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Elliott's spent an hour so far trying to teach Tae's cat to sit.
It is not going well.
Tae doesn't doubt for a second that it could be possible to teach a cat to sit. He's sure that people do, that there are felines out there that sit and beg and roll over. You could probably teach a cat to sit.
But not this cat.
Tae's sitting on a chair by the window while rain lightly falls outside. It's not the heavy kind, the kind that makes him shudder and remember nights huddled in doorways, trying to wait it out in clothes that were always too small, too thin, too few. No, this rain is soft, misting and silent and he's watching it speckle the glass, lost in thought while behind him, Elliott's trying to teach his cat to sit.
Things have been the same for a while now. Mila's still gone, he's not getting any closer to truth and his heart is still broken. He rests his chin on his hands, the sound of Elliott's gentle coaxing of his cat softening the edges of his world as the rain begins to slow. Broken, he thinks, but healing.
His feet are cold. He draws his knees to his chest, digging his toes into the soft cushion of the chair. Elliott's trying to bargain with the cat now, offering her treats the likes of which she has never seen, and a slow, warm smile starts on Tae's lips. He loves Elliott with all his fractured heart.
The sky is grey and roiling. There might be a thunderstorm later. He finally spares Elliott a glance. He should get him to call it a day, kitty wise. She hates thunder, and even if right now her attitude towards Elliott's efforts could be described as 'amused indifference', like most cats her moods are prone to rapid change.
Elliott's sitting on the floor, legs crossed, hair falling into his eyes as he leans forwards, lightly stroking the cat behind her ear. There's no real sincerity behind his efforts, Tae knows that. Elliott doesn't want the cat to learn to sit. Elliott doesn't want to teach her funny tricks.
Tae is having a bad day, and Elliott wants to ground him.
Tae wonders if Elliott is even conscious of all the little ways he changes and adapts his manner when Tae is around. If he knows that on days like this when talking is too much and being held is too smothering, he naturally falls into the role of just being there. Mumbling quietly to his cat so Tae can hear his voice but not be expected to respond, close enough that Tae can still see him but far away that if either of them wanted to touch, they'd have to move. Tae doesn't want to be alone, he just wants to be left alone, and Elliott understands the difference.
Now he's asking the cat her opinion on handshakes.
Elliott isn't often silent, but he can be quiet. Tae knows him, knows that silence has always been his greatest enemy, knows that he hates the way it presses down on him, smothers him and makes him feel like he might disappear. They both have bad days, but Elliott doesn't close himself down like Tae. He builds a wall out of his own voice, talks and talks and talks to keep the silence out. Bad things happen in Elliott's mind when the words run out. And if somehow, they do, if there are no more things left for Elliott to say, Tae lends him some words of his own. Tae can't talk like Elliott does. He pauses and repeats himself a lot, because he's never been one for speaking, always too careful watching everything he says.
Luckily, he's committed to memory the things that are Elliott's favourite to hear him say. He remembers everything that makes Elliott smile.
She's had enough, the cat, and she's wandered off to her food bowl to be disappointed. Tae gives it ten minutes before she's sat at the foot of his chair, yowling her displeasure. Elliott gets up, huffing and groaning. He's stiff from being sat on the floor so long.
Tae doesn't need to turn around to know what Elliott's doing. Elliott's watching him, taking in the tense line of his shoulders, the slight dip of his head, wondering if Tae is feeling any better.
He is. Elliott's been trying to teach his cat to sit, and that is just the stupidest thing.
He pushes himself out of the chair and stands, still facing the window, the raindrops on the glass catching the first flicker of the evening lights. He's cold, dressed only in a t-shirt and sweats, but he's calm. At peace.
Elliott moves behind him, his similarly bare feet padding across the floor. Elliott's hands are slow but sure as they move across the small of his back and over his hips, his arms circling his waist. Tae feels Elliott drop his chin on his shoulder and he lifts his hands to rest on Elliott's own.
"That animal is stubborn," Elliott murmurs in his ear. Tae smiles out into the world.
"Yes," he says softly.
Elliott lifts his chin and ghosts the lightest of kisses to Tae's neck. "She gets that from you," he says.
Tae presses back just a little. Keep going, it's ok. Elliott kisses him again, firmer.
"Better my influence than yours, Witt," Tae says, but his voice is a warm sigh. He feels Elliott smile against his neck, feels the hands at his waist tighten. He's so happy Elliott is here.
"You never seemed to mind my influence," Elliott replies, and whatever flimsy innuendo he was going for is eclipsed by the honey in his voice.
Tae's peace is gaining sharp lines in its softness now, warm being replaced by hot and he feels his whole body winding up. Elliott never intends to do these things to him, he knows that. Elliott still doesn't seem to grasp the effect he has on Tae, the way he consumes all of his senses and makes him hot and weak and desperate and demanding. In truth, Tae had never met anyone else who could make him feel this way, had never really understood lust until he'd seen Elliott, really seen him, sweat and skin and muscle.
But the warmth is comfort right now, and he knows that sex will most likely come later. He just wants Elliott near him for a while, and his fingers slip between the spaces of Elliott's own on his stomach.
It starts to rain again.
Harder this time, noisy. They both watch it for a while, swaying gently in their embrace as thick, heavy raindrops batter against the leaves of the trees outside, slam into the ground and break apart. Tae's feet are still cold.
"All my life," Elliott whispers suddenly in the darkening room, "I always liked the rain. Mom used to say it was good for the world."
Tae let's out a gentle snort. "Try sleeping in it."
He's suddenly tense again. He doesn't want to make Elliott feel bad for something as innocent as liking the damn rain, for god's sake. "I..." He trails off, ashamed.
"Maybe the world doesn't deserve it, for everything it's done to you." Elliott sounds sad, but there's a gentle undercurrent of anger, rage against anything that ever dared to hurt Tae, fierce love in all its forms.
Tae turns around in Elliott's arms, resting his hands against Elliott's chest as he looks at him. "It gave me you," he says, and now he's blushing and looking away because this sort of thing is hard for him to say, even if he really wants to say it.
Elliott gathers him closer and kisses his temple. "I tried to teach your cat to sit," he reminds him, a few silly words to break the tension Tae's made for himself.
"I'm trying not to think about it," Tae teases.
"Nearly had her, you know. Maybe a few more training sessions." And Elliott beams at him, smiles and is so beautiful and perfect and Tae thinks he's not going to be able to take it much longer.
All at once, he needs.
In a move that is brand new in action but ancient in his own mind, he slams a kiss to Elliott with every ounce of aggressive desire in his soul. Elliott's physically moved, stumbling back a little as Tae's hands move quickly from his chest, one forcing the back of his head, the other curled possesively around his wrist. He pushes Elliott back until his legs meet the chair Tae had been in all afternoon and he can't let himself think or he'll lose his nerve as his straddles Elliott's lap, still kissing and softly biting his lips while Elliott's hands come to rest on the small of his back.
It's almost endearing and adorable how surprised Elliott looks. Tae likes sex and he loves sex with Elliott, but it's not usually something he's comfortable initiating. Elliott's the one who tests the waters, and he can read Tae so well now that he always knows how an attempt at sex is going to be received. This is new territory for them, and Elliott's starting to look as though he's about to ask Tae if he's ok with what they're doing. Tae is somehow very ok with it, he wants this and he wants Elliott and the fact that Elliott can see that now, that he knows is hitting Tae just right. He answers the question before it's even asked by dragging his shirt over his head and leaning down to kiss Elliott once more, pausing only to appreciate the soft sigh Elliott lets out when he puts his hands against Tae's bare skin.
Tae has poetry in his mind when he usually thinks of Elliott, soft, flowery words he would never say aloud but when they're like this it's reduced to almost nothing. Words of one syllable that cause sparks behind his eyes. Hot. Hard. Mine. Now. He comes undone with every second that they're touching,
Elliott's strength is another thing that makes Tae frantic, which shows when Elliott decides the chair is too small and restricting for whatever it is he's planning. He stands, lifting Tae with him as he pushes him to the wall in two long strides. The moan that leaves Tae's throat might just be the filthiest sound he's ever made as he's slammed back, legs hooking around Elliott's waist like a reflex as Elliott grinds against him.
Tae isn't surprised that he's lost some of the control of the situation. Elliott is impulsive in all things, but when it comes to making Tae feel good he's ruthless. Tae is far too careful to wonder exactly what it is about him that Elliott's attracted to, but whatever it is comes out of Elliott's mouth in the form of his name, panted and needful as Tae sets his teeth to work on Elliot's throat and shoulders, the neck of his shirt pulled tight in Tae's curled fingers.
"Off," he mumbles, the word small and broken, like speaking is something he's forgotten how to do, but Elliott obliges, dropping Tae's feet to the floor reluctantly as he pulls his shirt over his head.
Tae's resolve is bolstered by the sight of Elliott's skin, the jut of his collarbone and the way his pants hang low off his hips. He wants to remind Elliott that this was his idea, so he doesn't even hesitate before he's moving Elliott again, away from the wall and towards the rain-lashed window.
Elliott's shoulders thump against the glass and Tae bites bruises into his neck, working his way down his chest and stomach, but he stops himself at the waistband of Elliott's pants, a finger hooked over the elastic. The window is like a mirror as the sun begins to set outside, and Tae can see himself, eyes blown with lust, hair a mess and his mouth hanging open. He remembers that his life is hell and this is wrong and Elliott's going to suffer in a split second, and the darkness of earlier returns.
He feels Elliott's hand come to rest on his shoulder and he looks up. Elliott's looking down at him with the beginnings of worry in his eyes, but Tae just needed a moment. That was all.
"Hey. Come here," Elliott says, straightening up against the window and pulling Tae to his feet.
"I'm fine," Tae insists, his hand already moving lower once more on Elliott's stomach but Elliott gently takes his wrist.
"You're not," Elliott replies, and he moves his other hand to the nape of Tae's neck and holds his head against his chest. The air is filled with a new sort of tension, and Tae doesn't recognise it.
"You don't have to do this for me," Elliott says quietly, unsure, and then Tae gets it. His head snaps up.
"I want to," he says, and his voice is angry. "I want to, I need you to know how much I- what you make me feel Elliott. And I'm such a mess, I can't even do that." He breathes out. "Please don't ever think I don't want you," he says wretchedly.
Elliott's face falls and he starts to press light kisses to Tae's cheek and the corners of his mouth. "I know you do, I swear. You don't have to prove anything to me."
Tae takes a step back. He's not angry at Elliott. He's angry at himself.
"I wasn't!" he says, and he didn't mean to shout. "I wasn't," he says again, softer this time. "I want kiss you, I want to taste you and fuck you and love you so much but I-." Tae run his hands through his hair as Elliott remains still by the window, rain still falling and a distant rumble of thunder on the edge of the air.
Elliott's watching him, his eyes so sad and Tae closes his eyes. "I'm not supposed to be this happy." He hates that he's said it, that it's out there and Elliott knows now that he's nothing more than a self-pitying, dramatic waste. He's already hating whatever Elliott's going to say to make him feel better, as if that was what he was hoping for all along.
It's a shock, then, when Elliott shrugs and says, "You don't seem that happy to me."
The words aren't sharp, they're not supposed to land and hurt him, Tae knows that. Elliott's right. They got together in the middle of a horror story, fell in love behind the backs of their nightmares. He's not happy. Just happier.
Elliott moves away from the window, grabs his shirt from the floor and pulls it back over his head. "It's alright," he continues, his tone almost casual as Tae stands rooted to the spot, eyes tracking him. "You know I understand. And, look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that you'd only do something like that because you think it's what I want, not what you do. I know... I know how you feel about me, it's fine."
But it's not. It's not fine. Tae wants to worship Elliott, wants to praise him and make love to him and take care of him, just as much as he wants to claim him, own him and and mark him and ruin him completely. He wants to make him moan and cry and laugh, and he wants to make it so Elliott can't make any sounds at all.
"You don't," he says, finally pulling himself together and picking up his own shirt. "You're right. I'm not happy. Not completely." He kisses Elliott before slipping his shirt back on. "But I'm getting there."
Elliott looks at him. Tae's working himself up to say something risky, and Elliott can tell and gives him time.
"I'm in love with you, Elliott Witt," Tae says, but this isn't the first time he's said it, so Elliott waits some more.
Tae grabs the front of Elliott's shirt and kisses him, powerfully, with passion and intent. "Give me time to show you just how deeply," he says, his voice dark.
And just for once, Elliott is speechless. Tae steps forwards into Elliott's arms and they stand there, two broken hearts who somehow managed to find each other in all the chaos, as thunder crashes in the distance and the cat begins to cry at their feet.
Elliott laughs softly and looks down. "Sit down you noisy idiot," he says to her.
The cat sits.
Elliott looks at Tae, his face a picture of shock and elation as Tae just looks at him, eyes wide.
"No way," Elliott mumbles.
"Coincidence," Tae replies.
"No. Fucking. Way!" He launches into a stupid dance and the cat promptly gets up and walks away. Elliott doesn't seem to care as he carries on while Tae watches him, hands on his hips and trying not to smile.
-
That night they fall asleep breathless and sweaty, too hot to hold each other, too exhausted to mind.
"That was your fault," is all that Elliott can sleepily mumble before the sweet temptation of darkness takes him.
Tae smiles into the night. His hands first, his lips. That had been his fault, and he has never been happier.