[ it’s only hard when you’re not here. so sweet that he doesn’t startle when nikolai pulls him close like he did before everything began to crack, entirely devoted memorising the disarming expression on nikolai’s face. surprised, perhaps, by the ease with which nikolai lies — or lets truths slip free. kaz knows himself to be difficult, remote, and cynical, but maybe that helps counterbalance a sentimental and romantic creature like nikolai. it’s not so bad on the receiving end, with his kiss soft and assuring.
too distracted to dress himself efficiently, kaz half-watches as nikolai makes a mess of his things and covers sun-deprived skin with his clothes. a warm flutter in his gut at the sight. like he’s yours. but he’s not. people aren’t things; they don’t belong to anyone. it’s enough that nikolai came back (to himself, to kaz’s room). from here, their paths will inevitably diverge.
when nikolai rushes him out the door, hands clasped in what seems like an ongoing apology, he can only muster a fond sort of annoyance, lips tight from holding back a smile. although kaz has stayed in the palace twice now, he’s never before taken this route and can’t quite hide his curiosity, gaze tilted skyward in the hothouse. hard to fathom how a lowly canal rat ended up in the queen’s gardens, walking hand-in-hand with a king. more believable is nikolai’s story: a lonely little prince, causing trouble and honing his charm to win attention.
his mouth curves before he can stop it, appreciative of nikolai’s magic trick. although he looks away quickly, the bobble in his step as they leave surely gives something away. (that nikolai can eclipse his detachment with a tug of his hand). strange to be out on the open air with nikolai, then, even under the protection of darkness. with a roll of his shoulders, he settles beside nikolai, a fixed point beside him. always reaching out, gaze heavy, still holding his hand, brow furrowed again — his eyes close and open. ]
[ dryly, ] You must be pleased, if you’re trying to ruin the moment. [ invoking kaz’s tiredness or his own imagined selfishness. nikolai’s melancholy is proof that it was right to give back to him, however much guilt having anything for himself inspires. kaz bends his good knee, stretching an arm over it. nearly yawns, but then he’d have to concede a point to nikolai instead of teasing, ] That’s your tell. [ it wears different guises (melancholy, self-destruction, violence unto others), but it comes from the same place. he slides his other hand over the small of nikolai’s back to encourage him closer. a proximity he would never have thought possible. even now, it slows his processing, caught up in the way they fit together in a new configuration.
the lakeside breeze cards through his hair. ]
I’m fine. [ tired but not exhausted, only half as burnt out as he was on their journey to the find the heart and the weeks that followed. his only affliction now is a want so big it verges on need. should leave at that, content to have this night as another miraculous thing in his memory. instead, his mind pivots, thoughts clustering around another idea. i can’t do this without you. nikolai can, but he doesn’t have to. not the whole time. ]
I have a meeting with someone who’d like to kill you tomorrow. [ a beat. ] After your evening performance. [ his altogether too loud antics at mealtimes, which kaz has skipped since the second day in the palace. ] You’ve kept in shape, haven’t you? [ mild, despite the tell-tale glint in his eye. ] Still know which way the muzzle points?
[ it’s a gamble to even mention it, with nikolai’s changeable mood — and general dislike for kaz putting himself in dangerous situations — but you can’t win the day without taking strategic risks. ]
no subject
too distracted to dress himself efficiently, kaz half-watches as nikolai makes a mess of his things and covers sun-deprived skin with his clothes. a warm flutter in his gut at the sight. like he’s yours. but he’s not. people aren’t things; they don’t belong to anyone. it’s enough that nikolai came back (to himself, to kaz’s room). from here, their paths will inevitably diverge.
when nikolai rushes him out the door, hands clasped in what seems like an ongoing apology, he can only muster a fond sort of annoyance, lips tight from holding back a smile. although kaz has stayed in the palace twice now, he’s never before taken this route and can’t quite hide his curiosity, gaze tilted skyward in the hothouse. hard to fathom how a lowly canal rat ended up in the queen’s gardens, walking hand-in-hand with a king. more believable is nikolai’s story: a lonely little prince, causing trouble and honing his charm to win attention.
his mouth curves before he can stop it, appreciative of nikolai’s magic trick. although he looks away quickly, the bobble in his step as they leave surely gives something away. (that nikolai can eclipse his detachment with a tug of his hand). strange to be out on the open air with nikolai, then, even under the protection of darkness. with a roll of his shoulders, he settles beside nikolai, a fixed point beside him. always reaching out, gaze heavy, still holding his hand, brow furrowed again — his eyes close and open. ]
[ dryly, ] You must be pleased, if you’re trying to ruin the moment. [ invoking kaz’s tiredness or his own imagined selfishness. nikolai’s melancholy is proof that it was right to give back to him, however much guilt having anything for himself inspires. kaz bends his good knee, stretching an arm over it. nearly yawns, but then he’d have to concede a point to nikolai instead of teasing, ] That’s your tell. [ it wears different guises (melancholy, self-destruction, violence unto others), but it comes from the same place. he slides his other hand over the small of nikolai’s back to encourage him closer. a proximity he would never have thought possible. even now, it slows his processing, caught up in the way they fit together in a new configuration.
the lakeside breeze cards through his hair. ]
I’m fine. [ tired but not exhausted, only half as burnt out as he was on their journey to the find the heart and the weeks that followed. his only affliction now is a want so big it verges on need. should leave at that, content to have this night as another miraculous thing in his memory. instead, his mind pivots, thoughts clustering around another idea. i can’t do this without you. nikolai can, but he doesn’t have to. not the whole time. ]
I have a meeting with someone who’d like to kill you tomorrow. [ a beat. ] After your evening performance. [ his altogether too loud antics at mealtimes, which kaz has skipped since the second day in the palace. ] You’ve kept in shape, haven’t you? [ mild, despite the tell-tale glint in his eye. ] Still know which way the muzzle points?
[ it’s a gamble to even mention it, with nikolai’s changeable mood — and general dislike for kaz putting himself in dangerous situations — but you can’t win the day without taking strategic risks. ]