[ i’m sorry is the first arrow, piercing his chest. the sort of straightforward apology that’s rare in his business. that he’s never given in so many words himself. most betrayals end with a sharp shot. you didn’t deserve to be treated that way marks the second blow, opening his skin. no one deserves anything. if they did, everyone would treat him this way, and he’d never have found anything true, like his six — or anika and nikolai. nikolai, who always sees worth and goodness in him where there is none. kaz brekker has no need for apologies, kindness, or whatever this visit aims to deliver. not what he thought it would. perhaps what he wanted, though he’s quick to curtail that line of thinking. his anger winks out despite his valiant efforts to stoke it with irritation.
the box opening provides a perfectly timed, if equally terrible, distraction. ]
You just pretend to have manners. [ his stomach flutters, not the usual nausea but something worse. nerves, he realises with dawning horror. his dark brows knit together. ] I wasn’t sure if you’d — it’s worth enough for the treasury, if you don’t.
[ want it, wear it. as if that matters after everything they’ve talked about on this trip. when nikolai speaks, kaz snaps his jaw shut and wills the pounding of his heart to quiet so he can hear everything that follows. the sight of him sliding the ring on his black-tipped finger reminds kaz of returning the signet, the soft expression on nikolai’s face the same now as then. that’s real. it has to be.
at the request to be still, he does. like he has you on a string, but that’s not possible, after how it felt to be in his room, his arms, the thing he wanted in the exact way he didn’t want it. it must be muscle-memory. shock, maybe, at the thought of a comparison nikolai never vocalised until now. his eyes widen. the fair-weather sky. kaz has only ever seen the black harbour in his eyes (jordie’s eyes, carried out to the unmerciful sea). to hold nikolai’a gaze now is to be flayed, stripped down further than even his barest parts.
does nikolai really see the sky, even in the sickly green-dark of this room? in that moment, kaz knows nikolai is going to touch him. (or is it that you hope he will?) it happens, regardless, and he sucks in a breath, holding it for as long as he can manage. it escapes in a rush, the dual sensations of warm flesh and cool metal occupying the whole of his mind. can’t keep his thoughts inside his head any longer. ]
You’d have to ask me to come back. [ his door cracked open, the way he’s always left it after every horrible fight with jesper and inej. but you know he won’t. because nikolai has never reiterated that invitation since the first time, and that was a midnight fiction. something for him to cling to in the depths of despair and unreality. a visitation of the same type as this, brandy in his mouth and a yawning pit of regret in his stomach. the predictability ought to be comforting.
he tries to blink any emotion from his eyes and speak, quiet but sure. ] You should find someone you want in the daylight.
[ a shadow like him, well. he brings his hand to nikolai’s arm, gripping him just below the elbow, thumb smoothing over the soft skin at the joint to feel his pulse. the gentle support serves to stabilise his arm as the tremors come. his own shudder rattles through him, but he keeps steady. fingers at once warm and numb, pressed against nikolai’s skin, it’s more like the first time than the last.
not a fair-weather sky but a storm, unpredictable in his own way. despite his efforts, a familiar sinking drags him down, and he drops his hand, features twisting just enough to betray his disgust with this renewed weakness. he fights to lean into nikolai’s hand, not away, even as he waits for the inevitable key change in this encounter. ]
[ with a roll of his eyes, ] Only a man as decent as you could be this mad with guilt. [ as close as he’ll come to an apology like nikolai’s, sincere words so foreign on his tongue. ]
no subject
the box opening provides a perfectly timed, if equally terrible, distraction. ]
You just pretend to have manners. [ his stomach flutters, not the usual nausea but something worse. nerves, he realises with dawning horror. his dark brows knit together. ] I wasn’t sure if you’d — it’s worth enough for the treasury, if you don’t.
[ want it, wear it. as if that matters after everything they’ve talked about on this trip. when nikolai speaks, kaz snaps his jaw shut and wills the pounding of his heart to quiet so he can hear everything that follows. the sight of him sliding the ring on his black-tipped finger reminds kaz of returning the signet, the soft expression on nikolai’s face the same now as then. that’s real. it has to be.
at the request to be still, he does. like he has you on a string, but that’s not possible, after how it felt to be in his room, his arms, the thing he wanted in the exact way he didn’t want it. it must be muscle-memory. shock, maybe, at the thought of a comparison nikolai never vocalised until now. his eyes widen. the fair-weather sky. kaz has only ever seen the black harbour in his eyes (jordie’s eyes, carried out to the unmerciful sea). to hold nikolai’a gaze now is to be flayed, stripped down further than even his barest parts.
does nikolai really see the sky, even in the sickly green-dark of this room? in that moment, kaz knows nikolai is going to touch him. (or is it that you hope he will?) it happens, regardless, and he sucks in a breath, holding it for as long as he can manage. it escapes in a rush, the dual sensations of warm flesh and cool metal occupying the whole of his mind. can’t keep his thoughts inside his head any longer. ]
You’d have to ask me to come back. [ his door cracked open, the way he’s always left it after every horrible fight with jesper and inej. but you know he won’t. because nikolai has never reiterated that invitation since the first time, and that was a midnight fiction. something for him to cling to in the depths of despair and unreality. a visitation of the same type as this, brandy in his mouth and a yawning pit of regret in his stomach. the predictability ought to be comforting.
he tries to blink any emotion from his eyes and speak, quiet but sure. ] You should find someone you want in the daylight.
[ a shadow like him, well. he brings his hand to nikolai’s arm, gripping him just below the elbow, thumb smoothing over the soft skin at the joint to feel his pulse. the gentle support serves to stabilise his arm as the tremors come. his own shudder rattles through him, but he keeps steady. fingers at once warm and numb, pressed against nikolai’s skin, it’s more like the first time than the last.
not a fair-weather sky but a storm, unpredictable in his own way. despite his efforts, a familiar sinking drags him down, and he drops his hand, features twisting just enough to betray his disgust with this renewed weakness. he fights to lean into nikolai’s hand, not away, even as he waits for the inevitable key change in this encounter. ]
[ with a roll of his eyes, ] Only a man as decent as you could be this mad with guilt. [ as close as he’ll come to an apology like nikolai’s, sincere words so foreign on his tongue. ]