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A gentle push. A kind word and some advice. The desire to tell him not to stray from this path. Being earnest could truly go a long way.
A soft pull. A caring smile and an impossible task. The desire to break him to rebuild him perfect and new. Being a fake truly is the only way.
It’s a strange dance between them.
A soft push and the sort of freedom that isn’t all there. A gentle pull and an unrelenting grip. A request to stay. A command to go. At some point, “Follow my lead” has become “Move with me, Jon” and all is well. All is as it should be and, as it is, Elias doesn’t give Jon enough. Not yet. Not now.
A step away and the hand that pulls him back because it isn’t the right time. Their song won’t allow for that sort of break.
And so, Elias keeps Jon needy and eager for more. There is no doubt in Elias’s mind that his Archivist will see this through. And so, Elias gives him crumbs of what Jon desperately wants to know.
Crumb after crumb after crumb: it’s a trail leading him home.
If only Jon could see the path he is on, he would know that much. But he follows it blindly and it’s a beautiful gesture. An unintentional show of trust. Misguided. Misplaced. Misused.
It’s just foreplay.
An adjustment of hand position. Eyes that follow him everywhere and the knowledge that he still cares to be human. The desire to keep him safe. The desire to save himself. Being selfish is all that’s left for Elias.
Elias who smiles and traces Jon’s jawline. He watches him with honest and adoring eyes. It’s a faithful sort of adoration: Elias will never leave him. It’s a promise. It’s a project. It’s sheer cruelty: Jon can’t ever leave him. A codependent affair. Forbidden love. As it is, Elias really wants what he cannot have. Doomed love.
By his own choice.
By his own hands.
It was doomed from the start, and he doesn’t regret it. He doesn’t regret it whenever Jon looks at him. He doesn’t regret it because Jon looks at him. Because Jon watches him. Because Jon sees him. It’s for the best not to regret it now. This far in, there is no way out anyway.
Elias will let go of everything for what he pretends to still be what he really wants. This far in, there is no other way anyway.
Elias traces under Jon’s right eye. It’s a barely-there touch, just the ghost of a love never allowed to fully be. A love rejected. A love dead long before it could be anything more than a promise. Dead because of Elias. Strangled by Elias’s choices. Strangled by Elias’s hands. His hands that slowly crushed that breath in its throat. His eyes that watched as life left its body. Not a crime of passion, but of self-defense.
Another lie.
“Tell me,” Jon says and it’s not quite the command it can become.
A shiver. Pleasure and desire. An odd way of being wanted.
The full truth.
“I love you,” Elias confesses.
It’s a love that haunts him. Dead and still here. A love that screams bloody murder at Elias. A tether to his own humanity. A tether to Jon. A weakness. A ghost. A rotting body. There is no doubt in Elias’s mind that he will see this through.
It’s a full-blown addiction.
Elias leans in and kisses Jon’s neck, right under his ear. Jon closes his eyes and lets him. This much trust will only make the betrayal that much worse. Elias knows so. Jon could know it too, if he looked at Elias. If he looked only at Elias. Elias would let him see it. Elias would stand there and let Jon look at every secret fear and untold desire. Elias would stand there, his naked soul laid in front of Jon like an offering.
If only he would look at Elias. But, as it is, Jon doesn’t look, and Elias offers nothing of significance. Adoring kisses. Loving touches. The sweetest lies. Elias reduced to a beggar. Nothing.
“Open your eyes, Jon,” Elias commands. “Don’t turn away.”
A step to the side. A pause. The music fully stops. A mistake. Such a dangerous dance is taking place between them. The music resumes and they start again, with feeling. Lie after lie after lie and the only path left is to be swallowed whole by The Eye. A gentle push, a soft pull, and Elias’s broken heart. This is not a love that saves. Twirl. Follow the music and don’t fall for this villain.
A gentle pull and Jon shows Elias no restraint. He trusts and loves like there is something true to be found between them. And Elias wants it to be true.
A soft push and Elias shows Jon too much restraint. He hides and keeps the distance between them like Jon brought a knife to carve out his heart. And Jon never would.
But it’s Elias who caresses Jon’s face and touches Jon’s body and pulls Jon closer and wants more than this. Elias who wants meaning and truth. Elias who dreams of him. At some point, “Move with me” stopped being enough and Elias isn’t quite sure where to go from there. Eat me whole. Fear me. Make me fear you. He wants more than this gentle sway. He wants stormy waters. He wants to burn. He wants to feel. He wants to be consumed by this.
A bitter laugh.
A rotting corpse in the attic. A long dead love. A murder victim and a vengeful ghost that is sure to be the death of him. A vengeful ghost that will pull his heart from his chest and eat it bloody and raw.
Truth be told, it’s Elias who doesn’t see what’s right in front of him. It’s Elias who doesn’t look. It’s bad form. It’s a courtesy. It’s fear. It’s fear. It’s fear.
It’s denial.
Jon pets Elias’s hair and Elias looks at him, searching his eyes for answers he will never ask out loud. Jon doesn’t look away. It’s bold. It’s too much. Elias turns his head, looks away and kisses Jon’s wrist. Jon watches him.
“What worries you so much?”
Elias smiles and doesn’t answer.
“Tell me,” his Archivist demands.
“You,” Elias answers, all restraint and no lies.
Jon searches his eyes. He waits for more. There isn’t more. Elias offers nothing but his heart. It doesn’t amount to much by now. An old thing tucked away. Dusty. Rotten. Forgotten. Elias smiles at him. He wants to be devoured by Jon.
“Breakfast?” he asks, all misdirection and fear.
Jon pauses, surprised by the sudden question. He can tell there is more than Elias’s words.
It’s obvious.
“Ah. Sure?” he answers, sounding mostly unsure.
Elias laughs and steals a kiss. Jon smiles at him. The ghost in Elias’s heart screams bloody murder and scratches at the walls until its fingertips are bloody and raw.
“Join me,” Elias wants to ask Jon, like some sort of villain bound to be rejected.
Elias stands up. Jon takes his hand and brings it to his lips. A soft touch. A different song. A different pace. An invitation. The wrong one. All the things that could be and that were so openly offered in that kiss.
Soft lips. The offer to lead and that same old paralyzing fear. The inability to let go. Being so deeply scared that the way out must be forced through the walls of this prison.
The song offered doesn’t soothe him. The song offered isn’t enough. They must resume their usual tune or else Elias may be tempted.
“Join me,” Elias will ask, he promises himself as he watches Jon.
One day.
When everything is said and done and lost. He will ask then, when the rejection is a promise and not a gamble.
Elias pulls his hand away and holds it to Jon. Another invitation. The fake one. Jon places his hand on Elias’s open palm without knowing how cowardly the offer truly is, and Elias pulls him up. A firm motion. A simple action. Too aggressive. Too needy. Out of pace.
Jon stumbles and falls against Elias’s chest. Elias laughs, still holding Jon’s hand, embarrassed to show his own greed. Jon laughs, too, a little embarrassed, believing himself at fault as well. They look at each other. There is a pause, but everything goes on as usual. A misstep and nothing more.
Elias smiles again, charming and playful.
“Shall we dance?”