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When the Race ends, the sun has already begun sinking beneath the horizon. It paints the sky above them a bloody red; dark and unsettling. It feels like some sort of terrible omen.
Seawatt’s golden bangles catch the light of the fading sun as he jumps off the block, shimmering like far-off stars.
“I suppose I had this coming for me, didn’t I?” He remarks with a quiet laugh. There is no humour behind the sound, it’s grief-stricken, terrified- utterly miserable.
“For what it’s worth-” He continues, almost sounding remorseful, “-I was telling the truth when I said I enjoyed working with you.”
Without any warning, Seawatt rushes forward, covering the space between them faster than what should have been possible. His fingers grip the sides of Evbo’s face, hard enough to bruise- and kisses him.
Before this moment, Seawatt had only touched him once. And yet, this is a difference so drastic that it feels almost impossible to comprehend.
━
Evbo walks through the door, battered and bruised. And as he looks over at Seawatt- whatever snide remark he planned on saying dies on the other man’s lips. The blood staining his sweater is more than obvious, and the agonised expression on his face is similar.
Evbo knows that he shouldn’t trust him. Whoever he met retrieving the Crystal Disc had made that more than clear. Seawatt intends to betray him, and is actively trying to manipulate him. But God, his concern looks so real- and Evbo’s mind is so hazy from the pain. It’s difficult to remember.
“Dude, what happened to you?” Seawatt gasps, quickly rushing to his side. “Why are you bleeding?”
The Champion grimaces, screwing his eyes shut.
He had been- distracted coming back from his impromptu meeting, to say the least. Caught up in his spiralling thoughts, not looking close enough at where he was jumping, And even though he managed to catch himself, the branching crystals that stuck out from the blocks were fragile; and shattered underneath his hands, embedding themselves in his skin.
“Okay.” Seawatt murmurs after receiving no response, his tone unusually soft. “Come on. Let me take a look.”
Evbo doesn’t protest as Seawatt guides him over to the bed, steering him by the shoulders; nor when he coaxes him into sitting down. And when the other man gently tugs his hands into the open, away from where they were fisted in his sweater- he curses under his breath.
“Stay here.” He orders, his voice now taking on a much sharper edge. “And don’t move your hands.”
Evbo manages to fix him with a confused look. Shouldn’t they stop the bleeding first?
“Pressure is only going to drive those crystals deeper,” Seawatt explains as he rummages through his inventory, somehow understanding him perfectly. He quickly produces a water bucket, placing it on the nightstand before truly stopping to meet Evbo’s gaze. “This is going to hurt. You’ll just need to trust me.”
“Yeah, well- I don’t.” He bites back, rolling his eyes.
Seawatt exhales heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose in clear annoyance. “Tough luck, then.” He mutters, shrugging slightly.
With that, he removes his cape and tears off a few long strips of fabric. Seawatt takes his hand again, brushing his thumb over the uninjured part of his skin, almost as if to soothe- before wrapping the cloth around his fingers and yanking out the first shard.
Pain. That’s all Evbo can feel, white-hot, blinding pain. The sensation crashes over him like a tidal wave, clouding his senses and clawing its way up his throat as if he’s going to be sick-
Somewhere in the distance, beyond the haze of agony; Seawatt presses the cloth on the now-open wound, before immediately reaching out for Evbo, tugging him close until his face is buried in his shoulder. He chokes back a ragged sob, and Seawatt tangles his free hand in the hair at the nape of Evbo’s neck, whispering soft, inaudible reassurances.
This process repeats itself an indiscernible amount of times. Seawatt removes another fragment of the crystal from his palms, and Evbo hides his face in the crook of his neck until the wound clots and the pain subsides. He’s too far gone to feel any embarrassment, and Seawatt appears too concerned to tease him about it.
“Alright, we’re done,” Seawatt reassures him, after what feels like an eternity. “It’s okay. We’re done.”
He pulls away carefully, dipping a fresh strip of cloth into the water bucket to wash the blood from his hands; before wrapping them in bandages. Evbo suppresses a sigh when Seawatt’s touch finally subsides, half-relieved, half-disappointed.
It felt nice to be treated so gently. A little humiliating, sure- to be in such a state that Seawatt thought it necessary to do so, but comforting nonetheless. It leaves him with a strange ache in his chest, a feeling that could almost be considered longing.
Evbo doesn’t want to think about that, at least not too intensely . It’s something that feels better to ignore.
The night passes much too slowly for his liking, and in near-total silence. Now that his head is a little clearer, the words of his newfound ally have begun weighing heavily on him. And with each passing hour, his distrust for the other man only grows stronger.
He couldn’t have done much of anything with those shards in his hands, Evbo reminds himself intensely. That’s why Seawatt helped- because it would benefit him.
When he wakes up the next morning, Seawatt isn’t in their makeshift shelter. And Evbo doesn’t wait for him before leaving.
━
When Seawatt kisses him, it’s far from a gentle thing. No, it’s sharp; and the force of it nearly knocks him over as Seawatt’s body curves into his own.
He tastes of blood, desperation- of still desert air and the tears running down his cheeks. It isn’t what he expected, and Evbo briefly wonders if that would still be the case under different circumstances.
For one final moment after pulling away, Seawatt looks at him. His dark eyes are bright, shimmering; lips pressed together- as if trying hard to maintain a neutral expression.
And when Evbo blinks, he’s gone.
━
It takes a good few weeks after his Ascension before Evbo finally gathers the courage to try his idea. Of course, he’ll have no idea if it’ll work- but he is God. Beyond imagination, is there really a limit to what he can do?
Well, he isn’t all-knowing, that’s for sure. If nothing else, Evbo has no idea what is waiting for him on the other side.
The air shimmers, distorting slightly- before a door appears in front of him. It’s made from dark wood, and leagues more unremarkable than what he would have expected. Evbo inhales shakily, trying in vain to settle his nerves before tugging it open.
Beyond that door is an empty house. Sandstone walls and dust-covered furniture, something that obviously used to be a home, but has long since been abandoned. The windows are dirty- smeared with grime, but a few beams of sunlight still manage to break through nonetheless. They illuminate Evbo’s path as he walks, exploring this new environment.
Tucked away in a corner of that house is a small kitchen. Evbo would have barely given it a second glance if not for the man curled up on the floor, back pressed against one of the cabinets.
Seawatt looks close to unrecognisable. His dark curls hang limp in front of his face, clearly having gone uncared for forsome time now. There is nothing regal about his current state, and no trace of the man Evbo has grown to love and hate in equal measure.
His expression is blank, detached, somehow- and when his eyes flicker upwards to look at him, smeared with kohl and utterly bloodshot, Evbo sees nothing beyond a hint of recognition.
Evbo approaches him very carefully, making sure to keep his distance when he kneels in front of him.
“Seawatt?” He murmurs, hoping that his tone will come across as gentle. In reality, it’s much closer to apprehensive. “Can you hear me?”
“Go away.”
His reply is weak, but it still carries a hint of the sharpness Evbo is so used to now. And as strange as this may sound- he’s never been so damned grateful to hear it.
Evbo is silent for a long moment, struggling to figure out his next move. “What is this place?” He finally questions, unable to think of anything better to say.
“It’s my home.” Seawatt answers, a hint of that old anger sparking in his coffee-coloured eyes. “Whatever’s left of it now, at least.”
Oh.
Oh, God.
Really, what is this place? It could be Seawatt’s deepest desire, and it could just as easily be Hell. Evbo doesn’t know how to differentiate.
“You shouldn't be here.” He continues, now staring directly at Evbo. The words are harsh, plainly accusatory- and it takes everything in him not to shrink underneath the weight of Seawatt’s gaze. “Why are you here? Are you dead?”
He moves a little closer, as if testing the waters. Seawatt glares at him, suspicion evident on his face- but he doesn't move away.
“No,” Evbo replies. “I’m not dead- kind of the opposite, actually.”
Seawatt blinks, his expression softening incrementally. He just seems confused now, if anything. “Then what are you doing here?”
The words pass his lips, and it feels like the whole house goes silent- as if the very walls are holding their breath, waiting for a response.
“I’m here for you.” He whispers, smiling a little awkwardly.
It doesn’t take long before a familiar anger clouds over Seawatt’s features, and that brief, fragile softness disappears. “I don’t need your rescuing, Evbo.” He bites back, bearing his teeth in warning. “And I don’t need you.”
Evbo inhales deeply, swallowing the bitter words threatening to escape him. As tempting as they might be, they will do him no favours. “I know that you don’t need me.” He agrees carefully, feeling like he’s trying to diffuse a bomb. “I just care about you.”
“You don’t mean that.” Seawatt finally insists, clenching his fists. It sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself of the fact, not Evbo. “ You can’t.”
“Well, I do,” Evbo states plainly, holding Seawatt’s gaze steady. It’s a dangerous game that he’s playing now; Evbo is well aware of that, as well as the consequences of making a wrong move.
Seawatt presses a hand to his mouth, stifling a strangled sort of noise. He might have called it a sob, if he didn’t know just how badly that statement would be received.
“I don’t deserve it.” Seawatt’s voice is horribly small, wavering- sounding just about ready to break. “Not after everything I’ve done.”
Fuck it.
Evbo reaches forward, just like Seawatt had done moments after losing the Race; and cradles his face in his palms. The touch is gentle, reverent; like he’s something precious, something inherently good- because he is, he is he is he is.
“You haven’t always made good choices.” Evbo murmurs, shrugging slightly. “There’s no changing that. But you can make better ones tomorrow.”
For a long, agonising moment, Seawatt glares at him from beneath his hands. And then, something inside of his eyes just shatters.
Seawatt doesn’t cry. He doesn’t collapse into Evbo’s arms, submitting to some overly dramatic display of vulnerability. But that pure vitriol dissipates- and Evbo knows him well enough to decipher the action.
“Come home with me.” Evbo pleads, tracing gentle fingers over the grooves of his face. Unlike Seawatt, he isn’t ashamed to display his cards- to showcase how badly he wants this. “Please.”
“It still smells like them here,” Seawatt admits, clenching his jaw as if it was painful to do so. “I’m not sure that I can leave.”
Can’t you see it’s killing you? This place has distorted your grief- it has made you a shell of yourself, and will eat at you until there’s nothing left for it to take. Your parents wouldn’t have wanted you to rot inside of this house.
Evbo sighs, brushing tangled curls away from his face. “I know it does.” He whispers the words into Seawatt’s skin, his lips pressed against the crown of his head. “But we can’t stay in the past forever.”
The door is still waiting for them when Evbo finally coaxes Seawatt back into the living room. And if he’s clinging onto his side like a baby fawn learning how to walk- Evbo doesn’t mention it.
They walk back into the world together, hands intertwined.