Ache gave way to numbness, then Lance's mind drifted away again. Sleep reclaimed him once more, and he saw the dark-haired forest boy in his dreams.
It was a brief image, hardly giving him enough time to acknowledge the familiar scene. He was tiny as before, held tightly in the boy's arms. A woman was crying hysterically out of view, and the boy smiled down at him.
"Welcome back to the world; it was too soon for you to go. There are people here that still need you," the boy whispered.
----------------------------------------
Awareness slowly returned and Lance grumbled while squinting his eyes tighter. The pain from his feet no longer jumped to the forefront of his mind, and was replaced with immediate concern to his whereabouts. His head was lifted by a soft, downy pillow while his body lay cocooned under layers of quilts against a plush mattress. Ah, the familiar comfort of his childhood bed. This instantly put his heart at ease.
That is until he remembered what that meant. If he was in his bed then it was a day after the future spat him back out onto the cold ground of the past. Bael would be coming soon to kick him out of bed and drag him into another bout of hell. Lance furrowed his brow as he willed the world around him to swallow him up instead. A kinder fate than what awaited him.
He shifted to roll onto his stomach and hide his face from the world but was halted by something unexpected. There was a weight over half of his body, and upon further contemplation was a great source of heat beneath his blankets. A hand reached up to feel this mysterious presence but he remained confused. As his hand skirted across it at the height of his hip the warm shape felt as if it trembled against his body.
Finally his hand wandered up to where the weight pressed against his chest and he felt something soft in an abundance of strands. Was it fur? Had his father gone daft and purchased a dog?
Reluctant to awake earlier than desired, Lance peeked one eye open to observe this oddity he was too tired to properly worry about. This lone eye immediately made contact with an amused pair of blue ones, partially obscured by a curtain of white.
Bael rested his chin atop Lance's right breast, his gloved hand poised -was it possessively?- over the left. Lance balked as his state of undress became apparent, his shirt fully unbuttoned and splayed to the sides.
"Well, well, good morning to you too," Bael greeted with a coquettish grin.
In an instant Lance shot up and backward, his back pushing towards the headboard. Bael's jaws clacked together as he bounced off of Lance and rolled away to the side. He groaned but otherwise made no motion to reprimand Lance.
"I- you- why- what is-" Lance stammered, heart pounding as he ran out of space to continue his escape.
Whilst rubbing his chin, Bael's demeanor turned to displeasure before reassuming a pleasantly bemused expression. "You say that as if this wasn't the situation you fell asleep in," he retorted, flipping onto his back and pulling the sheet up to his chin. He clicked his tongue, deeply cutting his eyes towards Lance.
"There's no way anything like this could have happened, considering what was last said between us. That you and I would-" Lance failed to speak the words that came to mind. Warmth bloomed across his face as his ears began to burn. There was something in the back of his mind, muddled as it was, that caused his stomach to roil as it made itself known.
Lance recalled a prior night, perhaps a few or dozens ago, Bael offered his body with liquor on his breath. To the best of Lance's memory he had thoroughly rejected such an offer, hadn't he? He drew the sides of his shirt closed, wishing to remember if Bael was in a similar state of undress as himself.
"It wasn't anything more than what it seems, was it?" Lance implored as uncertainty gnawed away at him.
"Hm hm," Bael tut-tutted. "I've never been the type to kiss and tell, but" -Bael's eyes flickered up before releasing a belabored sigh- "no, I didn't take advantage of you in your vulnerable state. I'm insulted by the insinuation, honestly," he finished, his face unpermitting to convey if his hurt was genuine.
"I-" Lance began, dazed as the tables were turned on him to make him the cruel-minded one in this situation. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to accuse you of anything. It's just- well- you have to admit this whole thing looks-"
"Compromising?" Bael interjected.
"Extremely. Considering what you said to me the last time we talked, and- wait a minute," Lance stated, brows furrowing as more memories returned to his awakened mind. "I don't want you in my damn bed in the first place. I agreed for us to leave each other be, and this is definitely in direct opposition to that agreement."
Bael blinked, his eyes narrowed as his lips slightly parted. He shook his head before returning to that same lackadaisical expression he persisted in wearing. "Wait a minute. Have you changed your mind? I agreed to everything you said you wanted, it's not fair to rebuke me now," Bael insisted, his body beginning to roll towards Lance but hesitating to draw near.
"Changed my mind?" Lance snapped, raising up to peer down at Bael. The other man matched his ire with bewilderment, further igniting Lance. "I've just been going along with what you've insisted this entire time and you want to point fingers at me?"
Lance moved to stand up out of his bed, swinging his legs in a huff and ignoring Bael's unintelligible protests. "Honestly, I'm approaching a limit of how much I can put up with. Maybe I should wise up and listen to my gut for onc-" he began, but transitioned to a yelp as he fell back on the bed.
Standing was painful apparently. Actually, that was putting it mildly, standing felt like torture. Lance raised up a foot to see it heavily wrapped in crude bandages with a few stains of blood across the soles. He turned around to eye Bael in accusation, wordlessly demanding answers.
"I tried to stop you but you didn't listen," Bael explained. "You need to calm down. You must have hit your head on a tree branch or that blood loss did a number on you, because you're getting a lot of things wrong."
"Why does it feel like the skin has been peeled off my feet?" Lance seethed, wincing as he begrudgingly returned to his former position. Albeit as close to the edge as was possible.
"Might have something to do with trampling through a wild forest without any shoes."
"I did what? Why? When?"
Bael sighed, bringing his fingers to the bridge of his nose to pinch as he closed his eyes. "What is the last thing you remember us talking about? Really think about it before you go flying off the handle again."
At first Lance opened his mouth to remind Bael of the fight they had last night, but he stopped at the other man's plea. He closed his eyes and attempted to salvage what may have been forgotten.
"I remember...something. You're above me with panic-stricken eyes, saying sorry for something you did. Then I have weird dreams, but the fact they're weird is the only thing I can remember. Then I wake up. All alone. I think I got attacked by a bear, but that must have been in a dream," Lance muttered as he strained to force to the surface whatever threads he could grasp.
"No, that happened actually. Or so I was told." Bael visibly shifted, his eyes straying to the side. "You don't remember anything else?"
"I remember feeling really cold, but other than that I don't think I do. Is that bad? Am I missing something important? Did the bear kill me and that's why I don't remember?" Lance asked.
Bael winced and Lance feared he said something insensitive, quickly returning to his familiar shameful self. "It's not that. It's just-"
"I'm sorry. I don't know why I don't remember, but I'm sorry. Please don't think-"
"Come closer. I've an idea," Bael interjected.
Lance obeyed, trembling with uncertainty but eager for understanding. He needed to know what transpired to result in their going to bed together.
"I said closer. Don't play coy with me now," Bael said, rising to his knees as he shuffled over impatiently.
"Wh-what are you doing?" Lance asked as Bael began to fall towards him, twisting around as he did so to take a seat in his lap.
"Jogging your memory. I did think you were a bit callous and forward this morning, and I'm beginning to believe that's what you could be without your inhibitions. If that's how you acted after losing a little blood, it makes me curious if- well, that's for another occasion," Bael explained, a wry smile as he cut himself off.
"What does any of that have to do with this?" Lance asked, hands lifted up with palms splayed outward.
"This is how we talked, remember? In fact this was at your request actually."
"As if I would ever-"
"Oh Bael, you look so cold on the floor, why don't you come sit on my big, strong, hot body," Bael said, pitching his voice down in what must have been an imitation of Lance.
"I did not say that. I don't think I have ever said anything like that in my life," Lance protested, yet the heat in his face returned. There was no hiding the blush this time.
"And this?" Bael grasped one of Lance's wrists. "While feigning a preference for modesty is admirable, that is not at all how you acted. I wouldn't have thought you the handsy type, but you sure proved me wrong."
Lance jerked his hand away, a surprisingly simple endeavor, with a glare. "This isn't funny. Stop- just stop playing with my emotions. Please."
"And yet it's not those things that linger in the back of my mind, no, it's something else you did. Something else you said." Bael removed the glove covering his hand, trembling as he did so.
As the bare bones became exposed, Lance's eyes widened and a knot of shame tightened within.
"You bore witness to that which removes me from humanity and saw not something to be feared. Rather, you saw me. You didn't ask that I fix it or hide it away."
"How could I forget about this?" Lance muttered, uncertain who the question was directed towards.
"I'm not mad," Bael replied, quickly recovering his hand. "It's more concerning than anything. You bled for so long without treatment it's a wonder you were conscious for so long. Not to mention the amount of pain you must have been in."
"Yes, the pain, I'm beginning to recall. Little by little. You apologized, which I'm very happy about," Lance said with a crooked grin. "Then you told me about your parents and where you're from. And- um-" he faltered, hands hurriedly covering his eyes.
"And?" Bael asked, drawing out the word. "Go on then, I need to make sure you remember every minute detail."
Lance was ever so grateful that covering his eyes also kept him from seeing Bael's shit-eating grin. He couldn't confirm the other man was doing it, but the lilt in his voice made Lance certain of it.
"Did I really?" Lance asked finally.
"What did you do? I'm having trouble recalling." Just as a feline who bats his paws at the helpless mouse, Bael shifted to press his weight more firmly on Lance's lap.
"We didn't...kiss, did we?" He didn't believe there was any answer to this that wouldn't make him want to die on the spot to spare himself the embarrassment. So badly did Lance want to push Bael away from himself and hide in the bathroom, but his base instincts demanded he not move.
"No, we didn't," Bael answered.
"Oh." Why did that answer make the mire in his stomach stir? "That's good, because for whatever reason I remember something like that-"
"You tried to kiss me, but I wouldn't let you."
Hey could some ancient god with a vendetta against my existence come tear me to pieces right about now? Crush my bones? Swallow me whole? No?
"Oh," he repeated, this time low and akin to a whimper. "I'm sorry, clearly I wasn't in my right head- was it last night? This morning? Either way, I hope you can-"
"Would you just stop getting ahead of yourself, stupid? I didn't say I was upset, did I?" Bael admonished. "If you would stop being so embarrassed about it you'd probably remember that I said to 'try again later'."
Lance blinked and slowly revealed his wary eyes but kept his hands to his face still. "So what you're saying is you're not disgusted by the idea."
Bael nodded, an exasperated yet amused expression on his face. "Sure, yeah, that's what I'm saying."
Lance perked up with a wriggle of his hips, a movement he quickly regretted as it continued to stir a long repressed aspect of himself. "Just to clarify, because I need to hear it for myself, you do like men, right?"
Their eyes locked and Lance so badly wanted to snatch the words from the air so they would go unheard. Bael perked an eyebrow while Lance's jaws silently flapped.
"Do you really need me to answer that for you?" To add emphasis to his words, Bael fell against Lance to press the side of his face against the other man's chest. "That is, unless you and your straight male friends spend your time like this. And if they do, I have some news about your straight male friends."
"No- ah, that's not exactly what I meant. My question is more complicated. I'm not that stupid, I promise."
Bael didn't respond, his only answer being the upturn of his head to pear up in concern. The daylight shining in from the window glinted off his eyes, causing them to glimmer.
"That night, well, on a night that doesn't exist anymore, you came back after our fight smelling like a young woman. I assume you'd been carousing, but I'm not trying to dig up events of the past." Lance flinched, unable to ignore the flash of guilt across Bael's face. "I've just been confused since then. You kissed me in Ikana, but then that happened and I just don't understand."
"Oh, that? That was nothing, I promise. Don't read too much into it," Bael said with a nervous laugh.
Lance sighed, feeling as if he was continuously diverting from the line of thought he was trying to pursue. "What I want to know is, do you like women as well?"
"Huh?" Bael asked, brows furrowed and lips curled in befuddlement. "I- well, yes?"
"So that's a thing people can do and it's not weird?" In Lance's eagerness he permitted his hands to drop as he leaned forward, Bael reflexively shifting back at the sudden movement.
"Of course it's not weird. Is this- is this something you're just now coming to terms with?"
"When should I have? You're the first man I've ever- well, you know," Lance replied, descending into a near whisper as his mind trailed away. "How would I understand it any sooner?" His mind was alight with newfound confidence, though his relationship with his sexuality was still tenuous at best.
"That's not what I heard" -Bael's eyes widened before he loudly coughed- "assumed, that's not what I assumed. Forgive me, I still have some preconceptions I'm working through."
"Heard?" Lance's eyes narrowed as he peered down towards Bael. "Have you heard things from someone about me? How?" His voice rose as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
Bael sighed, and further to Lance's dismay removed himself from his lap to take a place on the opposite side of the bed. He drew his knees up to his chest and rested his head on top. "Remember how I mentioned that I come to Clock Town on rare occasions? Primarily during the Carnival?"
"I remember somewhat vaguely," Lance answered tentatively.
"You may remember I made it apparent I knew of you before we officially met. Namely your role in the annual stageplay. Well, it's a bit more than that."
Lance offered no acknowledgement, continuing only to stare the other man down with fearful eyes.
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"It's a carnival so as you can imagine people are there to party and get drunk. Nothing gets people talking faster than one too many bottles of beer, and most people are getting ten too many." Bael's demeanor shifted, his hands began waving around as he nonsensically illustrated the story. It would be amusing, were this story not heading in an unsavory direction.
"And you listen, because you're not the type to ever let down your guard I'm assuming," Lance elaborated.
Bael nodded solemnly. "I listen, and in the last few years talks of the mayor's son became quite popular. A lot of it petty, mostly born of envy I would assume, but the rest was believable. Your preferences being one people liked to throw around a lot, so it just kind of stuck with me."
"I see," Lance said with eyes downcast. "So you already had a pretty strong opinion of me before ever knowing me, huh?"
Bael nodded once again. "I did. It influenced what I thought of you to a degree, but to be fair I wasn't going to think highly of any aristocrat. I'm still not, actually, you're just an exception."
Immediately Lance was grinning at the half-hearted compliment, though it dropped soon after.
"Hey now, cheer up! You're one of very few living people that's ever gotten a compliment from me. I would feel honored if I were you." Bael gave a gentle nudge to Lance's arm.
"Do you recall ever hearing the name Morrigan when you overheard rumors about me?" Lance broached a subject he dreaded to ever relive, but he didn't forget the other foolish offer he'd made to Bael. Though it disgusted him to say the name, the ease with which it passed his lips pleasantly surprised him.
"Hard to say," Bael answered, eyes now shut. "The fun of the carnival is the masks and the anonymity, so giving your name defeats the point of it."
"Do you recall seeing a girl with nigh endless raven curls wearing a fox mask?" Lance's face remained composed, but his heart pounded as it would staring down the eyes of a monster.
"I think one year, maybe. She was quite a loudmouth if I remember correctly."
"Huh, she actually wore it. I'll be damned," Lance muttered incredulously.
"Lance?" Bael spoke, a mixture of concern and confusion.
As Lance's mind wandered into the darkened hollow of regret and shame, the presence of Bael remained infallibly capable of returning him to reality. He did it with practiced ease, yet Lance could tell Bael was entirely unaware of his power. Even something so simple as his name cast a ray of light on the encroaching darkness that wished to swallow Lance whole.
And it was just his name, yet it was that and so much more. It was the kind of name created for the purpose of being spoken by that deep, honeyed voice. Lance's own voice was deep as well, but he couldn't hear himself as sounding anything but stern. It was brazen to hope, but he dearly wished he had a fraction of that influence over Bael.
"I promised you a secret, didn't I? Something I've never told anybody in the whole world." As he said this, a thought stirred in the back of his mind that this wasn't the truth as he believed. No matter how much he pushed and pulled at the stray idea nothing came to mind.
"Are you sure this is what you want? You don't owe me anything. I've barely even begun to feel like I've made amends," Bael asked, somehow looking even more miniscule beside Lance.
"I'm nothing if not a man of my word. Didn't you feel better after telling me about your past?" As Bael had done a moment prior, Lance reached his own hand out for a reassuring nudge against the other man's arm.
Bael squinted but eventually made a low noise of affirmation.
"I want to repay the faith you placed in me, and it's my decision so you don't get to complain. You promised to do what I say, remember?"
"Maybe I should have let you forget a few details," Bael remarked, finally leaning into the contact.
"Anyway, here's the story of one of my biggest screw ups in life. Her name was Morrigan, and she was the worst thing that ever happened to me."
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"Hey cutie, what's your name?" a sultry female voice shouted over the roar of the nearby crowd.
A younger Lance lifted his head in response, jumping slightly at the close proximity. After finishing puberty he'd adjusted to the influx of female attention he received as he grew older, but flirtation never ceased to startle him. Plus, as the son of the mayor he was a well known face in the town so he never had to introduce himself. Once his eyes deigned upon the owner of the voice he recognized her immediately. She was a grade ahead of him in school, and in all the years they were there she had never spoken to him. Maybe she had, since in those days he rarely paid any attention to anyone that wasn't his crush.
"Are you...talking to me?" he asked incredulously with knitted brows. The night was nearing its end as the carnival continued to roar, which was typically the time Lance tried to slip away and return home. He was certainly doing nothing that warranted attention.
"Yeah, I've had my eye on you all night. You were fantastic in the play, by the way." As she said this her finger began to twirl around the end of his tie.
"Oh, thanks. And- uh, I'm Lance," he replied nervously.
"Wanna get out of here?" she asked, her eyes conveying the meaning her words danced around.
'Not particularly' was the answer he wanted to give. She wasn't Aryn, therefore this woman had nothing to offer that he wanted. He cast a glance to the other side of the plaza as his best friend laughed till she was bright red in the face. Her new girlfriend, Rachel, was beside Aryn to support her as she stumbled. Rachel's hand had found every excuse to brush against Aryn's all night, a detail Lance was all too painfully aware of, and she was doing so again right now.
"Sure, where to?"
That night was the first time Lance ever kissed someone. It was clumsy, and he could feel how awful he was at it, but Morrigan never stopped giggling and tugging at his clothes. It felt wrong at first, but eventually he permitted himself to try enjoying it.
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She asked to go steady with him a few days later, and after one too many days playing third wheel he accepted in a fit of jealousy. At first he wanted to flaunt her in front of Aryn, but she would just be happy for him which would only make him even more sick. Plus she had it in her head he was gay because of a stupid lie he ran with years ago, and it was way too late to backpedal now. Morrigan would just have to be a secret for the time being.
Despite struggling to just be happy being in a relationship, the first week could be considered a fond memory in hindsight. Lots of kissing, affection, and just feeling needed for once in his life. After that, however, this sweet romance began to sour.
Suddenly she began to compare everything about him to ex-boyfriends of hers. His gentle nature became something to ridicule and she often demanded expensive gifts to earn forgiveness when he didn't even know something was amiss. He saw his friends less and less, save for the few occasions he stole away for himself.
He was able to juggle this for a few weeks, but this was only the beginning.
They were spending time together one evening in his bedroom -her home being off limits to him- when she tore into him for not being man enough to make a move on her. That every other boyfriend she had would have had sex with her by then.
Aryn was supposed to be his first kiss, the first person he made love to, yet here he was acquiescing to the demands of a woman that only made him miserable. No matter the level of disgust he felt he was desperate to be acknowledged. Perhaps this was the only way she might deign to shower him with the affection he craved.
That wasn't the case as anyone could imagine. She ridiculed his inexperience and nervousness, which resulted in the act ending prematurely with no one's satisfaction.
His romantic ideals and desires nearly died that night.
----------------------------------------
"We should break up," she proclaimed during one of their weeknight dates not long after sleeping together. It had been a shopping trip, her choice primarily funded by him. She'd led him to stand overlooking the laundry pool.
"What?" Lance asked, fingers fidgeting at his recently pierced ears. One of many requests of hers he'd accepted with little forethought.
"Yeah. I've tried to be patient with you, but I think it's still a few years away before you'll be a real man," she answered, admiring her hand nonchalantly.
"Are you- this has to be a joke, are you serious?"
"Lance." Anytime she ever said his name it was in a condescending manner. "It's just not going to work; I don't know what to tell you."
He dropped the bags he was carrying -her bags he might add- and spun on his heels. "I have done nothing but every little thing you've asked of me, ranging from benign to outright ridiculous, what more could I do for you?"
"Well, for one, the fact I have to ask is a major problem for me. I was going to endure it if the sex was good but I should have known that would be disappointing too," she explained. "Pick those up, they're going to get dirty."
"Do it yourself. I'm done," he said, throwing his hands up and beginning to walk away.
"Wait a second," she said, sighing as she leaned over to pick up her bags.
Lance hesitated but didn't move to look at her.
"Look, I'm not completely heartless, okay? I'll do you a favor. I've got a few tips that might help."
He bristled but otherwise remained silent.
"You need to man up, like honestly. It's cute for a little while how careful and sensitive you are but it gets old fast. Also, you probably want to shave the chest. It's not super hairy or anything, but it doesn't go with your baby face. It took everything in me not to laugh at you when you got undressed."
"Any other life changing advice you got for me?" Lance seethed, all too ready to spend time in his armoury this evening.
"Just one more, and probably the most important one. Ditch the dyke, it's not a good look."
Lance blinked and his shoulders tensed. "Excuse me, what was that?"
"You're close friends with Aryn Romani, right? If you don't know you must be pretty clueless but she's clearly gay. When people see you with her they talk."
"I don't care; people can say whatever they want about me." They'd already been doing plenty of that since he was old enough to understand that not everyone liked him everywhere he went.
"So you're fine with people thinking you're a faggot?" she asked.
"It doesn't matter what I do. People will always judge everything about me, as you've made all too apparent for me. I'm leaving."
"Whatever. Don't cry to me when a woman won't ever touch you again," she answered in a huff, beginning her journey home.
"Hold on, wait a minute." He stepped quickly beside her to halt her departure. "I- uh, left something I bought in one of the bags."
Morrigan rolled her eyes. "Make it quick. Also, for the record, I only went out with you to make Lucius jealous. Which it did, finally, so thanks for that," she added proudly.
"I see, well, tell him this faggot was glad to be of assistance."
He then swung the bags with all his might, sinking them into the laundry pool. It was a divisive moment to recall, torn between shame and satisfaction. It was the last time he ever saw her, and the rage in her voice was a sound he'd never forget.
----------------------------------------
If that had been the end of it then perhaps he would just consider his time with Morrigan a purely awful experience and not the worst one.
Not long after this break-up was Lance able to spend time with his friends again. At first they teased him for being shut away all this time, eventually relenting after the hundredth time he claimed to have been busy job shadowing for his father. He could smile again and really mean it.
Then it happened. Friends stopped talking to him. People spoke in hushed whispers everywhere he went. Lance suddenly became unpopular with the citizens of Clock Town, in fact he might go so far as to say they began to hate him.
From time to time he would hear pieces of the things people were saying about him. Little things, just here and there. Ideas such as his mother's well known terminal illness being faked for sympathy as a political ploy, or that his family had threatened the original actor for the hero so Lance could be the new star. Then it started fixating on him specifically.
An idea started circulating around that he was a bastard child, interchangeably between his mother and father. Simple enough at first, and not something he hadn't considered a few times in his life. Then speculation on why at age nineteen he had yet to be betrothed cropped up, albeit differently from when he was asked directly. Stories ranged from impotence to the expected debate of his sexuality.
The capability of humans to be cruel was astounding, and to them it was nothing more than a means to pass the time. Yet all the while Lance's name was being dragged through the mud. Yet surely these kinds of rumors wouldn't make his dear friends stop spending time with him, so what had made them think so low of him?
He retained three friends throughout the whole ordeal, the only three friends he continued to keep. Orwen, Thane, and the ever faithful Aryn who remained clueless while living outside of town. Thane grew up in the lower class and had no interest in listening to rumormongers; as for Orwen, Lance never truly understood why he remained steadfast.
Lance pleaded with the two of them to tell him what they heard that made people absolutely detest him. It was with great reluctance they finally divulged the truth they harbored.
"Stories have been going around town of you hurting people. Exploiting people that trusted you as the well-liked son of the mayor. It's- well- it's some nasty stuff, Lance."
The stories they told remained a blur to him. Flashes of words were the only thing his brain would permit him to salvage. Assault, hush money, and buried infants. Those fragments were enough to gain a full understanding. His friends offered names of people that were claiming to be victims, but not a single one rang familiar to him.
As his body threatened to void his stomach, he fled to his home where he remained for many weeks. No one could lure him out, not even Aryn when she finally paid a visit out of concern. People were terrifying. He didn't want to live among them any longer.
Those days were a gap in his history. The world could have flipped upside down and he wouldn't have remembered. There was a chance he could still exist in that self-imposed prison within his home, had it not been for that day.
Abby found him curled into a ball on the floor of his bathroom, half dressed with hair sopping wet. In his hand he clasped a spare bottle of his mother's pain medication. The lid was in place and the bottle was still full. Her plea to the Giants upon finding him this way was the only thing to shake him out of his haze.
It was too soon for him to go. Someone in the world still wanted him around.
----------------------------------------
"...Lance."
"I always assumed Morrigan started those rumors about me, I mean, who else was going to?" Lance continued, eyes fixated on the opposite wall. The picture of the past in his mind's eye superseded what may exist in the now.
"Lance," the voice called again, sharp noises echoing dull.
"Maybe I'm misconstruing the two events, and really I just deserved to undergo what I went through. The greatest service I've ever provided Clock Town is to be their entertainment."
A blunt force made a quick, irritating contact with his forehead. Lance winced, pressed his fingertips to the inflamed skin. "What was that?" he asked, blinking as his vision filled with the familiar sight of his bedroom.
"When you started talking your eyes went glassy and you never acknowledged anything I said. You just disappeared on me." Bael said, alarmingly close now that Lance was aware. One of his hands was pressed to Lance's shoulder to support his weight, the other hand hovered next to his head.
"Oh, right. I did the spacing thing out again. I'm sorry," he apologized with a sheepish grin, still not entirely focused on his current state.
"Stop apologizing already," Bael huffed. "Lance, I can't believe you've never talked to anybody about this. For lack of a better word this is all incredibly fucked up and I don't know how you function in society with it behind you."
"That's the thing. When I started living my life again people had already stopped talking about me like I was a passing fad. Perhaps they were too concerned about my new status as a shut-in. Since no one knew but me and the rest of the world moved on, I just let myself forget. As much as one can anyway."
Bael's mouth opened and closed, clearly struggling with just saying anything. A rare trouble for him as far as Lance was concerned. "I- I'm honored beyond words you'd tell this to me of all people. To make yourself re-live a nightmare." Bael's hands dropped to curl into whatever fabric was within reach, Lance's shirt being included. "If I ever meet this woman I don't know if I'll be able to control myself," he muttered with teeth bared, chest heaving.
Lance hurriedly shook his head, lightly patting Bael on the side of the face to recapture the other man's attention. "Don't, please," he implored, yet his heart took pleasure in the veiled threat. "She's not worth dirtying your hands over."
"I'll never be able to wash away the years of filth from my hands," Bael bluntly replied, eyes narrowed and averted. "I will stay my anger purely at your request. Never again will I allow myself to be the reason you suffer."
Lance smiled. Despite everything, he still smiled.
"You know, you act like a tough guy all the time but I think you're just a big softie underneath all the prickles," Lance noted.
Bael reeled his head back, mouth parted as his face turned red and eyes widened. "That's not fair, fighting back now would just make me look like an asshole."
"Why fight?" Lance began, feeling his reservations abate as tensions eased. "Have you tried being a lover instead of a fighter?"
No, even he wouldn't deny the heavy-handed implications he was carelessly throwing out. His shoulders remained squared and his head elevated, hopeful for once he might be able to maintain the upper hand in one of their charged exchanges.
Bael's stern demeanor held fast for a few seconds longer before he burst into laughter. "I'll admit that was better than this morning, but your lines still need some work."
Lance frowned but wouldn't permit himself to be despondent for long. "It was worth a try."
Much to his surprise, Bael moved away and pushed himself off the bed. "Well, I'm glad we embarked on this emotional journey today, but I've got a patient that needs his bed rest."
"You don't have to go," Lance quickly spoke up. "I promise the next time I wake up I won't freak out."
Bael clicked his tongue as he padded over to the bookshelf against the wall. "I'm coming back, lover boy. Though, I have to say your light-headed self made a more convincing argument this morning; whining and cooing for me to sleep with you. Never have I heard a man beg so much when the clothes are staying on." He traced a finger over a row of spines before extracting the one he sought.
Lance pursued his lips when Bael looked away. Then it occurred to him there was something missing, or rather someone. "Hey, where's Nyx at?"
"As she put it to me, she went to go sightseeing because the sight of you pawing at me for hours on end was getting to be more than she could tolerate." Bael returned to the bed with book in hand, crawling to Lance before settling in beside him. "Her words, not mine."
"You're making this up now, come on. I find it hard to believe I lose a little blood and start acting like an animal."
"That's close to how I would describe it," Bael answered, a joke in his tone that eluded Lance. "Here." He laid the book on Lance's lap then pulled the blanket up to his chest.
"What's this for?" Lance asked, finding the book somewhat familiar to his recent memory but unable to place it.
"I said a lot of shitty things that night, okay? Some of it about this book in question, but I have a confession to make about it actually."
Lance picked up the book and observed the cover. It was one he'd read a couple of times, not a remarkable story but it satisfied that craving for a happy ending when it came. And it always did.
"You have a confession about 'The Knight and the Rebellious Princess?" Lance asked, puzzled. "Are you actually a fan of romance books too?"
"Is that what it's called? I just picked it out because it had the dorkiest cover. That's besides the point" -Bael shook his head- "I, uh, can't read. I only guessed what it was about," he spoke before lowering to a mumble.
"Wait no one-"
"You don't have to make fun of me, okay? Reading wasn't useful for survival so it was never a priority," Bael said defensively, his body tensing but remaining close.
"I wasn't going to make fun of you, but that does answer my question." Lance opened the book and flipped the cheap newsprint pages, an old folded paper falling out from where he last left off. "Did you want me to read it to you?"
"You can read it to me if you want," Bael answered brusquely.
"Bael."
"...yes."
----------------------------------------
The rest of their day was spent in company of each other, undisturbed by the other house occupants unaware of the return of the young master of the house. Periodically Lance would rouse from his numerous naps to a small meal prepared by Bael, and never once would the other man give a clear answer how he was able to sneak about the house undetected.
Dawn approached sooner than any wished it would, and with it Nyx returned to their side once more. Lance on multiple occasions began to ask if Bael's account was true, but in fear of the truth he allowed sleeping dogs to lie.
With his injuries healed and a clearer head on his shoulders, Lance departed his home under the veil of night once more. His destination was Romani Ranch, for once without uncertainties plaguing his mind. For once he wouldn't be arriving alone. Lance could barely contain his eagerness to see and speak with Aryn. All the things he could tell her.
"Laaaance," Bael whined, his arms tossed over Lance's shoulders while pressing their faces together.
"No. You'll find out what you need to know when it's relevant," Lance sternly replied.
"You're no fun. Let's talk about something at least. I'm bored."
It never ceased to amuse Lance how childish this older man could be sometimes. "If you're feeling talkative then you pick a topic. It's only fair."
Bael hummed without giving a response. Good, then maybe he could focus on navigating Termina Field before the sun had even risen above the Ikana Mountains. Fortunately, the approaching dawn kept the bubbles at bay.
"Tell me more about how I'm responsible for changing your sexuality," Bael whispered into Lance's ear.
"How about instead we talk about how you cried at the end of that book last night?" Lance announced, elevating his volume for all to hear.
"Killjoy."
They rode on in silence after that, but after several minutes of Bael prodding his side and loudly sighing he relented. "Aryn's the key to getting my plan off the ground; I need her to get Rachel's cooperation. She has connections to important people."
Bael stilled as he listened without so much as a peep.
"I'm getting us to the Don of the Valerio family."