True freedom is a thing that Holland has never experienced. Not even as a child. Children are owned, more or less, until they're adults. Magic owns the bearer. Duty owns the man. Royalty owns the magician. In the end everything is a prison. Some prisons are kinder than expected. Others are more cruel.
But when the shackles are released this time, there's something calming about it that isn't forced by his own will.
They've never really been close, Holland and Kell. Why should they be? They could have been, probably. If Holland had let it. But sometimes Kell could be so infuriating. And Holland didn't want the attachment. Attachments could be severed. And Kell was the kind of boy that people didn't want to lose once they got close enough, no matter what kind of headache he may bring them.
Unfortunately there was a built in attachment when it came to them. An invisible cord that connected them that no one else (save for one, now) had. No one else understood what it meat to be what they were. Powerful, and still slaves to those weaker than they were. Monsters in their own right.
Holland looked up after gently rubbing his fingers over his skin, now free of its physical binds, and met eyes that were like his own. But opposite. Like two black mirrors. But without a word, he walks away. There isn't really anywhere to go considering they're on a boat, but he goes anyway.
When he finally makes his way back to Kell, he lingers in the doorway and watches him for a quiet moment. He was tired of thinking. Always thinking. Wallowing. Alone. And Kell is bright, a sad puppy that manages to thrive.
"You're a headache," he finally says, "a frustrating thing I can't be rid of."
Kell isn’t surprised when Holland simply walks away. His brow is furrowed in that typical serious expression as he looked after the other Antari. He wants him to stop, to talk to him. There had seemed like there was something there, just below the surface — but Holland has always pushed him away. It’s no surprise.
He figures that any chance they had to really talk had left when he’d taken those chains off of Holland. So it is a surprise to see him at his doorway, his gaze always carries a heavy weight that Kell could never completely understand.
He did want to be rid of a lot of things, but, then with a sigh he shook his head and stepped inside, closing the door behind him, "No."
It would be easy to walk away. To disappear, for the most part, but for all of the headache, for all of the pouting and childishness, there was still a common ground he would never have anywhere else.
Even now, sometimes when he looked at Kell he still saw the boy that just appeared out of nowhere; eager to find someone just like him. Holland remembered seeing that in those mismatched eyes and wanting to indulge in it, but instead he tucked it away and turned from it. Sometimes he would sit and wonder how strong Kell would be now if he had indulged. Guided him.
"Not anymore than you wish to be rid of me." Everyone wanted to be rid of him. Even Kell. But there would always be that thing that made it harder to follow through because of.
There’s a flicker of confusion when Holland comes in, shutting the door.
Perhaps he should have been concerned and maybe he would have been before
this. But instead he is transfixed in Holland, unable to look away from
him. There’s always a longing that has been there since he knew Holland
existed, that he isn’t alone.
“I do not wish to be rid of you, Holland,” he says softly. There is a time
he would have, even recently, but he understands him too much.
How did anyone get used to being on a ship, he wondered. The rocking, the swaying—he didn’t like it.
With the door shut, he moved further inside the cabin and sank down to sit on the end of the cot. He settles and slowly looks back over at the admission. It sounds nice if only because of the tone. Kell speaks the words so quietly that Holland almost believes him.
“I never should have turned you away back then,” his head tipped back and his eyes closed. He could feel their magic mingling quietly in the room; like two separate beings desperate for company. “I could have made you even more than you are now.”
What are you doing is on the tip of Kell's lips. He desperately wants to ask because he just cannot understand what it is that brings Holland here now, that has him sitting on the cot, within reach.
"Maybe, maybe it wasn't meant to be like that," Kell says and his voice is still low. Boats have ears everywhere he supposes. "I didn't understand why you did, though. There was no one else..."
There's a hint of that lonely boy searching for belonging.
Holland is here on the cot for the same reason the magic dances; something familiar.
Every bump in the current made him sick, made him reach for something else to focus on. Made him hold a hand out to the younger man, fingers curling to invite him closer.
"You wouldn't. You were a boy and I didn't know anyone else like me still existed," he admitted after a moment, eyes cracking to find the others face, "I didn't want the responsibility that keeping you close would bring." Nothing but pain followed him.
Kell looks at Holland's hand, there's a question in his expression when he looks back up but he moves closer. It's almost like there isn't actually a choice. There is an invitation that he can't possibly decline.
Holland would argue that but he chooses not to, mostly because he's surprised that Kell actually moved.
"I would have wanted to, and that is a dangerous game to play when everything that follows you turns to ash," The look he offers clearly says that he is speaking about himself. He reaches out slowly and takes the younger mans hand; surveying the marks in his skin. Sure, most of the wounds would heal, but scars would sometimes still remain. Lots and lots of scars. Pink flesh angry and misunderstanding.
"But," he continued on with another sigh; it sounded part tired and part annoyed, "I thought about you every day since."
Kell is troubled by that as he studies everything about Holland in that moment. Is he opening up to him in a truer way? It seems so but there's still so much withheld... The magic seems to jump when Holland takes his hand, or maybe that is just Rhy's pulse. Why is he so affected? He looks at his own hands and he wonders what exactly Holland sees.
"I...always thought of you."
Kell had never stopped wishing for more than the coldness that passed between them. A cordialness at best, nothing more.
Of course there is much being withheld. Holland has never been an open book, and he isn't about to start now when he's so close to everything being over.
The little jolt between them causes his gaze to flicker briefly over the other mans face. Wonder, maybe.
Holland was more than a little aware of his reputation. A thing that had followed him ever since he was a child. A thing that was only partial truth. Nevertheless, it was his.
He didn't look away from Kells face, studying his profile as Holland carefully curled his fingers through the others, holding his hand where no one else could see.
A part of Kell's mind whispered that he should draw his hand away but it couldn't. Now that their fingers were twined together it felt like two magnets holding firm. He doesn't understand what he sees in Holland's face when he meets his eyes, or why his heart is still pounding so in his chest. He feels off-kilter, the other antari taking him completely off guard. Something has him leaning in toward Holland, their shoulders brushing and it's a shock.
"You do like to think that, don't you," he says and there's something rough in his voice an ache perhaps that he can't name, a longing that's the same and yet different from the way it has always been.
Kell is leaning in and Holland has to force his calm again. But it is more difficult than usual. Perhaps it’s because Kell is different. Like him. Different but like him.
The green of his eye shines brighter before clouding over with something else; something sad, something reaching for something else.
“You are a fool,” he murmurs lowly, his gaze sliding down briefly to Kells mouth and back up, “you should make me go.”
Kell doesn't miss the way the other's gaze moved. His lips feel suddenly dry and he licks them without a thought before his own gaze wonders to Holland's and he wonders how they would taste...
"I don't want you to go, Holland," Kell says earnestly and he means it in so many ways. It's a dull ache in his chest and a flutter in his stomach, the pounding of his heart as his hand tightens on Holland as if daring him to break the hold first.
Holland doesn’t let go. In fact, he uses his grip on Kells hand to pull the younger man over into his lap.
The act was done unconsciously; a base need that he had long since forgotten to joys of. And for a moment the surprise was evident even in his own eyes when they settled on Kells face.
Kell was handsome. Unique and handsome. And not his.
Among so many shocking things... finding himself in the other man's lap. That... is new for Kell, very new and not just because it is Holland. But he revels in the closeness, one he didn't know he wanted until he had it. He stares at Holland, their hands still tethered together.
What does he want?
That's not a question he's asked often or that the answer really matters most of the time...but with Holland he knew it did.
"I don't want to be alone," he answers and that encompassed what he wanted as well. "I want you to stay."
Kell ached at the loss of connection. Not just their hands but that Holland looked away. Before he thought about it his hand went to the other's cheek, guiding him back to look at him. And he doesn't know what he's thinking as it lingers there.
"Just tell me you will stay," he says and it's ridiculous. Rhy would laugh at him for something so ludicrous.
Holland closes his eyes at the touch but when he opens them, he can’t look away. The problem with Holland is that he can keep quiet. He can not say a word. He can not move, not flinch, not scream. But if one is quick enough they can catch glimpses of things in his eyes.
“You would have me lie to you?” He mutters and tries to look away. Not pull away. But look away. The fact greedy hat he hasn’t shoved Kell away by now tells more than it should.
Kell didn't want Holland to leave and he knew the reality, that he must, that there is no way to save him. And it aches after all these years... of longing, to finally have something and feel as if it will be ripped away from him, knowing it will be is almost too much to bear.
"Lie to me," Kell confirms, trying to catch what he can in the other's face, his eyes. "Please, tell me you'll stay."
His head tilts forward, letting his forehead find Holland's. Please stay, please don't look away, he pleaded inwardly as if he hadn't just begged aloud for Holland to lie to him.
"Holland," the name is a prayer on Kell's lips and he can't help but hope that maybe... just maybe the other could really stay. He chose to believe those words for now. Perhaps he should feel torn, guilty about Lila but he doesn't. This is different. Lila was a raging inferno of emotions inside of Kell but Holland had been burning in the foundation of his soul, like a fire burning innocuously in the walls of a house until it's too late.
His hands felt right on his face and Kell bridged the distance this time, his lips pressing to Holland's. Maybe he should have tread softly but the kiss is hard, needy.
The way Kell says his name surprises him. But more than that is the kiss that follows.
As close as they were. The sparks that barely shot over their skin, between them, around them like the beginnings of a thunderstorm should have been telling. However, when one has gone without any level of intimacy for as long as he had—a kiss like that is mind shattering.
The sound he breathes is shocked, surprised, and hungry all at the same time.
Bold of you, Kell.
His mouth responds eagerly. Too eagerly. Lips parting against the others, and Kell tastes the way he smells; sweet.
Kell's arms wrap around the other, pressing close as Holland lets this happen. As he kisses back, hunger meeting hunger. There's something desperate in Holland, far more so than Kell but he does have his own desperation and hunger too. He tries to match Holland. His heart is racing and magic seems to be everywhere, colliding as he and the other fell into each other in a way.
Please don't stop, Kell pleaded inwardly, his arms wrapped tightly and his kiss still hard, hungry, searching but open, giving, encouraging Holland to take.
Whatever this was, it needed to stop. It needed to stop.
Control was something Holland had in spades. He knew how to school himself into barely existing. Barely feeling anything. But Kell was like lightning in a bottle and the lid was barely screwed on. His arms were wrapped around him so tightly that Holland didn’t want them to let go.
But he couldn’t have him grabbing him like that either.
Kell ended up on his back on the cot with his wrists pinned on either side of his head, and Holland caught his breath; panting softly against the younger mans mouth, “You don’t really want this.” Me.
Holland didn’t want this. Or at least he isn’t been aware that he did until those lips were against his.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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But when the shackles are released this time, there's something calming about it that isn't forced by his own will.
They've never really been close, Holland and Kell. Why should they be? They could have been, probably. If Holland had let it. But sometimes Kell could be so infuriating. And Holland didn't want the attachment. Attachments could be severed. And Kell was the kind of boy that people didn't want to lose once they got close enough, no matter what kind of headache he may bring them.
Unfortunately there was a built in attachment when it came to them. An invisible cord that connected them that no one else (save for one, now) had. No one else understood what it meat to be what they were. Powerful, and still slaves to those weaker than they were. Monsters in their own right.
Holland looked up after gently rubbing his fingers over his skin, now free of its physical binds, and met eyes that were like his own. But opposite. Like two black mirrors. But without a word, he walks away. There isn't really anywhere to go considering they're on a boat, but he goes anyway.
When he finally makes his way back to Kell, he lingers in the doorway and watches him for a quiet moment. He was tired of thinking. Always thinking. Wallowing. Alone. And Kell is bright, a sad puppy that manages to thrive.
"You're a headache," he finally says, "a frustrating thing I can't be rid of."
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He figures that any chance they had to really talk had left when he’d taken those chains off of Holland. So it is a surprise to see him at his doorway, his gaze always carries a heavy weight that Kell could never completely understand.
“Do you want to be rid of me so badly?”
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He did want to be rid of a lot of things, but, then with a sigh he shook his head and stepped inside, closing the door behind him, "No."
It would be easy to walk away. To disappear, for the most part, but for all of the headache, for all of the pouting and childishness, there was still a common ground he would never have anywhere else.
Even now, sometimes when he looked at Kell he still saw the boy that just appeared out of nowhere; eager to find someone just like him. Holland remembered seeing that in those mismatched eyes and wanting to indulge in it, but instead he tucked it away and turned from it. Sometimes he would sit and wonder how strong Kell would be now if he had indulged. Guided him.
"Not anymore than you wish to be rid of me." Everyone wanted to be rid of him. Even Kell. But there would always be that thing that made it harder to follow through because of.
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There’s a flicker of confusion when Holland comes in, shutting the door. Perhaps he should have been concerned and maybe he would have been before this. But instead he is transfixed in Holland, unable to look away from him. There’s always a longing that has been there since he knew Holland existed, that he isn’t alone.
“I do not wish to be rid of you, Holland,” he says softly. There is a time he would have, even recently, but he understands him too much.
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With the door shut, he moved further inside the cabin and sank down to sit on the end of the cot. He settles and slowly looks back over at the admission. It sounds nice if only because of the tone. Kell speaks the words so quietly that Holland almost believes him.
“I never should have turned you away back then,” his head tipped back and his eyes closed. He could feel their magic mingling quietly in the room; like two separate beings desperate for company. “I could have made you even more than you are now.”
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"Maybe, maybe it wasn't meant to be like that," Kell says and his voice is still low. Boats have ears everywhere he supposes. "I didn't understand why you did, though. There was no one else..."
There's a hint of that lonely boy searching for belonging.
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Every bump in the current made him sick, made him reach for something else to focus on. Made him hold a hand out to the younger man, fingers curling to invite him closer.
"You wouldn't. You were a boy and I didn't know anyone else like me still existed," he admitted after a moment, eyes cracking to find the others face, "I didn't want the responsibility that keeping you close would bring." Nothing but pain followed him.
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"You would not have been responsible for me."
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"I would have wanted to, and that is a dangerous game to play when everything that follows you turns to ash," The look he offers clearly says that he is speaking about himself. He reaches out slowly and takes the younger mans hand; surveying the marks in his skin. Sure, most of the wounds would heal, but scars would sometimes still remain. Lots and lots of scars. Pink flesh angry and misunderstanding.
"But," he continued on with another sigh; it sounded part tired and part annoyed, "I thought about you every day since."
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"I...always thought of you."
Kell had never stopped wishing for more than the coldness that passed between them. A cordialness at best, nothing more.
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The little jolt between them causes his gaze to flicker briefly over the other mans face. Wonder, maybe.
Holland was more than a little aware of his reputation. A thing that had followed him ever since he was a child. A thing that was only partial truth. Nevertheless, it was his.
He didn't look away from Kells face, studying his profile as Holland carefully curled his fingers through the others, holding his hand where no one else could see.
"You are a fool." And so am I.
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"You do like to think that, don't you," he says and there's something rough in his voice an ache perhaps that he can't name, a longing that's the same and yet different from the way it has always been.
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The green of his eye shines brighter before clouding over with something else; something sad, something reaching for something else.
“You are a fool,” he murmurs lowly, his gaze sliding down briefly to Kells mouth and back up, “you should make me go.”
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"I don't want you to go, Holland," Kell says earnestly and he means it in so many ways. It's a dull ache in his chest and a flutter in his stomach, the pounding of his heart as his hand tightens on Holland as if daring him to break the hold first.
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The act was done unconsciously; a base need that he had long since forgotten to joys of. And for a moment the surprise was evident even in his own eyes when they settled on Kells face.
Kell was handsome. Unique and handsome. And not his.
“What do you want, Kell?”
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What does he want?
That's not a question he's asked often or that the answer really matters most of the time...but with Holland he knew it did.
"I don't want to be alone," he answers and that encompassed what he wanted as well. "I want you to stay."
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They both knew that there was only one ending to this trip. And he wouldn’t be coming back with them.
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"Just tell me you will stay," he says and it's ridiculous. Rhy would laugh at him for something so ludicrous.
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“You would have me lie to you?” He mutters and tries to look away. Not pull away. But look away. The fact greedy hat he hasn’t shoved Kell away by now tells more than it should.
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"Lie to me," Kell confirms, trying to catch what he can in the other's face, his eyes. "Please, tell me you'll stay."
His head tilts forward, letting his forehead find Holland's. Please stay, please don't look away, he pleaded inwardly as if he hadn't just begged aloud for Holland to lie to him.
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“I’ll stay,” And while a part of him had resigned itself to his fate; another longed to believe to words. However false they were.
Mismatched eyes raised and mirrored the others. Black to black. Green to blue. Pain to pain.
“For as long as I am able. I’ll stay.”
And then you and Delilah will have each other.
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His hands felt right on his face and Kell bridged the distance this time, his lips pressing to Holland's. Maybe he should have tread softly but the kiss is hard, needy.
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As close as they were. The sparks that barely shot over their skin, between them, around them like the beginnings of a thunderstorm should have been telling. However, when one has gone without any level of intimacy for as long as he had—a kiss like that is mind shattering.
The sound he breathes is shocked, surprised, and hungry all at the same time.
Bold of you, Kell.
His mouth responds eagerly. Too eagerly. Lips parting against the others, and Kell tastes the way he smells; sweet.
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Please don't stop, Kell pleaded inwardly, his arms wrapped tightly and his kiss still hard, hungry, searching but open, giving, encouraging Holland to take.
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Control was something Holland had in spades. He knew how to school himself into barely existing. Barely feeling anything. But Kell was like lightning in a bottle and the lid was barely screwed on. His arms were wrapped around him so tightly that Holland didn’t want them to let go.
But he couldn’t have him grabbing him like that either.
Kell ended up on his back on the cot with his wrists pinned on either side of his head, and Holland caught his breath; panting softly against the younger mans mouth, “You don’t really want this.” Me.
Holland didn’t want this. Or at least he isn’t been aware that he did until those lips were against his.
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