Salvage ~ V1: Nuts and Bolts (Steampunk/ Gaslamp Romantasy ~ F/M, M/M)

Chapter 26: Is That Why You're Sad ~ pt.3

Tamyn leaned his forehead against the wall, his hand hovering over the doorknob for several minutes before finally opening the door.

The banquet room was decorated in similar fashion to the main dining room, hung with sheer, tasseled curtains and colorful lanterns, the same tile floor and ceiling and murals on the walls, but with a large, low table in the center of the room with mounds of fringed, damask cushions strewn on the floor about it.

Abrizhen half-lay in the cushions, leaning over the table, resting his head in one hand. His face was slack and reddened, hair a mess. His frock coat had been tossed carelessly aside, and he had loosened his cravat and shirt collar.

As the door opened, his cup stopped halfway to his lips and his languid eyes raised slowly. He laughed low and under his breath.

"Of course," he said miserably.

Tamyn closed the door behind him but stood still there, casting a benign gaze over Abrizhen, his face gentle but unreadable. One couldn't tell from looking how he felt his chest tighten around his heart, anxiety squeezing the breath out of him.

"What are you doing?" he asked softly.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Wallowing," Tamyn answered. "Drinking too much."

"Well, there you have it," Abrizhen said, waving a hand to the door as if Tamyn should see himself back through it.

"Making trouble for Didia," Tamyn said.

Abrizhen blew out a heavy breath.

"I don't want to make trouble for anyone," he said sadly.

"You came here to make trouble for your sister," Tamyn reminded him, his voice still gentle, with a bit of a coaxing tone now.

"I don't want to make trouble for her either," Abrizhen moaned, dropping his head onto the table, hiding most of his face. "I don't want any of this. She thinks I hate her? Dear gods, Tam, these things I've been saying. She must hate me now. How could she not?"

Tamyn hesitated, then came to the table and sat adjacent to Abrizhen, who peered at him through his fingers.

"She said you wanted to see me," Abrizhen told him.

Tamyn frowned in puzzlement.

"I... didn't tell her anything..."

"You wouldn't have to," Abrizhen said darkly. "She just knows. You should be careful of her, Tam. She's a witch. She just knows things. Stay away from her if you can."

"Weren't you just sorry for saying awful things about her?"

A sound of frustration came from Abrizhen and he closed his eyes before opening one again to peer sideways at Tamyn.

"Did you?" he whispered, his lips trembling slightly. "Want to see me?"

Tamyn went silent with uncertainty.

Abrizhen raised his cup again and almost missed his mouth, sending a rivulet of wine spilling down his chin.

Frowning, Tamyn stood and came around the corner of the table. He leaned down and took Abrizhen's arm to haul him up.

"Come on," he said, firmly but still gently. "You have to go back now. It's almost closing time."

Although Abrizhen had a much more robust build than Tamyn, the latter was far stronger than his lithe frame would suggest, and he easily pulled Abrizhen up to his feet.

Once up, though, Abrizhen swayed, threw his arms around Tamyn's neck and pitched forward, planting his lips firmly upon Tamyn's before tightening his grip.