The sense of welcome, that love expressed in something purer and more raw than words, that greets Edwin as soon as he enters into the internal starry space within his brother that is... repaired, somewhat. There are lines of gold and ruby and emerald flowing through the paler scars, kintsugi of the soul and those shimmering sections expand and slide around him in a protective embrace.
He melts into it, finds a strange relief in the way John is patching himself together. It's comforting all on its own, though Edwin can't put a metaphorical finger on why.
Arthur might-- he might need you, maybe.
He's not sure. Maybe Arthur is fine. It's strange the way he aches without anger, something in that conversation with Arthur snuffing out the last resentment he could still cling to. He's not sure he likes this new pain, even if it's not as sharp. It feels like a thing that lingers.
He'll probably never say no to his brother's company, but he doesn't know what he needs, right now. It feels like something seismic has happened. But no one else knows. No one else can feel it, except John, who doesn't have the context. It's another strange moment in a broadening sea of them. A loneliness he isn't sure can be remedied.
He's so relieved to know that John understands, that John has words for it. The death of a hope--it's definitely that. And there is a profound emptiness where the hope lived before.
Yes. I... I think... I'm not... waiting any more for... him to care about me. I think I'm not going to try so hard to get him to. I-I'm not going to be cruel, but... I just keep... hurting, when I try and it doesn't work.
Something smaller. More attainable. For a second, there's a sad molten flare of resentment, but it fades again into that hollow space, like lava carving a tunnel through his spirit. He's not sure what small thing could reasonably fit. Instead he focuses on the sense of John's comfort, the love he does have.
When I asked Arthur if I could go home with you both...
He trails off, a new mix of feelings he doesn't have names for circling around that hollow, too. John might recognize them, flavors of resignation and the lingering ache of rejection and the struggle to let go of a thing that's adjacent to the hope-that-was. Trying to be okay with a piece that isn't ready to be that way yet.
It's okay if you don't want me to. It's okay, if you want that life for you. It's... yours.
There's a soft, fluttering touch, like gentle fingers or butterfly wings. If they were in separate bodies, it would be down Edwin's back. As it is, it's meant to comfort and as a form of affection. There's no anger or alarm or even sadness.
I know it's okay to feel a certain way. You can't feel what you don't feel, and you can't not feel what you do. And my life will always be my life, just like your life will always be yours. We can be with each other and that's still the same.
A pause.
Are you telling me that because you think you know how I feel? Is there a reason why you didn't just ask me how I feel?
Guilt swirls around the words. He takes a moment to put his thoughts into an order her can articulate.
When I asked...
That quiet hurt is there again, though he tries to keep it squeezed into a spot where it won't bleed into anything else.
I know... I-I think I know what it means, I thought I knew what it meant, when you ask someone something and they...
I thought when you asked someone about something, or for something, and they said a lot of things that aren't yes, it meant they didn't want to tell you no and upset you. Or they don't want to deal with it at all. They're... putting you off. They want you to stop asking.
He won't pretend that isn't true. He's certainly observed it before. And when he feels that little bit of hurt, the butterfly wings do their best not to touch there, but near there.
Edwin has to trust him. He can't force it. He'll never stop hating it; he wants connection, wants trust, wants to do and help and love without restraint. But it's still true.
But that's just one option. And it's not the option I'd use if the only concern was how you'd feel about it. That would make it a lie and lying is a bad idea with people you love.Unlike withholding information which is SUPER USEFUL, natch.
He settles a little further, his fingers sliding over the points of the crown, gently rubbing the loop with the pad of his thumb. He doesn't know if Edwin can feel it the way it felt when Arthur used to hold and touch his mask, but it feels good for him too. Edwin can no doubt feel that at least.
There are things you do and say that make me feel... bad, not because you're bad or you're doing something bad. But there is... an ease to you that I don't have and probably never will. That ease is something that, paradoxically perhaps, I want you to have.
I want you to feel loved, all the time. I want you to feel accepted and wanted, safe to explore and try things. I want to protect you from people misunderstanding you or treating you poorly or being angry at you when you're genuinely trying your best because I know how hard it is to learn to exist... like this. I want that because there were times when I didn't have that, and there's a hurt to watching someone have something you don't, like I'm sure you feel when you see my relationship with Arthur. But I also think you're glad that I have Arthur, that Arthur makes me happy.
...most of the time. He's Arthur. You've met him.
[ That's a noise very like a throat clearing. ]
That is to say... I will never say that all of my feelings all the time are positive about you. Because it would be a lie. What I can say is that I love you very much, and that most, almost all, in fact, of my feelings about you are positive. Even when you fuck up, what frustration or anger I have is because I know you can do better and I want you to, for your own sake as much as anything. Because I love you.
...now what all this means is-
I always want you in my life. The reason I didn't immediately say yes wasn't because I wanted to lie to you about my feelings. It was because there are other factors outside of my control and outside of what I can talk about freely that mean that it would be unfair to tell you 'yes' before they're considered. It means that the simple answer of 'you living in the same world as Arthur and I' isn't something I can guarantee. And if I just said 'yes', that would be a lie. Because I don't know about all the things that aren't my feelings.
What I do know is that I'm going to figure out a way to have you in my life once we leave here, because I love you and you're important to me and that is what I want. I don't know what it will look like, or if it will be simple, especially if our timelines have separated at this point.
He can feel John's hands on the crown, and relaxes like a cat on the verge of purring.
There's a long silence. Long for average people, really, less so for them. He weighs it all, sorts through it all, all but repeats it to himself. Especially the part where John says he wants Edwin in his life.
I think s...
He stops in the middle of his answer as something else registers and a new darkness yawns open underneath everything that felt secure.
Ah, shit. He didn't realize Edwin hadn't thought about it. He's probably thought about it too much as it is-
Arthur and I are now past the point in time wherein you were tossed into the Dark World. I don't know if the other half of the King in Yellow who was tossed into the Dark World to lose his memory by Kayne to be delivered to this Arthur is you. There may very well be another half-of-the-King-in-Yellow who is tied to our timeline.
John will recognize the stillness that ripples through Yellow, if he remembers the way Yellow reacted to his brother's mask being broken. The rage isn't there, but the shock is. The kaleidoscope of color he's fashioned his internal self to be as still as a stained-glass window.
John will keep doing what he's doing, keep his voice soft, keep his presence steady. The talk with Arthur put him in a much better position to be able to be steady for Edwin.
None of those facts mean anything in and of themselves, Edwin. Especially considering the fact that we're here and I've made a point to look into contingencies in case something like what happened happens again.
He has a few thoughts on why that might have happened. He's been thinking about it a decent amount.
There's a way. And no matter what happens, I'll find you. That I can promise.
He believes John means it. He believes that, without reservation.
He also knows that John couldn't stop himself from disappearing from the barge. The King in Yellow, the thing he was, still ripped Arthur and John away from each other before Kayne took Arthur's revenge without telling him.
John of his world doesn't know him. Arthur doesn't know he exists as anything but a brief version of John. He's not a part of the world where either one of them has reason to care.
And he might not exist. Not if he slips away from the barge. Not if the ship can't hang on to him the way it did them. He's known more powerlessness in the 128 days he's been free from the Dark World than strength. He knew nothing but powerlessness before then.
Why did he ever start feeling safe?
If I disappear, please try and help the Yellow you still can reach.
Now Edwin is getting the equivalent of an in-body tap to the top of his little head.
Hey.
...you aren't listening. You're just being afraid.
Something like a breath out.
If you disappear, I'll find you. Crossing timelines isn't impossible. Time travel isn't impossible either. Even going to the Dark World.
He means it. He absolutely, positively means it. Without a doubt, and yes, without hesitation. This is the kind of thing John thinks about, in all his worrying, in all his concerns. This is what he spends his time on. Maybe he'd be less of a worrywart if he didn't but...
He doesn't regret it one bit.
We disappeared, yes. And it sucked. YES.
We also came back.
And even without this place, I found a way to get back to Arthur.
He says the words fiercely, not angry or scared. Just determined. Firm. The deep jewel tones in him flare to life, bright and warm, intense. Whatever he is, whatever he needs to be-
I'll find a way to get to you. That Yellow as well. But you too.
If I have to do it myself. If I have to find one of those other boats I read about. Whatever the fuck I have to do.
Love isn't just a feeling, Edwin. It's a choice. It's a choice to try.
He hears what Edwin says. He also hears what Edwin doesn't say as he coils around Edwin, molten gold that surrounds and protects and, he hopes... heals. It's then that something hits him, not entirely pleasant but also not entirely unpleasant.
This... might be why he's a warden still.
And his heart hurts from that even as he loves Edwin so hard it would probably kill anyone else.
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I've got you.
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Arthur might-- he might need you, maybe.
He's not sure. Maybe Arthur is fine. It's strange the way he aches without anger, something in that conversation with Arthur snuffing out the last resentment he could still cling to. He's not sure he likes this new pain, even if it's not as sharp. It feels like a thing that lingers.
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Do you need me right now?
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He'll probably never say no to his brother's company, but he doesn't know what he needs, right now. It feels like something seismic has happened. But no one else knows. No one else can feel it, except John, who doesn't have the context. It's another strange moment in a broadening sea of them. A loneliness he isn't sure can be remedied.
I... think I forgave him. But it hurts.
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The coiling around him isn't any warmer or any tighter, but there's a soothing swaying to it, like a hand up and down a back.
Forgiveness sometimes comes from the death of a hope.
You feel... hollowed out, perhaps?
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He's so relieved to know that John understands, that John has words for it. The death of a hope--it's definitely that. And there is a profound emptiness where the hope lived before.
Yes. I... I think... I'm not... waiting any more for... him to care about me. I think I'm not going to try so hard to get him to. I-I'm not going to be cruel, but... I just keep... hurting, when I try and it doesn't work.
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She hurt me a lot. It took time for us to find a good equilibrium.
A little squeeze.
The hope died but... something smaller and more attainable might take its place. You don't have to leave space for it.
It will happen or it won't. Just don't push it away if it does.
He knows Arthur cares for Edwin. But he doesn't think that hope needs prodding right now. For both their sakes.
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When I asked Arthur if I could go home with you both...
He trails off, a new mix of feelings he doesn't have names for circling around that hollow, too. John might recognize them, flavors of resignation and the lingering ache of rejection and the struggle to let go of a thing that's adjacent to the hope-that-was. Trying to be okay with a piece that isn't ready to be that way yet.
It's okay if you don't want me to. It's okay, if you want that life for you. It's... yours.
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There's a soft, fluttering touch, like gentle fingers or butterfly wings. If they were in separate bodies, it would be down Edwin's back. As it is, it's meant to comfort and as a form of affection. There's no anger or alarm or even sadness.
I know it's okay to feel a certain way. You can't feel what you don't feel, and you can't not feel what you do. And my life will always be my life, just like your life will always be yours. We can be with each other and that's still the same.
A pause.
Are you telling me that because you think you know how I feel? Is there a reason why you didn't just ask me how I feel?
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Guilt swirls around the words. He takes a moment to put his thoughts into an order her can articulate.
When I asked...
That quiet hurt is there again, though he tries to keep it squeezed into a spot where it won't bleed into anything else.
I know... I-I think I know what it means, I thought I knew what it meant, when you ask someone something and they...
I thought when you asked someone about something, or for something, and they said a lot of things that aren't yes, it meant they didn't want to tell you no and upset you. Or they don't want to deal with it at all. They're... putting you off. They want you to stop asking.
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He won't pretend that isn't true. He's certainly observed it before. And when he feels that little bit of hurt, the butterfly wings do their best not to touch there, but near there.
Edwin has to trust him. He can't force it. He'll never stop hating it; he wants connection, wants trust, wants to do and help and love without restraint. But it's still true.
But that's just one option. And it's not the option I'd use if the only concern was how you'd feel about it. That would make it a lie and lying is a bad idea with people you love.
Unlike withholding information which is SUPER USEFUL, natch.He settles a little further, his fingers sliding over the points of the crown, gently rubbing the loop with the pad of his thumb. He doesn't know if Edwin can feel it the way it felt when Arthur used to hold and touch his mask, but it feels good for him too. Edwin can no doubt feel that at least.
There are things you do and say that make me feel... bad, not because you're bad or you're doing something bad. But there is... an ease to you that I don't have and probably never will. That ease is something that, paradoxically perhaps, I want you to have.
I want you to feel loved, all the time. I want you to feel accepted and wanted, safe to explore and try things. I want to protect you from people misunderstanding you or treating you poorly or being angry at you when you're genuinely trying your best because I know how hard it is to learn to exist... like this. I want that because there were times when I didn't have that, and there's a hurt to watching someone have something you don't, like I'm sure you feel when you see my relationship with Arthur. But I also think you're glad that I have Arthur, that Arthur makes me happy.
...most of the time. He's Arthur. You've met him.
[ That's a noise very like a throat clearing. ]
That is to say... I will never say that all of my feelings all the time are positive about you. Because it would be a lie. What I can say is that I love you very much, and that most, almost all, in fact, of my feelings about you are positive. Even when you fuck up, what frustration or anger I have is because I know you can do better and I want you to, for your own sake as much as anything. Because I love you.
...now what all this means is-
I always want you in my life. The reason I didn't immediately say yes wasn't because I wanted to lie to you about my feelings. It was because there are other factors outside of my control and outside of what I can talk about freely that mean that it would be unfair to tell you 'yes' before they're considered. It means that the simple answer of 'you living in the same world as Arthur and I' isn't something I can guarantee. And if I just said 'yes', that would be a lie. Because I don't know about all the things that aren't my feelings.
What I do know is that I'm going to figure out a way to have you in my life once we leave here, because I love you and you're important to me and that is what I want. I don't know what it will look like, or if it will be simple, especially if our timelines have separated at this point.
...understand?
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There's a long silence. Long for average people, really, less so for them. He weighs it all, sorts through it all, all but repeats it to himself. Especially the part where John says he wants Edwin in his life.
I think s...
He stops in the middle of his answer as something else registers and a new darkness yawns open underneath everything that felt secure.
Separated?
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Arthur and I are now past the point in time wherein you were tossed into the Dark World. I don't know if the other half of the King in Yellow who was tossed into the Dark World to lose his memory by Kayne to be delivered to this Arthur is you. There may very well be another half-of-the-King-in-Yellow who is tied to our timeline.
So our native timelines would have separated.
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Ah.
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None of those facts mean anything in and of themselves, Edwin. Especially considering the fact that we're here and I've made a point to look into contingencies in case something like what happened happens again.
He has a few thoughts on why that might have happened. He's been thinking about it a decent amount.
There's a way. And no matter what happens, I'll find you. That I can promise.
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He also knows that John couldn't stop himself from disappearing from the barge. The King in Yellow, the thing he was, still ripped Arthur and John away from each other before Kayne took Arthur's revenge without telling him.
John of his world doesn't know him. Arthur doesn't know he exists as anything but a brief version of John. He's not a part of the world where either one of them has reason to care.
And he might not exist. Not if he slips away from the barge. Not if the ship can't hang on to him the way it did them. He's known more powerlessness in the 128 days he's been free from the Dark World than strength. He knew nothing but powerlessness before then.
Why did he ever start feeling safe?
If I disappear, please try and help the Yellow you still can reach.
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Hey.
...you aren't listening. You're just being afraid.
Something like a breath out.
If you disappear, I'll find you. Crossing timelines isn't impossible. Time travel isn't impossible either. Even going to the Dark World.
He means it. He absolutely, positively means it. Without a doubt, and yes, without hesitation. This is the kind of thing John thinks about, in all his worrying, in all his concerns. This is what he spends his time on. Maybe he'd be less of a worrywart if he didn't but...
He doesn't regret it one bit.
We disappeared, yes. And it sucked. YES.
We also came back.
And even without this place, I found a way to get back to Arthur.
He says the words fiercely, not angry or scared. Just determined. Firm. The deep jewel tones in him flare to life, bright and warm, intense. Whatever he is, whatever he needs to be-
I'll find a way to get to you. That Yellow as well. But you too.
If I have to do it myself. If I have to find one of those other boats I read about. Whatever the fuck I have to do.
Love isn't just a feeling, Edwin. It's a choice. It's a choice to try.
I got back to Arthur. I'll get you too.
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He still believes his brother means it. He believes John would do anything for the people he loves. Anything he could. Everything he could.
He also believes sometimes everything that can be done isn't enough. Sometimes you just lose.
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This... might be why he's a warden still.
And his heart hurts from that even as he loves Edwin so hard it would probably kill anyone else.
That's all right, brother.
I can hope enough for both of us.