~Saturday 29th May 2010~
Meeting with Mourn might not have been the best idea. It wasn't that Salem wasn't enjoying himself. In fact, the problem was that he was enjoying himself. Every moment, Salem looked forward to. Mourn would message him the night before, suggest somewhere for them to go, and Salem would have trouble sleeping because of the excitement. Anyone else would have felt comforted by that. It would have been a dream for them to be so happy with another person.
Salem struggled with the guilt. It was a constant battle, glee waging war against remorse. When he was with Mourn, Salem didn't care about anything. The whole point of them meeting up was to get Mourn out of his home, away from his ex-husband who was still so obviously reigning in that little kingdom. Salem didn't want to ruin his time with Mourn. As egotistical as it made Salem feel, it appeared that Mourn's only happiness came from their meetings. Be it walks in the park, meals at cafes or hours spent at arcades; Mourn barely stopped smiling.
It was abnormal. Salem could tell, he saw the poorly concealed surprise on Thell's face the first time Mourn laughed. Not chuckled. Laughed. Teary-eyed, belly-aching type of laughter. Salem couldn't even remember what he had said to set off the elf like that, the words didn't matter. Watching Mourn happy, watching him honestly emote without a shade of self-doubt, Salem could never forget that. He wished he could have recorded it, wished there had been some hidden camera that had captured the moment so there was no chance it would fade. He wanted to remember, wanted the sound burned into his brain and the images carved behind his eyes. In the end, Salem concluded he would settle for repeats instead. He would make Mourn's laughter such a regular occurrence not a single eyelid would be bat when it was heard.
A particularly bright flash of lightning had Salem flinching where he sat on the couch. He tried not to look toward the window, keeping his eyes on the TV instead, focusing on the subtitles beneath the actors on screen. Even with the curtains drawn, the storm still bothered Salem. The fabric was only flimsy, thin to let in the light rather than black out the living room. Salem wished he hadn't been one to advocate for such a choice.
The fae curled in on himself more than before, drawing his knees up to his chest, resting his chin atop them. The blanket wasn't doing much to comfort him, nor were the sweet scents of lemon and sea salt burning through the candles set around the room. Naveen had promised he would be home before the storm started, then promptly called Salem an hour ago to apologise. He wouldn't be home all night. Isla's apartment was flooding, he could hardly leave her there alone to deal with that herself.
Salem didn't kick up much of a fuss. Leif was due to be home in an hour, that's what he had told Naveen when he heard the sorrow brewing in his brother's voice. That was two hours ago. Leif was stuck in surgery now, saving the life of a nine-year-old. She was a car crash victim, that child, her mother had lost control on one of the freeways beside their city. Two humans. There was no time to get them to another hospital, they had to be treated in the city. Salem imagined Leif was the first to volunteer. It was the humans who pushed for segregation, Leif always liked an opportunity to prove their myths wrong.
The one call Salem hadn't gotten was from his eldest brother. Alonzo and Edrei had taken the twins over to their in-laws that evening. Given that the storm had been somehow so egregiously overlooked in the weather report earlier that day, it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Alonzo had texted an apology, bad service preventing him from talking to his little brother over the phone. The roads were too dangerous now, too slick with the rain still beating down over the city. There was no chance Salem was having his brother risk his life to come comfort him all over a little bit of bad weather. Salem chose to just suck it up that evening. He had no other option.
Taking out his hearing aids wasn't planned. Typically, Salem kept them in whenever he was alone. That night, however, with a migraine brewing, it just became unbearable. Although it did mean he couldn't relax, the pain dulled. There was method to his madness. Salem hoped that the game shows he was watching might send him to sleep. He was wrapped up in a blanket he had stolen from Alonzo's bed, wearing Naveen's t-shirt and Leif's hoodie. The clash of scents was comforting, a welcoming sense of safety that Salem always felt whenever he was close to his brothers. He had hoped that would be enough to send him to sleep.
It wasn't, and the frustration was beginning to build. Salem was conflicted. The migraine had him wanting to curl up in a dark room yet he couldn't bear the thought of that inky blackness taking away every sense of orientation for him. He had done what he could, turning off the lights in the living room, illuminated only by the honeyed candle light and the artificial glow of the TV. The throbbing was still a problem, even after Salem had stomached painkillers that made him irritatingly drowsy.
Mourn came to mind. Of course he did. Salem wondered what he might be doing that evening. They had met for coffee in the morning, before wandering through the city to a bakery that Mourn recommended. The various bread rolls and pastries were still sat on the kitchen counter where Salem had left them as a treat for his brothers when they got home. Mourn didn't talk about work when they were together. They discussed whatever came to mind; be it something visual that caught their eye or funny tales they had from their time apart. Salem wished he had asked about Mourn's plans that night.
Often, it was the elf that initiated their contact. Not because Salem felt uncomfortable making the first move but because he didn't want to interrupt any important meetings. Mourn was a busy man, and Salem was not. Free time for the fae didn't coincide with that for the elf. That evening, Salem considered breaking his streak. He considered more than that. Talking on the phone with Mourn would mean putting his hearing aids back in for an extended period of time. It wouldn't solve the migraine. Visiting him in person would...
Tehlmar was supposed to be out of the estate by that day. After their first meeting at the beach, Mourn had made that very clear. Saturday was the deadline for his husband to move out. It was swift, maybe a little harsh in some perspectives, but precisely what Salem had wanted for Mourn. Tehlmar had found a house in a matter of two days anyway, so there was no need for Salem to feel guilty for instigating those events. He would be happier away from Mourn, able to grieve the loss of his love alone, in a healthier manner. Distance was better for both of them.
Salem had made a point of avoiding all talk of relationships with Mourn, and the elf seemed just as adamant to give him the space he had requested. But that didn't mean he didn't think about it. Salem had stayed up for hours in bed considering both sides of the coin that had been thrown his way.
A decision still hadn't been made. Salem knew he had feelings for Mourn, feelings that he couldn't just ignore. Even in those three months apart, Salem hadn't forgotten about the elf. But love wasn't everything. Safety was important to Salem too. Not just for himself but for his family. Being with Mourn would be a risk. Even being friends with him, meeting with him so often in public places, Salem was putting his family in harm's way. Somehow, that never came to mind when he was with Mourn.
Salem wanted to be swayed one way or the other. He wanted some ultimate moment to send him spiralling in one direction. He wanted to make his choice with no regrets, but he knew that was nothing more than a fantasy. Something had to give either way. Whether it was the safety of his family or the future of his heart. One side had to give. And Salem had to be the one to act on that. No one else.
Collecting his hearing aids from where he had left them on the coffee table, Salem got up from the couch. That decision wasn't going to be made alone. Salem had tried that way around it, it wasn't working. He had to talk to Mourn. And maybe tonight wasn't the best timing, but Salem couldn't bear to be alone anymore, so it seemed like a win-win in his books. It was ten o'clock already, Tehlmar should have left. Mourn wanted him out in the morning, he had told Salem that. Tehlmar was packed up and procrastinating when they met for coffee. There was no way he could still be there all those hours later.
Regardless, Salem was willing to take that chance. He left a note for his brothers, scrawling down on a piece of discarded paper that he was going to Mourn's and that he was unsure whether he would be back that night. Pinning it to the bannister seemed like the best idea, it could be seen from the front door then. Salem sat on the bottom step, lacing up his shoes, letting his mind race with the ideas of what he might regret by going to Mourn's estate so abruptly. He vowed to stop worrying once he stepped out of the house, so he let his nerves have free reign for the time being.
With the rain still belting down through the city, Salem chose to wear Alonzo's coat that evening. He considered calling Lior, having him pick him up, however, if he wasn't there that night, he had to have other plans. Salem was happy to walk, it would give him time to think. And time to turn back if he really needed to. Zipping up the heavy rain coat and throwing the hood over his head, Salem opened the front door. The rain was vicious out there, almost blacking out the amber glow of the street lamps. Salem walked out of the house anyway - he had braved worse storms.
Walking in the storm was a terrible idea. Salem realised that before he had even turned off the street he lived on. The cold made his teeth chatter, turning his fingertips numb even as he stuffed them into the felt-lined pockets of his brother's coat. But the cold helped too. That numbness, it made it so much harder for Salem to be afraid in the storm. His breaths were shallow anyway, controlled against the rain that pelted his burning cheeks. He didn't have time to think of the shadows creeping behind him, reaching out to tear at his already battered mind. The cold overtook everything.
The walk was nothing more than twenty minutes, even if it felt like hours. Salem wasn't sure he had ever been so pleased to see the vibrant illumination of Mourn's home before. He was let through the gate without a word, although he did hear the whispers fly behind him. Word would spread through the estate in a matter of minutes, less time that it took him to trudge up the long driveway to the house, which was probably why Cicely was at the front door with a blanket before Salem even had chance to raise his hand to knock.
"Do you have a death wish?" Alonzo's coat was peeled off Salem, handed to another maid who skittered away to hang it up. Salem just stood there, dripping on the marble floor. Alonzo hadn't taken the coat for a reason; it was old and worn, holes in places, seams tore through the shoulders. Salem's hoodie was covered in dark patches where the water had seeped through. Cicely looked like she might ask him to strip off there and then, unsure with the blanket in her arms what her next move might be.
"Chi, inform Sir that Salem is here," Cicely delegated beautifully, all whilst ushering Salem into the living room, pushing on his shoulder gently so he sat himself down in front of the fire, "Marabelle, go get some dry clothes and more blankets. Have Riabyr make some tea too," another maid disappeared whilst Salem held out trembling hands to the flames in front of him. His muscles ached from staying in the same position for so long, arms stiff as Salem stretched them out to let the fire warm through to his bones. Cicely draped the blanket over Salem's shoulders, crouching beside him to rub his back and spread the heat.
"I'm glad you're home," was whispered in his ear, the words so quiet Salem had to look at Cicely to be sure she honestly did speak, "I'll make sure you're alone so you can change when Marabelle gets back," despite the distance smile on Cicely's face, there was no sign that she would acknowledge her earlier comment, leaving Salem in quiet contemplation.
He was alone after that, unlacing his sodden shoes and leaving them close to the fire to dry. Marabelle returned with the clothes, setting them down on the couch behind Salem and leaving without a word. It took him a moment to muster the courage to change. He was just getting warm and the thought of taking his clothes off again had shivers racing down his spine. Still, Salem knew it was for the best. He would be much more comfortable in dry clothes than the damp ones clinging to his skin.
With a glance toward the door, Salem took off his sweatpants, slipping into the other pair quickly. They were clearly Mourn's, drowning Salem as he stood there. He sat on the couch, leaning over to roll up the fabric around his ankles so it didn't threaten to trip him up with every step. The waistband was next, folded over twice and tied tight with the little string to prevent the sweatpants from slipping straight off of him. Even then, the fabric still hung off Salem drastically. If he wasn't so painfully cold still, he might have laughed at his own appearance.
There was a soft knock at the door before Salem could even consider taking his shirt off. He didn't need to answer, not before Mourn walked in, concern stricken across his features. Something softened when his eyes met with Salem, something in the very way he held himself, it all relaxed. Mourn wore a suit, like he always did. His sleeves were rolled up, a few buttons undone, giving him a more casual air. Salem offered a pitiful smile, one that became easier to hold when the man moved closer, resting warm hands on the fae's frost-bitten cheeks.
"Migraine?" Salem wasn't sure how Mourn knew that. He nodded along, dumbfounded, wondering if there was some glaringly obvious sign to his condition that his brothers had never told him about over the years. Mourn's hands moved slowly, fingertips resting gingerly on Salem's hearing aids, pausing for a moment. Another nod from Salem gave him the permission he needed to plunge the fae into utter silence. The fingers moved again, grazing down along Salem's ears before pressing into the bone hidden behind the lobes. Salem sagged slightly, hands gripping Mourn's shirt as the pain bled away with every tiny circle that the elf rubbed.
They stayed like that for a moment, Salem's limbs buzzing with a serenity he hadn't felt in centuries. In the end, Salem was entirely leant against Mourn, almost unable to hold himself up with the fog coursing through his mind. Even Naveen's acupuncture treatments were nothing in comparison to Mourn's touch. Salem hadn't even been aware of the pressure points there that were so obviously the cause of his migraines. It made sense, his hearing aids weighed heavy on that part of his ear. Curiosity taking control, Salem moved to pick up the hearing aids where Mourn had left them on the coffee table. Mourn stopped him immediately.
"Keep them off," Mourn signed perfectly. It was a vibrant juxtaposition to the jerky and cluttered way he had signed to Salem before their separation. Of course, the fae just stood there, staring at Mourn with wide and watery eyes. Only his brothers had bothered to learn sign language for him, and they still struggled to this day.
"Do you want me to look away whilst you change? You won't get warm in that hoodie," Mourn was fluent. There was nothing to correct him on, no assumptions Salem had to make because of unclear signs. Mourn signed as though it was his first language. Salem nodded in answer to Mourn's question, not because he felt uncomfortable with the elf watching him but because he needed a moment to gather himself. Changing out of his damp hoodie and into the new one that Marabelle provided was the perfect opportunity. Salem took his time, letting a tear or two fall, before composing himself. When he was good and ready, he tugged on Mourn's sleeve gently.
The man smiled when he faced Salem again, sitting on the couch and patting the space beside him. They ended up laid down, with Mourn behind Salem and their arms both out in front of them. The fresh blankets were tucked around them, fluffy socks on Salem's feet and his hair drying in the warm billow of the fire. Even without the flames, Salem was warm enough now. Mourn was like a furnace behind him. His embrace felt different to the way Salem cuddled with his brothers. Less suffocating, lighter with the reduced muscle. More intimate.
"Your hand," Salem lifted the offending appendage from where it was resting on his chest, examining the fresh bandages still woven around flawless skin. He brushed his thumb over the white covering gingerly, wanting to see what was beneath. Four days now that injury had been there. And that was if Mourn had been honest about it's origin when Salem first asked. Fear fluttered in his stomach, making him swallow instinctively.
"I'll call Uttam tomorrow," Salem wanted to believe that sign, although he found himself second guessing the elf. He could have called before. He didn't have to wait until Salem found out that his healing was so obviously impaired.
"How did it really happen?" There was a brief pause from Mourn, one in which Salem wondered if signing was painful for him. He hadn't shown any sign of it before, although Salem had been entirely awestruck by his fluency of the language that he hadn't really noticed anything else. Perhaps it would be best if he put his hearing aids in again, even if it was just to ensure that Mourn spoke with actual honesty, rather than hiding behind Salem's disability.
"Dealing. I was distracted," the ambiguity had Salem huffing out an impatience breath,"I was thinking about you, I didn't react as quickly as I should have," well that wasn't fair. Salem couldn't be angry with Mourn if he could be linked to the cause of his injury. He tried not to pout, brushing his thumb over Mourn's wrist beneath the lowest of the bandages. At least it was wrapped that better than last time, hopefully that meant someone else was monitoring Mourn's idiocy, rather than letting him run away with it himself.
"When?"
"Nine days ago," sympathies dissipating, Salem peered over his shoulder disapprovingly, finding Mourn looking suitably remorseful, "you don't need to worry, it's probably stress. It's happened before, I just have to kick-start the healing. Uttam will say the same thing," Mourn's lips looked pretty when he spoke. His voice was a precious melody alone but, without it, the instrument was just as beautiful. Salem kicked himself for getting so lost in the peachiness of those lips, in the two perfect rows of teeth hidden behind, in the sharpness of the tongue he had not tasted enough before. Salem sufficed himself with laying down again, unwilling to let Mourn mesmerise him when he was so obviously trying to be angry with him.
"If you don't call him tomorrow, I will," it was more of a threat than a promise, one that Salem intended to keep without a shadow of doubt.
"Promise," Mourn touched Salem's lips with that sign, tempting the fae to bite his fingers as he did so. He settled for cradling the man's hands instead, holding them to his chest and stroking rhythmic little patterns across the one palm that would be able to feel it. They laid there for a short time, basking in the warmth of the fire and the allure of their own little bubble together. Salem almost drifted off to sleep there and then.
"Are you OK?" Mourn freed his hands from Salem's to sign, although that didn't make the fae feel any less secure in his grasp. The fae blinked slowly for a second, dragging himself back from the precipice of slumber that he had been floating towards so happily.
"I wanted to talk," Salem paused, flexing his fingers for a second, unsure if it was truly the best time for them to have that conversation, "is Tehlmar still here?" The last thing Salem wanted was Tehlmar walking into the living room. It was one thing to convince himself he wasn't a homewrecker in theory, to take in what Mourn said and agree that they were both at fault in their affair. It was another to face the man he had once come close to calling a friend then later went on to hurt so brutally. Salem wanted to avoid Tehlmar entirely, even if that made him a coward.
"It's an hour drive to his house, the storm had started before he was due to leave. I said he could stay tonight just to be safe," that was understandable given the state of the roads, Mourn would be putting his staff at risk, not just his husband,"are you angry?" The signs were hesitant that time, although Salem didn't assume it was for Mourn's lack of knowledge.
"It's your house. One night won't do any harm," it wasn't ideal, however, Salem didn't want to cause any conflict that evening. Hopefully, with word having spread through the staff of his unannounced visit, someone would be posted nearby the living room to prevent Tehlmar walking in. It was better that way, less painful for both parties. That was all Salem wanted. Well, not quite...
"I want to be with you," the balance had been tipped already, that ultimate sway arising from the first movement of Mourn's hands, "I want to try... But not at the cost of my family. If you can make them safe, keep them out of your business, that's all I ask," Salem had been a fool to think he could ever ignore his feelings for Mourn. He had been a fool on that very first night they met, on the night Mourn saved his life from Wells, on the night they spent together so recently. Salem was in love. Never a hopeless romantic, but never a pessimist either. Admitting that was something Salem wasn't ready for quite yet. He was happy to just accept it, to understand that what he felt for Mourn was entirely valid.
No matter what the elf had done to hurt him, no matter the poor decisions and cruelty, Salem was in love with Mourn.