writing in tiny.

“Elysium.”

The bundle of blankets move, but otherwise the person crouched beneath it doesn’t come out.

Thorns sighs heavily.

“Ely, I already said I’m sorry.” Which is rather difficult, if he was being honest. He still didn’t think the movie was that bad, but Elysium and his fifteen minute silence begs to differ. “The movie was like, ten years older than both of us. It’s not so convincing.”

“For you!” comes the indignant reply, muffled by the thick fabrics over his head. Thorns tried tugging it away but his boyfriend is surprisingly persistent. And strong. Is this the hysterical strength that possesses people when they feel like they’re in imminent danger?

In this case, terrified of plastic ghosts and cheap makeup?

“It scared the shit out of me! I told you not to choose anything with jumpscares!”

He blinks. “There’s jumpscares?”

Elysium makes a disgruntled noise and pulls the blankets tighter around his crouching body, the pair falling into yet another round of tense silence.

Thorns didn’t think anything can be worse than dealing with the Liberi’s off-tune singing and his excited shouting on a daily basis. But apparently, a sulking Elysium is very difficult to reason with and refuses to listen to any excuses he might have. He might be absolutely crazy for thinking this, but having Elysium go quiet is unnerving and he regrets wishing that he’d have an ‘off’ button.

He rubs at his temples, pulling at a corner of the bundle. It holds in place, and Elysium only shifts farther on the bed, practically pressing himself against the corner. It’s barely noticeable, but Thorns can see that Elysium is trembling still, probably haunted by the afterimages of the movie that lingers in his head.

Thorns hardly ever feels guilt, but his heart twists as he comes to terms with the sinking realization that maybe, Elysium is genuinely terrified of horror movies and today is his breaking point where the cheap thrillers he’s picked finally becomes too much.

He hopes there would be no nightmares. His chest feels tighter at the thought.

Talking to Elysium is a fruitless attempt at the moment, so Thorns resorts to the bribing method.

“Do you want ice cream?” he offers.

No sound. Not even a peep.

Well, he’s going out to buy it, anyways. He remembers Elysium whining about having no ice cream in the fridge, so he might as well go out and replenish the Liberi’s stock.

“I’ll be back soon. Stay here,” he mutters, though he doubts Elysium is going anywhere anytime soon. The bundle tenses up. Thorns tilts his head up to get a look at the other side of the covers and spots the red tuft of hair that he’s so proud of, swaying slightly like he wants to turn around and face Thorns, but halts midway, reminded that he’s supposed to be mad at his boyfriend and whips back quickly.

Hmm. Maybe leaving Elysium alone while he’s scared out of his wits isn’t a good idea. But Thorns is running out of options, and he’d really like to get back into his good graces. He doesn’t like seeing Elysium freak out like this.

He makes sure to turn on all the lamps and blasts Elysium’s favorite band at full volume through the speakers to give the other some form of comfort, at least until he’s back from his quick grocery run. “If you need anything, call me. I’ll come home as soon as I can,” Thorns calls out as he ties up his boots, face scrunching up when the pitter patter of rain filters in between the heavy bass and bright vocals. An umbrella is silently taken from the nearby stand, and another sigh leaves unbidden.

The things he’d do for Elysium.

---

Thorns is starting to think this isn’t worth it and maybe he should let Elysium stew in his harsh silence for a few more minutes.

His umbrella was blown by the wind, he’s soaking wet from the sudden downpour that just so happens to get harder just as Thorns steps out from their apartment, and he had to quite literally wrestle the last pint of cookies and cream from a Karen that insists it’s her property because she looked at it first.

To sum it up: The ice cream run was a fucking disaster.

He toes off his sopping boots that makes a squelching sound as it lands on the wooden floor, making a note to mop up the mess later (which he’d definitely forget) as he walks straight to their bedroom, clutching onto the plastic bag like a lifeline. He leaves a trail of water that drips from the tips of his hair and his soggy clothes that would no doubt get him another earful from Elysium, but that’s a problem for later as the only thing in Thorns’ mind right now is that the Liberi better be grateful for all the effort he’s put in for one stupid pint to appease his overdramatic tendencies.

“I’m back,” he announces, loud and clear, as to not startle Elysium which...Surprisingly, is still huddled in blankets. The bundle jumps again, but soon relaxes when he recognizes the voice. He turns down the volume of the music, standing by the edge of the bed to pull out the pint as a peace offering to the hidden man.

“I got you cookies and cream.”

“...”

He counts it as a small victory when Elysium relents enough to at least look at him, cheeks puffed out in a way that Thorns would find endearing if he’s not currently angry, eyes narrowed at the glistening pint and Thorns’ drenched appearance.

Thorns nudges the pint forward, but Elysium doesn’t take it.

A few more seconds pass.

He groans.

“Ely, please. I ran through the fucking rain for this.”

Elysium snorts. “I never asked you to.”

At least he’s talking. Well, plan number three then.

“Ely, babe,” Thorns says, as softly as possible. “Eat your ice cream.”

The effect is immediate.

The other squeaks, face flushed a deep red and he immediately ducks under the blankets again. “Thorns, what the hell?!” he shrieks, a sound between embarrassed and mortified. Thorns pretends not to hear him, and tries to recall the nicknames Flamebringer uses for Executor.

“Darling. Sweetheart. Sweetie-pie—”

“Stop, stop, stop!” Elysium cuts off in a hurry, and he breaks out of his bundles just to surge forward on his knees to slap his hands over Thorns’ mouth, feathers ruffled and cheeks burning red. “You can’t do that, that’s cheating!”

“I can, because you’re not listening to me. I made you come out, though.”

The other seems to realize that he’s no longer hiding and stiffens, trying (and failing) to act like he’s still pissed off as he rocks back on his heels and crosses his arms, avoiding Thorns’ gaze. “I—I’m still mad at you and I’m not eating the ice cream!”

That stutter is not convincing.

Elysium can be such a child sometimes with the way he acts. The pout on his face, the fumes that he can almost see coming out of his equally red ears and his whole demeanor just screams manchild. Vexing, but still adorable to look at. Something powerful tugs at Thorns’ heart.

His body acts before he can call this emergency plan number four.

He tosses away the ice cream, eliciting an indignant ‘hey!’ from the kneeling Liberi that quickly turns into a surprised yelp when Thorns tackles him in a hug, sending them both hurtling towards the bed with Elysium pinned down below him. His clothes are sticking to his skin uncomfortably but he can’t be bothered by it right now (even if Elysium would inevitably nag him for making their covers wet) as he presses his nose against his exposed collarbone, leaving an open-mouthed kiss on alabaster skin that easily blooms red from the slightest press of a hand.

“Thorns, what—” Elysium tries to stay, but his voice tapers into a whimper when Thorns leaves another kiss on his neck. “Let go of me! You’re getting me all wet!” He’s pushing at his chest, but Thorns doesn’t let him pull away and only tightens his arms, burying his head in strands of white, red, and black. He inhales the oddly soothing scent of brine and sand that clings to Elysium’s being, letting his limbs relax as the lapping waves he envisions envelops his body and takes him home.

A home that only exists when he’s with Elysium.

“I’m not going to pick anymore horror movies,” he mumbles, lips grazing his ear. He takes one of Elysium’s hand that is still insistent on its journey to shove the Aegirian off of him, unfurling his fist to twine their fingers together. “Don’t be mad, Elysium. It’s not a good look on you.” Thorns squeezes his hand.

Elysium stills, and his breath catches. Thorns feels his heartbeat picking up from where their chests are pressed together, and he visibly melts from relief when he hears a sigh, and an arm draped over his shoulder to pull him closer, to pull Thorns deeper into the embrace of home.

“...Okay,” he says, relenting. Thorns squeezes him in the hug. The corner of Elysium’s lips twitch as he fights back a smile. “Sorry, I was just scared.”

“Don’t be,” Thorns says quickly before Elysium can begin to blame himself. “I’ll hold you tonight so you don’t have nightmares.”

He feels Elysium nod more than he sees it, his eyes slipping closed as fingers dig into the roots of his hair, running through the unruly mess that Thorns never bothers to untangle in Elysium’s presence. He doesn’t mind, he said he finds Thorns’ imperfections cute (though he’s not too keen on the word choice). They begin to massage his scalp, and he leaves another trail of kisses that leads down to his chest. To the heart that might as well be his own with how Thorns’ world would stop moving if the beating ever ceases.

He whispers a confession that is only heard by the heart that lets him breathe easy everyday.

“...Thorns.”

“Yes, Ely?”

“Can I have my ice cream?”

Thorns chuckles, his fingers moving to Elysium’s pulse. His pulse.

“Alright.”