Poem of Doubt || Rune + Enoch + Olek || May 20th, 1925
Rune: The sound of his voice had never been sweeter, despite the question that broke his spirit in two. Too much weight behind that question, and while the moment lasted, the ticking horrible seconds before Enoch retreated, Rune savored what he could. The taste of him, his warmth, and every last freckle he could admire. The loving look behind the young mage's eyes, lost in a drowning sea of horror.
Why can't you just look at me with the same adoration knowing I'm real?
That's right. You were using me. I asked for you to use me.
That was shame. That was guilt. Repulsion so extensive as to separate their bodies painfully, breaking their moment of silence with a bitten-back noise. The air was chilly between them, chest and stomach bereft and gooseflesh. Never in his life had he ever hidden his face. Others did it for him. But the urge to hide behind his bonds was great and fought. As were his tears.
He would wake with pools in his eyes. Wiped away in silence, he would stare at the ceiling until the sun was well above the city.
This was the end. He would never see this man again. There was no coming back from that look. Forever burned in his psyche. He needed a drink, or ten.
He hadn't fathomed their ending to be so abrupt. He felt like a broken vase. The sound of that one question, 'What?' haunted his every move, until the first shot of dirty gin reached his lips.
There would be no leaving the pub today. He would keep to his promise of ten, and if his spirit compelled him for more, then more he would have.
Enoch: Enoch couldn’t find sleep after waking up from that. Was it a nightmare or a dream? He couldn’t tell the difference. Raine relished in his discomfort and the turmoil of emotions coursing through him. Anxiety and panic were the company that kept Enoch awake. The dream replayed repeatedly in his mind, each sensual and sweet detail marred by the realization that he hadn't had the privacy he thought he did.
And sitting there, the one thought that he kept circling back to, causing his throat to close up, was—I didn’t get to tell him. That was the source of his shame, the reason he didn’t want to seek out his mentor. But that option had been taken away from them both, and it was his fault. He had given Raine consent to take over.
The collar of his shirt was damp, his face tacky with tears. In a sense, he cried because he was mourning. There was a loss in his heart he couldn’t define but knew was there. A loss of innocence, a loss of friendship, a loss of Rune. He lay in bed, useless to the world, allowing sorrow and pity to overcome him. When the emotions became too strong and half the day had passed, Enoch finally stirred from the nest he had made in his bed. It took all his energy to drag himself to the shower and get dressed with the sole intention of finding the familiar.
Enoch’s eyes were red-rimmed and puffy behind his glasses, his aura at its lowest as he sat on the garden bench. No, Olek wasn't here, and why would he be when he had a family to attend to? The sun provided little comfort, but the warmth was appreciated as he stared at his hands, picking at his cuticles until they bled. He relived each detail of that dream, everything said to one another, each request, the way Rune had looked at him, and how he had run away. He winced as the skin tugged between his fingernails.
Olek: Olek's fingers brushed over his chest, looking up at the man sitting at the table with a cup of espresso and the local newspaper. He then looked behind him, at the adolescent girl in her lacy blue dress conversing with the maid Sara. Neither master nor little mistress were in peril, so what was this unpleasant feeling?
Ignacio glanced from behind his newspaper, sniffed and turned the page.
A kiss was placed atop Olivia's head as he passed. There would be no fleeing in feline form today. A walk in human form was in order. Straight to the nearby park, toward the garden bench where Enoch ate his lunches. It was far too late in the day, but even still...
His reason for concern sat quietly, exactly where he shouldn't have been at this hour. He wished he had been wrong; if only to dissolve his apprehension, but those were the eyes of sorrow, and without a verbal greeting, the familiar took a seat beside his quasi-master.
"Tell me," he said, gently.
Enoch: He couldn’t bring himself to look at Olek directly, his eyes fixed on the ground, tracing the patterns of fallen leaves and the cracks in the pavement.
Tell me.
Enoch took a shaky breath, his fingers trembling as he continued to pick at his cuticles, ignoring the sting of pain. “Olek…I…I messed up. I messed up so badly.” His voice was barely above a whisper, thick with emotion. “Th-there was this dream. I-I thought nothing of it but I was in a shared dream with Rune. It was… intimate. Too intimate—something to work out of my system, surely. And then I realized…” He choked on his words, tears welling up in his eyes. “I realized it was real. That he was really there with me.”
He ran a hand through his hair, gripping it tightly as if it could anchor him to the present. “Raine… Raine was enjoying it, enjoying my discomfort, my… my shame. I gave him control, Olek. I let him take over, and I—” His voice broke, and he bit down on his lip to stop himself from sobbing. “I ran. I panicked and ran away from him. I left him there. Oh gods, what must he think of me now?”
He buried his face in his hands, the weight of his actions pressing down on him like a leaden cloak. “What have I done? I-I can’t face him again. I’ve ruined everything.”
Olek: Olek watched this man he so wished was his master, hanging on to every word, and any word that might save him a fallen tear. When he looked away, it was only to see the concerned face of a little boy, seeing a man weep for the first time in his young life. The familiar smiled gently and raised his hand. Emotion such as this was nothing to be ashamed of. Neither Enoch nor the little boy should fear it.
"Walk with me," he whispered, hand offered as he stood. Any little touch was valuable, not only in aiding his dear friend but in gauging his mind and body with the most basic magic.
Only a few feet between the bench and trio of young trees before he came to a stop. Breathing in slowly, hands together, up, his right hand swiped outward, ending at his hip with a snap of his fingers.
"We look like two people having a conversation. No one can really hear or see us. Promise promise."
Enoch: Enoch wiped at his tears, his movements slow and deliberate, feeling the weight of Olek's gaze and the innocent curiosity of the little boy. The shame and embarrassment of being seen in such a state tugged at him, but he couldn’t find the strength to mask his emotions.
When Olek stood and offered his hand, Enoch hesitated for a moment before taking it, feeling the familiar's warmth seep into his trembling fingers. The gentle reassurance in Olek’s touch was a balm to his frayed nerves. He stood up, his legs feeling unsteady, and followed the other a few feet away to the trees. The scholar gave a muted nod in understanding. His chest felt tight, words trapped in his throat, yet he couldn’t bring himself to say more than what he had already shared.
Olek: The silence went unjudged. It was privacy Olek had intended. Having Enoch elaborate his woes in the middle of the park sans concealment seemed like cruel and unusual punishment.
"May I?" His hand hovered near his cheek, ready to clean up his face with gentle affection.
"Enoch... said... shared? Enoch says shared dream, meaning... he dreamed of you, too."
But, it was Raine his thoughts circled back to. Never had he disliked an avatar before.
"Why did you give him control?"
Enoch: Enoch wasn't thinking about anyone else in the park, he thought his voice had been too soft to be picked up by passersby. But he’d let Olek's touch reach his face to wipe away the lingering tears, even allowing himself to lean into it the smallest amount. The gesture was comforting, grounding him in the present moment, even as his mind raced.
But the familiar’s words echoed in his thoughts, sinking in deeper than he initially realized.
Shared dream.
Rune had dreamed of him, too. The revelation was startling, adding another layer to the already complex emotions roiling within him. He had been so consumed by his own actions, his own mistakes, that he hadn't considered the implications of Rune's presence in the dream.
As to why he let Raine take control...
Enoch hesitated, his eyes reflecting the internal struggle he faced. He looked down, fingers absently picking at one another again. It was difficult to put into words, but he owed Olek some form of explanation.
"Raine... he makes up for my weaknesses," Enoch finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "My lack of confidence, my fears... he’s everything I’m not. And sometimes... it’s easier to let him take over. To let him handle things I can't."
He paused, swallowing hard, feeling the weight of his confession. "But this time... I didn’t think it through. I didn’t realize..."
Enoch's gaze remained downcast.
Olek: Olek could only nod. He had never shared a dream before. Not that he could remember. Shared thoughts, of course. He and his masters were bound so deeply as to never speak a word in each other's presence if they desired. But, the Dreaming was a part of the Umbra, and he could not trespass.
And neither did he have an avatar. Many a mage had run the gamut of explanations, including one plausibility, that familiars were living breathing avatars, but Olek never thought much of the theory.
"Be inspired by him, yes, but never surrender who you are."
Enoch's hands were taken without request, brought near his face to study the little wounds around his fingernails. His thumb gently circled each one, cooling and healing without a word.
"Who you are is good. Who you are... isn't that why he dreamed of you? He didn't dream of Raine, he dreamed... of you."
Enoch: Enoch felt the weight of embarrassment settling in his chest, the more they talked, the more exposed he felt. Olek's words were like gentle nudges, encouraging him to see beyond his immediate turmoil, but it was hard to process. He allowed his hands to be taken, the cool sensation brought a momentary relief. Enoch's grip tightened slightly in silent acknowledgment.
His lower lip was caught between his teeth, nodding, his gaze fixated on their joined hands. The words were wise, but they felt distant, like a truth he couldn't fully grasp in his current state. How could he be himself when he felt so inadequate, so overshadowed by Raine?
He dreamed of you.
The statement struck a chord, causing a flutter of something indescribable in his chest. But it also intensified his confusion.
His voice, already soft, grew quieter. "I don't even know how it happened. For all I know, I pulled him into it." He swallowed hard, the taste of regret bitter on his tongue.
Olek: The familiar's smile was as gentle as his voice. This was a conversation worth its weight in feathers. He wanted to be delicate with this creature. He was a mage deserving of love, patience, and aid. If only he could summon him a familiar of his own.
But there was something else in his chest. Something he could not put into words. He had to tell him, sooner rather than later...
"Even if you had, did he say no? Did he tell you he wanted to leave?" From the sound of things, it didn't seem that way.
"You're being silly. Silly Enoch." A kiss between his eyes would make things better.
"Master Ignacio is ready to go home. We leave in three days."
Enoch: Enoch's face turned up towards him, eyes closing under the kiss. He leaned against the familiar, seeking comfort in his presence. But then, Olek's words registered. A pang of sadness pierced through the scholar's chest. His arms instinctively wrapped around the taller, fingers clutching tightly to his shirt. The young mage held on as if letting go would mean losing the last bit of stability he had. He'd be losing his friend. He'd be losing Olek and that hurt as well.
Enoch wanted to be selfish, to ask him to stay, to be the support he so desperately needed. The words almost formed on his lips, but guilt held them back. He knew it wasn't fair to ask that of him.
"Tell him you can’t," he murmured, the sadness evident in his voice. He knew it couldn't be that way, but voicing his wish made the reality even more painful.
Olek: The arms around his shoulders were swiftly accommodated, leaning his weight against the tree to hunch over. This was what he had dreaded, and why he had announced today rather than avoiding the conversation until the day of and abandoning him.
"I'm not far." The lightness of his tone, one might even believe him. "Olek will give you letters. Lots of letters. Every day if you want until next spring."
When he leaned away, it was only far enough to lift Enoch's chin. "Next spring. I promise."
Enoch: Enoch nodded slowly, even though his heart ached at the thought of Olek being gone for so long. A year felt like an eternity for someone he had bonded with so quickly and deeply. He understood, but it didn't make the prospect any easier to bear.
When his chin was lifted, Enoch looked up, his eyes meeting the familiar's with a mixture of sadness and acceptance. He held on tighter, the thought of losing this comforting presence overwhelming him again. The promise of letters was a small solace, but it wouldn't fill the Olek-shaped hole he was about to leave. Tonight would be a good night to drink.
“Next spring,” he agreed hollowly.
Olek: Not his master. Enoch didn't dream of him. The void Enoch felt was shared for different reasons. Had he not wept for his mentor, had Raine not interfered with a beautiful dream, would he have leaned down to kiss this man?
He would never know, and neither would Enoch. To act on any such impulse was wrong, and if he really, really tried, would soon be forgotten.
"Olek will stay with Enoch for three days. Yes? Would Enoch like? I'll watch over you."
Enoch: Fingers curled against the back of the familiar’s neck, his chin still trapped by that gentle touch, forced to look up. Soon enough, his hands moved to cradle either side of Olek’s face, pulling him down. Much like that day in the piano room, Enoch leaned forward to press his forehead against his, eyes closing as tears threatened to spill over.
As he considered the offer, he hesitated for a moment, thinking about Ignacio and the family the familiar served. Would it be okay for him to be gone for that long? Ultimately, the desire for Olek's company won out. Enoch nodded, this time with a bit more certainty.
"Yes, I would like that.”
Having Olek with him for the next three days would make their parting even harder, but right now, he needed this.
Olek: Gentle was a word often in the back of Olek's mind in Enoch's presence. Gentle, be careful, treat him well. There again, forehead to forehead, the warning resonated through him.
At last, he relinquished his chin. Arms wrapped around his waist, nearly lifting the mage to his toes simply by straightening. What a sight they were, and no one could see.
"So, what is Enoch going to do?" he finally asked, leaning away for Enoch to stand on his own two feet again. This wouldn't last, of course, but surely the mage needed to breathe.
Enoch: Enoch's arms found themselves wrapped around the taller's neck as he was surprised by being nearly lifted, but the unexpected gesture finally earned Olek a very small smile. As the man leaned away, letting the scholar stand, his hold on the familiar gradually loosened before his hands were back at his side.
Taking a deep breath, he replied softly, “I think... dinner sounds good. And a bottle of whatever is strongest from the local shop. You'll join me, yes?” He glanced up, the small smile still lingering despite the weight of his thoughts. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Olek: "Enoch wants Olek to drink?" Despite his kind smile, humor blatantly behind his eyes, he was shaking his head.
"I don't think you should be drinking," he whispered. "But, if Enoch needs it, Olek will drink."
The area around them was observed, waving his hand slowly from one side of their bodies to the other, snapping his fingers once more to break the spell.
One last brush of his thumb over Enoch's cheek.
"You'll be right as rain in no time, Master Enoch."
Enoch: Enoch took a deep breath. In this state, he wasn’t thinking clearly, but when questioned, it made him reconsider, and he shook his head.
"You don’t need to, but I…" he trailed off, the words heavy in his throat.
He wanted to forget everything. Correction—not everything, but just enough to take a reprieve from what had happened. His heart hurt, everything felt heavy, and he felt fragile. One wrong gust of wind, and he would be a heap on the floor.
"I need it."
As Olek's thumb brushed gently over his cheek, wiping away the remnants of the last few tears he shed, Enoch’s gaze was back on the ground.
"Thank you, Mr. Bijin.”
Olek: If only he belonged to him, he could refuse him. Place his hand over his heart and tell him not to drink away his unfortunate sorrows. This was a misunderstanding, surely. There was no greater wisdom he could give than facts. Rune has dreamed of him, too. Whether he chose to acknowledge how that made him feel was irrelevant. Enoch wept unnecessarily. For Raine? Perhaps that. He should have never relinquished himself. For that, he would certainly scold again before long.
But in the meantime, he would put space between them. Appearances. The very essence of Enoch's anxiety. If he might alleviate just one aspect.
They could walk and talk, and take the most scenic route.
"What does Enoch mean? Where is your name from?"
Enoch: Enoch walked beside Olek, his steps slow and measured. The cool evening air and the rhythmic crunch of gravel beneath their feet were calming. He appreciated the familiar's company, knowing that without it, he would likely be holed up in his room.
He mulled over the question, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. “My name, it’s of Hebrew origin,” he began, his voice hollow and detached. “It means ‘dedicated’, ‘trained' or 'disciplined.’"
He paused, his demeanor seeming to shift. “I guess my parents wanted a child who wouldn’t make a fuss, always obedient. Looks like they got their wish—"
He let the words hang in the air, feeling the weight of them. There was a bitter truth in them, a resigned acceptance of the cycles he found himself trapped in time and time again.
The quiet between them was not uncomfortable but contemplative, the kind that allowed thoughts to settle and emotions to find their place. After a moment, he glanced sideways at Olek.
“Do you ever wonder if the roles we’re given are the ones we’re meant to escape from, or if we’re just destined to live them out?”
Olek: Obedient certainly. Dedicated. Trained. The words fit the man like a puzzle piece without seeing the entirety. But there was something beneath his compliance. Something begging, crying out for release. Such feelings resurfaced again and again. Always with the subject of magic.
"Humans are... funny. Having a role is an honor. Being a mother, a father, a teacher, an avid student." His hand caged over his heart, as times before. "Olek was born a familiar. Olek would die for his master."
It seemed the simple act of looking up was enough to offend some vertically challenged Londoners. Today, they were paid no mind.
"I don't want to escape what I am, but I'm not Enoch. What is Enoch running from?"
Enoch: Enoch's steps slowed, the crunch of gravel beneath their feet fading into the background as he considered Olek's words.
He glanced over, taking in the sight of the familiar’s hand over his heart. A small sigh escaped his lips as he looked ahead, eyes tracing the path they walked as if the answer lay somewhere in the distance.
"My grandfather, my mentors, even Raine—they've all had a hand in shaping who I am. And I’ve always tried to live up to their expectations."
He paused, a faint, humorless smile curving his lips.
"Maybe I’m running from the idea that I’ll never be more than what others want me to be."
More silence was exchanged between them as they continued to walk.
"Yes, Olek was born a familiar, but isn't there more to you than that? Don't you have your own wants and needs that are separate from the role you were given? There's more to you than just a title."
Olek: "Mm. I know a quote! From John... John something. 'No man is an island entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.'"
A glance, to gauge Enoch's understanding.
"Everyone you meet, every man, every woman, little children, no one is an island. It's impossible! But you are a house, and you choose what you let in. You care so much. Maybe too much?"
His tone had remained light despite the subject matter. His hands were hidden behind his back, smiling softly to those willing to make eye contact.
"Olek loves poetry and art, music, laughter. These are mine. If you want me to feel what you feel, I will. I'll hold it to my heart because it's you. I will love you no matter what, but, I'm happy in my skin."
Enoch: “John Donne?” he ventured quietly, his hands sliding into his pockets as his eyes fixed on the sidewalk ahead.
He understood and didn't, mainly because the concept of choosing who to let into his life was foreign to him. He had always been conditioned to accept anyone and everyone, it was rude otherwise.
“No, I wouldn’t want to burden you with any of that,” he finally said, his gaze flickering up to meet the other’s before focusing back on the ground.
Olek: "Enoch, Olek has never said you're a burden. Not once. Not a whisper!" But, perhaps that denial was a start! He would take that and smile.
"Let's have tea today! And cakes! Sandwiches? Miss Olivia loves the... cucumber? and butter? Is that it?"
Enoch: "Tea sounds lovely.
"And do you mean cucumber and cream cheese?" he gently asked.
A small, grateful smile touched his lips, realizing something in the unspoken words from the familiar. Yet despite this, he knew he needed to make a stop; some things don’t wash away easily, and his emotions were too persistent to be ignored.
With that, his steps guided them out of the garden and towards the busier city streets.
Olek: If only they were bonded. He would lament in the quiet of night, moonbathing on the windowsill of Olivia's bedroom. Some day he would realize his mistake. There weren't many. Each one was a book wrapped in twine, waiting to be analyzed and understood.
He wanted so much to help.
"Do you like them? Can we have them?" A better question than 'where are we going' as that question would answer itself.
Enoch: How different Enoch’s life would have been if a familiar had graced him earlier. If Olek had found him sooner. But these thoughts were neither here nor there as they strolled the sidewalks of London. They were exactly where they were meant to be.
"I think they're light and refreshing. We can stop by the tea shop."
Olek had won for now.
If they had been in more private quarters, Enoch might have cupped Olek's chin affectionately. But the professor refrained from showing such familiarity out in public, though the thought lingered.
“Not in the mood for fish?”
Olek: Ah! Their scenic route towards hard liquor was met with a small noise of delight, bouncing up on his toes with the brightest sunshine grin.
He would have loved so much to have Enoch's affection, and one day, one raindrop day, he would wonder if this man lived with regret. Regret for the things that truly mattered. The extra second of embrace. The cupped chin. The sweet kiss between the eyes. One more loving smile and one more word of encouragement.
He would one day treasure that which was lost in equal value to what was given. Those absences were felt despite their limitations.
"Olek always wants fish," he whispered, playing along with Enoch's decorum. "But Olek wants tea and sandies, too."
Enoch: In the quiet, alone with his thoughts, there were many things that Enoch lived with. Regret was one of them. It was the fuel he needed for his compositions, his melodies that wove and flowed through his fingertips.
He could draw, he could write, but music seemed to catch the melancholic feelings and reflect them with such ease with every note he played on the ivory keys. And in this way, Olek had heard the professor’s heart.
Blue eyes lifted to watch the familiar rock up to his toes with an excitement that amused him.
As they walked, Enoch's thoughts drifted back to a conversation in the piano room, something that had stuck with him ever since Olek had run away that night. “Did we ever get it right, by the way? Did we eat fish when it felt like we should?”
The question hung in the air, and soon they approached the teashop, Wynnsome. A quaint establishment greeted them with the warm scent of pastries and sweets as the door swung open, the bell above announcing their arrival. The cozy interior, with its mismatched chairs and tables, was a quiet haven from the bustling city outside.
Olek: "Did what happen, happen the way it was supposed to happen?" His smile was hardly restrained. He wondered why Enoch was bringing it up now, but with everything that had just happened to his sweet mage, he really needn't wonder. Trauma, however small or misinterpreted, would lay the foundation to question everything one had ever known.
"We're here. It's a beautiful day. We're healthy. The world isn't lost, and neither is Enoch. Que será, será."
And then he remembered Enoch didn't know a lick of Spanish. "What will be, will be."
Enoch: Enoch managed a small, strained smile as he settled into his seat at the café, the aroma of freshly brewed tea and sandwiches barely registering in his distracted state. Olek’s words, though well-meaning, felt distant.
"I suppose," he said softly. The phrase felt heavy on his tongue.
When the server came around, he ordered an Earl Grey with milk and honey, and a dash of lemon. Though he wasn’t in the mood for much else, the promise of sticky toffee pudding won him over—two slices, in fact.
“So, what will you do once you’re back in Spain?”
Olek: The chair and table felt fit for a child with Olek's tall and wide frame. The tea cups were going to be ridiculous, but he ordered the same, trusting Enoch's tastebuds to not lead him astray.
"You suppose," he mused, brushing a crumb from the table. "In Spain, we will work on spells, on perfumes. Olivia will learn science and music, like you, grow bigger, stronger. Master Ignacio will try to find her a mother figure. I will read to Olivia in any language she wants, I will tell her stories, and the first day of spring we will be back here."
Enoch: “That sounds… nice.”
He stirred his tea absentmindedly, the spoon clinking against the cup. But he could hear his own voice, wincing at its detachment.
Let’s try that again.
“Was the gentlelady not smitten with Master Ignacio?”
He wondered if the older mage settling down might mean fewer visits to London and an end to the friendship the scholar had with his familiar–a fleeting selfish thought he quickly pushed aside.
Enoch finally took a sip, glancing over the edge of his cup to take in just how out of place Olek looked. Was he even comfortable? Finally, a smile broke through as he nudged the second pudding plate toward the other.
“How do you not hit your knees on everything?”
Olek: Olek's teeth gently scraped his bottom lip, staring at the ceiling as he considered the woman in question. He recalled her demure nature, her gentle eyes, and sighed.
"She wants a gentle man. A gentleman yes, but a gentle man. Soft-spoken. Sweet. My master," a word spoken privately in hushed tones, "he's... assertive. Not a good match."
So, for now, Enoch could rest easy.
The sticky treat was poked with a fork. His smile returned in time with the man across the table.
"I hit my head. All the time. Being a cat is easier."
Enoch: As the server passed by, Enoch stopped them to order the sandwiches that had initially been suggested.
“That, he most certainly was,” he said quietly, turning his attention back to the familiar.
Enoch remembered his encounter with the man, and his mind flickered back to that night—Raine’s presence looming in his thoughts. The truth of the avatar had been unsettling, but from Ignacio’s words, Enoch had forced the pieces to fit, convincing himself that the avatar’s oddities were nothing more than quirks of nature.
So, he didn’t speak of it again.
He glanced at Olek, noting his posture. “It sounds like you would have been a better match then,” Enoch said lightly, cutting into the treat before him. The sweetness was a brief distraction from what he left unsaid.
Olek: The familiar tilted his head. "With - With her?" His head was thrown back with laughter, too warm and bubbly despite their setting; there were eyes on them now. Mostly women. That sound was too rich and honest.
"Can Olek ask Enoch something?"
Enoch: The sudden laughter caught him by surprise, the fork trapped between his teeth as he watched Olek with a slight grin.
“Given what she was looking for, yes!” the professor said as his voice lowered, becoming aware of the other sets of eyes on them now.
“Of course. Ask away.”
Olek: Noting Enoch's lower voice, Olek leaned forward, arms folded on the table.
"Being sad feels comfortable to Enoch? Like... a warm blanket?"
Enoch: Dark brows furrowed behind those round glasses, his eyes searching Olek’s.
“I don’t relish it, but it feels…familiar. Why?”
Olek: His sigh was gentle and quiet.
"You're afraid to think he was happy? In the dream."
Enoch: Enoch echoed with his own sigh, his gaze falling to the teacup as he adjusted his glasses and leaned back.
“That wasn’t…happiness.”
Olek: "Why wasn't it happiness?"
Enoch: “Because it wasn’t real.”
It wasn’t real.
His voice wavered, and he swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the ache in his chest.
Olek: The familiar was shaking his head. He reached for Enoch's hand, only to stop himself. Right. Appearances.
"This is foolish. You need to see him."
Enoch: “No, no. I’m not…I’m not going to see him.”
The feeling of escaping the conversation was overwhelming, but the server luckily returned with the sandwiches. Enoch’s appetite had all but vanished as he stared at the food.
Olek: "I have never wanted to paw you as much as I do at this moment." But there was no bite behind his words. Lovingly frustrated, but circumstances didn't permit him to push. Enoch was not his master, as much as he had to remind himself.
To repeat 'he dreamed of you' felt redundant, but it was on the tip of his tongue; he just couldn't sing the same song and expect a different tune.
"Come on. We're taking these to the park."
Enoch: Enoch took a deep breath, pushing down the emotions that threatened to rise, not here, not now.
“Alright,” he agreed, though the idea of returning to the park didn’t sit well with him. He finished his tea, already considering the alternative of retreating to his apartment instead.
Once their things were packed up and paid for, Enoch stood, leading the way out of the café.
As they stepped into the open air, he finally voiced the thought lingering in his mind, “What would I even say?”
Olek: As soon as sunlight peeked through the London clouds the familiar was tilting his head back, absorbing the sun like a flower.
"You start with hello." It sounded silly because it was. The point was not to overthink.
"Then you ask him if he remembers his dream. He will guide Enoch from there. Don't you think?"
Enoch: If Enoch wasn't carrying the food, his hands would have been buried deep in his pockets. He glanced up at the taller, a small pang of envy tugging at him, wishing he had just a fraction of the familiar’s effortless confidence.
I'll lend you mine.
Enoch gave a subtle shake of his head to dismiss the voice.
“I’d rather not think,” he replied, his tone resigned.
His gaze drifted ahead, spotting the shoppe he knew sold brandy by the bottle. The thought of it was more comforting than the conversation they were having, and he silently resolved to find himself at the bottom of one by night’s end.
Olek: "Then don't think. Still start with hello because that's polite. Enoch doesn't hate him. Of course not. Just say hello and wait."
His shoulder bumped the mage's. "You don't want to think but you are. You're thinking the absolute worst and I promise you, I promise it's not the end. Trust Olek. As though - As though I belonged to you."
Enoch: Enoch trudged along beside Olek, a brewing stormcloud next to the tall sunflower of a man. Lost in his thoughts, he was only pulled out by the familiar's gentle shoulder bump.
He sighed, glancing up at the man, ready to argue, but the words caught in his throat.
As though I belonged to you.
The phrase struck a chord, reminding him that even if they weren’t master and familiar, they still belonged to each other.
For the second time today, Olek had won.
“Okay... I’ll say hello,” the young mage conceded, his shoulders sagging.
“But not today. Today... I need to be sad. I need to hur-.”
He stopped short, his words were softer, almost a confession as if he felt he deserved this misery.
Olek: The familiar nearly gasped. Nearly bounced on his heels. Nearly beamed as bright as a sunrise. But that was all too much! He bit his lip instead, biting back his smile, and only skipped once. Surely all of that would go unnoticed!
But then, Enoch continued, and his smile lessened, then disappeared altogether.
"Mm."
But he didn't understand, and he wanted to understand. This subject had already been touched once. It was no secret.
"Why do you want pain? Are you a -" What was the word? "-a masochist?"
Enoch: Enoch couldn't help but notice the flicker of energy within Olek, even as the familiar tried to temper it. But the brightness that had nearly burst forth was quickly dimmed as he continued talking, and seeing Olek's smile fade made his chest ache.
But before he could find a way to bring that light back, the question made him blink in surprise.
Masochist?
“Ah—” Enoch stammered, quickly shaking his head. “N-no, it’s… it’s not like that.”
He tightened his grip on the paper bag, the crinkling sound cutting through the quiet of the street. He chewed his lip, struggling to find the words.
“It’s how I know when I’m happy, it’s real.”
He sighed, his gaze dropping to the ground as he tried to make sense of his own thoughts.
“Happiness doesn’t exist without sadness. If everything is good… how would I know it’s good without the experience of something bad to compare it to?”
He glanced at Olek, hoping this made sense.
Olek: "Of course it doesn't." He would never tell him otherwise, nor anyone else. After what he had lived through, he couldn't. But that was a story Enoch already knew, and he wouldn't tell him again.
"Happiness is a moment. They're all moments. Some moments we look back on fondly. But others... you don't sit in them. They're fetid water."
Gently, their shoulders collided. His smile was as gentle as his voice. "Your fingers will get pruney!"
Enoch: Moments. Everything was a moment.
Good. Bad. Uncomfortable.
They all passed, eventually. Yet right now, it felt so immediate, so raw, like a thorn lodged in his chest, aching with every breath. And somewhere, in the recesses of his mind, a voice whispered that he deserved it. Was it his voice or Raine’s? Did it even matter?
The gentle nudge against his shoulder pulled him from his thoughts, grounding him in the present. Enoch’s gaze lifted from the pavement, focusing on the familiar beside him.
He was fine. They were fine. They would be fine.
The self-soothing mantra played on repeat in his mind as he inhaled deeply, forcing a shift in perspective. He looked at the familiar, trying to be here, now, in this moment, with him.
“Thank you.”
Olek: He didn't want a thank you. What he wanted was sincerity. Wanted so much for Enoch to feel at peace with himself and what had happened. None of this he could force upon him. Not entirely true, but there were some spells not worth touching.
"Don't thank Olek. Olek doesn't want Enoch to feel heavy and drown."
But, were they still going to the park? They had already reached the edge of greenery. There was nothing better for ailments than nature, but he was incredibly biased.
"Would you like to go home? Olek can watch over Enoch. Proper sleep..."
Enoch: Drown.
The irony wasn’t lost on him. The memory of that night, the night he was awakened, lingered just beneath the surface, like a shadow in the water. That feeling of being pulled under, unable to breathe, was far too familiar. It was how he felt now, trapped in his mind with his thoughts.
His hand drifted to his brow, itching at the skin as he considered the offer of sleep. Proper sleep sounded like a distant memory, something elusive and almost foreign. But there was fear too—fear of what sleep might bring, fear of falling into another dream where he might lose himself again.
“Can you make it so that I don’t dream?” The words slipped out before he could fully grasp them. He hesitated, knowing how it sounded.
“At least for tonight?”
Olek: Olek bit the flesh of his plump lip and considered the request. Humans needed dreams. Ki and Ignacio had been obsessed with them. But, if it was just one night...
The familiar nodded.
"Master is excellent with mind magic, but, I know something." A spell Ignacio had been working on since the death of his wife. He could wonder about the validity of coincidence and fate later.
"To home?"
Enoch: Enoch mutely nodded. ‘To home’ sounded like a good idea after getting the reassurance that something would be done. The idea of Rune invading his dreams again twisted his stomach. It seemed like the type of sick amusement Raine relished in watching the young mage struggle.
The walk back was quiet, each step a silent conversation between them. The young mage shifted his bag now and then, the occasional rustle the only sound breaking the stillness.
When they finally reached his flat, he set his things aside, appreciating the comforting familiarity of the space around him.
“Would you like tea?”
Olek: Olek joined in the silence only to appease the man beside him. Still not a proper Englishman, not even a temporary one, he walked with his fingers laced behind his head, staring at the sky and the occasional broken bit of cement.
The flat would never be as cozy as an open field, but, it would suffice.
"Yes! Olek needs tea for his spell."
Enoch: A kettle would be set to boil in response. Enoch undid his cuffs and loosened his bowtie as he walked back to his room, eyeing the unmade bed with quiet reluctance. Hopefully, that’s where Olek’s magic would come into play.
Back in the small kitchen, Enoch prepared two cups of herbal tea. He handed one to Olek as he found himself hovering by the window, watching the cars pass by as he gazed out over the city.
“Tell me about the spell.”
Olek: Olek shrugged his massive coat from his shoulders, letting it crumple where it fell. He was still, breathing slow and shallow, head slowly tilting as he felt... something. A sensation like static on his arms.
He followed the awkward feeling across the room, hand stretched forth like an antenna.
"You know a sleep spell? Since when?"
The familiar lowered to his knees, hunched over to peer under the bed.
"Oh!" he exclaimed. A word muttered in Japanese as he straightened, hair now in his eyes. "Do you have a piece of chalk?"
Enoch: Enoch followed Olek, his gaze momentarily drifting to the coat crumpled on the floor—he’d pick it up later.
“Ah, not me.”
With tea in hand, he trailed after the familiar like a small shadow, peering around his shoulder as they moved back into his bedroom. Watching as he got down to investigate under his bed, Enoch’s mind flickered back to that day the sigil was drawn—eight months ago. It felt like a lifetime, yet not long at all.
A moment he gestured with a finger, briefly disappearing, returning with the chalk in hand.
“Here,” he offered, resisting the urge to brush the hair from Olek’s eyes, instead curling his fingers around the warmth of his mug.
"Is something wrong?"
Olek: Not him, he said. So, that must mean his mentor, which meant a point in his favor.
"Mmmmm no. It's faded! Can't have that!" Olek wriggled underneath the bed, legs peeking out from the other side.
"Something must have fallen under here." An observation muffled from the depths. "A piece has been smudged, too."
Soon his head popped from under, now on his back, hands on his chest. "You'll sleep better, now. Promise promise."
Enoch: Enoch leaned against the doorway, sipping his tea as he watched Olek disappear halfway under the bed. A faint smile on his lips as the heard he soft taps of chalk hit the wooden floor.
“Oh?”
Setting his cup aside, the young mage joined Olek, crouching down to inspect the situation. That would explain why his dreams had come back with a vengeance.
“Thank you. I don’t know much about the spell, aside from how it’s drawn.” Not much of the spell had been explained that night since Rune had been so set to get his apprentice to sleep.
Olek: "Oh, so, you've been under here?" he grinned. "It's cozy." He could see himself as a cat sleeping underneath. Vigilant and watchful, should Enoch ever have a guest. His mentor, perhaps. What better way to observe the man's perception.
"Do you want me to explain?"
Enoch: “A few times when cleaning,” he admitted with a sheepish smile—a hint as to how the sigil may have gotten disturbed.
Enoch sat back on his heels, hands on his thighs, nodding. By now, Olek would have noticed that Enoch’s interest always lay in the mechanics of things, especially when it came to spells.
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
Olek: "Mm. Come." To that he rolled onto his stomach and back under the bed. A small orb of warm light hovered beside his hand by the time Enoch joined him.
"Circles are universal for magic. It encases desires, equations, and the meaningful words needed to activate spells." One of the sigils was traced with the chalk. "Spells can be spoken and written in any language, but has your mentor explained they are potent when cast in their origin language? This one is Elder Futhark."
Olek admired the markings. "Bones, blood, reflection, writing, and singing are the oldest methods of magic to exist."
Enoch: Enoch was scooting under the bed, shoulder to shoulder with the familiar. There was something almost playful about it, like sharing secrets in a fort as a child. The thought made him smile before his attention shifted back to the circle.
“Ah, he may have mentioned something like that before. I’ve read about it too. Ancient languages carry a certain… weight.” His eyes followed the chalk tracing of the sigil, noting the intricate details.
“The first spell I learned was a sea shanty to stay warm.”
Swedish, if he remembered correctly.
Olek: "That's right. A spell can't be as potent in a new language as it would be in Sumerian. It never will be. It doesn't have the weight of time."
Olek tapped the chalk over a marking.
"This language has over a millennium of potency."
His smile was illuminated by the dancing ball of light. "See? Singing! Do you know what came after singing spells? Dancing. You would think dancing came first, wouldn't you? I do."
The chalk was placed on the floor, hands folded to rest his chin as he admired the spell.
"My first spell was music."
Enoch: “I didn't think magic would be so… performative.”
His gaze drifted between the ball of light and Olek. The idea of spellwork tied to singing and dancing felt foreign to him, too outward, too expressive. Aside from playing the piano, most of his creative outlets were more introspective—his sketching, his writing.
A hint of uncertainty crept into his thoughts. If magic truly demanded such outward expression, he wondered where his own abilities fit into that framework. The doubt lingered.
“What was the spell for?”
Olek: "You didn't? Think about when man created fire. Celebrations. You dance to celebrate life when a baby is born, when an elder dies we celebrate their life. We dance to honor gods and seasons. Dance has purpose and so much magic."
Noticing Enoch noticing him, his attention returned to the mage. That hesitation was no surprise.
"Some people dance. Others paint hand prints and animals on cave walls with hematite and soot."
Don't be hesitant. You're beautiful.
"My mistress wanted the clouds to thicken. Her garden was getting too much sun, and her birds too hot and distressed. We hummed, and she would sing to the sky. I remember it perfectly."
Enoch: It made sense—of course, it made sense. He had read about the connection between ritual and magic, between the body and spellwork, but reading and doing were worlds apart.
Enoch nodded slowly, blond hair falling slightly into his eyes. He listened, his gaze softening as Olek recalled the memory. It was… idyllic, a moment steeped in care, and as much as he wanted to say it sounded lovely, the words caught in his throat. Instead, his eyes flickered back to the seal beneath his bed
His mind drifted, and the familiar weight of doubt pressed in again. How could he compare to those who seemed to conjure magic with ease, with joy? It had to be a curse—that’s what it was, a curse that plagued him from his avatar to everything that had happened since.
“A beautiful memory to have,” his voice a touch quieter than before as he slowly shifted away from beneath the bed. The young mage’s back rested against the bed frame, the cool porcelain of his teacup clutched between his fingers, though he wished it held something stronger.
“Perhaps… rest is in order.”
It had been a long day, after all.
Olek: He would not reach for him, wouldn't pull him back into the dimly lit privacy they had just because he wanted it. But he did... want it. More than his nearness, he wanted to understand what plagued the sweet mage's mind.
But he wouldn't dare wish for it, knowing what would happen if he did.
Slowly, the familiar crawled halfway out, stretching his long arms with a yawn. A cat indeed.
"We can sleep together." Ah, he smiled, hiding his smile in his crossing arms. No, not like that. "If you want someone to hold, or pet. Olek can be a cat." Your cat. Just for you.
He watched him again, hunting in the lines and valleys of his expression for the answer.
"I'll stay awake. Watch over you. Promise."
Enoch: Today had been an emotional whirlwind for the young professor, mostly lows until the familiar’s presence had gently steered him away from drowning his sorrows at the bottom of a bottle. That meant he was forced to face his feelings, instead of dulling them out. It was exhausting. He felt them ebb and flow—waves of sadness, doubt, and frustration—momentarily interrupted by brief moments of distraction from Olek.
Enoch stared at his tepid tea, lifting the cup to his lips for a sip. Blue eyes flicked to the familiar, initially startled by the offer but quickly understanding the unspoken meaning. He didn’t need more details. Numbly, he nodded, accepting.
“You deserve rest, too,” was his reply, a gentle complaint as he finished the last of his tea. Slowly, he stood, already feeling the weight of exhaustion in his limbs as he gathered his clothes, intending to wash up and change.
Maybe, with Olek close by, he could finally sleep.
Olek: "Maybe after I watch over you. Olek wants to know you're sleeping well."
He would know whether his avatar desired him to or not, and had the power to force consciousness whether permitted or not. Knowing Enoch had relinquished his will was still cause for concern. What should have been a romantic and unforgettable moment between two lovers had been sullied.
He would not say beyond repair.
"Out of these shoes! Your vest. Get comfortable, please."
Enoch: Olek was met with a long, searching stare as if Enoch was carefully weighing the offer.
“Promise?”
His attention shifted to his clothes as he was urged to get comfortable. The young mage looked down and nodded. His shoes were neatly placed by the door, and his fingers worked the buttons of his vest, slipping it off to drape over the back of his chair.
“I’ll wash up. Please, make yourself comfortable.”
Olek had free run of the flat while Enoch was away, and unlike with his mentor, it didn’t seem like the scholar was as guarded about leaving his belongings to be inspected.
The blond would come back after some time, rubbing a towel over his damp hair, the scent of fresh soap and shampoo clinging to him
Olek: "Yes." Without hesitation, and without elaboration. It was an obvious question: Do you promise to watch over me?
Enoch would return to a curled up forest cat resting his fluffy cheek against his pillow. Up and down his tail slowly swished, green and brown eyes watching the doorway, only to chirp at his reappearance.
Being in this form was truly the only option for the gentle soul across the room.
Enoch: In actuality, Enoch had intended the question to be about Olek resting, not watching over him, but he let the answer settle. After all, this feeling, this heaviness—it too would pass. It always did, eventually.
Returning to his room, the scholar paused as he spotted the forest cat curled up against his pillow. The sight of Olek in this form brought a faint sense of comfort. The young mage turned off the lights, letting the soft glow of the moon filter into the room, casting long shadows across the floor. Finally, he approached the bed and sat at its edge, his back to the familiar, staring down at his bare feet.
“Can you… can you turn back?”
Enoch's voice was quiet, almost hesitant, as if asking for more than just a transformation.
Olek: Slowly, the feline sat up, shook off the sluggish weight of tranquility and watched the young mage. He had been wrong. How curious! But why? This was his timid Enoch, aware and in a dither over appearances. Being in this form had been a natural choice.
But as slowly as he sat up, so too did he grow in length and girth, hair receding and features angling into a familiar shape, sans shoes and suit coat.
"Tell me." His gentle mantra. Tell me where you want me. Tell me why. Tell me what you want.
Enoch: Enoch didn’t need to look back to know Olek had shifted, the weight of the bed shifting beneath him gave it away. But he remained still, staring at the wood floor, his mind heavy with thoughts he couldn't seem to silence. He peeled off his glasses, placing them carelessly on the side table, ignoring Olek’s gentle question.
A sigh escaped him, long and tired, as he rubbed his face with both hands, his shoulders slumping forward. There was a deep-seated frustration simmering beneath his skin. Running a hand through his tousled blond hair, Enoch finally made a decision. Silently, he turned, reaching out to rest his hand on Olek’s chest. The touch lingered, and with a small push, he guided him back down into the pillows. And for a brief, reckless moment, a thought crossed his mind—to do something impulsive to shut out everything else.
Olek: May weather permeated the room; trousers, haphazardly rolled sleeves, and unbuttoned embroidered vest were too much for this modest bed, and the warm hand that pushed him into the mattress.
But he dropped sans resistance and sans concern. Long fingers draped over his pale hand, and waited for the next brave action. Expectations remained chaste. Enoch wanted a living breathing pillow. The comfort of his voice, perhaps, to tell him stories until sleep took him.
But... there was... something. A flickering reminder of what Enoch had been through. Their conversation, their walk home, the ever-present slump to his posture.
No, he would just wait.
Enoch: Enoch hovered there, staring at Olek, noting how his dark hair contrasted against the white pillows in the dim light. He was handsome and charming—it was how the familiar had disarmed him the day they met and every day since. It was how Olek’s face fit so easily into his hands, how every gentle touch shared between them held a quiet affection, and this moment would be no different.
Caught in the push and pull of his selfish desire and the relentless weight of guilt, Enoch hesitated. Olek had always been a source of calm, of warmth. Right now, the young mage wanted nothing more than to drown in that comfort, to forget the gnawing ache inside him. His pale fingers, still resting on Olek’s chest, trembled slightly beneath the touch.
He shouldn't do this. He knew it, felt it in the pit of his stomach—the selfishness of using Olek as a means to escape his suffering. And yet... he was there, waiting as if sensing his struggle. Swallowing hard, Enoch's gaze traced those familiar features, eyes searching those mossy green and brown ones. He was kind, loyal, and dependable—everything Enoch didn’t deserve at this moment.
The kiss was soft, tentative at first, as though he was testing the boundaries of what he could take, what Olek might allow. It wasn’t passion that drove him—no, it was something far hollower, a desperate need to feel something other than the sadness that had clung to him all day. His fingers curled into Olek’s shirt, anchoring him, even as his mind screamed at him to stop.
Olek: This poor creature. Olek was as much needed as he was frivolous. Yes, familiarity, comfort, trust, but something else. Enoch knew that word all too well, which led them back to his flat and not knocking on someone else's door: distraction.
Whether or not being used as a means to an end was fair was not a question Olek would ask himself. Only a productive question hung in the air as he stilled, offering the barest massage of his lips. He would not pull or push this man, and he would not shame him. He would adore this kiss, cherish the feeling of those demure ribbon lips, his consoling warmth, his alluring scent, and still acknowledge the question.
Would Enoch regret his actions tomorrow? Would he hang his head in shame when their lips part? Not this precious being. Not this lost soul. Let him have relief.
A kiss between his eyes swiftly followed. A means to assuage any guilt. Another kiss to his cheek, just beneath his eye.
"Lie down," he whispered, allowing his smile to bloom.
Enoch: Olek would never be frivolous in Enoch’s eyes, but now, yes, he was a distraction. The mesh of soft lips against his was enough to chase those haunting thoughts for as long as the kiss lasted. But it broke, and he had those residual feelings that came with it, which was just as the familiar had predicted.
There was a sense of shame in the brief-lived moment between the two, his fingers easing against Olek’s chest as his eyes closed under the soft kiss between his eyes. Another to his cheek and gently told to lie down. The young mage hesitated, searching for words, caught between the urge to explain himself and the overwhelming weight of his guilt.
When he finally opened his eyes, searching Olek’s face for any trace of anger, disgust, or disappointment, he found none. Instead, the warmth of Olek’s presence overwhelmed him. In seconds, he could feel that familiar burn in the bridge of his nose as he moved to wrap his arms around Olek’s neck, pulling himself closer. He buried his face against his warm skin, and the tears he had fought to hold back began to flow freely, dampening the collar of the familiar’s shirt.
Olek: Encouragement, charm, and wisdom were all well and good, but what was needed was much simpler than a push. Open arms invited Enoch into an embrace. His cheek rested in his hair, eyes closed; he breathed slowly and steadily, and lived in the moment of sorrow with his friend, listening and feeling his struggle with composure with a sympathy that pained his chest.
Whether or not his grief was founded was of no consequence. It was his, and he lived and breathed it. Whether the man of his dreams pined for him, searched the whole of London for him, or if he too wept the same didn’t change Enoch’s suffering. It was the unknown of tomorrow that harmed him. He mourned for the present, and perhaps a loss of innocence.
Olek considered the life in his arms and of three important little words, weighing their worth as an expression of love. He realized in moments like this, they were anemic.
His grip tightened just the slightest. What followed was a sound barely filling the space between them. Lyrics of a song spoken in a whisper. A quiet poetry between them. A lullaby to usher Enoch to sleep.
"The years creep slowly by, Lorena. The snow is on the grass again. The sun's low down the sky, Lorena. The frost gleams where the flowers have been. But my heart beats on as warmly now, as when the summer days were nigh. The sun can never dip so low, or down affections cloudless sky..."
Enoch: Pain was fickle. It crept in uninvited and lingered long past its welcome, clouding his thoughts and turning every corner of his mind dark. The memories of the dream, the shame of letting Raine take over, the guilt of that kiss, of Olek announcing his departure—each played over and over, each sharpened by the fear of tomorrow's rejection, of what might follow.
Pain was not linear. Because with it also came the memories of his past, of every word uttered in his direction that he was a disgrace, that he was unworthy, that he was unlovable. Who had put this in his mind was unknown, but the voices twisted into a chorus that grew louder with every passing second.
His fingers dug into Olek’s shoulders, seeking something tangible as his breath stuttered.
“I-I…”
Lips parted to speak, trying to form words, but they caught in his throat, swallowed by the weight of his own sorrow. Every syllable shattered before it could take shape, leaving him wordless, shaking. He gave up and sank fully into Olek’s chest, too tired to fight the tears that blurred his vision. And in the small recesses of it all, he thanked the gods for the weight around him, holding him tightly, making sure he didn’t float away. And it was the gentle utterance of those words that the young mage clung to, giving him something to focus on other than the cruelties his mind whispered to him, influenced by echoing voices perpetuated by his avatar. But it was impossible to sustain this, and sure enough, Enoch would finally find dreamless sleep.
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35?
35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!
Earlier this year, I was on some considerable pain medication, and I had incredibly vivid dreams? Hallucinations? I became convinced I had written, edited, and published a whole 53k three-shot fic. I have memories of the whole process. They were so vivid, that to this day I occasionally look through the Dumb Gay Eldritch Psychopomps tag on Ao3 expecting to find it, as if maybe I only hallucinated writing it, maybe someone else wrote it and I read it and imagined having made it myself.
I'm not ever going to write it, because I went through the whole process once already, and have nothing to show for it, but I've wanted to relay the general plot since I realized I didn't actually write this fic.
(A warning for anyone about to click Read More, bellow is almost 4k of a summary)
The story begins with the Beast, who is a human, and an astronaut, stationed on the first ever base on mars, however he is eerily alone. It is revealed, slowly over the course of the first chapter, that about five years ago, something began to happen on earth.
Beast (Whose first name I cannot recall, but his last name was Dagenhart for the purposes of this fic.) and the other original twelve astronauts stationed with him, didn't really know what was happening. The rotating team on earth who radioed in with them couldn't explain what was happening, only that it was bad, but far away, on the other side of the globe, before suddenly one day they were cut off. The astronauts then assume, obviously, that whatever it was reached them too.
After that, the timeline gets a little fuzzy, because Beast doesn't dwell on the memories, making the narrator wildly unreliable, but somewhere along the line, the resource shipment they're due fails to come, and one of the team members on mars is killed and eaten for the rest to survive, because the life support cannot sustain them all. Eventually one by one, the rest of the team is killed off, but it's unclear after the first few whether this was done out of necessity, or if the isolation got to them, it's not even very clear if this is a thing that was voted and decided on, or if Beast just murdered and devoured as he pleased and covered his tracks to the rest of the team. It definitely wasn't necessary by the last one, because the life support and food growing resources have been supporting Beast for two years and could have supported another two or three people comfortably.
This is all revealed casually, in asides of Beast's internal monologue as he goes about his daily habits, tending to life support, taking readings, recording data, and entertaining himself.
Beast speculates, as his day draws to a close, that there might be more people left on mars than on Earth, and is really too amused by that to possibly be healthy. It's clear he's content, but definitely not normal, but it's not very clear if he was already off before he came to mars.
We follow him for another day, before suddenly, in the middle of one of his routines, the radio crackles to life with a voice on the other end. Beast is stunned, so stunned he almost doesn't make it to the microphone in time. The voice on the other end seems nearly as surprised to hear him as Beast is to hear it, but Beast quickly identifies himself as the last member of the mars mission, though he doesn't specify exactly what happened to the rest of the team.
The voice on the other end introduces himself as Enoch, and as Beast presses for information about what happened, tells him that a string of increasingly bad natural disasters swept the globe, and there are estimates that as much as half the population has been wiped out, but they're finally starting to pick up the pieces and fall back into their usual routines, and that Enoch is here to reestablish communications.
Due to the collapse and rebuilding of most major systems, Enoch will probably be the only voice online for a long time, and he warns it's definatley going to be longer before the world is reestablished enough to build a rocket to bring Beast home. This is not a concern for Beast who mostly seems to be in shock to hear someone else's voice at all.
Cue a few weeks of Enoch and Beast getting used to each other. Beast, despite his initial jump for the microphone and eagerness to hear Enoch, doesn't really adjust super well to having his isolation disturbed, but Enoch still tunes on, every day, (even weekends. They really are short staffed, he insists.), at 8 o'clock on the dot. Earth time, that is. Slowly, not entirely unlike a cat being socialized, Beast comes around, and finds Enoch an incredibly enjoyable companion. Even though Beast finds himself trying to relearn social norms after not only isolation, but also murdering at least seven of his twelve companions. (Slowly, through what Beast doesn't tell Enoch, it becomes increasingly clear that Beast is responsible for most of their deaths, and that most of them were motivated by hunger, but not starvation.)
But Enoch is a bit of a weirdo himself, as becomes increasingly hard to hide after four or five months of which he spends at least eight hours a day on call with Beast. There's something decidedly off about him, which Beast mostly attributes to living through half a decade of an apocalypse.
Enoch is missing a lot of common knowledge, some of it mundane, and some of it incredibly weird considering he's at least theoretically, a government employee, working for a space program, but hey, its the apocalypse, Beast assumes they can't be picky. The knowledge that Enoch does have makes him ever more enigmatic, he couldn't tell you how to fry an egg, but he does know everything about the hidden messages in the work of Edgar Allen Poe, and has encyclopedic knowledge of burial practices throughout history.
A couple of interesting interactions come from a game of twenty questions early in their interaction (initiated by Enoch, but escalated by Beast), which eventually ends with Beast asking the incredibly intense, and unrecommended game question "Have you ever killed somebody." to which Enoch laughs and says that he's lived through what very narrowly missed being the end of the earth, of course he's killed somebody, but doesn't provide any context. Which both relaxes and intrigues Beast, and the rest of his questions prod about looking for the edges of Enoch's moral compass. Enoch on the other hand asks things that he should really know considering he has Beast's profile on hand.
There's also a point where Beast asks if Enoch can access any of the cameras on base, and Enoch seems stunned there are cameras at all. Which leads to Beast getting suspicious and pressing about why Enoch doesn't seem to know jack shit about the mars mission, Enoch replies that the original earth team are dead, and among the weather phenomena were extreme electrical storms that at least partially wiped the computer system, meaning Enoch is kind of fumbling about with only the paper files he can find. Beast accepts this answer, and decides he'll help walk Enoch through the process of bringing the cameras on line.
But first, deep cleaning.
Not only has Beast been living alone, assured that no one will ever visit or see him again, he's also not had to be particularly careful about hiding the fact that he's a serial murderer. He scrubs basically anything that might have a trace of blood on it, hides all the bones, and breaks the camera in the deep freezer where he is... saving a few treats. Then, painstakingly walks Enoch through the process of bringing the cameras on line.
Enoch's reaction to seeing Beast for the first time can be, I guess, construed as flirting, but honestly it's just a very weird scene that emphasizes how very weird, but charming, of a guy Enoch is. Beast is even more awkward than he was adjusting to Enoch in his ear, because now Enoch can see him, and he's certain most of his mannerisms have grown ever more eclectic while left alone, but Enoch rarely comments on them. Beast is also a little put off about the fact he can't see Enoch, and mentions it, to which Enoch responds he would rectify the situation if he could.
He can't exactly, but Beast talks him through the process of sending a photo to mars. It takes half an hour to get sent and load up, but in the end Beast is left with a low quality but goofy selfie of Enoch, with an image of himself on one of the screens in the background. Revealing Enoch is, as he described himself to Beast when they first started conversing, a tall, heavyset black man, with a neat goatee, and presumably brown eyes, that are, in the photo, glowing eerily from the light of the flash in the darkness of the radio station. Beast teases Enoch over this, and Enoch makes a remark that he's never been particularly photogenic, which obviously fishtails into extremely round about flirting.
Beast also asks, at some point, if Enoch knows, or could find out about what happened to his goddaughter, Lorna. He gives Enoch a description of her, and her phone number, and Enoch promises he'll look into it. Enoch eventually (after a few weeks) tells Beast that he can't locate her if she is still alive. Beast remarks that she's a tough girl, and willing to do anything to survive, and that he's sure she's fine. Enoch gets odd about the remark and replies something along the lines of her not being the only one, which obviously catches Beast's attention, and he comes to the conclusion that maybe Enoch has done more than just kill to survive, and Beast is heavily considering telling Enoch about eating the other members of his mission, if only to try and crack Enoch so that he can get through the strange reserve that Enoch has around certain topics.
Slowly, over the course of nearly a year of constant communication and bonding, the inconsistencies in Enoch's stories have started to build up, and Beast has become convinced that Enoch is hiding the scope of what happened on earth from him. Enoch is just so strange, and never really has a good explanation for why no one else ever comes on air and talks around certain subjects in such a way that only raises Beast's suspicions more.
Beast is certain, so certain he would bet every penny to his name, on the fact that Enoch is lying to him.
He concludes that Enoch is alone, perhaps not the last person on earth, but the last around for miles, whatever catastrophe had not simply damaged the human population, it had decimated it, and Enoch, a survivor of the wastes, who had done what he deemed to be unspeakable, unredeemable things, had managed to stumble into the old government facility, and upon finding a radio, had tried desperately to radio for someone, anyone, only to be shocked to find someone had answered, but they weren't separated by land or sea, but by the vast expanse of space. Enoch must have clung to the only proof he wasn't alone in the universe, even if he was on earth, inventing a better alternative to the end of the world in hopes to keep the normalcy that might foster a relationship with the Beast, perhaps worried that news of the true end of the world might lead to Beast shutting down, or doing something drastic as he realized he was trapped on mars.
The chapter closes on Beast musing on how utterly poetic it is that the last person on mars and potentially the last person on earth found each other in the vastness of the universe, and that if they really are alone together, he might as well go all in and lay everything bare.
And then the second chapter opens with Enoch, this off the wall concept goes totally off the rails.
Because in this chapter, it becomes immediately obvious that not only is the Beast right that the cataclysmic event wasn't just devastating, but in fact world ending, it becomes clear immediately that Enoch is, in fact, the cause of that event.
Enoch is an ill-defined lovecraftian horror, that might be colloquially referred to as a star eater. He's come from the dark embrace of space and had been hibernating here on earth for a long time, however upon waking up, was utterly charmed by the culture and lifeforms that had sprung up since he crashed here a couple hundred thousand years ago. He spent about fifty years poorly disguised as a human, enjoying and learning about whatever struck his fancy while utterly ignoring whatever didn't, before deciding it was time he returned to his journey of slowly snuffing out the lights of the universe.
Needing a bit of energy to get himself started, he promptly began devouring life on earth, less a physical process of eating, as it is draining the life out of every living thing in a vague incomprehensible manner, that couldn't be interpreted by humans as anything but weather phenomena, because the brain really just isn't meant to process whatever it is Enoch is. That was the first three years. Over the past two years he's been slowly working his way across the globe to pick up any stragglers and incorporate them into himself. There are a few encampments of humans shored up in fortified bunkers and basements that he has to work to get into, not unlike an octopus figuring out how to open a jar, and he finds stray colonies of insects and rats that repopulated when he missed them the first time all along the way. There are also obviously a couple stretches of forest he never quite got around to, and some stuff kicking about deep in the ocean he hasn't bothered to even try and eat, but he's slowed down considerably in the last few years, enjoying wandering about in abandoned cities and trying out different knickknacks and that sort of thing.
Which is exactly what Enoch was doing, messing around with radios and space stuff deep in the heart of government facilities, wearing his human disguise because all the knobs and levers were so fiddly otherwise, when he spoke into one of the microphones and got Beast's response back.
Enoch has time, all the time in the world, because he doesn't live on the same time scale as a human, and he is initially fascinated because he wasn't aware humans were a spacefaring species, and admittedly, a little concerned he's made one galactic federation or another aware of his presence by suddenly wiping out a planet, which is initially why he sticks around, so that he can snoop through government files and see just how deep into space they've reached, radioing in with Beast is just something to do in the meantime. Luckily for him, mars is the furthest humans have traveled, but by the time he figures that out, he's already been charmed.
He's not exactly sure how the nuances of human social systems work, though he's got a broad understanding of it, so most of the red flags the Beast sends off about Definitely being a Murderer, are lost on him, but he's not entirely oblivious to the fact that Beast's also a weirdo, but chalks it up to the fact that this is a human who has clearly spent the better part of the last five years alone, and even Enoch is aware that humans tend to go a little off like that.
Enoch's motivation for lying to the Beast is mostly that he isn't sure how to break it to a guy that he incorporated the rest of humanity into his being, and gradually he digs himself into the lie, because he's having a good time. He builds himself a little den in the room he radios to Beast in, and during the hours he claims to be at home and doing his day to day life, he goes out and continues his slow purge of the planet.
He's nearly done, really he's stalling at this point, so he can linger in the cramped dark little room where he can talk to Beast. And we get a very interesting perspective to his lies, which come off as rather obvious from the Beast's side, but as rather ingenious from Enoch's side.
At this point there are fun parallels being drawn left and right for the audience about how the Beast ate everyone on mars, and Enoch ate (or is in the process of eating) everyone on earth, and how if they were actually together, one of them would have made an attempt to eat the other. Also clearly being displayed is the absolute lack of guilt on both sides, Enoch doesn't really view what he's doing as wrong, nor does he even consider it killing, and it technically isn't, and Beast has either abandoned his moral compass or didn't have one to begin with. It's a very dramatic irony heavy stretch of the story, that makes the flirting happening between the two even weirder, which is impressive considering neither of them have spoken to another human being in about four years at this point, and it was already weird.
And then Beast reveals that he ate the other members of his mission while also subtly hinting that he knows Enoch is alone, and lying to him, the latter thing immediately goes over Enoch's head, because he's a little caught up on the cannibalism thing. He was aware, of course, that cannibalism was a thing humans sometimes did, in theory at least, but to actually hear an admission of it? From his companion? Enoch is over the moon. Could Beast get any more perfect? They have so much in common!
And because he's never heard of subtlety, Enoch also reveals almost entirely unintentionally that he has also eaten people! Cue cannibalism discussions, Beast suddenly being a lot more cavalier about the murder thing, though he's still currently insisting that he did it out of necessity and not pleasure, and probably the most surreal scene out of this fic that doesn't exist, where the Beast and Enoch have a dinner date, separated by the vast expanse of space, Beast eating... leftovers from the rest of the crew, in front of one of the cameras jerry-rigged into a dining seat, while Enoch chatters on and tries desperately to sound like he understands how actual eating works, and is also eating, while staring with rapt attention at the screen while Beast slowly works his way through his meal.
So from Beast's end we have a budding cannibal romance, admittedly with the wrench that they're on different planets, both of which are equally apocalyptic, and from Enoch's end, he's fallen hard for a charming human who theoretically wouldn't be put off by Enoch's nature, but he can't even get to him.
This revelation also makes Enoch a lot less careful about hiding his inhumanity, not that he was particularly good at it before, leading to Beast coming to the conclusion that clearly, Enoch has cracked, but isn't particularly bothered by it, because really, who wouldn't given their current situations.
Eventually, the topic of Enoch being the last person on earth comes up again, with Beast being a lot more blatant about it this time (After all they're... weird... planet separated domestic partners at this point. Enoch can be honest with him) but Enoch understands this as Beast knows what he is, and Enoch is like, oh I'm so glad you already knew, and they comedy of error their way through the realization that the Beast didn't actually know what Enoch is, Enoch revealing he's some sort of spacefaring monster, Beast realizing Enoch actually thinks he is a lovecraftian horror, all of which happens while they're laying together in bed. (Beast in his bed, with one of the cameras propped up on a pillow, and Enoch comfortably curled up in his den of pillows strewn about the floor of the radio room)
This leads into a very strange couple's argument, which follows usual couple's argument tropes, while having the wild content of Beast insisting Enoch is just experiencing delusions as a result of intense isolation, and Enoch insisting that he's real, and also an incomprehensible horror.
Beast is starting to think that maybe he's the one with delusions, and maybe Enoch doesn't really exist at all, and he's just a guilt ridden fantasy, and that perhaps earth is fine, all those miles away, and nothing ever happened to it, and he's growing increasingly furious and panicked during the argument.
Eventually this argument coalesces into a week of radio silence from the Beast's side, while Enoch cajoles and pleads on the other side as Beast slowly and methodically covers up all the cameras, leaving them in a strange situation where Enoch is constantly on the line, talking in the dark room, with no external stimuli or response, which was a scene I conveyed by roughly 5k of a solid monologue which gets increasingly deranged as Enoch slips further and further away from human over the course of it, both in subject matter, and in the fact that the words get increasingly jumbled, doing that thing where the first and last letter are the same but all middle letters are jumbled, which is usually readable at a glance but dissolves into a jumble of letters if you look too long at it. (An effect you may rest assured will never actually be in a published fic of mine for numerous reasons.)
The Beast comes back on line with a few short words which basically boil down to "Prove it."
And Enoch does. He doesn't have the energy to get to mars alone, he'd need to nap to process the energy he got from eating earth, and by the time he woke up, Beast would be long dead, so he decides he's going the old-fashioned way. By rocket.
The issue is, Enoch doesn't have a crew, he doesn't have a team of specialists, and he's not very good at math, and he knows he can't get to mars if he just aims, because he'll definitely miss.
But you know what target is a lot harder to miss than mars?
The sun.
So Enoch decides he'll head for the sun and using an unmanned spacecraft which he squeezes into via size fuckery, launches himself, after signing off to Beast to wait for him, to just give him a little bit longer.
It takes about a month to get to the sun, but once there, he consumes the energy from it, the same way he'd been consuming energy from earth, and then, through... teleportation? Extreme speed? Ends up on mars, he has enough energy that he's able to focus in on the energy signals from the base, and basically lands in incomprehensible weather phenomenon form cradling the base, before taking on his human disguise to knock on the hatch.
Beast is, in a word, stunned.
He lets Enoch in, and things get very... noneuclidian. The actual distinction between them starts to slip away, and Enoch reveals that, he ate the sun to get here, meaning that the light that's shining on mars is borrowed time, and they have ten minutes before the sunlight runs out, and mars is plunged into darkness. That was the title of the fic I think. Ten Minutes In the Sun.
The ending gets very weird, very much A Great and Terrible Union turned up to eleven, as the prose gets weirder and weirder as... something happens? It's unclear if Enoch is consuming the Beast into him, if the Beast is metamorphizing into something more, maybe something like Enoch, or if they're fusing into something else, Star Trek the Motion Picture V'ger style.
But it ends, when the mars is suddenly plunged into darkness.
Having typed that all out, it's very obviously a concept that I wasn't entirely lucid with when I came up with it, but I can safely say that this one of the two fics that doesn't exist that lives in my brain rent free.
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