altimit | .:October Fun Times:.

[ It feels like these days, everyone is just slowly losing their minds. It's more than a scary thought. Frightening, even.

Ganymede can't pretend it doesn't effect him.

More importantly, though, is the fact that there's an inevitable reason for his sullen behavior, given the sort of potential news he has just been given.

It's perhaps selfish to throw things around in his room in Fine Wine than in his mansion, but it's also a smaller, contained space.

...And he's still throwing stuff at the walls. So, Michel will hear a lot of thumping if he happens to come to the guild... ]

[ It was probably cowardice not to seek Ganymede out immediately after seeing that reply. Or possibly simply fatigue. He wonders.

But it's apparent the second he steps foot into Fine Wine that this wasn't the place to retreat to; he traces the noise to its source and then hesitates at Ganymede's doorway. The cause is easy enough to guess at. Some part of him, slinking and furtive, almost prompts him to keep walking. But in the end he pushes the door open quietly and slips inside, waiting to see when Ganymede takes notice. ]

[ TARGET SIGHTED

Ganymede is sitting on the floor so when the door opens he notices immediately, dropping the items on the floor before standing up, and in a blur going in for a hug tackle. ]

Michel!

[ He's attached to him like a clinging koala now. ]

Edited 2023-10-18 23:50 (UTC)

[ It's a good thing he has this body now — and possibly only this body now. Ganymede hits him like a rocket, but he's able to catch him about the waist with only a little wobble back on his heels.

It's so familiar somehow. His heart begins to race in reaction to something he can't quite recall. Not unhappy... he thinks. But the sensation of his fingers reaching for something wisping into smoke, just out of his grasp, gives the emotion an edge of anxiety. ]

Are you... finished throwing things?

I don't know yet.

...It feels like everything is falling apart.

[ Ganymede holds on tighter to Michel's clothing, burying his head into his chest. There's nothing more safer than the comfort he's still here.

But maybe even that won't last. ]

Promise me you won't disappear, that whatever happens, you'll still fact it all by my side, and I think I can stop.

[ He sounds unreasonable maybe, but he really can't help himself. ]

[ Unreasonable, and a bit impossible. He can lie to Ganymede — possibly. The uncertainty of it presses down on him from all sides, but he holds Ganymede a little closer on sheer reflex. ]

...It is. Falling apart.

[ He feels it like gravity, like inevitability. A fragile glass frozen at the apex of its motion, only waiting for time to move again and complete its fatal arc. ]

Any promise I gave would be written in sand. You know that. But... I'm here with you now.

[ Could that not be enough? At least for a cessation of hostilities between Ganymede and the inanimate objects of his room. ]

[ Ganymede wouldn't consider him saying so a lie. Is it because he's willing to be delusional now? The longer he considers it all, the frustration only continues to build.

To the point where it has reached its breaking point. ]

You're here with me now.

Promise me you'll give it your all so you can be with me until the day I die.

[ Ganymede wants more. He can't ask for absolute certainty, but he can ask for this. ]

I can't imagine a life without you, Michel.

[ Promises, promises. Almost everything he could say would hurt Ganymede now. He feels almost dizzy with it, the vertigo gripping him by the heart, and he bites his tongue.

"You'll have to"... No. He leans in closer and breathes deep, reminding himself of the scent of Ganymede's hair. ]

...I promise. For every moment I have, no matter how little I have to give... all of it belongs to you. You brought light back into my life.

[ Like warmth restoring sensation to every numbed part of him — and now he remembers how it feels to hurt. His quiet sigh stirs Ganymede's hair before he nuzzles there softly. ]

Will you promise me something in return?

[ Ganymede would probably burst into hysterical tears and have a meltdown if Michel said something like that, so it's good that the man can still bite his tongue.

Sometimes, even he has a limit. ]

I'll remember you said that.

[ The blond's words are spoken softly, but severely all the same as his eyes close tight, cherishing the feel of Michel against him. When there's some nuzzling, he relaxes a bit more into the embrace. ]

...What's the promise you want me to make?

Edited 2023-10-21 06:52 (UTC)

[ Ganymede always makes those promises sound like a threat. The ferocity in him spilling over even here... it coaxes a small smile from Michel. ]

That no matter what, you'll return to the real world. You belong in the sunlight. I want—

[ I'll give you a gift. I'll free you from those wishes.

He can't remember what he said to Lily. But there are still so many wishes crowding his chest, overflowing like tears. Perhaps... Lily had underestimated the depth and volume of his longing, and no matter how much is emptied out, more rushes in to fill it. ]

...I wish to know that you became the best theatre dancer in Greece. And then, the world. It's immaterial whether I'm there or here. Promise that you can still believe I'm by your side, even so.

[ Ganymede spots the tiny smile visible on Michel's face and he wishes to capture it in his hands. So that it will last forever. ]

...You belong in the sunlight. With me.

[ Even if his eyes are red, even if feelings still tussle within him greatly about what he had seen on the network, and refuse to believe, his expression is clear; determined.

That man had said at a time that he was the type who could endure. Even if he hated those words then, he feels that somehow they're true now. ]

In the future that I see, you are with me.

My moonlight in the dark, the night to my day, the twilight to my dawn. I'll promise you that I will do more than just believe.

I'll always know that you'll be right by me. In my heart, my soul, and my entire being. Because you'll be there, with me. Come hell or high water, nothing will shake this belief.

I will be the best theatre dancer in Greece, and the world. And you will see me at the apex of my dreams.

I love you, Michel. And I always will, for all eternity.

[ Ganymede finds it hard to smile still, when tears threaten to overflow still with the burning emotion buried deep within him. But the darker the shadow grows, the more his hope flares brighter; far more surprisingly than he might have ever imagined.

Because he knows. He feels.

He's not alone. And now, even when he feels frail, like everyone else, he can feel the ability to stand tall. Even if he has to drag everyone, including Michel, kicking and screaming into this light. ]

[ He's never belonged in the sunlight. He's known that since childhood, the first few painful burns it took to make him understand. But Ganymede's words still wrap around him with a warmth so alluring it aches.

Perhaps that faith is what drew him to Ganymede in the first place. That strength, his resonant hope. "You will see me at the apex of my dreams"; for that moment, his heart feels as though it's soaring as well. ]

...I wouldn't have asked you for eternity.

[ No, that's not quite what he means. He would have, in a heartbeat, if it hadn't felt too much to ask. Before Ganymede can misunderstand him he leans down to press a flustered kiss to his forehead, then the tear-stained tracks on his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. ]

That is, I mean... [ It's easier like this, too close to see Ganymede's expression for a moment. Close enough that Ganymede can probably feel his heart racing despite the sheer irrationality of it. ] ...You are my eternity. These weeks have been — everything to me. And I love you.

[ He always feels clumsy with Ganymede, several steps behind in words or in dance. But, always... he can feel some part of himself, more than half-forgotten, striving a little to reach out and meet him halfway. He runs his palm down Ganymede's arm to lace their fingers together as he kisses him again. It isn't the right time for this, but there won't be a right time for this.

If he waits longer, he wonders if he might lose even this. ]

I-I... I had something I wanted to give you. Close your eyes...?

[ It's not something that Ganymede would have ever said. That Michel never belonged in the sun — it is not just due to appearances. But because he knows that they are similar, but are light night and day. You can't have the sunlight without shadows, so where else would those be?

A single ray of light casts a shadow. But does that have to be so terrible either? The other man's immediate response really is Michelesque. Enough that he doesn't actually assume the worst, but...the kisses make Ganymede's heart go aflutter, closing his eyes to hear what else that falls out.

His eternity, and those beautiful words that fall forth with what he imagines nothing less than unbridled affection, which feel like they make his own heart swell in turn with happiness. He opens his eyes again, watching the way the other moves to kiss him again.

And this time, Ganymede moves to return it. ]

...Eternity, is it?

[ He says softly, the word sounding so beautiful in his head. His eternity. But the blond nods, closing his eyes. ]

Okay, I'm ready for whatever it is.

[ No, Michel is the one who feels like he isn't ready...

He runs his fingertips nervously over Ganymede's hand, buying time. Is there something else in his inventory he could offer? Was this a terrible idea? Instead of helping Ganymede acclimate to the idea of his death, he's just dragging out the pain excruciatingly.

It isn't too late to swap for something trivial. A sweet, or a flower. A monster material he can play off as a joke. But the momentum of the reckless impulse that seized him won't loosen its grip now. The Thrínos ring he used the traderizer on a week ago appears, pressed against Ganymede's palm between their joined fingers. ]

I-it's not really your style. But it extends your debuffs. And my attempts to make something without a recipe were... honestly offensive.

[ Silver and ruby is most definitely not Ganymede's aesthetic of choice. But why, why, why, with all the things he's been forgetting lately, can't he forget Oria's voice saying "since it's obviously your style, it'll be like being reminded of you on his hand!" ]

[ Ganymede has no knowledge of the amount of anguish Michel is hurling himself through at this very moment.

But what is clear is the simple fact that there is something the other has to present to him, and that thing is being slipped easily into his palm. Which makes a surprised look come over the blond before he pulls back slightly so he can carefully hold it.

...

Then he immediately slips it on, before holding up his hand with the ring right where a marriage one would sit. ]

...I love it, Michel. I will always cherish it and wear it.

Because it'll always remind me of you.

[ It's like a piece of Michel, etched into his very being. Of course he would enjoy it, even if it isn't his usual aesthetic.

The sentimental value makes it priceless all on its own. ]

[ Michel's gaze darts down to the ring on Ganymede's hand, then up to his face again, the blush rising brighter in his face. It's a good thing he didn't lead with the jumbled reassurances that he didn't mean that by it...

Ganymede's actual proposal should be perfect. Someplace breathtakingly beautiful, with the dawn light haloing his golden hair. Someplace that means something special to the two of them, the sentiment built up over time and time again.

He'll never have the chance to give him that. It hurts more than he cares to admit. But he can still give him this. ]

M-mm. I hope... that's always a good thing.

[ Just a little joke, really. He's already exhausted all his skill with words for the day. ]

[ Imagine that if he did, Ganymede would have actually been a little amused, and teased him about it, actually! But this is all the better, because he gets to be sweet with his beloved one and only.

Meanwhile as Michel is imagining that things aren't going to happen to pan out exactly like that in real life, Ganymede is picturing how it'll go in real life, getting even a bit overexcited about it.

He really can't help it... ]

Now you're just being ridiculous on purpose, Michel.

[ Ganymede leans upwards to grant him a soft but pleasant and involved kiss on the lips, without holding back in the amount of affection he wishes to gift unto him. ]

[ But if Ganymede had teased him he would have died, and then I would have had to retcon a whole lot, and then where would we be?

There's a bittersweetness to that look on Ganymede's face. But then Ganymede is kissing him, the gentle touch of his lips commanding all of Michel's attention, and he doesn't have to think about that at all. It's fine. He's happy now, and... things can still be worthwhile even if they're ephemeral. ]

...You always think I'm ridiculous.

[ And he'll kiss Ganymede again before Ganymede can deny it just to be stubborn, because they both know full well that it's true. ]

[ Wow. Michel can handle the teasing!! ]

Not alw—

[ How did he know that he would deny it, wow? He makes a look on his face because he dared to intercede with a kiss, and Ganymede knows exactly the reason for it. He'll even return it with no small amount of affection.

But, all the same, he leans back from it after it's done and sticks out his tongue. ]

Not always. Other times you're only a little ridiculous or the opposite of ridiculous—unridiculous.

[ That's not a word. ]

[ Because Ganymede lives to be contradictory, probably?? Michel's gaze lingers on Ganymede's tongue for a second. He really shouldn't stick it out like that if it's not an invitation. ]

Unlike you, I see. Just how old are you, again?

[ But he's relieved that Ganymede's mood has brightened enough again to be silly. Was a promise all it took, no matter how hollow it might turn out to be? ]

[ Hey, if Michel wants to do some tongue-kissing ~~to shut him up~~, even Ganymede wouldn't blame him. ]

Older than you.

[ Prove him wrong. Nyeh. ]

There is absolutely no way that's the case.

[ As if Ganymede could pass for thirty??? He's getting the world's most skeptical look.

~~Which unfortunately doesn't mean that Michel has completely forgotten about the possibility of tongue-kissing.~~ ]

How old are you, then?

[ Ganymede has got at least five more years before he hits thirty, so yeah.

~~Michel might want to engage in that sometime soon since Ganymede is on the loose.~~ ]

You don't remember?

[ It makes a little more mundane all the gaps he's been finding. Maybe he really is jumping at nothing. ]

...Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight at the end of the year.

[ Ganymede gives a pause...does he remember how old he is?

...Yeah, he does. ]

Is that why you selected the moniker 'Winter'? Because you're a winter baby?

Rainfall Comes Along Darker Tides (Fine Wine)

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