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Text From Last Night + Word Association

[For a moment his world had been thrown off-kilter, unsteady and teetering. His heart had been hammering in his chest, fear twisting cold, sharp fingers in his belly and lancing into his heart. He'd struggled to breath until the other came home, until he was in his arms, breathing him in, hearing his voice and surrounded. And still, he couldn't calm his heart. It wasn't until that moment when Altair breathes out and stills, and their foreheads meet that his world finally feels like it's come together and settled down. To where everything feels at peace.

And the silence breaks with those two words. Only a whisper but completely shattering everything to where he can't even begin to think straight.]

What? [It's not that he didn't hear him, though he's certainly questioning whether he heard him correctly. He wasn't sure if this was real or not, perhaps he was imagining it? The thought of... how to respond or what to say hasn't even begun to pass through his thoughts when he's so absolutely thrown off his normally sharp focus. Disbelief and confusion is all he can think or feel at the moment. It's not bad. It's just... if he had heard correctly, if Altair was serious, that is a very... loaded question he was so far from being prepared for. So much so he couldn't even begin to know what to say just yet.]

[Those words had been held inside, buried deep within his heart for so long it was almost a relief to finally speak them. There was nothing he had ever desired more than to call Malik his husband, and to be Malik's in return. More so than he had once desired to be an assassin, to follow in his father's foot steps.]

Marry me. [It's nothing more than another whisper, as quiet as the first, but his eyes slip open as he speaks, bright gold staring into deep brown. Not once had he contemplated what the actual outcome of the question might be, or that it might not have a favorable outcome. That it was even possible that Malik would deny him hadn't even so much as crossed his mind. But his heart painfully skipped a beat as the answer came and it was the wrong word being uttered.]

You already have everything, my heart, my soul, my body. I want to call you husband. [Suddenly fear gripped him and he wondering if he could stop the world from shattering around him if Malik denied him this, if he spoke the word no instead of his agreement. If he did not wish for this the same.]

Altair... [His voice softens and he swallows the lump in his throat as he stares into those pleading golden eyes, seeing the pain and worry start to cross into his expression when a "yes" doesn't fall from his lips.]

I love you. I would love nothing more than to give the world to you. But...

[He flinches, knowing that but might hurt even if he doesn't mean it to.]

You realize it will be temporary, yes? As soon as we leave this place and go home, we will no longer be married, not in the eyes of our country and our people. Not to our brothers and we never can be, not officially, even if I desperately want to be yours for the rest of my life. All that really matters is what we have already vowed to one another, that we are one in our hearts and in our souls. That we are loyal and true to each other no matter what happens.

[He's not trying to burst Altair's bubble or ruin his fun, but he wants to be sure. He wants to be logical about this. Is it necessary? All that ceremony if it won't actually mean anything? Which... isn't really true, it would probably mean a lot to them when all is said and done but... officially? Would they really be married? Just between them and those who witness it, sure, but once they went home it will only be to each other. They would never be recognized and they'd have to hide their love for one another or risk being killed for it.]

I'm sorry, I'm not trying to hurt you, we just... need to consider this a bit perhaps? What is it about this idea of marriage that you truly wish for?

[Oh, but it does hurt.

It starts small, like muscles constricting in the center of his chest, tightening until it feels as though his very lungs are beginning to close. Then it radiates out, each word causing it to reach a little further until it's setting his entire being on fire. Finally, it seems as though it's entirely likely that his heart might stop beating entirely and fall completely out his chest, revealing the gaping hole that had formed.

It hurts. Like nothing he had ever felt. Worse than the pain of losing his father, of losing Kadar. Worse than the pain of Al Mualim's knife as it had entered his flesh. Worse than any injury that had come before, only these scars would be deep and invisible, gnawing at him long after the wounds had healed.

He wants to speak, opens his mouth to do so but no words actually form or release, nothing other than the empty buzzing currently present inside of his skull. Of course it would only be temporary, of course, they would not truly be married in the eyes of anyone else. Their eyes didn't matter. They would know that they were married. It would be real to them.

What comes next is embarrassing and unbidden, hot, fresh tears forming within his eyes and falling before he could stop them, barely having enough time and sense to turn and duck his head before they were seen. Every bone in his body aches, every muscle feels weak and useless, and his stomach is twisting so violently he's certain it's going to revolt and empty its self of the contents from his last meal.

The reality of it all is so apparent to him now that the joyful euphoria had so quickly worn away.

Reflexes honed from years of practice and the sudden notion that he needs to get away from the thing that's causing him so much pain - that he should take flight because there's no way he can fight this - are the only thing that has him moving back away. Muscle memory is what sends him into action, scaling the fountain so much faster than he could ever recall doing before, fingers unhooking the latch and shooting out of it like a rocket. Taking off in some random direction, barely taking enough time to actually consider which way he should travel or where he should go, running across the rooftops as quickly as his feet would carry him.]

[There's a strange, unsettling stillness to Altair and a shift in his expression, pain lancing through his eyes and Malik's stomach twists with fear and worry. He messed it up.]

Habibata(My love)...please-- [His voice cuts off when he sees the first shine of tears lining Altair's eyes and his heart stops, dread gripping it painfully to the point he has to swallow to be sure he can breath as he's choking. Before he can say anything more the other is puling away and running.]

Altair! Wait! [He reaches for his robes, fingers not quite able to reach him and grip him as he slips away through the roof hatch and disappears. He'll climb up onto the fountain, trying to scramble after him but he loses his grip and tumbles into the cold water. He sits there soaked, a little sore from his short fall and more sorry than Altair would ever know. He looks up almost helplessly at the lattice work and the dark sky above him, cursing softly at the moon for how stupid he is. The hole in his ceiling seems so far away now. He picks himself up, sopping and empty, he thinks perhaps he doesn't deserve to go after him, even if he wants to. That perhaps Altair was better off without him. Clearly, no matter what he tries to do, he only hurts Altair. He's not really sure he knows how to love someone properly anymore. Altair would be happier with someone else. He was happier when he let Altair just be himself and sleep around... And now? All they did is bicker and all he did was wound the one he loves with his words.

Malik slips his robe off to wring it out, hanging it somewhere to let it dry. He looks down at himself, still dripping and frowns.]

"'ana 'ahmaq..." (I am a fool)

[He disappears into his room to peel the wet clothes off and change before going to his kitchen to find the bottle of liquor Altair had left behind. He stares at it's label for a moment, contemplating and lost in his own twisting, berating thoughts before cracking it open and pouring himself a glass. Perhaps how he understands the appeal of drinking your sorrows away. As fear creeps in and starts to tease him that Altair isn't coming back. That he's lost him for good. Which only has Malik finishing his glass and pouring another.

He'll eventually wander out into the foyer to sink down onto the floor and sit with his back against the wall, staring up at the lattice opening as if hoping Altair will come back if he just... keeps cursing his own stupidity and calling himself an idiot. If he just keeps saying he's sorry to the wind. If he just gets himself drunk enough to be numb and not scared shitless he just fucked up the only good thing he'd had in this world because he's too stupid to understand.

And on the other half of his brain and in his heart he thinks he should just let Altair go. Let him find someone else and be happier for it. Even if it'll leave him empty for the rest of his life, at least then Altair can have someone that knows how to love him right. He'll get over him with time, he tells himself. ... he'll move on. He's strong. But Malik isn't so sure that he can do the same.]

[Altair hears Malik's words, hears the plea contained within them, hears his voice calling out to him even as he makes his escape. Feels Malik's presence behind him for a time before it disappears and some deep, dark part of him is thankful that he won't have to actually turn and face him. Running off blindly into the darkness with only the pale moon and stars as his guide, salty tears blurring his vision until he's no longer certain where he even is, only vaguely aware of the ugly black that is starting to seep in around him.

Hours later, he would have little recollection of how exactly he had managed to get from one place to another, of how he had managed to actually seek out and find the Jackdaw. Even the bouncing and tossing of the waves didn't seem to phase him that night, as words and comfort were quietly spoken. In the end, surprisingly, it had been Edward who had broken through with sense and wisdom.

When the first few bitter rays of sunlight began to break through the thick clouds, he found himself travelling backwards, retracing steps previously taken, feet carrying him towards the city, towards the bureau. Uncertainty gripped him, wondering briefly of the scene that had been left behind. What would greet him when he finally returned? Would there even be anything worth returning to? Or had everything been destroyed so thoroughly that there would be no hope left for them?

The latticework roof loomed in the distance, it's hatch still slide ominously open, just as it had been left. Footsteps light, practised and nearly silent as he worked his way onto the roof, easing himself downwards and dropping back onto his feet, quick and graceful.

Only to find Malik passed out in a sorry heap nearby, robes dishevelled and a nearly empty bottle of something strong laying knocked over and the glass still barely gripped within his fingers. Heart twisting painfully within his chest, constricting until he could barely even find his breath, wasting no time with hesitation as he followed his instinct and moved forward.

The ground was cold and hard beneath his knees as he knelt down, fingers reaching outwards to trace along the subtle lines of Malik's cheek, a soft caress before moving to take the glass away, sitting it aside and out of the way, before his hand strayed right back to Malik's skin. Leaning forward, lips finding the other's forehead, then his nose and cheek and mouth, before shifting backwards, glancing around as if hoping that there would be some clue other than the discarded robes hanging upon the fountain as to what took place the night before.]

[Malik would later reflect on this whole thing and count himself extremely lucky their enemies hadn't taken advantage of his weakness and killed him right then and there. That somehow they never seem to locate the entrance into his bureau or that they hadn't seen him slumped, drunkenly and pitifully with the bureau wide open. Instead it's Altair that comes back to him and drops through the lattice opening to cross the room towards him. He's out cold and doesn't even flinch when the other kneels beside him. It's only after the caress and when Altair's lips find his cheek that his eyes will finally flicker open. He's awake enough to sleepily reciprocate the kiss when Altair lays one on his lips.

Somewhere in the haze of his impending hangover and waking, he's managed to instinctually realize it's Altair and not some threat. That he hasn't flinched or jumped out of waking, instead he's just groggily coming around, remaining in Altair's arms as his head starts screaming. Malik hisses and groans, turning to bury his head into Altair's neck and chest so the daylight isn't blinding him and making him feel sick with the pain.]

[There was no relief from the sun's brutal light, pouring in through the intricately detailed roof, casting growing shadows that took on the shape of the assassin insignia upon the ground. Even reaching up and tugging upon his hood, shifting the fabric until it was carefully draped across Malik's face, shielding his eyes from the offending light.

Bare fingers slipped across the heated skin of Malik's forehead, attempting to soothe the ache he knew must be present. Seeing his love ill or in pain - even when he had, arguably, done it to himself - made his heart clench and twist within his chest.]

You... came back. [It's almost a question.]

Why did you come back? [This time it is a question, but not a scathing or scolding one, but one filled with his regret, wondering why Altair would still want him.]

You should be free and find someone that can give you everything you want that I can not.

[Still drunk, still wallowing in his own self-loathing as the hangover burns in his skull and clouds his logic. He's in a sorry state and will be until he can sleep all this off.]

[Perhaps.

Perhaps what Malik said was true. Perhaps he should be free. Perhaps he shouldn't have come back and rid them both of all of this. Perhaps it would have been better that way. To have found someone else, someone who would simply go along with everything he wanted.

But the problem was that Altair didn't want anyone else. He wanted Malik.]

Because I made a promise.

[That it would only ever be Malik for the rest of his life. That he would only ever love him so long as he lived. There was no changing it, despite how much he occasionally wished he could. It would be far easier to not be in love with someone so stubborn and unwilling to compromise.

And yet his feelings remained, just as they always had. Just as they always would.]

Because I am a fool.

[Shifting slowly, carefully, mindful of the pain that was he knew had to be radiating through Malik's skull and the sickness that likely threatened to make it's self known, he moved them both until they were laying back upon the pile of pillows, using one to shield their eyes from the sun.]

Because I love you.

[Again, his lips pressed against Malik's forehead, before his fingers went back to their gentle stroking.]

Sleep now. You feel better for it.

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