, Kurda looked mostly the same but as Mika looked closer he saw exactly how much exile had taken its toll upon the ex-General. His muscles were less defined and there was an lethargic sort of detachment in his ocean eyes. Clearly he was intrigued by Mika's sudden presence, but more wary than anything else. His hair, falling almost to his shoulders, was still that eye-catching shade of platinum. Although... maybe it was the dim lighting in the room but Mika thought it had lost some of its shine. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and blue hooded sweatshirt that was very close to the same shade he always used to wear in the mountain. Some things never change.
/ How dare you look good in sweatpants. /
"It's not an emergency, and nothing's wrong. But I actually am here about Gracie. I came to give you this." Said Mika. He reached into the layers of clothing and withdrew an envelope. He watched Kurda's face turn white as a sheet, and he knew Kurda knew exactly what was going to happen next. "She wrote this... and she wanted me to get it to you. So this is me getting it to you."
Mika gingerly extended the letter and Kurda's hands were shaking so hard Mika was sure he was going to either drop it or accidentally tear it in half.
"Is she... okay?" Kurda whispered. He stared up at Mika, his eyes as round as dinner plates and brimming with emotion.
/ That's a loaded fucking question. /
"She's perfect." He told Kurda at last. "Despite everything, despite us... she's perfect."
That was the truth.
"And how are you?" Kurda added, his voice even quieter than before.
/ Fuck you. You know exactly how I am. /
"Cold." He informed Kurda dully.
"You're shaking." Kurda remarked. "How long were you out in the storm?"
He took a step closer to Mika, concern lining his face and Mika instinctively took two steps backwards.
"About two days. I flitted most of the trip but I had to slow down once I got caught in it." Said Mika.
"Well, stay here til the storm passes, okay?" Said Kurda cautiously. "Now I'm sure this is the last place on earth you want to be-"
"Correct." Mika interjected bluntly. At least Kurda still maintained some degree of self-awareness.
"-but it's supposed to clear up by late tomorrow. Just give it a day."
"Would be my fucking luck." Mika growled, turning to gaze out the window at the endless snow. His heart sank as he recognized Kurda was right. Chances are he'd be fine, but still. It wouldn't be worth his life just to avoid a few hours of awkwardness. Right? He supposed he'd find out whether that was true or not.
"Go take a hot shower." Kurda suggested in a way that felt more like an order. Funny how that unassuming little blond never had any qualms about ordering the Prince around, even in the early days. "You're practically blue. Seriously, you look like a corpse. I have some dry clothes you can change into. Leave your wet ones on the floor and I'll put them in the dryer. This place came with one, it's amazing-"
/ I don't care about your dryer. /
He turned away from Kurda and wordlessly made his way to the bathroom before Kurda had time to direct him to it.
It had been all Mika could do to remain standing upright since he arrived. This town was way beyond the middle of nowhere and the journey had been nothing short of hell frozen over.
But truth be told, it was all worth it for some hot water. He hadn't had the luxury of a heated bath or shower since he'd visited Gracie's apartment. He belatedly considered how stupid he'd been to press his luck in these conditions. He should've taken proper shelter when he had the chance. A human would have frozen to death well before now, and even the hardiest vampire would be starting to show signs of hypothermia, which he was. Standing finally became too much, and he slowly sunk down to the floor with his back against the wall of the shower and sat there as the warm water slowly coax sensation back into his numb limbs.
For several moments, he felt safe. Calm, even. The only sound in the world was the sound of the running water and his own steady breathing. The fear and chaos of the last half-decade slowly faded to nothing and for a minute or two, he was simply suspended in the present. Nothing ahead, nothing behind, just warmth.
We told you this was melodrama
(Oh, how fast the evening passes)
(Cleaning up the champagne glasses)
Our only wish is melodrama
(Oh, how fast the evening passes
Cleaning up the champagne glasses)
Eventually it had to come to an end, as all good things do. After he dried off, he opened the door to find a pile of clothes folded neatly in front of the bathroom door - a pair of red and black plaid pyjama pants which he'd never admit to liking, and a large black hoodie. As he put the hoodie on, he realized there was something written on the front. He glanced in the mirror and chuckled despite himself: "I Heart Beer And Titties".
"Why do you have this? I know for a fact you're not interested in beer or titties." Mika loudly asked Kurda as he returned to the living room area.
Kurda looked up and let out a small laugh when he noticed the crass slogan on the hoodie.
"I actually didn't know it had anything on it. It's not mine. See, I sort of work as a bartender and every now and then I take home the unclaimed clothes from the lost and found box, and I clean them up and donate them to the homeless shelter. That one must've been inside-out when I washed it."
"I'm keeping it." Mika informed him. "Arrow will think it's funny."
"I don't doubt it. Enjoy." Said Kurda flatly as he added a piece of wood to the fireplace before returning to his armchair. Mika sat in the other one.
"Wait, you have a job?" Mika backtracked abruptly.
"Have to pay the bills somehow." Said Kurda. His tone was crisp and light but completely serous. "You may recall I lost my old job a few years ago."
"That's one way of putting it." Mika replied darkly.
"How have you been, Mika?" Kurda asked cautiously. "Seriously. I want to know. I've been worried."
Mika let out a short, sharp laugh.
/ Fine. You want to know? You really want to know? /
"How have I been? Wow. Fuck me, where do I even start? Well, I was blind drunk for the entire first week after you were gone. Except for a six hour window when I had to flit up to the school and tell Gracie what happened-"
Kurda winced and it took everything Mika had not to yell at him.
/ How dare you sit there and look sad? You did this. /
"How did she take it?" He asked anxiously.
"As well as could be expected." Said Mika, bitterness in his eyes at the memory. "She didn't deserve that, Kurda."
"Do you think I don't know that?! Screwing you over was hard enough. But knowing what it would do to her... I thought I was going to die of a broken heart months before council even started!" Kurda shot back with a hoarse, angry laugh.
"Why didn't you tell me the truth from the start?" Mika asked, his voice much quieter than before. "I would've done anything to help you. You knew that."
"Did I?!" Kurda snapped. "I'm sure you would have tried, Mika. But at the end of the day, you were still you and I was still me. You aren't capable of hatching a plan radical enough to do what needed to be done. Not to mention it would've had to go through Arrow, Paris, and Vancha. As soon as I knew what kind of timeframe I was working with, I knew I didn't have the luxury to go above-board. So no. You couldn't have helped me. Anything you would have been willing to do, wouldn't have been enough."
/ I hate it when you're right. /
"I guess I can't argue with that." Said Mika coolly. And he couldn't. Because Kurda was right.
"You know, you didn't finish telling me how you've been doing. You covered getting drunk, and breaking the news to Gracie, then what?" Kurda asked in a low, almost encouraging voice.
Mika laughed harshly again.
"You don't want to know."
"Mika, I really do. Please. Be honest."
/ Buckle the fuck up, then. /
"Well, it was a full week before I could physically set foot in the Hall of Princes without having a mental breakdown and even then it was iffy. And it was a month before I could go sleep in my own cell, seeing as I smashed my furniture the night you left and the thought of sleeping in that room with all those memories made me want to fucking die."
He watched Kurda's face fall. He didn't give a damn.
/ Hey, you asked. /
"I was more or less a high-functioning train wreck for almost half the year." He continued. "Gods only know how Paris and Arrow put up with me. I didn't deserve their patience. And the clan deserved better than what I was able to give them at that time. I was a fucking disaster. That honest enough for you, Kurda?" He was practically shouting by the time he finished.
An icy silence hung in the air, punctured only by the howling wind outside.
Was it harsh? Maybe. Did Mika care? No. Did he feel a thousand pounds lighter with that off his chest? Abso-fucking-lutely.
Kurda's brow furrowed and he let out a soft moan of dismay. Mika rolled his eyes dismissively.
"Oh, don't you worry. I got my shit together eventually. Probably took a decade off my life but I did it. I've been out in the field for almost five years now." Mika added, bringing his voice down to a more casual level. "This is my last stop before we head home. My team is already on the way back but I told them I'd catch up once I'd... tied up my loose ends."
Kurda buried his face in his hands and breathed heavily for several minutes. Mika observed him with an air of detached impatience. As dark as those memories were, they were so familiar to him now. He had no trouble going back in time and digging them up. For better or worse, the trauma was part of him now. All that pain had made him stronger in the end.
But the gritty details of his healing process, the raw depravity of it all, was all new news to Kurda and clearly he was struggling with it. Mika didn't know how to react to that. Part of him knew in his heart of hearts that on some level, Kurda still cared very deeply for him. But the less rational part of him wanted to scream in Kurda's face:
/ Fuck you. You did this. /
But he remained silent and let Kurda process it.
"Thank you for being honest." The blond whispered at last.
"Whatever."
"What's going on between the clans?" Kurda asked after another brief pause. There was a sudden sharpness in his voice, almost urgency. But Mika laughed bitterly.
"I don't think so. That's not how exile works. You lost your privilege to know what's going on. I only told you my story because I want you to know exactly what you put me through. And I'm only in your house because I accidentally had a kid with you."
"Found a kid with me." Kurda corrected out of habit. It was the oldest joke they shared. Mika refused to laugh, but his posture relaxed for a moment.
"Fair enough." Kurda added, then his face darkened. "Mika, I need to ask you one other thing... and I know it's none of my business, but I have to know. It's been eating me alive."
Mika raised an eyebrow.
/ This should be good. /
"Try me."
"Is Darren alive?"
Strangely enough, Mika's first reaction was amusement at the absurdity of that question. Darren was a lot better than alive.
Then he realized how ignorant that was. Of course Kurda would have no idea. How could he? He'd been here the whole time, clearly upholding his end of the exile agreement. Mika couldn't scoff at him for that. He softened ever so slightly and looked directly at Kurda. It wasn't lost on him that the ex-General had formed a bond with the boy from the very start, gently nurturing him the way he always had with his own daughter. Because that's the kind of man Kurda Smahlt was.
/ Okay. Fair question. /
"Yeah. Darren's fine. Not only did we let him off the hook, we gave him one hell of a promotion." Mika began. By the time Kurda was up to speed on Darren's whereabouts, there were tears of relief flowing unrestrainedly from his blue eyes and Mika had to look away.
"We're not perfect, Kurda. We're so far from perfect, and I know that now... but we aren't monsters. It still keeps me up at night how close we came to ending his life. If I had to execute that kid on top of everything else that happened... fuck, I wouldn't have been able to come back from that."
/ And I know you thought we were monsters during all of that. Don't deny it. /
Kurda nodded sombrely and murmured,
"I know you wouldn't have."
Mika didn't answer.
"How are the others?" Kurda asked hopefully.
"Well, Arra and Gavner are still dead." Said Mika coldly. But he regretted it when Kurda bowed his head and held his face in his shaking hands as though it was all as fresh as the day it happened.
/ Okay, that was harsh. Even for me. /
"Larten is doing well." Mika added slowly. "He struggled just as much as I did at first. I truly felt for him. I shared his grief over Arra, but he lost her and Gavner in such a short amount of time... I didn't know if he'd recover but he rose from the ashes with a hell of a lot more dignity than I did. Darren's new status came with an unspoken promotion for Larten too. He may not be a Prince, but truthfully we all see him as one of us. And he deserves it."
Kurda slowly raised his head to meet Mika's eyes again.
"Good." He whispered weakly. "That's good."
"Vanez was blinded in the battle. It was a difficult adjustment but he's still the best Games Master we've ever had." Mika continued. "Seba is the same as ever. He didn't retire after council like he'd planned to, but I think he's just as happy that way."
Kurda nodded attentively as Mika spoke. It wasn't lost on Mika how much the ex-General truly did care. And that somehow made this so much harder.
"Paris is still going strong. He'll outlive us all. But I'm glad he has Darren in the mountain to help him out - Arrow's been out in the field as long as I have. I haven't seen any of the other Princes in almost five years."
"Five years without Arrow? That sounds a recipe for an astronomical case of separation anxiety." Said Kurda with a dry smile. Mika didn't smile but he exhaled in a vaguely amused manner.
/ You alway were a little jealous that I had friends and you didn't. /
"Funny, that's what Paris said before we parted ways. And I do miss him, but we've both been keeping busy and communicating regularly."
"What did he say when you told him you were coming to visit me?" Kurda ventured apprehensively.
Mika snorted derisively and arched his eyebrows at Kurda.
"Like I'd tell him. Best case scenario, he'd worry. Worst case, he'd track me down and carry me back to the mountain at the thought of you being anywhere near me."
"He knows we have a daughter. Surely he realized there was a good chance we'd have to see each other again at some point." Kurda grunted dispassionately.
"You know how he is where your purple friends are concerned." Mika replied heatedly, feeling a defensive edge creep into his tone. "And if you saw me the night you left... you wouldn't blame him."
Kurda sighed deeply, a profound weariness clouding his once-youthful face.
"Are you hungry?" He asked.
"I'm fine. Hunted on my way here."
"Good. How are you feeling now? You must be exhausted." Kurda asked. He surveyed Mika as though expecting him to tumble sideways out of the armchair at any given moment.
"Somehow I'm still cold." Mika admitted.
"Winters here are brutal." Said Kurda. "But the summer is worth it. You should see the view from this window when the snow is gone, oh my gods. It's incredible. It's worth a bit of sunburn to get up in the middle of the day and watch the whales jumping in the harbour."
Mika felt a strange jab of nostalgia as his brain's cortex unlocked a long-forgotten memory.
"I just remember how much you liked watching the whales when we went on that mission, do you remember? On that ship?" Kurda added meekly.
/ Yeah. When my biggest problem was the fact that you wouldn't stop talking to me. /
"When you threw up about ten seconds after we left the dock?" Said Mika with an affirmative nod. "That was the first mission we ever went on together. Gods, you were so annoying. I wanted to throw you overboard."
"You told me. Several times." Kurda sighed.
"At least you always knew where you stood with me. Can't say the same about you." Mika added darkly, raising an eyebrow. Kurda groaned and closed his eyes for a moment or two, running a hand tiredly through his hair.
"We were so young back then." Kurda reminisced. "You were a freshly minted General with an ego complex, and I was -"
"A naive, idealistic misfit who'd rather sit alone and draw a map than make friends." Mika interjected. If he was being perfectly honest, he didn't love the casual cruelty that slipped into his voice without any effort on his part.
But hey, Kurda had tried to kill him after all. So when it came down to it Mika wasn't feeling a ton of sympathy.
"Ouch." Kurda grunted. Mika shrugged.
"You still pulled a bullet out of me on that trip." Kurda added as an afterthought. "That was the first nice thing you ever did for me. Sure it hurt like a son of a bitch, as you knew it would, but you took care of me."
"It wouldn't have looked good on my record if I lost a man to an infected bullet wound on my first mission as a General." Mika retorted. "The Princes might've frowned upon that."
"Either way, I appreciated it. Even though I didn't show it at the time."
Mika nodded with an indifferent little shrug.
"The sun will be coming up soon. I'm going to bed. You should too." Said Kurda. Mika nodded curtly.
"Just give me a spare blanket. I'll sleep on the floor out here."
"I can't let you sleep on the floor, Mika." Kurda groaned. "Sleep in my bed. There's more than enough room and we can have separate blankets. You won't even notice I'm there."
Mika pondered that briefly. As much as he didn't want to be in that kind of proximity to Kurda, his body ached from months - no, years - of living hard in the wilderness. Even after his shower he still felt frozen to the bone and the idea of falling asleep in proper bed was intoxicating.
"Fine." He told Kurda defeatedly, and followed him into the small bedroom. Kurda passed him a thick cotton duvet and Mika slowly lay down on the left side of the cushiony king-size mattress. On the right side, Kurda began to do the same but he seemed to be considerably nearer to the centre than Mika was.
"That's close enough, Kurda." Mika warned him sharply. Kurda gazed over at him, traces of familiar exasperation on his face.
"I wasn't going to touch you. I know better." The blond muttered.
/ I also thought you knew better than bringing a few dozen vampaneze into our home, but it never hurts to double check. /
"Good. Don't." He said.
Mika lay quietly for a moment but suddenly he felt too warm. He'd been chilly in the living room but there was a small space-heater in the corner of the bedroom. Mika figured if he removed the hooded sweatshirt he'd be just the right temperature. He sat upright and did so, folding the hoodie into a neat square which he placed on the floor beside the bed in case he needed it later.
Mika felt a pair of eyes watching him, and he glanced over at Kurda who'd also sat up
By the angle of Kurda's head and the stunned expression on his face, Mika knew Kurda was staring at the collection of jagged scars on his forearm that hadn't been there the last time they saw each other.
/ Great. Here we go. /
"What?" Said Mika roughly, knowing exactly what.
"Did you do that to yourself... because of me?" Kurda whispered, a profound horror in his eyes.
/ Short answer: yep. /
Mika held up his arm and looked at it contemplatively for a moment.
"Not in the way you're thinking. I didn't do it deliberately." He answered at last, his voice coming out in a rasp. "I already told you I lost it and wrecked some furniture the night you left - this was from when I punched through my mirror as hard as I could."
"No..." Kurda whimpered.
"Yeah. I knew what would happen, I knew it would hurt and I did it anyway. So I guess it's not that different from... what you were thinking." Mika explained tonelessly.
The blood drained from Kurda's face and he looked positively ill.
"Oh gods, Mika..." the blond ex-General gasped weakly, burying his face in his hands as his breath came in ragged, pitiful gasps.
Mika felt a familiar old fire rise up inside him, like he hadn't felt in years.
"Don't you even." Mika snapped, his voice shaking with barely suppressed fury. "You had a fucking bottle of poison set aside for me! You turned your back on everything you ever loved! You do not get to sit there and cry because I hurt myself six years ago when I was at the lowest point of my entire life. So fuck right off with that."
Kurda couldn't seem to find any words for that. He sat there, staring across the room at Mika with unspeakable devastation etched into his face.
"I trusted you." Mika whispered. "I would've died for you. You knew everything about me, even the things I didn't want anyone to know. I never loved anyone like I loved you. How could you do that to me, Kurda?"
Such a simple question but it had played on a loop in his mind every waking moment for the past six years. And there it was, finally out in the open.
"You don't think I've hated myself every second of every day since I made those plans in the first place?" Kurda spat, trembling in distress. "Mika, I would give anything to have had the option to keep you safe from all of that! I had no choice!"
"You always have a choice! You've always known I would've done anything for you! But you lied to me for years, and it cost us everything!"
"I'm the one who lost everything." Kurda croaked. "You only lost me."
/ Ha. Ha. Ha. /
"Yeah, that's all I lost!" Mika snarled, his words drenched in angry sarcasm. "Just you! I didn't lose my sanity, my confidence, or my dignity! I didn't drink myself into a coma every other night the first three months just to get some sleep! I didn't seriously consider hanging up the crown and walking away from it all! No, I ONLY lost you!"
"I thought about you every waking moment.
I knew it would be hell on you." Kurda whispered. "I prayed to every deity I've ever heard of that you'd find a way to come out whole on the other side. It was the only thing left I could do for you."
/ This is going great. /
"I'm not whole, Kurda! I'll never be whole again as long as I live! Whatever is left of me survived DESPITE you! So keep your fucking prayers because there's no god or gods up there that give a single fuck about me!" Mika snarled, voice growing louder and louder until he felt like his throat was going to tear open. "It was Arrow who scraped me off the floor that night before I bled out! It was Paris who sat with me all day so I didn't do anything else stupid! It was Seba, Larten, Vanez, Darren, and the rest of the clan who were patient with me as I re-learned how to function so I could do my job and take care of them!"
Kurda was sobbing freely now. And for the first time in his life, that sight and sound didn't cause Mika to freeze in his tracks. Instead it poured gasoline on the fire.
"And it was Gracie who kept me going when I just wanted all of it to stop." He continued venomously. "Because of them, I'm still here, and I'm not going anywhere! So save your fucking sympathy because I don't need it!
/ Imagine if I started seeing a therapist. I'm not going to do it, but could you imagine? /
A ringing silence hung in the air between them. The only sound was Kurda's muffled sobs and Mika's shallow, erratic breathing.
"I'm still sorry, Mika." Kurda croaked out at last. "I'm sorry you were the collateral damage of my fear, my failure, and my desperation. I'm sorry I put you and Gracie through hell. I'm so, so sorry. And I know that's worth nothing to you now. But it's the truth."
Mika slowly ran his hand through his hair and sat back down on the edge of the bed. Dizziness began to set in and he knew he was on the verge of passing out, or breaking down, or having a panic attack. The things he thought he'd finally put behind him seemed to be just as ready as they'd been at the height of the trauma.
/ Fuuuuuuck. /
He stared at Kurda long and hard. Kurda was sitting on the other side of the bed. His back was facing Mika now; wracked with dry, aching sobs.
"You know what the worst part is? The most fucked up part of any of this?" Mika added in a strangled whisper, the words stinging his throat like acid as he felt hot tears start to fall from his eyes. "The worst part is that after all of that... I forgive you."
Mika wasn't sure what he should do from there. Part of him hadn't meant to say it. Part of him had always known it was inevitable. But all he knew now was that he couldn't stay in this room. He also couldn't leave this house, and that left him with limited options. He got up and walked out of the room in a daze, trying to ignore the sick, tingly feeling in his limbs, the vice-like pressure in his skull, and the feeling of the oxygen being sucked from his lungs.
/ No. We are not doing this. Not today. Never again. /
That was directed at himself.
And the terror and the horror
When we wonder why we bother
And the terror and the horror
God, I wonder why we bother
His feet carried him to the front door even though he knew the storm was still raging, not to mention it was morning and no amount of snow and ice would be enough to filter out the deadly sunlight. So he sank down to the floor in front of the fireplace, letting the heat permeate into his cold, aching body.
He just sat, and breathed, and waited for the full brunt of the panic attack to bear down on him, but it never did. As if his entire body was relieved now that it was finally all out there on the table.
/ So, what? I'm fixed now? Is that how this works? /
He could hear Kurda sobbing brokenly in the other room. Mika's base instinct was as simple as it had been years ago - run to him, hold him, make it stop.
But it was different now. While Mika genuinely had no desire to cause Kurda any more pain, what he did want was for Kurda to understand the true extent of the pain he caused. And now he knew, and he was processing it. Just like that night when Mika had to fall to his knees in a pile of broken glass and spilled liquor and just scream his fucking lungs out before he could take the first steps to getting over it. He'd never wanted to punish Kurda, but part of him always wanted to make him feel some part of that horror for himself.
But now the moment itself had arrived, and all Mika could think about was how shattered and helpless he felt that night years ago. And how the thought of Kurda enduring even a fraction of that agony made Mika feel physically ill.
/ Makes perfect sense. /
Eventually the heart-wrenching sounds ceased, and Mika felt his body relax as they did so.
Ten more minutes ticked by and he heard motion from the other room and Kurda slowly appeared. He was holding two glasses of water and looked like he'd aged a thousand years. Mika did not rise from the floor, he just watched warily as Kurda slowly approached him. He slowly sat down several feet away from Mika.
"Don't touch me." Mika snapped quickly. He hadn't meant to say it, it was a knee-jerk reaction. A defence mechanism his brain utilized to protect him.
Kurda nodded mutely and set one of the glasses of water on the floor, close enough for Mika to reach it. Mika only had one thought in his mind.
/ Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't say it. /
For several long minutes, Mika stared down at the glass. Back up at Kurda. Back to the glass. Back to Kurda once more. Kurda crossed his arms and for a second he had the faintest trace of exasperation on his face.
/ I'm gonna say it. /
"I swear, Kurda, if you fucking poisoned that..."
Kurda let out a ragged sob of laughter, picked up the glass he'd offered Mika and drained it himself. Then he set down his own glass in its place. Mika begrudgingly picked it up and began to sip it slowly.
"Did you read the letter yet?" He asked quietly after setting the empty glass back down.
"No." Kurda whispered.
"Why?"
"Because right now, I still have hope that she hasn't decided I'm permanently dead to her. And if that's what's in that letter, I'm not in a hurry to kill the only thing that's keeping me going. That's all I fucking have in this world, Mika. The slim chance that she might someday want to breathe the same air as me again."
"Makes sense." Said Mika, nodding.
"There's no way she's going to want anything to do with me. Why would she?" Kurda croaked, his face falling.
"I haven't read it." Said Mika honestly. "I don't know what it says. She said I could read it, but I decided to leave it between you and her."
Kurda pulled the envelope from his pocket and stared down at it anxiously.
"I can't do this..."
Mika rolled his eyes unsympathetically.
"Don't be so dramatic. That's what I said the night you left. Then I did it all anyway. And I'm still here."
"I've never been as strong as you, Mika."
Mika sighed heavily.
/ Yeah, right. /
"I used to think you were stronger than me. You know that." He replied. "But whether you read it today, tomorrow, next week, next year... know that whatever thoughts and feelings she put on that page, are completely her own. I promised you I wouldn't go out of my way to demonize you, and I kept my word. Yes, I told her the ugly truth. But I made sure she understood why you did what you did, and why you felt you didn't have a choice."
"I didn't FEEL like I didn't have a choice... I DIDN'T have a choice." Kurda murmured, his voice sounding as strained and anxious as his face looked.
"Whatever. One trial was enough. I can't re-hash that again." Mika grunted. "Just read the damn letter. You don't have to tell me what it says, but you're not doing yourself any favours by waiting."
Kurda looked up at Mika, his blue eyes glassy with tears.
"Will you sit here with me?" He whispered.
Mika rolled his eyes again.
"I don't really have anywhere else to go now, do I?"
Finally, Kurda slowly tore the envelope open and withdrew the letter. Mika slowly lay down on his back upon the floor, and folded his hands beneath his head. The floor in front of the fireplace was delightfully warm, and his body rejoiced at the sensation. He closed his eyes. Kurda made no sound for the longest time, Mika couldn't even hear him breathing.
Eventually, Mika cracked one eye open, half-sure Kurda had fainted. The blond ex-General was still sitting upright with his face in his hands. The letter was sitting on the floor in front of him.
"Bad news?" Mika ventured.
Kurda took a deep breath, his whole body was trembling again.
"She... she told me all about her life." He croaked. "Finishing school, her job, her office, her boyfriend... How broken she felt because of me. How strong she is now... that she's happy. That... that someday she wants to see me again. She's not ready yet, but she said someday. Someday..." he repeated, as though the word tasted strange and unfamiliar and he wanted to try it a second time. There were a thousand emotions flashing through his eyes and for the first time since his abrupt arrival, Mika felt a trace of empathy towards Kurda, and a renewed surge of affection for his - their - daughter.
/ Oh, Gracie... you're so much better than either of us. /
Kurda broke down again, but this time he was sobbing in relief. Like the weight of the universe had been lifted from his shoulders. Mika exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"That's good." Mika murmured. "That's really good. That's what I wanted for you both, believe it or not."
"She included her address so I can write back to her. And she talked about you..." Kurda choked out, roughly wiping tears from his eyes. "Gods, you did so well with her, Mika. She's so proud of you. She knew how hard you struggled, and she wanted to make sure I knew. That was the hardest part to read."
"I've always wanted her to be honest with me about how she felt." Said Mika wearily. "So I try to be honest with her too. I'm still working on that. Hasn't been easy."
"You've come a long way." Said Kurda. "There was a time you'd rather die than admit to anyone you're capable of emotion."
/ Surely it must be a coincidence that my life was much easier back then. /
Mika let out a hoarse, humourless laugh.
"Look at trajectory of our relationship, Kurda. I didn't have a choice."
"Either way, I'm proud of you too. Not that that means much coming from me."
Mika shrugged.
"You're right, it doesn't mean much. But it's more than nothing. So thanks."
"You must be hard up for compliments these days." Kurda remarked drily.
"In case you haven't noticed, I've been off the fucking rails for almost a decade now. Honestly I should've been fired years ago, but nobody wants my job these days." Mika replied.
"Can Princes get fired?" Kurda snorted.
"Probably, if they tried hard enough."
"Then I guess you're not trying hard enough."
/ Stop looking at me like that. Why do you have to look at me like that? /
"I'll try to do better." Said Mika wryly. He didn't smile but for a second he felt like it was within the realm of possibility.
"Come back to the bed, okay?" Kurda suggested wearily. "I'll sleep on the floor if you want. Seriously, I don't mind. You need to get some rest for your trip back. You still look like hell."
Kurda slowly got to his feet and extended his hand to Mika. Mika stood up as well but blatantly ignored Kurda's outstretched hand. He then walked past Kurda and opened the fridge.
"What?" Kurda asked.
"What do you eat?"
"Mostly the food at the bar. The cook kind of has a crush on me so he makes me whatever I want." Kurda explained with a sheepish little smile.
/ Yeah. That checks out. /
"Most nights I have some leftovers to bring home, but I ran out yesterday and everything is shut down with the weather." He added.
"Ah. Getting by on your looks. Might as well, I guess." Mika commented, withdrawing a plastic jug of grapefruit juice and giving it a cautious sniff. In his highly discerning opinion, it smelled like ass.
"Don't look at me like that. Remember that guard who'd go down to the kitchens and bring you anything you wanted to eat, any time of the day?" Kurda shot back. "You didn't even have to ask."
/ Now THOSE were the good old days. /
"He would've done the same for Arrow or Paris." Mika countered with a shrug.
"But he never offered for them. Just you." Kurda snorted. "And you knew exactly what you were doing, too. You'd give him that stupid cocky smile and he'd turn red. He requested a transfer shortly after we went public with our relationship."
"I always wondered what ever happened to him..."
"Do you even remember his name?"
"Uh... George?"
"It was Damien."
"That's what I said."
"Gods, Mika. You're a piece of work, you know that?" Kurda scoffed.
"I vaguely remember you telling me that several times... a week." Mika retorted sardonically.
/ Always turned me on when you said it like that, too. /
"No one else was going to say it." Said Kurda matter-of-factly. "I just thought you should- wow, yes. Please help yourself to the last of my cookies. No really, take the whole box to bed with you. I don't mind."
"Your mouth is saying you don't mind, but your face is saying you mind a lot." Mika commended offhandedly through a mournful of cookie as he headed back in the direction of the bedroom with the box of chocolate chip cookies in his hand.
"Don't get crumbs in my bed, okay?"
"You ruined my life. I'll get crumbs wherever I want."
Kurda couldn't entirely suppress a dark chuckle at that. They got back in the bed again, each on on the far edge, leaving as much space between them as they could. It made it marginally less awkward that they each had their own separate blanket. Times really do change.
Kurda turned on the small tv in the corner and they watched the news for an hour or so. Mika munched his way through the entire bag of cookies and when he was finished he looked Kurda dead in the eye and turned the bag upside down to dump the remaining crumbs on to the clean bedsheet between them.
/ Take that. /
For a split second it looked like Kurda was about to burst out laughing. But he wordlessly got up and returned with a vacuum cleaner.
/ Have I always been such a petty bitch? /
Mika silently watched him clear every last crumb from the sheet before lying back down. Kurda turned off the light, then the television and slipped under the blankets.
"Goodnight." He told Mika gently.
/ "Good" night? I don't know what night you were attending but it sure as fuck wasn't this one. /
All the glamour and the trauma
And the fucking melodrama,
All the gunfights and the limelights
And the holy sick divine nights
THREE HOURS LATER:
For three hours Mika was trapped in a vicious and unproductive cycle. Feel exhausted, try to sleep, can't sleep because Kurda is RIGHT fucking there and we don't know how we feel about that, feel frustrated that we're in this mess but mostly just because we can't fucking sleep, feel even more exhausted, repeat cycle.
Then he heard Kurda's voice chime from a few feet away, as soft as the duvet Mika was wrapped in:
"You asleep?"
/ What are you, the sleep police? /
"What do you think?" Mika snapped.
"Do you need anything?" Kurda ventured.
/ World peace, a bottle of whiskey, the Vampaneze Lord's head on a stake on my front lawn, a six month vacation, a Starbucks kiosk in Vampire Mountain, and my sanity back. /
"Tranquilizer dart."
"Fresh out of those, sorry." Said Kurda apologetically.
"Can't you just run to the store and get me one? Otherwise what's the point of living in town?"
"Gods, I forgot his funny you were." Kurda scoffed.
/ As if. /
"No you didn't."
"No, I didn't..." Kurda sighed. Mika could feel Kurda's eyes on his body but he didn't roll over to meet his gaze. He resolutely continued to stare deadpan at the blank wooden wall.
"Seriously, do you need a warmer blanket or something?" Kurda tried again.
/ Yes, Kurda. That would solve all my problems. This is all because of the blanket. /
"I don't have a problem with the damn blanket. Did you really think I could just lie down next to you after six years of whatever the fuck that was, and fall asleep like it's nothing?"
And without even a shred of warning, Mika felt Kurda's hand, smaller and warmer than his own, on his back. Lightly caressing the area between his shoulder blades as if it was ten years ago when the man wasn't a gods-damned war criminal. Mika jerked sharply, feeling adrenaline surge though his body.
/ Aaaand this is why I didn't want to come here. /
"I said don't fucking touch me, Kurda." Mika snapped.
"Old habits. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." said Kurda quietly.
"Well, think." Mika shot back. He was going for contempt, but when his own voice reached his ears he realized he sounded more hurt than anything else.
"Okay." Kurda breathed as Mika rolled over on his back to stare mutely at the ceiling. "I'm thinking about all the times years ago when you'd lay awake the night before an important meeting, or a big negotiation... how I'd rub your back until I felt all that stress melt away and you'd fall asleep in my arms. And I knew there was nowhere else I'd rather be than there with you. That's what I'm thinking about."
/ That's awfully specific. /
"Think about something else." He said at last.
"You don't think I tried that?" Kurda replied gently. "You don't think I try my damnedest not to think about all those memories from the good years? Or the million tiny, random, stupid little things that made me fall in love with you over and over again? My life doesn't look like yours, Mika. Not that it ever did, but even less so these days. I don't have distractions like you do. I don't have a purpose. I have nothing but those memories."
/ And YOU don't think that's all I can think about every night as I'm trying to fall asleep, no matter how many distractions I have? It's always you. It's always going to be you. And THAT is my entire problem. /
"You had everything. You fucking had everything." Said Mika. The words hurt on their way out, like he was vomiting up gravel. "And you lit it up and watched it burn."
"I had no choice. There was no way around it. I'm running out of words to explain that t you." Kurda sighed wearily.
/ Oh, would you just shut the fuck up about choices? I'm so tired of this. /
"Can't you stop trying to justify it to me, even now? Can't you just let me resent the fact that it happened at all?" Mika growled.
"You have every right to resent it. You should hate me." Kurda murmured.
/ Gods, my life would be so much easier if I hated you. /
"Yeah, I should. But we figured out a long time ago that I can't." Mika muttered bitterly.
"Then that's the only thing you've ever failed at." Said Kurda stiffly.
/ That and parallel parking. /
"I know you were backed into a corner, or you felt like you were. Same difference. I get it. I hate that you did it, and I want to say I would've done it differently in your shoes but for all we know I would've done the same thing." Mika admitted.
/ As long as we're being honest. /
And Kurda just stared at him through those eyes. Those heartbreaking, haunting blue eyes. Mika felt his walls start to crumble. Because even now Kurda could still disarm his ironclad defences with a single look.
Everyone who knew Mika, knew him on his terms. They saw what he wanted them to see: a confident, cool-headed, fearless leader. A hardened warrior who took no shit from anyone. An analytical mastermind who second-guessed nothing. And he was all of that, to be sure. He didn't have to force any of it. It was authentic.
But nothing in life comes for free, not even for the great and powerful Mika Ver Leth. Even from an early age Mika held himself to impossibly high standards and put himself under so much pressure it bordered on cruel. It worked in his favour though, he climbed the ranks faster than he probably should have. But the crushing weight of responsibility took a heavy toll, and Mika paid dearly with his mental well-being.
Mika had never been an emotional hothead like Arrow. He was a stone-cold strategist with a long fuse, almost all the time. But when he did unravel it was fast and hard. He didn't know when or how Kurda got so good at diffusing these rare moments of panic, but all it ever seemed to take was a few soft words or a soothing touch to cut through even the darkest moments of fear and doubt. To bring Mika back to a place where he could function again and do whatever he needed to do. It became Kurda's secret superpower. Until Destiny-With-A-Capital-D came around and turned their very universe inside out.
"I'm sure you would've found a better way, Mika." Kurda whispered at last, his voice cracking. "I'm sure you would've walked right up to Desmond Tiny's doorstep and told him to shove his doomsday prophecies back up his asshole where they came from. And you know what? He probably would've listened to you! Because you're Mika Fucking Ver Leth - "
/ Sometimes I forget that's not actually my middle name. /
"- and you're better than this. Better than this futile war. Better than the senseless violence. Better than the lies, better than the knife I put in your back. And you're so much better than lying in this bed with me right now. Gods, I just... I don't... fuck, Mika! You shouldn't be here! I shouldn't even be here! I wish you'd all just executed me when you had the chance!" Kurda finished, his voice breaking into a jagged, angry sob. He sounded just as weary as Mika felt.
And for the first time that night, something clicked in Mika's brain. The recognition and the acceptance that Kurda was suffering just as much as he was. And no matter how much Mika resented what he did, there was nothing to be gained from it. There never had been, and there never would be. All it added up to was more pain.
And they were both already in so much fucking pain.
"Yeah, well... I wish your plan had worked." Mika croaked out after an eternity of silence. That was his final coherent thought before his brain shut down.
Then before he could think about what he was doing, suddenly he was on the other side of the bed. He didn't know how he'd gotten there. He didn't remember rolling over, but in a split second Kurda's flawless, slender body was underneath him and instinct took over as Mika felt Kurda's lips against his. And gods damn, they tasted just as good as they had the first time.
Mika's mind was blank, lacking so much as a semblance of thought. Had he retained even a trace of reason he sure as hell wouldn't have started this fire. Or had Kurda started it? It was anybody's guess. He did know one thing, and it was that Kurda's hips were grinding against his just as hungrily, while his hands were tearing at Mika's shirt. Mika arched his body to make it that much easier for the shirt to slip off, before quickly getting to work removing Kurda's clothes.
Once that mission was accomplished, Mika ran his hands down Kurda's body, feeling electrified as the blond moaned softly and melted beneath his fingertips. Even after all these years Mika felt a twinge of satisfaction that he could still practically draw a map (the only map he'd ever know how to draw) to every little spot that made Kurda dissolve into a shaking mess that could do nothing but moan Mika's name as if it was the only word he knew. Coming from Kurda's lips, in THAT precise manner... it was the most powerful high he'd ever experienced. Then and now.
"We shouldn't..." he heard Kurda gasp, his voice breathless and soft.
/ That's the smartest thing either of us have said all day. /
"Tell me to stop and I will. Just say the word." Mika whispered as he left a trail of kisses down the side of Kurda's neck and collarbones. And he meant what he said. Part of him wanted Kurda to stop him - he knew he was going to regret this. Mika paused for a second and he pressed his forehead into Kurda's shoulder, breathing heavily. Time stood still as he waited for Kurda to pull away, to do the right thing. The smart thing. Mika may have been smarter than the average vampire, but he wasn't Kurda-smart. Nobody was Kurda-smart.
But all he felt was Kurda's hot breath on his face as he kissed him more fiercely than ever before, and his reckless hands finding their home on Mika's hips to pull him closer, until it became clear there was absolutely no stopping this. From the second Mika walked through the door, it had been game over.
Mika always had a physical advantage over Kurda. He was taller, heavier, and stronger. So when it came to intimacy he tended to let Kurda set the pace where forcefulness was concerned, for fear of accidentally hurting him. But that didn't last long; during the years they were together he'd been pleasantly surprised as Kurda revealed himself to be anything but soft and timid in the coffin.
But with that said, this like was nothing Mika had ever experienced before. This was pure chaos, unrestrained desperation. A level of derailed passion he didn't know either of them were capable of until this moment, and that was saying something. This felt like a tornado colliding with a wildfire and destroying everything in its path. 'Sex' wasn't a strong enough word. 'Lovemaking' was far too dignified. 'Fucking' didn't do it justice.
Kurda had always been, would always be inevitable.
They'll talk about us, all the lovers
How we kissed and killed each other, uh-oh
They'll talk about us, and discover
How we kissed and killed each other
Then it was over.. For a split second the very earth seemed to shake, and then the senseless, lust-driven act of relapse had run its course. The incomparable high lasted another moment after that, and then just as quickly as it set in... it disappeared. Kurda exhaled one last shuddering sigh and went limp. Mika took a long, deep breath and slowly disentangled himself from Kurda's body. At last, he rolled away so he could lay down and catch his breath.
Then there came the withdrawal, just as inevitable as the relapse itself. The crash was fast and brutal as if he'd fallen out of a tenth storey window onto concrete.
/ Well, well well. If it isn't the consequences of my actions./
The paralyzing rush of anxiety came next.
/ Fuck. Not again. /
"Hey." Came Kurda's voice, rising above the swirling fog of chaos. "What's wrong?"
For the second time that night, Mika felt Kurda's hand on his back. This time he didn't react; it would've been pretty redundant considering what had just happened.
"Talk to me, Mika." Kurda urged. "Are you okay?"
"We shouldn't have done that... fuck... why did I fucking do that?!" Mika forced out through gritted teeth. He heard Kurda exhale. When Mika said Kurda knew everything about him, he really meant everything. And "everything" included knowing how to diffuse these godforsaken panic attacks like a one-man bomb disposal unit.
"Was it that bad? I know I'm out of practice but I thought I did fine." Kurda replied softly.
/ 'Fine' isn't a strong enough word for how you felt to me, I know that much. /
"That's not what I mean!" Mika groaned, finally rolling back over even though he wasn't entirely sure he was ready to face Kurda.
"I know it's not." Said Kurda steadily. "And you're right, we shouldn't have done it. But we did it. It's over now. And it won't happen again. So don't spiral, okay?"
/ Wow. I'm cured. Thank you. Can't believe it never occurred to me to just NOT spiral. /
"I'll spiral if I fucking want to, Kurda!" He choked out as Kurda rolled his eyes.
"Gods, you're impossible." Kurda murmured. "Come here."
Kurda extended his arms and Mika no longer had the resolve to resist the only thing he wanted in that moment. The only thing he knew he had no business having.
Mika let Kurda fold his arms around his weary body. Let the ex-General slowly pull him in until his pounding head came to rest on Kurda's warm, lightly-muscled chest. He lay still and focused on Kurda's hand running in slow circles around his back. Felt the panic slowly ebb away as though it had changed his mind about pulling him under and drowning him. As if Kurda's very presence sent his demons packing.
"I was only supposed to drop off the letter and leave... none of this was supposed to happen... fuck... can't believe... so fucking stupid." Mika whispered
"Don't go down that road." Kurda whispered. "Just forget it ever happened."
/ You're good at a lot of things, Kurda, but you'd be a fucking awful psychotherapist. /
"I don't want to forget." Mika croaked. "I should, but I don't. This is the fucking problem! I got over you once already. It took me years, but I did it. And now... back at square one. I'm so fucking stupid..."
Mika's brain was shutting down again. There were no more coherent words to be said. No more intelligent thoughts to be had. He was done.
"You're the farthest thing from that. Just rest now. You're going to be fine. I promise you." He heard Kurda's voice murmur above his ear and felt the words vibrate through his chest as he spoke them.
/ What a stupid thing to tell someone. Almost as stupid as the fact that I believe you. /
At last, Mika finally let his eyelids drift shut as he tuned out everything except the sensation of his skin against Kurda's, and the sound of his steady heartbeat until even that faded into silence as sleep finally granted him a reprieve.
Mika didn't know how many hours he slept, but when he woke up it was dark outside and the snow had stopped. At some point during his slumber he'd rolled himself out of Kurda's arms and back to his own side of the bed. So when Mika silently got up and walked out of the room, Kurda didn't stir.
Adrenaline punched through Mika's veins as he gathered up his clothes and an emergency snack. In less than three minutes he was ready to leave, and not a moment too soon. He couldn't spend a second longer under this roof; he'd already done enough damage to his hard-earned mental stability in the short amount of time he'd been here.
He paused only long enough to rip a piece of paper off the notepad on the kitchen table, and scrawled a quick note for Kurda before he painstakingly opened the kitchen door. Mercifully, everything was well-oiled and it didn't make a sound.
He slipped back outside into the silent, frozen expanse and took off without a backwards glance. A few scribbled words were the only evidence he'd been there at all:
K -
Had to leave. That was way too much.
Found an unopened box of cookies. Took it with me for the road. Hope that's ok. If not... I don't care and I'm not sorry.
Thanks for taking care of me, I guess.
Stay well. See you when I see you.
- M.
Lesser-known but entirely true fact: Mika's middle name is ACTUALLY "glamour, trauma, fucking melodrama". Lorde wrote the song about him. Just trust me on this.
And that's a wrap on much-anticipated Sad Boy Reunion! It won't be the last time but they will be apart again for a while. But the good news is the action is about to start ramping up! Of course Mika will be back at Vamp Mtn before too long and we'll follow through with a couple of canonical events before I ultimately detour from the source material.
Please leave some feedback if this made you feel anything at all. I'm equally grateful whether you do it via this website or through tumblr or discord. But I will admit I like going back and re-read comments when I need motivation, so in a perfect world I'd love it if you did so via the comment box below in order to keep them all accessible on the review page. Otherwise they eventually get lost in the interwebs (and ultimately in the camera roll on my phone bc you better believe I screenshot them to save for a rainy day). But with that said, you could send me feedback in a crumpled post-it note via carrier pigeon and I'd love it just the same so I'm really not that picky. I'm just happy you're here.
I'll probably update again next week! Have a safe and happy Halloween, you guys! And as always, thank you from the very bottom of my heart.
- Roxy