singillatim | Your demeanor should be all cheer, gentlemen.

Raju frowns at him, trying to understand. Trying to fit what Francis is saying into Raju's own memories is like trying to shove a square peg through a round hole. It doesn't match. "You—"

He stops himself before he can ask. You really think that? would be idiotic. Obviously Francis thinks it, or he wouldn't be saying it now. Bizarre as it is.

"How long have you been thinking this way?" He needs to know. How long has Francis been thinking of this when Raju should have been... Reassuring him? Doing something. "Since we woke up... afterward? Or just now?"

He wants to be forthright and honest, but he also wants to be careful. He hasn't always been so gentle in his delivery in the past.

"Just now, just this very moment," he tells him, feeling his heart start a slow creeping up into his throat. "But I can't deny that I've been thinking about this, considering our differences. My injuries. My inability to keep up with you in a way that clearly brings you joy."

Raju thinks over it. This is the first time that he's needed to for Francis, at least in quite this way, but he knows how to do it: his grip on Francis' shoulders eases into less of a worried grab for him and more of a gentle, confident hold and his hands rub down and up Francis' biceps, his frown smoothing into a smile.

"When you're mourning for yourself — your hand, your body — that's one thing. But don't mourn for my happiness, Francis. Because you do." Like his smile Raju's voice is smooth and warm, made to reassure. "You do bring me joy. You always have. One odd day can't change that."

Rama is sincere, that he never doubted. If he says he brings him joy then it must be so, and part of him very desperately wants to be reassured by Rama's words. If he listened to the rational part of of his brain he'd jump at the chance to put this whole insecure and humiliating nonsense behind him, instead of finding ways to sabotage his own happiness. But he's Francis Crozier, and the very loud and insistent part of him needs to make sure that Rama understands this insecurity completely.

"But a different kind of joy, no?" he presses, holding his gaze. Rama's expression is so honest and open, and it warms him despite the words he forces out of his own mouth. "You've had to care for me so many times, I can't imagine it wasn't a relief to have a young man by your side."

Crozier can feel his heart thumping against his ribcage. He exhales slowly, trying to get it to calm itself. "You are the great miracle of my life, one I'm still not sure I deserve. But I want to be enough. I want to make you happy."

I do make you happy.

You do, but your station does not.

"You say things like that and think you don't?" Some of the insistence in Raju's expression and posture have softened a little. It's difficult not to soften, hearing he's the great miracle of a good man's life. He rubs at Francis' arms again, eyes narrowing for a moment of silent thought.

"Caring for you is..." Raju pauses, still thinking. That isn't the way, is it? Not quite what Francis is looking for, at least to start with. Raju reorients himself.

"The relief was seeing you without pain." One of Raju's hands moves to settle over the spot on Francis' ribcage that he could point to without even looking at it, by now. "You could breathe. You could run. You're a generous man, dedicated. You want to leave people better than you found them, no matter who they are. You want to work, to help. To hold yourself back when your body can't match that generous spirit, it hurts you. That was the relief I felt, Francis. For you.

"Did I really seem like..." The hand on Francis' chest moves up to his shoulder and the other one mirrors it, his loose grip rubbing over the muscles there absently as his gaze unfocuses. It's strange, for a moment, to ask at all; he should be focusing on reassuring Francis and only that, not asking for reassurance of his own. But he hadn't thought twice before starting to. "Like it was the racing making me so happy that day? It was wonderful, but—"

It had been. It'd been wonderful to push his body and thrill his mind that way with someone he loves, to feel the thrill running through a body pushing toward its limits and know the man holding his hand felt exactly the same. He'd loved it nearly as much for its own sake as for Francis'. But then— "Do I seem so shallow? Like that was why I felt that way?"

“Christ, no,” he says immediately, even as his mind’s still churning over Rama’s other words. “No, of course I don’t think that of you. I could never.”

Rama isn’t selfish. He’s single-minded at times and his emotions are like a tangled web at times, but it’s the last thing he would think. “No, I - I saw the delight and thought, whether you realized it or not, perhaps one day you’d be tired of what I can’t do. You’d think back on that day and wish for someone more spritely or with less gray in their hair.”

But he can see why this assumption would hurt Rama. He loves him, that much is indisputable, and to think he’d ever wish for someone else is an assumption too far. He was just happy to see him well, happy to see him without restraint. Just happy for the sake of happiness.

Crozier frowns softly and places his own hand in the center of Ram’s chest, trying to feel for some faint ghost of a heartbeat. “The woman I’d proposed to - Sophia. She’d tried to warn me that she’d grow to resent me if we ever married. I couldn’t hear it then. I wouldn’t. I wanted to forgo all of her concerns, because I truly believed our love would spare us from reality.

“I’ve been thinking of her these last few days, and I…I think, perhaps, my worry is I was doing it again. Forging onward despite the chance of resentment.”

Raju frowns, one hand moving to cover Francis', over the centre of his own chest. Francis had shied away from touch when he'd started talking but he's reaching out to Raju now and it's good, better to talk when he can feel Francis with him like this. And feeling him here, listening, Raju really does try to think about it. But, like dreaming for the future, maybe worrying for it is something Francis is more equipped for, too. Both Francis and Sophia, a woman Raju will never meet an eternity and at least one ocean away. He can't imagine saying no to Francis for a reason like that either, for what might happen someday. The woman, the stranger, must have had a someday to worry for, and Francis has said he'd been a different man before, but it's...

He tries. It's impossible to put himself in her place, even as worried as Francis is for it.

"I can't imagine it," he admits, focusing on Francis again. "Why on Earth would I ever resent you?" The ghost of a smile touches his lips at saying it, but no more than that. Francis is too worried about it to treat the idea like it's as ridiculous as it would normally feel. 'Spritely' and 'gray hair' — they seem like such small things. There must be more to it than that.

He looks down at their hands, joined now instead of separate. Together. Every concern he’s had thus far has been firmly refuted - Rama won’t hear it.

“I won’t be able to keep up with you,” he answers, though less and less he’s trying to argue. He just wants Rama to understand his fears now, as unfounded as they apparently are. “I already struggle. That’s my worry.”

"Then I'll get out the wheelbarrow again." Raju says it cheerfully, though a part of him is thinking. I already struggle. Maybe Raju should slow down when they go out. He thought he already did, but of course Francis wouldn't say anything if he was worried about trying to keep up with a man who's... however many years his junior Raju is. It's hard to remember there's an age difference at all, but after living it it must be impossible for Francis to forget. Raju will have to do better.

For now the focus on Raju's face disappears behind a smile, at least for a moment, at his joke. He curls his fingers around Francis'. "Push you along with me."

The smile fades as quickly as it came, and for a moment Raju studies him. "Was it the, ah..." He grimaces a little, still not able to speak about the oddities of this place as if they're anything typical. The hand on Francis' shoulder moves a moment toward the skin of one of his wrists, a little helplessly, trying to indicate what'd been happening to his skin without having to actually describe it. "The... heat. How happy I was. Is that what stirred all this up? You do know... why, don't you?"

He can't deny that Rama's snow-melting heat from that day hasn't stuck firmly in his mind. He shakes his head; no, he couldn't say for certain he knew why. "I assumed...all that I'd noted before. We were having a bit of fun together." In a way they hadn't experienced before, so the novelty had taken over.

Crozier tucks his chin into his chest for a moment. "No," he says quietly. "No, I don't know why for certain, Rama. I thought perhaps I did, but I've been assuming wrong, haven't I?"

Raju snorts quietly, a smile around his eyes for a moment as he avoids saying You were wrong out loud. But the curve of his mouth is tight, tense, and after it his eyebrows pull in toward each other. He's going to have to look into himself to explain it, long enough to find the right words and pull them out. Raju looks down, away, to the stump of a wrist that once had seemed an awkward thing, the kind of probably-painful topic Raju hadn't been sure how to politely handle, which feels now so entwined with the love he feels for the whole of the man that he doesn't know if he could separate them if he'd tried to. He wraps his free hand around Francis' wrist, the closest he can come to holding a hand that isn't there, and at the feeling of Francis there in the pressure against his fingers the faint tight feeling in Raju's chest eases a little. The tension in his expression eases a little with it.

"Do you remember... what we were talking about?" he starts, gaze drifting back from Francis' wrist to watch his face. "At the top of that tree? The view was incredible, and we were talking about other terrifying things. Beautiful things. The land and the sea, the way you felt about them."

Holding his mangled wrist, like one would his hand. God, how he misses that hand now, not for the usefulness (though that had been appreciated that day) but for the fact that he could embrace Rama properly. But Ram holds his wrist anyway, lovingly and without hesitation, and Crozier is almost too distracted by this to remember he was asked a question.

Does he remember what they’d been talking about on the top of those trees? He very nearly says no, that he can’t remember anything past the playing and racing and lovemaking, but that isn’t quite true. He does remember. He said it didn’t matter where he lived, and Rama had asked him why. What was the possible reason?

His dreams are different now.

He sees recognition in Francis face and the corners of his lips twitch up in acknowledgement for a moment. He looks away, and then back again. His fingers flex a little over Francis', slowly. "You said your dream... was me. 'Of course,' you said. Just like that."

Raju huffs softly, brow wrinkling, gaze distant. Now is the part that he has to find a way to explain to a man who could say something like that so matter of factly, just why it'd felt the way it had, a burst of sun through setting clouds, lighting the inside of him into vibrant colour.

There has to be a way he can approach it. Something that will make it easier. "You dreamed of the land and the sea, you said, before. Was that always what you... saw? When you looked forward at your life?"

It still seems an obvious answer to Crozier - Rama brings him so much joy, and he feels so much contentment when they’re together, he couldn’t possibly wish for anything more. Who needs the sea when his soul is already so at peace? And it’s no easy feat, Francis Crozier finding peace, but Rama’s capable of turning off that part in his brain that normally drowns in guilt.

But his question — he smiles quietly. “I pictured myself with wife and children, and a command of my own. A knighthood. Lofty dreams, until I started to want less, but so much more still.”

Raju's brows draw together, just for a moment. "Less, but more?" Raju thinks he knows what Francis is getting at, at least in broad strokes. But a career, acclaim, a wife and children, all that already feels as personal a dream as anyone could hope for. Even here, what Francis had expected of his life is far different from anything that'd ever occurred to Raju to think of, even as a child. Raju wants to explain — or, he wants to have already explained, skipping that unfortunate business of actually doing it in the middle — but he wants to understand, too. He wants to understand what Francis means when he says it, that Raju is his dream now. And maybe that will help Raju find the words to explain his own.

"The knighthood and the command, that I understand. You wanted something else instead, something for you only. But a family... What could be worth more than that?"

“Bringing my men home,” he tells him simply. The dream of glory and romance had been forgotten, and in its place all he’d really wanted was to see others safe and happy.

Less for himself, but so much more for others.

“And then I came here, and I didn’t know what I wanted. Some of them were alive, most still dead, and I was living just because I couldn’t very well die. But the dream changed, you see, when I realized that hoping for happiness and security for others and wanting happiness and security for myself needn’t be at odds.

“And now…maybe I can have the family still. Just…different than initially imagined. Smaller, perhaps.”

"Me." Raju's voice comes out softer, rougher than he'd expected it to. His thumb starts moving back and forth, comforting himself, over Francis' wrist. "You mean me."

He's quiet for a second, but Francis' answer did help him: there's a progression to follow. The first dream might be easier, and the rest will come from there. "When I was a boy, I wanted... to be faster than the men, train harder, longer. Learn the weapon, the aim, all of it faster. Make my father proud. After that... I called Seetha my fiancee didn't I, when I told you about her? We've had plenty of time for more. Our whole lives. But that's always been the word we use when people ask. It... There's only room for one dream. At home. Everything else... is..." His words slow as he tries to find the right one, expression distant and thoughtful.

"Expendable." He makes it come out matter-of-factly, with a hard edge to his tone, and to the look on his face. It's the only way it could come out. But he focuses on Francis' eyes again, and something soft creeps back in. "But not for you. For you, the only thing worth having is just..."

Expendable.

What happens when you have to live out somebody else’s dream? What does it look like, for all else that you love and cherish to be secondary to this dream? Marriage and family and happiness - those should have been things that Rama dreamed of, but he never allowed himself. Neither of them did, him and Seetha too.

It must have been misery, although he’s certain Ram would have never allowed himself that kind of self-pity. Seetha might have been more emotionally in-tune, but he supposes unless she shows up here during an Aurora he’ll never truly know.

“Is just what?” he prods gently.

Raju watches him a moment, then opens his mouth and spends another moment that way. Then he closes it, sighing a little, and looks down, the hint of a frustrated smile flickering over his face. He wonders if Francis is the only person who's really heard him this way, grasping for words. These things don't feel this halting, this difficult, on the inside of his thoughts. Living there inside him, they're only facts. Only the way things are.

"Just..." It doesn't feel like an explanation, but it's what he has: "Me. You don't want... Just to be here. All that, your dream, your future. That's all you want. To be here, like I am. Right now."

The hard edge is gone from Raju's face. His expression is soft and wondering, and the feeling in his chest is...

Well, it's warm. That same feeling of a warm, gathering cloud from before, but only in one place this time. Hurriedly Raju lets go of Francis' wrist to tug the shirts out of his trousers, right at the front with cold air creeping in over his stomach so he can pull Francis' hand off his chest and shove it up to where it'd been before, over Raju's heart, directly against his skin this time. The skin under Francis' hand and over it, Raju's palm, they feel warm, the way they had before.

"Do you feel that?" he asks, eagerly, eyes sharp and intent on Francis' to see if he understands. "There. That's why. Not anything else, the running, sleeping together. That was wonderful, but— just you. That's why. That's all."

Ram’s heart is thudding so fast against his palm, his skin radiating that now-familiar heat like a stove or the sun. It’s joy. He only feels joy in the warmth.

Crozier understands now. That day Rama finally saw the level of his devotion to him, and the happiness that he brought him. So much happiness - unspeakably happy.

He smiles softly and tips his head forward to press against Ram’s, eyes closing as he hums his appreciation. He’d seemed flabbergasted at Crozier’s question initially, but Rama knows him well. It comes from that place where all other insecurities originate within him.

“I don’t need much,” he says quietly, afraid of breaking the peace. His fingers curl against his chest. “Just you.”

Raju sees understanding and then he sees a soft smile, and he feels Francis' forehead against his. He can feel Francis' hum, he realises, and the feeling of all of it, the words Francis says in that quiet voice, spills over into a kiss, slow but firm, lips warm, his other hand clenched blindly over the centre of Francis chest.

"So no more about burdens, or holding me back," Raju murmurs, only drawing far enough away from Francis' face to look at him. "I'm exactly where I want to be. If you're mourning for yourself, the man you were, I'll mourn with you. But don't feel that way for me. I have what I need."

What I need. Simple words that feel like more inside him, that pour into his smile with a feeling like the sun coming up. Francis' question, his quiet manner these last few days, his fears, they hadn't been a reflection of Raju but of Francis' regard for him. That the regard itself is enough, Raju thinks Francis understands that now.

He has what he needs. He’s not a burden to Ram; those moments of joy from just a few days prior were shared happiness. Rama was mirroring his delight, enjoying how happy and silly and energetic Crozier had been feeling.

“You’ll hear no more of it,” he reassures him, pressing another couple of soft kisses to his lips. “Unless I’m feeling particularly vexed or melancholic.”

Crozier smiles teasingly as he pulls his head back. “You’re truly happy though? Truly?”

Vexed or melancholic. It's a warning, even the words are brief and casual. Francis pulls back to look at him again, and Raju notes that warning even as Francis keeps speaking. He spends a moment looking into Francis' eyes, enjoying the sight of them. His hand squeezes a little at the one against his chest.

"If I can make you happy. As long as you're better off for me being here, yes. I'm... happy." It's strange to say it baldly like that. There's a twist of something uncomfortable behind the happiness, when he admits to it. Raju doesn't know what to make of the discomfort, so he ignores it. The happiness is true, after all, and he can't avoid the truth of it, feeling it warming the skin beneath Francis' hand like that. And it's what Francis needs to hear, and that makes that truth alright. It's good for Francis that Raju is happy, so obviously good for him, and seeing that purpose realised makes Raju want to go on. "I..."

His voice lowers almost on its own and his smile turns indulgent, like a boy confessing a secret. It feels like that's what it is, close as their faces are. "I even like keeping the house. The cleaning, the laundry. Cooking. I never... I don't know. I like all of it. With you. For you. Both."

He leans his head forward to touch their foreheads together. His lowered voice turns into a whisper, the rest of the secret squeezing its way out. "I could do just that forever, and feel... right. As long as you were happy too."

The admission on Rama’s part is not without sadness or regret - there’s an actual life that he’s left behind, one with unfulfilled promises and missions left half-done. He doesn’t say all this lightly; there isn’t a part of Ram doing this out of pity or sympathy.

He doesn’t expect these thoughts from him; words spoken of a future existence here that isn’t weighed down by his guilt. Or perhaps it is, but it’s something he’ll learn to with alongside with. Either way, Crozier’s surprised to hear the quiet promise of a future from him. If this was forever, he might actually be content.

Overcome, he inhales sharply and moves his hand out from Rama’s shirt, wrapping both arms around him just to hold him tightly. “I like it too,” he whispers softly.

There’s more to it than that. He never thought he’d have something like this; that’s Rama’s great gift to him, a life filled with love. Permanent or as fleeting as everything else here seems, he’s going to enjoy it. He must. No day is promised.

“I’m better off having known you, whenever this takes us. That’ll always be the truth,” he murmurs against his head. “If there’s…something to build here, and if you can find joy with me, I’d like to have you by my side.”

Edited 2024-09-22 01:36 (UTC)

Wherever this takes us feels like permission to leave.

Fiancee had been its own kind of permission, too. A reminder to the both of them. But Seetha had still wept when Raju left. He hadn't taken much note of it at the time, too focused on progress, finally progress, on moving forward. But the memory had dug its way inside him while he hadn't been looking at it, and it lives inside him now.

His happiness then had been a way to pass the time while he waited for the real part of his life, the work, to really begin. Now, it's something he's doing instead.

He doesn't know what that means for what he has with Francis, or why he's thinking it now. He feels strange; feels the misty, dawn-sunlight-through-clouds feeling still bright in his chest with his ribcage closing tight around it. He slides his arms around Francis' back and slides his head to the side of Francis', their temples resting against one another to keep Francis just as in the dark of what's happening on Raju's face as Raju himself is. But better off having known you Francis had said, too; wasn't that the whole point of telling Francis all this now? Raju does help. Francis is a good man, and Raju loves him, and Raju does make him happy. He turns his head and kisses the side of Francis' face.

"As long as I can," he murmurs. His grip tightens around Francis' back.

Your demeanor should be all cheer, gentlemen.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject