𝑟𝑒𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

[longitudinal]

𝑖'𝑙𝑙 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢

please don't forget me and all the things we did
please don't be in love with someone else

Comments

[longitudinal]

[ quentin looks around the room while koby speaks, talking about the former captain and the duties he has to uphold. he sounds different now, measured and careful, not unlike the tone his father had when giving orders, laying out plans. the room though has all the trappings of the man he knew, even if changed. he still doesn't move much from where he entered, watching koby shake out of his coat.

it feels wrong to feel uncomfortable here - like he should be able to melt into the easy light of their days together. but it's true - they have spent more days apart now than they ever had together. a small part of quentin wonders if coming here, finding koby, will be a mistake.

but four years in war with alonso, with the vysokian empire, and a year in these lands - quentin knows he's not the man koby loved. not entirely. ]

You make an excellent captain. Your men respect you.

[ but koby reaches for his hands, laces their fingers, and his expression softens. koby all strong and broad and warm, and his own hands look filthy in comparison. his clothes have been washed and mended, some from this world, some from his own. simple pants, a simple tunic, a little traveling pouch with any small thing he could collect and call his own. around his neck there's a silver chain, tucked behind his shirt collar.

but how can he deny the way koby looks at him? the brightness and warmth that makes him want to weep for simply seeing it again. he shouldn't, but he leans down and kisses him again, soft and sweet. ]

I'm filthy, sorry. I just - [ a pause, his head ducking faintly, color rising into this cheeks, more defined now from a year of hunger ]

I don't know how I fit into all this. Into your life. This room, my own skin. I'm tired, sore, sunburned and bruised. Your world is no kinder than mine. But seeing you... I feel like I can breathe again. But I... I have seen so much. I don't know that I am who you loved then, even if I desperately wish to be as I still love you so very much.

[kobes]

[The instinct is there to immediately shake his head, refuse the apology, insist it isn’t needed, isn’t necessary – but the words come out soft, hoarse, halting in a way that wrenches at Koby’s chest, speaks of exactly how much Quentin’s endured over the last few years. How many times has he been silenced, forced to submit, to swallow his own voice in order to survive, to escape, to claw his way through time and space to be here, weary and soft-voiced and so, so tired? Koby’s learned to hold his tongue as well, to allow every man on his crew to speak their piece, and it’s served him well – outspoken cadets become strong captains, strong leaders, and there are sworn allies in every corner of the world, willing to bend the rules for his sake.

And they’ll need to – Quentin’s survived in this world for some time, at least, not newly-arrived, and has perhaps promised work to one captain or another. Part of Koby’s mind is already clicking away, thinking of how to dissolve that agreement peacefully, how to pull enough strings to get Quentin both enlisted and stationed to this ship, this crew, paperwork and formalities providing as much security as an armored vessel would. If Quentin’s part of his crew, he’s safe. Koby’s asked for very, very little over the years, and given substantially – it’s time to cash in on all the favors he’s owed.

But that thought slips away at the last words, at the hollow heartbreak in Quentin’s voice, unthinkable, unbearable. Koby’s already shaking his head, stepping closer, reaching up – not as much, he’s taller now, still several inches shorter than the average man, but not the scrawny slip of anxiety and wide eyes he’d been at Saltburnt. His hands are rougher, palms crisscrossed with new calluses, new scars, new strength, but they’re impossibly gentle as they cradle Quentin’s face, tip his gaze upward.]

Listen to me. No matter what you’ve survived, no matter where you’ve been, you could never become someone I no longer love. Okay? [There’s an inescapable steel in Koby’s voice, but it’s balanced out by the stroke of his thumbs over Quentin’s sunburned cheeks, the way he has to stand on tiptoe, still, to press their foreheads together.] We just – need to relearn each other. Find out what we look like here, now. Together. How we fit. That’s okay. That’s wonderful.

[And here, at last, Koby’s voice breaks, falters, and there are tears welling up in his eyes, no longer hidden behind the owlish lenses, easy to see as they overflow, streak down his face, as he manages in a hoarse whisper:] I missed you. I worried – [That I’d never see you again, that I’d spend my whole life looking and looking, that I’d wake up every morning reaching for you and finding nothing, nobody there.] You’re here. You’re with me again and that’s the only thing that matters.