[ Steve's already on the cusp of trying to argue the point when Andyr takes back that poignant yes with such a defeated no, the breath before too soft, too sweet, and it cuts him deeper than the anger, than the words slung at him to hurt and shove him away. He does this, and he's so ready to continue doing it, to hold out his hand as if he expects Andyr to always be there and ready to take it. Maybe that's why he doesn't touch him just yet, even though he wants to. Maybe that's why he keeps what little distance is left between them, glancing up long enough to watch his expression and feel it tear the rest of the walls around him to dust. He'd seen what dying had done to the others he knew, but he could have never guessed this is what would have waited for him when they'd finally confronted one another, swallowing around the bitter taste in his mouth that forms the apology he never gives.
He would if he thought it would help, if it'd change everything about this moment.
Steve can't seem to shake the thought either, his connection with Andyr so much deeper than the superficial draw that had initially pulled them together, and it's even more than the touch of intimacy they'd shared, the spiraling web of where he ends and the other begins. The realization makes him dizzy, how easily Andyr's opened up enough to allow Steve this sort of viciousness, and worse is the fact he'd accepted it without contest, finding more of himself in a person from a future he could never think to ever reach. He yearns for that familiarity now, biting at his bottom lip before he's moving in and reaching out to let his thumb graze Andyr's wrist. It's the only sorry he's going to get out of him right now, breathing and drowning in the consequences of his mistakes. How could he take responsibility for someone like this and expect them to be the same after? ]
You want me to stay. [ He repeats it slowly, not so much a question as it is something he can't seem to wrap his head around. No one else has ever asked that of him before, and Steve isn't sure he deserves it, letting his pinky trace the outer edge of Andyr's palm before gently hooking around the same finger like a promise. ] I'm right here.
[ andyr can't begin to say what steve is to him, other than important. intrinsically so. he'd been one of the first new faces he'd seen in years, the first since he'd been a child, since he'd declared that boy spiritually dead, that had given him kindness with no expectation of repayment, outside of the other KN prisoners. the first andyr'd willingly handed trust over to after becoming whatever it is that he's twisted himself into now, and the fear of losing this person who's become so much to him, and represented all the stock andyr's tentatively been placing into the idea of hope, is utterly terrifying.
his lip is bitten between his teeth, worrying at it, picking at dried and split skin, with features all scrunched together in tension. andyr feels steve's hand on his skin, and there's a sharp inhale, like it makes all of this real. like he can't deny the suppressed joy and relief he'd felt just knowing he's alive anymore. all andyr's been trying to suffocate out, so as not to have to go through this again when steve decides to throw himself on the pyre for strangers during the next newest disaster.
it's a battle he's quickly losing, as steve hooks his finger with his, and andyr hears that voice he's become intimately familiar, rumbling quiet assurance right next to him. his eyes squeeze shut, and andyr feels himself shaking, unable to stop it. feels like he ought to be crying, but isn't. hasn't been able to for a long while, despite the want to at times. there's only that helpless pain in him that he can neither soothe or dissolve.
slowly, as if half of him is fighting the other for control of his muscles and rule on his mind, andyr carefully turns towards steve, not lifting his eyes to look at the man straight on. gradually, he admits defeat, and surrenders, not certain what to say or how to being saying it, andyr leans into steve's chest, face tucking into his shoulder, as the hand not hooked to steve's hesitantly reaches up, curling into the fabric of his shirt, at his side. ]
[ There's nothing about Andyr he'd ever considered fragile, but in that moment, with the tentative lean of his body into his and the way he reaches up to grip his shirt, Steve thinks that he is. The strong always fall to their own weaknesses regardless of how aware they think they are of them, and Andyr's is very much the same as his own, a heart that continues to bleed long after they've thought it dried up. His intensity to care speaks louder than any words he could have ever said, a simple touch that soaks straight through Steve and swells in his chest as he feels Andyr breathing against his shoulder. He wants to tell him that he's sorry, that he'd never try to foolishly risk himself for something so trivial in the scheme of it all. He wants to drag his fingers through his hair, cradle the back of his head, and he wants so fiercely to protect him, to give him anything and everything he asks for until there's no reason to doubt how loyal he is to him.
How much he would give up for him. How much he'd always give up for him.
But at the same time, Steve's glad for it, getting his other arm around him so he's embracing him in some semi-awkward hug that has them connected in the oddest places. He turns his head to the side, cheek resting against Andyr's temple, and he stands there with him like that for at least a minute, soaking in the realness of his presence and doing what he can to reassure him without words to back them up. Eventually, though, they trickle out of him. They usually do. ] I never wanted it to be like this. [ Low, soft. Steve moves so that his mouth gently rests where his cheek had been, forcing himself to shut out the world and all its complications to focus on Andyr and the way he feels like he's sinking into him. ] I didn't wanna hurt you. [ He swallows. ] I made that promise, and I went back on what I said because I wasn't thinking. [ And his arm tightens around him, his lips pressed roughly to his hair. ] I should have gone with you.
[ Steve's arm wraps around him, and andyr's eyes squeeze shut again, the familiar warmth of him, the press of his chest to andyr's, the cadence of his breathing and the scent that seems so particularly steve all around him. he swallows around the lump in his throat, and the hand at his side moves up and around his back, clinging to the fabric at his back, between his shoulder blades, as andyr holds tight to him. the attempt to crush this down with selfish anger and snarling venom is failed and over, and now there's only the stupid, idiot relief to have him back and safe. through whatever miracle of the Ingress, or the absurd chance that the others were able to dig Than from the rubble and keep him alive and able to bring what crew back that he could.
Not all of them returned. But Steve Rogers did, because he's too fucking stubborn to stay dead, and god, Andyr's so damn grateful to him for it. ]
I should've stayed with you. [ he chokes out, throat constricted and aching, words strained. he should've known steve would pull something like that, shouldn't have expected him to abandon what he thought of as duty and moral obligation. too caught up in saving his own people, andyr thinks bitterly, of himself. swallowing, his voice croaks as he asks, quietly, head leaning to press against the contact at his temple. ]
Did it hurt? [ the nightmare that'd been replaying in his head - steve alone in the ship, fire and rubble and chaos all around him. had it been fast, or had he suffered? had he been scared? ]
[ And there's no malice in it, no blame. As if he could ever think to push something like that on Andyr when they're both cut from similar cloth, the want and responsibility of protecting those held close, and though Steve had wanted to do the same for him when things had started to fall apart, he also knows better than to stop him from doing exactly what Steve had done. At least Andyr had made it here. At least he's still moving and breathing and so very real against him, the press of his body enough to keep Steve anchored in that moment and focused only on him. He has a lot of apologies to give, but speaking them now isn't going to change just how many mistakes he'd made, how many he might still make and not realize it. There's a softer kiss to his hair, fingers brushing gently over the nape of his neck, and Steve feels himself frowning at the question, unsure what sort of response he's looking for.
Had it hurt? The pain he'd felt before that had been because of the fighting, the creatures infesting the Moira and breaking it apart, but at the end... A slow shake of his head, and Steve is drawing back, the moment of losing himself in whatever comfort Andyr might have been able to give slipping away into the quiet sounds of the crew beyond the tent and the general disconnection he feels about thinking of his own death. ]
Only when I woke up. [ Because how many people had he hurt? ] It's been a few days, but sometimes, I feel-- [ Different, not good. Like something's missing. He doesn't say that though, instead trying to deflect a little, and Steve slips his hand away, thumb briefly skating the edge of Andyr's jaw. ] Are you holding up okay?
[ sent alva and val to the surface, gone back to grab steve. why hadn't he? fear? selfishness? did he honestly believe steve was right behind him? thinking back on it now, how could he not have known he'd do something like that? he's steve freaking rogers, after all, what had he really expected? andyr hates himself right now, and he pulls the other arm up and around steve's back, face tucked against his neck, and arms squeezing tight to him, as if he might slip away any second. Steve's touching at his hair, and giving a light kiss at the top of his head, and Andyr feels like he could shake apart for how much he doesn't deserve any of it. ]
How I'm holding up doesn't fucking matter. [ the words, and the heat in them, are lost into the curve of steve's shoulder. he'd heard that sentence steve trailed off from, sometimes he feels what? why is andyr's emotional state at all more important than that? ] I'm not the one that died in a goddamn inferno.
[ andyr inhales deeply, and lets it out in a slow stream, before pushing up to press a light kiss against the side of Steve's jaw, plying at him. ] Just tell me. Please?
[ It matters because Steve isn't going to talk about it. He doesn't talk about himself, not about things like that, and he'd done well so far pretending that he didn't have the problems that he actually had. All he can do is shoulder it and push forward, pick up the pieces of what's left and hope that he can find himself in the mess one day. Maybe Andyr understands that too, which is why he's so mad at him, but Steve can never be certain of that. There's no surprise to the insistence though, expression sinking into something like relief when he hugs him, when he kisses his jaw. Aside from that one moment together, Steve is the only one subjectively sweet on Andyr most of the time, even after they'd tried to talk about it, and it twists up whatever he wants to say into a sigh.
When he finally answers, Steve doesn't look at him. He glances over Andyr's shoulder, like he could stare straight through the tent, and it feels the same as when he'd woken up from the ice. It's that look he still couldn't shake sometimes, the emptiness that chips away at what he's trying to hold onto. ]
I'm not right. [ The words feel stiff in his mouth, sound distance like he's not the one actually speaking them. Suddenly, he wishes Sam was there with him; at least, then, he wouldn't have had to pretend so much. ] This is the second time I'm somewhere I shouldn't be. Maybe the third if you count being in the future. [ He can feel the tremble working through his hand, and he squeezes his fingers tight before pressing his closed fist to the small of Andyr's back. ] I can't figure out what I'm missing.
[ It eats at him every time he sees someone he knows, and worst, now, is wondering if he's forgotten something about Andyr because death isn't something he can just get back up and walk away from—no matter how many times he's actually said and believed it. ]
[ hearing steve mention he thinks he's missing something immediately spikes that paranoia constantly rattling around in the back of andyr's mind - that this isn't real, that they're all just plugged into one of the house's VR set ups, living in a dream while their bodies and minds are being taken apart. he feels the tremble in steve's hand, the way he grips tight to him, and he knows whatever's going through his friend's mind is no easier to process.
andyr's mind races, trying to sort through what might have been done to steve after he'd died, how they could fix it, what it means. in the end, he just curls closer around him, arms squeeze, andyr tucking himself tight against steve's chest, as he blinks his eyes closed. ]
But you're not here alone. [ if nothing else, andyr can give him that. he's with him here, lost in this place, unsure what to do about any of it, but here all the same. his nose tucks against steve's neck, nuzzling at him, wanting to bring him back to the present and out of his head. ] I'll help you figure it out. Just lemme help you, okay?
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He would if he thought it would help, if it'd change everything about this moment.
Steve can't seem to shake the thought either, his connection with Andyr so much deeper than the superficial draw that had initially pulled them together, and it's even more than the touch of intimacy they'd shared, the spiraling web of where he ends and the other begins. The realization makes him dizzy, how easily Andyr's opened up enough to allow Steve this sort of viciousness, and worse is the fact he'd accepted it without contest, finding more of himself in a person from a future he could never think to ever reach. He yearns for that familiarity now, biting at his bottom lip before he's moving in and reaching out to let his thumb graze Andyr's wrist. It's the only sorry he's going to get out of him right now, breathing and drowning in the consequences of his mistakes. How could he take responsibility for someone like this and expect them to be the same after? ]
You want me to stay. [ He repeats it slowly, not so much a question as it is something he can't seem to wrap his head around. No one else has ever asked that of him before, and Steve isn't sure he deserves it, letting his pinky trace the outer edge of Andyr's palm before gently hooking around the same finger like a promise. ] I'm right here.
no subject
his lip is bitten between his teeth, worrying at it, picking at dried and split skin, with features all scrunched together in tension. andyr feels steve's hand on his skin, and there's a sharp inhale, like it makes all of this real. like he can't deny the suppressed joy and relief he'd felt just knowing he's alive anymore. all andyr's been trying to suffocate out, so as not to have to go through this again when steve decides to throw himself on the pyre for strangers during the next newest disaster.
it's a battle he's quickly losing, as steve hooks his finger with his, and andyr hears that voice he's become intimately familiar, rumbling quiet assurance right next to him. his eyes squeeze shut, and andyr feels himself shaking, unable to stop it. feels like he ought to be crying, but isn't. hasn't been able to for a long while, despite the want to at times. there's only that helpless pain in him that he can neither soothe or dissolve.
slowly, as if half of him is fighting the other for control of his muscles and rule on his mind, andyr carefully turns towards steve, not lifting his eyes to look at the man straight on. gradually, he admits defeat, and surrenders, not certain what to say or how to being saying it, andyr leans into steve's chest, face tucking into his shoulder, as the hand not hooked to steve's hesitantly reaches up, curling into the fabric of his shirt, at his side. ]
no subject
How much he would give up for him. How much he'd always give up for him.
But at the same time, Steve's glad for it, getting his other arm around him so he's embracing him in some semi-awkward hug that has them connected in the oddest places. He turns his head to the side, cheek resting against Andyr's temple, and he stands there with him like that for at least a minute, soaking in the realness of his presence and doing what he can to reassure him without words to back them up. Eventually, though, they trickle out of him. They usually do. ] I never wanted it to be like this. [ Low, soft. Steve moves so that his mouth gently rests where his cheek had been, forcing himself to shut out the world and all its complications to focus on Andyr and the way he feels like he's sinking into him. ] I didn't wanna hurt you. [ He swallows. ] I made that promise, and I went back on what I said because I wasn't thinking. [ And his arm tightens around him, his lips pressed roughly to his hair. ] I should have gone with you.
[ i'm sorry ]
no subject
Not all of them returned. But Steve Rogers did, because he's too fucking stubborn to stay dead, and god, Andyr's so damn grateful to him for it. ]
I should've stayed with you. [ he chokes out, throat constricted and aching, words strained. he should've known steve would pull something like that, shouldn't have expected him to abandon what he thought of as duty and moral obligation. too caught up in saving his own people, andyr thinks bitterly, of himself. swallowing, his voice croaks as he asks, quietly, head leaning to press against the contact at his temple. ]
Did it hurt? [ the nightmare that'd been replaying in his head - steve alone in the ship, fire and rubble and chaos all around him. had it been fast, or had he suffered? had he been scared? ]
no subject
[ And there's no malice in it, no blame. As if he could ever think to push something like that on Andyr when they're both cut from similar cloth, the want and responsibility of protecting those held close, and though Steve had wanted to do the same for him when things had started to fall apart, he also knows better than to stop him from doing exactly what Steve had done. At least Andyr had made it here. At least he's still moving and breathing and so very real against him, the press of his body enough to keep Steve anchored in that moment and focused only on him. He has a lot of apologies to give, but speaking them now isn't going to change just how many mistakes he'd made, how many he might still make and not realize it. There's a softer kiss to his hair, fingers brushing gently over the nape of his neck, and Steve feels himself frowning at the question, unsure what sort of response he's looking for.
Had it hurt? The pain he'd felt before that had been because of the fighting, the creatures infesting the Moira and breaking it apart, but at the end... A slow shake of his head, and Steve is drawing back, the moment of losing himself in whatever comfort Andyr might have been able to give slipping away into the quiet sounds of the crew beyond the tent and the general disconnection he feels about thinking of his own death. ]
Only when I woke up. [ Because how many people had he hurt? ] It's been a few days, but sometimes, I feel-- [ Different, not good. Like something's missing. He doesn't say that though, instead trying to deflect a little, and Steve slips his hand away, thumb briefly skating the edge of Andyr's jaw. ] Are you holding up okay?
no subject
[ sent alva and val to the surface, gone back to grab steve. why hadn't he? fear? selfishness? did he honestly believe steve was right behind him? thinking back on it now, how could he not have known he'd do something like that? he's steve freaking rogers, after all, what had he really expected? andyr hates himself right now, and he pulls the other arm up and around steve's back, face tucked against his neck, and arms squeezing tight to him, as if he might slip away any second. Steve's touching at his hair, and giving a light kiss at the top of his head, and Andyr feels like he could shake apart for how much he doesn't deserve any of it. ]
How I'm holding up doesn't fucking matter. [ the words, and the heat in them, are lost into the curve of steve's shoulder. he'd heard that sentence steve trailed off from, sometimes he feels what? why is andyr's emotional state at all more important than that? ] I'm not the one that died in a goddamn inferno.
[ andyr inhales deeply, and lets it out in a slow stream, before pushing up to press a light kiss against the side of Steve's jaw, plying at him. ] Just tell me. Please?
no subject
When he finally answers, Steve doesn't look at him. He glances over Andyr's shoulder, like he could stare straight through the tent, and it feels the same as when he'd woken up from the ice. It's that look he still couldn't shake sometimes, the emptiness that chips away at what he's trying to hold onto. ]
I'm not right. [ The words feel stiff in his mouth, sound distance like he's not the one actually speaking them. Suddenly, he wishes Sam was there with him; at least, then, he wouldn't have had to pretend so much. ] This is the second time I'm somewhere I shouldn't be. Maybe the third if you count being in the future. [ He can feel the tremble working through his hand, and he squeezes his fingers tight before pressing his closed fist to the small of Andyr's back. ] I can't figure out what I'm missing.
[ It eats at him every time he sees someone he knows, and worst, now, is wondering if he's forgotten something about Andyr because death isn't something he can just get back up and walk away from—no matter how many times he's actually said and believed it. ]
no subject
andyr's mind races, trying to sort through what might have been done to steve after he'd died, how they could fix it, what it means. in the end, he just curls closer around him, arms squeeze, andyr tucking himself tight against steve's chest, as he blinks his eyes closed. ]
But you're not here alone. [ if nothing else, andyr can give him that. he's with him here, lost in this place, unsure what to do about any of it, but here all the same. his nose tucks against steve's neck, nuzzling at him, wanting to bring him back to the present and out of his head. ] I'll help you figure it out. Just lemme help you, okay?
[ don't pretend there's nothing wrong with you, please, steve. ]