Ophus 14, 2718 | Evening
The Laundries
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He mustn't look at Lars.
Affording himself glimpses of the older man, little observations of his day-to-day activities had initially started out as a treat. Well, not immediately. No one had bothered to tell the blond passive that the roommate he'd beaten so severely was actually alive so it had come as a shock - a welcome one - when he had discovered him looking hale and hearty while Ayden and his little network was coming tumbling down around their ears. Fionn hadn't cared that he'd gotten into trouble, in fact he'd welcomed it because no matter what, everything he'd done well... he'd done it, hadn't he? Before Ayden came back, he'd been a bastard, he'd done plenty of wrongs that couldn't be blamed on anyone else and while Ayden had manipulated him, he'd been glad to do his dirty work up until Lars.
He deserved everything that he got. Except that what he'd gotten certainly wasn't deserved. He didn't know why they'd decided to be kind to him, to care about his welfare when no one had ever done so before. The passive honestly didn't know why they'd chosen to try to rehabilitate him, to give him a frankly comfortable job after the ones he'd had all these years. Was it the remorse? Was it his willingness to suffer just as long as Ayden and his ilk couldn't hurt anyone again, especially Lars? Or had it been his injuries, the ones that when pressed about them, he'd claimed to deserve. Better him than anyone else. And oh, Ayden had done some horrific things before everything went to shit, perhaps sensing that the incident with Lars had crossed a line and that a reckoning was coming.
The young man didn't like to think about Ayden if he could help it. Not only did the thoughts make him shake like a leaf, sometimes even pushing him to the point of hyperventilation, but they also made his nightmares much, much worse. It was funny really, he'd never been without nightmares since Ayden had initially violated him but they had improved when he'd gone away. Even before the incident with Lars, the night terrors had crept back with renewed vigour. They'd been pretty horrific; he'd been inclined to wake up sweating, heart ready to burst out of his chest and occasionally sobbing. Somehow, it had gotten a lot worse since Ayden's extremely violent attack on him a few days after Fionn had beaten up Lars. Physically, his injuries had healed (some had been slower than others) but psychologically...
There were only so many times you could wake up screaming hysterically before people started giving you certain looks in your waking hours and asking if you were all right, really all right.
Fionn knew that he was far from all right but he had no idea how he was meant to share it, how he was meant to cope with it. He didn't trust kindness, searching for some ulterior motive behind it. Even with Niamh, he searched for it and of course, he'd purposely tried to drive her off with cruel words but she hadn't gone. What was worse though was that she was incredibly soft so it was all too easy to make her cry but she still wouldn't move. He hadn't had the heart to keep up the nasty treatment, even if it would have been better in the long run. And while it was oddly nice to have his sister again and to be acknowledged by someone, he didn't have what he really wanted.
He might not be able to keep distance between himself and Niamh, but he could maintain the distance between himself and Lars. It was killing him though.
The boy had taken pains not to approach his former roommate. Lars wouldn't want to see him or talk to him, that was a given, wasn't it? He'd almost killed him, he'd been nothing but a nuisance before that and he also couldn't be trusted. Fionn had made promises and then promptly broken them after all. Not that it was as black and white as that but... the older man didn't need all of his excuses and pleading explanations. He was happier without Fionn, safer. The blond knew it well but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt though because it bloody well did but he had to keep an eye on him, from a distance at least, see how he was doing so he could see what he would end up destroying if he approached him.
Except... he didn't need to check on him quite so often. Being in places where he could catch glimpses of him was definitely a bit of selfishness on his part. It was nice to see him, strangely calming and it gave him the chance to examine him from afar, to see that the damage he'd caused hadn't been permanent - at least externally. Of course, it hadn't occurred to him that Lars would ever be looking back at him, that he'd register his frequent presence.
The fact that Lars knew he was in the same room came as a surprise but it wasn't as shocking as the fact that he not only approached but sat, looking quite comfortable. Fionn temporarily forgot how to breathe, not sure where he was meant to look, what he was meant to do, nothing. He lost the rough soap he'd been using, the bar just dropping from suddenly malfunctioning fingers so that he was forced to stretch to the bottom of the tub to get it. Even though he'd managed to roll his shirt sleeves well above the elbow, he felt the lap of water on the arm that he shoved in and swore softly to himself, inwardly cursing himself.
He'd gone to such efforts to be neat. He had his collar buttoned, he had his shirt tucked in and it was fucking boiling in here. The linen was already damp with sweat and it wouldn't have killed him to undo something but he was trying. And now his own clumsiness had helped fuck it all up.
He puffed upwards, stirring the damp hair that hung limply on his forehead. Brown eyes found blue, head shaken in denial.
"I haven't been ignoring you. Avoiding... yeah. Kind of," he admitted, unthinkingly rubbing a hand over the back of his neck and grimacing as he found soapy water dribbling down it to pool at the top of his collar. He squirmed, moving his hand back down to flick the droplets into the tub and that was when Lars reached out to touch his collar.
It didn't matter that it was Lars; he flinched. Eyes blinked rapidly, Adam's apple bobbed almost painfully and the blond froze. Part of him wanted to pull away and another wanted to lean closer. After the initial startle, the former desire began to ebb and the latter grew stronger. The tension left his body slowly, the young gradually relaxing visibly.
The comment on his appearance drew fresh colour to his face, which he prayed wasn't visible courtesy of the flush that the steam had brought out. His lips parted, the softest of sighs escaping him before his gaze dropped to his work, teeth pressing softly into his lip, swallowing hard.
Just wash this, Fionn, don't look at him. Please don't look at him, don't look, don't look, don't look," he told himself. The young man was convinced that his face had already conveyed a great deal but if he actually looked at Lars, properly looked at him then he was going to gawk and possibly faint into the tub. Or... maybe the heat was getting to him. Maybe he should untuck his shirt so that some air could circulate. And Lars apparently missed seeing him dishevelled. Which meant that he'd been watching him too.
Oh boy!
He probably didn't have to look at him to swoon. Sweet Lady, he was being an idiot. It wasn't like the other man wanted to have anything to do with him, not really. Except that he'd come to him. He wanted obviously, something he could get from Fionn, that was it. 'Speaking' didn't seem like a likely motive.
"No! You don't have to- I mean... I didn't think that you'd want to speak to me. Ever again. I just..." he stuttered out, scrubbing at cloth under the water so that he had something to do with his hands. It was better than rubbing water all over the back of his neck again. "I'm all right talking with you, that's not- it's not a problem for me. What... did you want to talk about? Is it about A-A-A-Ay- him?" he asked, swallowing hard, stuttering and wincing over the attempt of saying his former patron's name.
His legs had started to feel a little weak and his arms were trembling a bit but he was fine.
Everything was fine.