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Dust all around me, rust breaking down
Trust the road before me, life's a bettin' man
In the Bonecage, I ride the victory road
In the Bonecage, I live to rock and load
Just keep on walkin', rust breaking down
Trust the venom's calling, life's a bettin' man
In the Bonecage, come on, just one more round
In the Bonecage, come on and drink it down
In the Bonecage, I ride the victory road
In the Bonecage, I live to rock
Vast territory, born to walk the land
Death or glory, I'm a bettin' man
In the Bonecage, I stand alone
In the Bonecage, I'll find my home
A D chord rings out from the tan acoustic guitar Fuse is holding. He’s sitting on a log across from a bonfire in a tucked away corner of the legend’s training area surrounded by a few other chatting legends. He just finished singing his song about his time fighting in the Bonecage in Salvo, now leaning his guitar on the open spot beside him on the log. He finishes his beer in a gulp and rises to grab the next bottle from the cooler.
It’s a crisp fall evening and he can see the stars if he squints through the few clouds in the sky. He grabs a beer and decides to walk through the dark field to a quieter spot away from the other legends. The grassy field has rolling, gentle hills and many more trees than the main training area.
As he’s walking, he spots a silhouette with beads hanging off the edges of a hat. He didn’t even see them sneak in but there’s no doubt it’s his friend, Bloodhound. His palm gets a little sweaty despite the ice cold beer he’s holding. Is friend even the right term anymore? Shit, now his mind is thinking about them in that way. The way he’s specifically trying not to define. He needs to keep calm, remember Bloodhound doesn’t like him in that way (at least he really doesn’t think they do), and talk to them like he’s always done. Yeah, he can do that.
When he’s a short distance away, he calls to them, “Ya know, the party’s over there, Houndy. What are ya doin’ out here?”
They’re standing with their arms crossed, stance wide, looking towards where the sun set a short while ago. They turn to him and say, “Good evening, Walter. I am aware of the party. I can see the stars brighter from here and there is less noise. What brings you here?” Fuse can barely see it in the dark, but they have their goggles off. He notices a raven didn’t dive at him this time so he thinks Arthur is watching in one of the nearby trees, having already warned Bloodhound of him approaching.
“I’m just stretchin’ my legs. Wait, are you sayin’ I’m loud?” Fuse responds with a grin.
Bloodhound chuckles, “I thought that much was obvious. Though, I do not mean your guitar is loud in an unpleasant way. The wind carried the sound here. Your song was lovely.”
Fuse laughs at this, “Lovely, eh? That’s a new one but I’ll take it from you.” The word lovely is circling his head hopelessly. Alright Fusey, keep it under control, he mentally reminds himself to quickly clear away any creeping thoughts.
Fuse looks away from them to look up at the stars. “Damn, Houndy, you were right. It’s gorgeous out here,” Fuse says with his neck bent upwards. He sits down on the grass to get a more comfortable view, then ends up laying flat on his back. Bloodhound sits next to him looking over at his sprawling body for a few moments before craning their head up to see the stars too. They’re leaning back on their arms with their legs laid out in front of them.
They’re wearing their gloves and Fuse remembers the other day when he grasped their hand. A fleeting, tipsy thought hints at grabbing it tonight and coming up with some dumb excuse that Bloodhound would probably see through easily, but decides against it. He would do anything to feel the warmth radiating out of their glove in his hand again.
They’re sharing a peaceful silence only interrupted by bugs singing their nightly songs. Fuse sits up to crack open his beer to break the silence and the stream of thoughts telling him to touch Bloodhound.
“If I’d known you were out here, I woulda grabbed you a cold one too. But you don’t drink much, do ya, mate?” he asks Bloodhound.
“I do not drink in public, as a rule. Though, I will drink in my home where I am most comfortable,” Bloodhound responds.
Fuse’s mind flashes to what a drunk Bloodhound would look like. Would they be flushed? Would they be handsy? Would they smile and laugh more? He starts to imagine all these things and is dying to know if any of it is true.
“Well, shit, what are we still doing here?” Fuse asks, grinning.
Bloodhound pauses for a few seconds, their body going still. “Bloody hell, did I just invite myself over to their place? Fusey get ya fuckin’ head out the clouds!” he thinks to himself.
He opens his mouth to apologize and retract his statement but before he can say anything, Bloodhound responds, “Would you like to see my home, Walter?”
Fuse thinks he’s lucky it’s so dark because the heat he can feel rising to his face would’ve definitely caught Bloodhound’s eyes.
“Y-yeah I’d love to, if you’ll have me,” Fuse says. Maybe it’s the beer but he can’t seem to think straight anymore at the thought of seeing an intoxicated Bloodhound in their own home.
Fuse can hear a smile behind Bloodhound’s mask when they say, “Of course.”
They begin to walk back to the fire and split off as they get closer. Bloodhound describes which apartment is theirs in the few buildings the legends live in, and Fuse goes to grab his guitar to meet them there in a bit. But, of course, Mirage corners him just when he’s about to slip out early.
“What happened to the guy that would stay up all night telling stories and playing guitar until his voice went hoarse? Bedtime already, grandpa?”
“Mate, how do ya always end up in my way? Ya got a spidey sense for that or somethin’?”
“What can I say, it’s the Mirage charm. Seriously though, you got a hot date?”
“Heh, somethin’ like that. Ya satisfied enough with that to leave me alone?”
“Old man’s still got it in him. Good for you. I’m sure it won’t be as good as a Mirage-à-trois, but good luck with that,” Mirage says, returning to the fire in the opposite direction of Fuse.
~
Fuse ends up in front of what should be Bloodhound’s door a bit later. He was thinking about stopping by his own place to freshen up but he thought that would make him feel like this is something it isn’t, so he came straight here instead. He spent some time pacing the hallway trying to get his nerves under control after he found the apartment number. Alright Fusey, just a couple of friends hangin’ out. Nothin’ to be nervous about. Just knock on the door. Just do it. Now. Ok now. Now.
Eventually, he gathers the courage to knock and is greeted by Bloodhound wearing minimal gear. They have their mask and goggles off so all that remains is the cloth cap covering their hair. They have a tight brown long-sleeved shirt on and what looks to be their usual pants and belt but none of their armor over it. He takes a quick look, specifically averting his gaze, and looks up into their eyes. That’s probably not much better because they’re smiling at him with an incredible warmth.
“Welcome, Walter. Please, come in,” they say to him.
"Could definitely get used to that," he thinks. He walks in the apartment past Bloodhound and is greeted by fur rugs strewn across the floor and artwork hung on every wall. Directly in from the door is their living area with a huge cream colored couch in the middle of the room and a small TV across from it. Past the living room is a small wooden dining table with two chairs facing a balcony with sliding doors. To the left, behind the TV, is a small kitchen. To the right are folding wooden doors that Fuse can see a large bed behind with more rugs and artwork. The best part: it all smells like them. It’s like he stepped into a cool forest, fragrant after a storm.
Fuse whistles, "Nice place ya got, Houndy. No birdcage?"
Bloodhound chuckles while shutting the door behind Fuse, "Nei, Arthur lives outside and comes to me when I need him." Bloodhound goes to the kitchen to grab two bottles of beer. Fuse sets his guitar near the couch and spots an empty bottle already on the coffee table. "Hm, maybe Houndy is quite the drinker behind closed doors," he thinks. He sits on the couch comfortably with his legs spread wide, one crossed over the other, and arms hanging across the back of the couch.
Bloodhound cracks both beers open and hands a bottle to Fuse. He looks up at them with a grin and says, "Cheers, big ears."
Bloodhound smiles at his weird phrasing while clinking their bottle against Fuse’s, and takes a few gulps. Fuse looks up at them to intently watch the way their throat moves from the liquid flowing down it, but looks away after a few seconds to take a short chug of his own.
"Do you mind if I change to something more comfortable?" Bloodhound says out of nowhere, while Fuse still has the bottle pressed to his lips.
He catches himself in time to not completely choke on his beer but coughs in surprise at what Bloodhound is saying. Do I mind? Fuuuck no. Fuck no I don't mind!
Fuse clears his throat and manages to say, "Hell no, Houndy. It's your place, get as comfortable as you want."
Bloodhound nods at him and walks off towards the bedroom. Maybe Fuse should've said that he does mind, because his mind is racing at what Bloodhound could walk out in. If he already thinks they're hot covered up by all that armor, pretty much anything that Bloodhound comes out in is going to be unbearable for Fuse. He starts taking deep breaths in anticipation, his heart pounding.
He grabs the guitar to distract himself and starts playing random chords, thinking of songs he used to know how to play. His heart rate regulates again just in time for Bloodhound to walk out wearing a tan t-shirt, black sweatpants, and nothing else. The cap is off their head for the first time and a deep maroon braid starts at the back of their head and falls past their collarbone. The t-shirt fits painfully tight around their biceps and the sweats are pinned to their strong thighs as they walk over to him. Fuse realizes he's staring and stopped strumming his guitar because as Bloodhound picks up their beer, they look at him and raise their eyebrows in question.
Fuse takes the first breath since Bloodhound walked out. "Sorry, mate. I'm shocked you got long red hair is all. Never seen it like this."
"Oh, I see," Bloodhound says while playing with the braid in their ungloved hand. A spider web of snow white scars like the ones on their face travel down their arms and onto their hands. "Most of my family had this hair though I hear it is uncommon in some areas."
Not to mention bloody stunning, Fuse thinks. The red is a deep color, like it was dyed with blood. There are natural highlights throughout the braid catching the fluorescent lights. Fuse makes a mental note to ask them to see it in the sunlight sometime. He thinks it'd probably look like an ancient fire of deep reds, purple lowlights, and orange highlights. There are loose strands falling out around their face like little flames, Fuse clenches his fist to keep himself from reaching out to tuck some behind their ear.
Bloodhound sits next to him on the couch and is eyeing the guitar. “Could you play that song for me? I could barely hear it at the fire but I liked it.”
Fuse smiles in their direction and adjusts the pick in his right hand. He plays a few chords and starts to sing, “Dust all around me…rust breaking down…” He closes his eyes as he sings the beginning because he feels Bloodhound’s gaze on him. Normally, he never feels nervous playing his guitar in front of people but Bloodhound's undivided attention makes his heart stir. He meets Bloodhound’s eyes towards the end to sing, “I’ll find my home…” The song ends shortly after and Bloodhound has a small smile on their face. Fuse sets his guitar down to pick up his half finished beer.
“You have much talent, Walter. I hope you’ll play more for me sometime,” they say to him.
Fuse feels a little bit of a blush blooming at Bloodhound’s compliment. “Of course, Houndy. Anytime,” he says honestly. He stretches with a heavy sigh and crosses his legs on their coffee table, leaning into the couch. He looks over to Bloodhound again and their mouth is agape, like they’re about to say something but can’t find the words.
Instead, they quickly finish their second beer and go to grab the next. He takes a shameful moment to take in their entire body while they make their way to the fridge with their back to him. The t-shirt tightly hugs their shoulders which is very attractive but Fuse is distracted by thinking about how tense they look. Fuse watches them bend into the fridge. A sliver of skin peeks out between the hem of their shirt and their pants, sending Fuse spiraling. Soon, they turn to walk back towards him and Fuse can’t find the willpower to tear his eye off them.
They find their seat next to him again. “Somethin’ on your mind?” Fuse asks when their expression still looks uneasy.
He sees them take a few breaths and, finally, they say, “Yes. I have…a sort of confession for you.”
Fuse’s eye goes wide and his heart races. Confession? Is this what I think it is? I could jump their bones right about now but I haven’t thought about this at all. Shit, what do I- but Fuse’s thoughts are cut off.
“I have been purposely removing my mask around you to see your reaction to my scars. I am sorry for not telling you this, Walter. I am ashamed for not trusting you sooner,” they say while looking down at the floor.
Fuse’s body relaxes a bit. He realizes he’s been rigid since the word confession came out of their perfect lips. Then he says with relief, “Heh heh, that’s it? Don’t worry about it, mate. I’m sure you have your reasons but I hope ya know I’m not one to judge.” Bloodhound looks back at him with more ease now. Then, Fuse makes the mistake of adding on, “Well, it’s only fair since I push your buttons all the time to see a reaction outta you.”
Bloodhound looks away again. Fuse quickly says, “Wait, ya know I don’t hang around ya only for a reaction or entertainment, right? You know I care about ya more than that, mate.” Bloodhound is still not meeting his eye and Fuse just waits for a response instead of saying something even stupider like, ya know I love ya. Right, Houndy?
Bloodhound finally looks him dead in the eye with a smirk playing on their lips. Their eyes are brutal, penetrating his own with a force. They're hooded and low, looking at him nearly suggestively. He squirms a little under their piercing gaze, kind of enjoying the scrutiny but wondering what could possibly come out of their mouth with this look.
“I could use some entertainment,” is all Bloodhound says at first in a low, breathy voice. Fuse feels like a dagger punched him through the heart. He finds himself grinning despite himself. Bloodhound is awfully forward and bold with some alcohol in them, and Fuse loves it. He’s about to move closer to show them some real entertainment but Bloodhound continues, “Do you remember our deal? We both lost the last match. You must honor your end of the deal, Walter. What was it you said to me? I’m finding out what’s under that eyepatch, tonight.” Bloodhound is full on grinning as they say Fuse's own words back to him.
Fuse lets out a huge laugh and Bloodhound starts to laugh along with him. Fuse hears the music reverberating out of Bloodhound’s body and composes himself enough to turn his body so that his leg is bent up on the couch. He bends his left arm over the couch and lays his head on his arm, facing the still laughing Bloodhound. Their laugh sounds like a composition of wind chimes ringing through the air. He drinks in the sound and their incredible face that he has never seen this animated. They look and sound so lively and at ease. Eventually, Bloodhound calms down enough to see Fuse staring and mirrors his position. They bend their leg so that their knee is touching Fuse’s and lay their head on their arm bent over the couch.
They gaze at each other for a few silent moments, smiling. Fuse wishes time would stop right there. Their slightly pink face from how hard they were laughing, the mischievous look in their eyes, their laugh echoing in his head forever. Fuse finds himself scanning Bloodhound’s face and can barely keep his eye off their lips this time. It might be the alcohol speaking, but he swears Bloodhound is looking down at his lips, too. Fuse feels as if Bloodhound has a magnetic pull on his body. He’s about to lean in and taste the memory of the laugh on their lips when he catches himself. Nah, now’s not the time. I’m not about to make a move on my best mate when they’re tipsy. I can wait, I got time.
He decides he needs to get up and move around before he does something that might ruin this moment. He regretfully turns away from them to sit upright and finish off his beer. He sets the empty glass bottle on the coffee table and says, “Well, mate. Are you gonna gimme the grand tour?”
Bloodhound follows his movements with their eyes, sitting up a little. “Oh, sure. You are my guest, after all.” They rise and first show him to the dining area where there are a few dried flowers laying on the table. They open the balcony doors and feel the cool evening wind blowing in. Fuse walks out to try to cool his head a bit. Bloodhound shuts the door behind them to join him leaning over the balcony railing.
Fuse looks over to see their braid is blown behind their back by the wind, exposing their sharp jawline. They shift to look up at the sky but Fuse doesn’t care about the stars anymore seeing the constellations of freckles connected by scars on Bloodhound’s face illuminated by the lights from inside their apartment.
Bloodhound, probably feeling Fuse staring, turns to look at him. Fuse realizes he moved in a little too close to see them better in the dark and now they’re facing each other inches apart. Fuse starts to pull away but surprisingly, Bloodhound catches Fuse’s face with their hand. Bloodhound rubs the stubble on his jaw for a few seconds with their thumb.
Fuse feels his mouth drop open in shock and heat exploding across his cheeks. His breath quickens but otherwise he remains perfectly still. He drowns in the heat from their hand contrasting with the cool wind blowing over the balcony and realizes he feels dizzy, either from their action or the alcohol. Bloodhound suddenly seems to realize what they’re doing and is taken aback.
They quickly stutter out, “Um-how often do you shave your face, Walter?”
Fuse chuckles and leans into their warm hand. He closes his eyes, enjoying this moment for as long as it could possibly last. “Hmmm,” he begins to say, drawing out his sentence by talking slowly, “maybe once every few odd days? Sometimes if I notice it gettin’ too long in the middle of a match, I pull the knife out of my boot and hack it off right there.”
Bloodhound laughs a little at this, more than their chuckle Fuse has been hearing more of lately but not as good as what he witnessed inside. Still, their music fills him with warmth. They’re so close, he thinks about wrapping them into a hug to feel their laugh vibrate through his entire body. He feels Bloodhound stroke his cheek with their thumb once more, then drop their hand. The side of Fuse’s face grows cold again and he wishes he could be enveloped in their warmth for much longer. Fuse sees them turn back towards their apartment, their cheeks a little pink from either the cold or blush as they say, “We should continue this tour.”
Fuse follows them back inside as they head for the bedroom. He’s trying not to think that they wanted to continue the tour just to lead him to their room. The cold air from the balcony didn’t help and Fuse’s heart is still racing. He’s not even trying to keep himself under control anymore, how could he? He knows he’s smitten and Bloodhound’s unlikely actions are not helping his intent of a friendly hang out session. His feelings shift from nervousness and being unsure of what he wants tonight, to pure desire. He knows he wants all of them but has no intention of making a first move since they're both intoxicated. He’ll follow their lead the best he can. As they enter the bedroom he thinks, if it happens naturally in here, I’ll go with it.
Fuse points out some artwork on the wall and asks Bloodhound to explain it. He wanders around the room a bit keeping his hands in his pockets and sees a journal laid open on their bedside table. On the open page, there’s a pencil drawing of a cabin.
“Woah. Did you draw this, Houndy?” Fuse asks.
“Yes. I would often draw my home of Talos. I can show you more, if you would like,” Bloodhound says.
"Hell yeah, these are great," Fuse responds.
They pick up the book and sit on the bed, Fuse sits to their left. He leans his right arm behind where they’re sitting on the bed to better see the drawings. He finds himself drowning in the woodsy scent radiating off of Bloodhound this close. They flip through, explaining each one. Fuse asks questions about each page and Bloodhound explains the buildings and figures in the drawings. Fuse starts to notice more and more of the drawings are of who Bloodhound says is Boone. Fuse gets a little tense at this. Soon, every page is filled with Boone’s face or their long, lean body and black hair. He averts his gaze from the book to their bedside table, and sees a small photograph of Boone there too.
Fuse sighs a breath, realizing he made a mistake. He’s been real cozy with a quite tipsy Bloodhound all night but never even thought that they might not be over their first love, Boone.
He rises off the bed and says, “Eh it’s gettin’ a little late huh? I better get going…” and starts to quickly walk to the door. He hears Bloodhound saying something like “Wait, Walter-” but Fuse can barely hear them either from the booze ringing in his ears or his own overwhelming thoughts of “The fuck are you still doing here? Takin’ advantage of a drunk friend with a broken heart.” Soon, the door slams behind him.
Fuse doesn't remember walking home, his mind feels like mush. He kicks his shoes off at the door and sheds his outer layers. He strips down to his boxers on his way to his bed, leaving clothes wherever they fall. He climbs into bed with his arm draped over his face and lets out a long sigh.
He totally got carried away tonight disregarding Bloodhound’s feelings entirely. He completely misread their actions. They were drunk so sure they'd be laughing, smiling, and touching him. Their usual guard was down which was great to see, but Fuse took things too far and got his own hopes up.
He closes his eye but the word confession, their lean body, and their unreadable eyes are still on his mind. As ashamed as he is, he drifts off thinking about what could’ve happened tonight.
~
Fuse is back on Bloodhound’s large couch. They’re sitting next to him gazing at him with that unreadable and intense expression that Fuse can only describe as longing. Suddenly, Bloodhound leans into him and locks their lips with his own. Fuse’s questioning thoughts are immediately gone. He is believing in this dream that Bloodhound wants him as bad as he wants them. His head spins trying to memorize every detail of their mouth locked on his.
But, he can’t think straight because Bloodhound is pushing him down onto his back so that he’s looking up at the ceiling. Bloodhound comes into view then, straddling him. They keep Fuse planted on the couch with one hand on his chest (as if he would even think of moving from this spot), and reaches their free hand behind them to pull out the hair tie holding their braid in place.
An inferno of red hair burns down their shoulders and collarbones, framing their face like a piece of artwork. Bloodhound leans down to kiss him again, their hair falling around Fuse’s face enveloping him in a sea of red. This time, the kiss is all tongue and urgency. Fuse follows Bloodhound’s lead now and grabs their waist with both hands. Something like a happy sigh flows out of Bloodhound and into Fuse’s mouth. Bloodhound reaches behind Fuse’s head to pull at the shorter hairs, forcing his chin up so they can get a full angle of his neck. They lay kisses up his neck and jaw until they land on his mouth again, this time pulling back by biting his bottom lip.
A moan escapes from Fuse’s mouth and he digs his fingernails into the skin on Bloodhound’s lower back under their tan t-shirt. He looks up at them as they sit upright over top of him. Their lips are swollen and their skin is beautifully flushed. Fuse sees those perfect lips open and mouth Walter but instead of their sweet voice, he hears BANG BANG BANG on the door behind Bloodhound. Fuse nearly jumps out of his skin and looks past Bloodhound to the door, his hands falling to their hips to hold them in place. After no one comes through the door or knocks again, he looks up at Bloodhound who is unphased. He’s entranced in them again and slides his hands up their back from where they were resting on their hip bones. Bloodhound’s eyebrows pull up and they close their eyes, a sigh escaping their mouth. Then, they mouth his name again but Fuse only hears BANG BANG BANG at the door.
Fuse comes to a realization then. He’s here. It has to be Boone, back from the dead to take Bloodhound from him. Fuse panics and he looks to Bloodhound again, his arms protectively circling their torso to pull them closer down into the couch. They’re still gazing at him with want, disregarding whoever is at the door. They start to peel off their shirt revealing their muscular stomach, but this time Fuse is woken from this dream by a very real knocking at his apartment door.
He sits up in his own bed in a cold sweat with morning wood. The sun is breaking through his blinds, shining in his eye. He sighs and rolls out of bed to quickly pull on some sweatpants, tucking his embarrassment into the elastic band. He pulls on a large, baggy shirt over top.
"I'm coming, bloody hell!" He calls to the door. He goes to his bathroom to splash some cold water on his face to wake him up and get his mind off the dream he just had. Then, he makes his way to the door, though the incessant knocking has stopped now. He swings the door open to find Mirage looking down at his phone on the other side of it.
“Shit,” Fuse says.
Mirage looks up at Fuse’s word, “You are alive, I was just about to give up on you.”
“This better be good,” Fuse says while leaning against the open door.
“Well, last night you said you were having ‘somethin’ like’ a hookup so I figured if it didn’t go well, you'd need a pick me up,” Mirage says, exaggerating Fuse’s accent while repeating his own words back to him. He’s holding out a coffee and a bag with a bagel in it.
Fuse thinks it over for a minute but considers venting to Mirage may be a good way to get this shit out of his head and sort out what exactly went wrong last night. “Alright. Don’t mind the mess,” he says while opening the door farther and turning towards his living room.
Mirage follows in behind him, closing the door. He hands Fuse a black coffee while drinking some kind of fancy frappuccino. Fuse is disgusted but doesn’t comment since his friend did actually do something nice for him this morning. They sit on the couch, sipping their drinks for a little while in silence. Mirage is paying attention to his own bagel instead of pressuring Fuse to talk, like he’s saying Tell me when you’re ready, I’ll be here.
Fuse sighs and says, “Alright. Well, I got a thing for Houndy…”
Mirage just nods while not taking his eyes off his bagel. Fuse huffs a laugh, “Wait, is it that obvious? Gotta say, I expected a little more of a reaction outta ya.”
“Mm, yeah super obvious. Continue,” Mirage says with a mouth full of bagel.
Fuse grins a little at this, amused that his feelings are strong enough for Mirage to see. “Well, I can’t tell if I’m gettin’ mixed signals outta them or if I’m makin’ it up in my own head. Yesterday, they invited me over to have a drink…” Fuse explains what Bloodhound said and did, careful not to mention any details of the wet dream he just had. “I thought it was goin’ well between us until I saw they’d drawn their dead ex-boyfriend, Boone, about a million times. So, I flew right outta there and passed out as soon as I got home. Woke up to some clown bangin’ on my door. Shit, even forgot my guitar there.”
Mirage nods a couple times with his brows furrowed. "Am I the clown? Nevermind, don’t answer that.” Mirage is silent for a few seconds then says, “Yeah, you’re an idiot.” He stands up to go throw his plastic coffee cup away leaving Fuse speechless on the couch.
Mirage walks back to the couch and says, “Ha, you should see the look on your face.” He sits down, facing Fuse. He holds up his fingers as he counts, “One, Bloodhound probably drinks moonshine or mead and has a way higher tolerance than you. They probably only had your shitty beer on hand because you were coming over. Two, they were probably acting so differently, not because of the booze but because they’re more comfortable in their own home. Three, they might have shown you their drawings of Boone to share an insanely important part of their life with you, not intending to make you jealous since they don't even know how you feel about them. I’m guessing you haven't even considered any of that, so my conclusion is you’re an idiot.”
Fuse is still gaping because Mirage is so right. He didn’t even consider that the watered down beer Fuse likes to drink at parties wouldn’t be Bloodhounds taste at all. Because Bloodhound has never drank around him, he stupidly thought they couldn’t handle their booze and were getting close with him because they were wildly inebriated. Turns out, Fuse can’t handle his own booze anymore. And the drawings…Bloodhound showed no sign of love or longing towards Boone that he remembers, so why did he storm out of their apartment like that? He remembers them shouting after him to wait, so…
“Fuck. You’re right, mate. You’re really right,” Fuse says while looking at the floor.
“Can you say it again? Like, a few more times? Wait, let me get a video of you saying it,” Mirage responds.
Fuse laughs and shakes his head, his spirits feeling a little brighter. He’s replaying the events from last night in his head with a new perspective although his hungover mind is still hazy. He admits to himself that he was drunker than he thought so the details of how Bloodhound acted have slipped from his mind. He wishes he would’ve had a clear, sober night with them instead so he could properly evaluate every move they made. After all, it’s still a delicate situation that he really doesn’t want to mess up and lose his friend over.
“I still don’t know, mate. I’m not quite believin’ it. I just don’t wanna fuck this up,” he admits to Mirage.
“Yeah, I gotcha. I mean, take your time. They’re not going anywhere, right? But first things first, you need to apologize for sprinting out of their apartment like you saw a ghost when they were just being vulnerable with you,” Mirage says.
Fuse sighs, “Right again.”
“Aaand got it,” Mirage says. Fuse looks up to see Mirage’s phone pointed at him. Mirage continues, “Alright, I gotta go show everyone the definitive proof that I was right and Fitzroy was wrong.” Mirage stands and heads for the door.
Fuse calls after him, “Thanks, mate. I needed that. But keep that shit to yourself, alright?”
Mirage yells back, “No promises!” while closing the door behind him.
A silence hangs in the air while Fuse contemplates what to do. Part of him wants to rush over to Bloodhound's right now to apologize for acting so stupid and tell them everything but another part of him is scared to death to face them. What will happen between them if he confesses his feelings and gets shut down? Wait, no, take it slow. Just apologize for running away.
He thinks he should at least shower first and get a clear head. So, he pushes himself off the couch and makes his way to the small bathroom, stripping off the clothes he just threw on. He washes off in the hot water, realizing his erection has subsided, then blasts cold water to finish the job of waking him up that the coffee didn't accomplish.
Afterwards, he dries off and throws on jeans and a t-shirt to begin tidying up his mess of an apartment. He blasts music out of a speaker to keep his thoughts clear. He wishes he wouldn't have forgotten his guitar so he could procrastinate even more. By the time he’s done cleaning, it's about lunch time and he doesn't have anything in his fridge. He decides to venture out to the bar that opens early on Sundays and grab some grub.
In the bar, sun is peeking in the unusually open windows. He hardly ever sees this place in the light but takes his usual seat towards the back. He orders a burger, fries, and a soda and is peacefully enjoying his brunch when he hears, “Mind if I sit?”
He looks up at the familiar voice to see Maggie already sitting down next to him. “Only if ya don’t blow off my good arm,” he says.
She looks at him sipping his soda and says, “You look bloody awful.”
Fuse huffs a laugh while picking up his burger, “Thanks a lot, Mags. For the record, I slept alright and had a pretty damn good dream that was cut short by a nightmare that goes by the name of Mirage.”
Maggie laughs, “Sounds about right. Got a video of you earlier sayin’ he was right and you were wrong. You must’ve really fucked up for Mirage to be right about somethin’.”
“Yeah, I sure did,” Fuse responds.
“Mind tellin’ me how bad ya messed up to be drinkin’ a soda in a bar on a Sunday morning?” Maggie asks. Mirage must have cropped the video since Maggie doesn't know what their conversation was about.
Fuse really doesn’t feel like recounting the previous day’s mistakes for the second time today but knows Maggie is just looking out for him, like she’s always done. But, the thoughts he’s been procrastinating dealing with all day are coming up again.
“I owe someone an apology. Someone was tryin’ to get close to me and I ran away like a scared little kid. That’s the long and short of it,” Fuse says bitterly.
“Hm,” Maggie says, “Is this about your Houndy?”
Fuse looks at her, bewildered. Mirage is awfully perceptive but even Maggie knows? Am I the only one that’s blind?
“Don’t look at me like that. The three of us bein’ on a team was bloody torture. You two givin’ each other heart eyes and whisperin’ sweet nothings as if I couldn’t hear…Bloody torture, Wally.”
Fuse chuckles a little. “Sorry, Mags. Can’t help it, I’ve gone soft.”
“So they made a move and you bailed, huh? That’s just like you to run out,” She says, a little bitter. Fuse doesn’t respond at first because he knows what she’s getting at and doesn’t want to touch another painful topic today. Instead, he brings the conversation back to the matter at hand.
“I don’t know. I got in my head and thought they didn’t want more and Mirage convinced me they just might. Can’t be sure, though, so here I am,” Fuse says.
“Well, not to bring your spirits down more but they told me last match you were just comrades or somethin’ like that. Probably not what you wanna hear, but you should hear it,” Maggie says while looking away.
Fuse is taken aback and feels his heart shrinking. Just…comrades?
“Before you get your knickers in a knot, that was a while ago. People change, maybe you knocked the socks of them with your-” Maggie waves her hand vaguely in his direction, struggling to come up with a compliment.
“Alright alright, I get it. Don’t insult me more than ya already did. I was goin’ to go over there at some point today but I can’t get my feet off the ground. Bloody depressin’ is what it is,” Fuse says while picking at his fries.
Maggie knocks him on the back with a hard hit, surprising him and nearly pushing his face into his plate. “That’s not the Fitzroy I know. You really did go soft. Get in there and show them what you want, if you want something with them anyways.”
“Of course that’s what I want!” Fuse snaps back a little too quick. "But I gotta be careful, they might not be ready for what I want right now."
“Are you willing to wait for them?" Maggie asks.
"Yeah, I'll wait forever if I have to," Fuse says quietly, looking distant.
"Alright, then what are you tellin' me that for? Don’t be a wuss, tell them how ya feel! You really think they'd push you away? If they care about ya at all, which they obviously do, they'll accept ya!" Maggie nearly yells at him.
She’s right, but he won’t admit defeat again today. He feels fired up from Maggie’s energy. With a quick exhale, he pushes himself up and throws a few bills on the bar. He pats her on the shoulder and says, “Thanks, Mags.” with a grin. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning back at him.
After he talked to Mirage, he thought he just needed to apologize and felt no need to confess any of the deeper feelings he's had lately. Maggie convinced him friendship is still possible even if Bloodhound decides not to act on his feelings right away, but Bloodhound should at least know how Fuse feels.
He strides out of the bar in a much better mood than he walked in with and heads back to Bloodhound’s apartment.
- - -
Bloodhound wakes early in the morning, sprawled out in their bed after a nearly restless night. The light that beams in from behind their headboard usually energizes them but today it hurts their eyes. They roll over to see the still open journal they set back on their bedside table. Instead of the usual nostalgia they feel from it, their heart aches at the events that transpired last night.
They didn’t have much to drink judging by the way their head feels this morning. They could’ve sworn they were sober enough to know the night was going in a different direction than how it ended. Bloodhound blushes at the desire bubbling up in their stomach again recounting the events.
Fuse was grinning or blushing pretty much the entire night and gazed at them in ways they’ve never seen before. When they sat on the couch facing each other, Bloodhound was entranced by his tongue subconsciously peeking out to nervously lick his lips while he gazed at their own. His mouth was parted and he was slowly getting closer to them, but his eye went wide as if he was pulled out of a trance by something. They really thought at one point his lips would meet theirs, but he quickly backed away. It would’ve been as easy as falling asleep after a long day to lean into Fuse.
They don’t know what came over them that caused them to reach out and caress Fuse’s face on the balcony, but he was just so close to them. He was staring at them in the most loving way they’ve seen from anyone in a very long time. It’s a miracle Bloodhound restrained themself that much. They were overcome with the desire to hold him in their arms and feel him lean into their body like he leaned into their hand.
They felt so at ease with Fuse that they didn’t think twice about shedding more layers around him. Fuse’s reaction was undoubtedly that of attraction. It served as encouragement to push Bloodhound further and find if Fuse had any boundaries between them. Unfortunately, Bloodhound found them.
When he darted out of their room, Bloodhound chased after him but couldn’t reach him before he got to the door. Thinking about what happened to the pliant man who was once sitting next to them about to lean in for a kiss and what could’ve caused him to basically run out of their apartment is what kept them up all night. Just when Bloodhound thought they were starting to understand the man, his actions later in the night conflicted with his earlier behavior and confused them.
The best idea Bloodhound can come up with is that he was uncomfortable seeing their drawings of Boone. Later in the night after Fuse left, they looked at the open page of the journal and realized the previous few pages had all been sketches of Boone. Prior to that, Fuse was so engaged in hearing about their past and home but went silent seeing Boone’s features drawn in such a flattering light. Bloodhound thought they had made it quite clear to Fuse that their affectionate feelings for Boone are dead and gone. Of course, they were heartbroken for many years after his death. But, Bloodhound now feels their duty is to simply earn enough glory in the Apex Games to grant Boone passage into Valhalla. They feel guilty of their death and partially responsible, it left them pained and hesitant to love again.
Could he be…jealous? Bloodhound pushes the thought out of their head. It’s unlikely. Fuse has been nothing but supportive of Bloodhound recounting their time with Boone, until today. Bloodhound wishes he would’ve stayed longer so that they could show him the drawings they’ve recently been making of him.
Bloodhound gazes at the picture of Boone still on their bedside table. They were keeping this photo here to give them courage to love fearlessly again and protect their loved one more closely. They flip past the drawings of Boone to the few rough sketches of Fuse they’ve drawn. They slide their thumb over the page similarly to how they rubbed Fuse’s face last night. They sigh in defeat, unsure of what to do about Fuse and what they think of their situation.
Bloodhound sits up in their bed to stretch and begins to move around their apartment, cooking a late brunch to clear the negative thoughts in their head. They sit on the couch to eat, looking at the guitar still sitting next to them. They were shocked Fuse left so quickly, but even more shocked to see Fuse left his precious guitar here. Does that mean he will return?
Bloodhound remembers the song he sang to them and the way they looked them right in the eyes singing I’ll find my home. It’s just a lyric in an old song, but Bloodhound shivers thinking about the way he looked at them as if it was written specifically for them at that moment.
The guitar is worn from many years of playing. The body is scratched from Fuse’s travels and their metal arm moving against it. The oils of his human hand are deep in the grain of the wooden frets. It’s clearly served him well. Could the drawings of Boone make him feel so terrible to leave without his guitar? Or, did he suddenly realize Bloodhound brought him to their bedroom and was uncomfortable with the implication? But why, if he was ready to kiss them earlier in the night?
Bloodhound finishes their breakfast and rises from the couch, unable to stop thinking about the previous night despite their best efforts. They feel that they came onto Fuse strongly but Bloodhound had a hard time holding their unlikely feelings of desire back. Since Bloodhound can't believe that Fuse would be jealous of Boone, Fuse must have felt uncomfortable by their forwardness. They must apologize for the sake of their friendship. If Fuse really was uncomfortable with Bloodhound coming onto him, how could they phrase it to Fuse without diminishing their feelings for him? They have no regrets about showing Fuse the drawings of Boone, so they don’t even know how they would apologize when they feel they did nothing wrong in showing him their past.
Bloodhound tidies up a bit and decides to return the guitar to Fuse. It will give them the chance to properly apologize to their dearest friend. Bloodhound isn’t ready to discuss their emerging feelings any further since Fuse is clearly not ready either. They’re still forming what they can say to the man, something like: “I am sorry for making you uncomfortable with my actions, Walter. I wasn’t thinking clearly and got ahead of myself…”
“Nei, that’s not quite right. Maybe I should first ask why he left so quickly. Either way, I must apologize for his discomfort without revealing my feelings for him until I can understand what he is thinking,” Bloodhound thinks while pacing the area in front of their couch.
Bloodhound picks up the guitar and is trying to figure out how to safely transport it back to Fuse’s apartment when they hear a knock at the door.