[The Hounded Hare] simple things [Ether]

There was a pang of guilt in his chest at the way Pike spoke. The word casual rolled off his tongue like it was sour, bitter, like it stung inside his mouth. He hadn’t meant it like that, he hadn’t meant that Pike wasn’t important to him. He felt anger, then. Of course Pike was important to him. Of course he cared about him. Why was that even being questioned? He was trying to drink, but his glass was empty, and Ether had already drunk up all of his. They were drinking too fast, too much, it was too hard to go on without it. Too complicated. Too scary. He wanted to speak, he opened his mouth, took in the air. But nothing came. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to respond when it was clear that they were both dangling on the edge of something. One wrong word, wrong sentence, they might lose their grip.

Pike’s knuckles were turning white as they clenched around the glass. Ether’s brows furrowed. He was afraid the man would break it and cut himself. But Pike exploded in a different kind of way, a way that Ether wasn’t sure he’d ever seen. He and Pike didn’t fight, he wasn’t sure they ever had, at least not like this. He’d always thought they sought one another out during times of pain, times of need, when someone had made them feel broken or worthless or failing. Pike had been the one to heal his wounds, to nurse him back to health, never to open up the gashes him in the first place. His words were growling, heated in a fiery way, searing against Ether’s skin and making him flush. His ears were burning, his throat felt tight. Deep beneath his shirt it stung, ached, like something was twisting him up from the inside out.

And then Pike was standing, wanting more alcohol, maybe just a reason to get away from Ether for a minute. Pike turned his back on him as he went to the bar, Ether’s thoughts swimming around in his skull. He wasn’t going to wait. He couldn’t wait. He pushed out hard from the table, his chair screeching against the floor beneath, as he moved quickly on Pike’s heels. “I didn’t mean it like that, Pike, you know I didn’t mean it like that,” he protested, grabbing his arm. He didn’t mean to grab him so hard, a bit desperately, a bit too forwardly. “I just meant we weren’t… you and me, we were never together,” he said, trying again, choosing a word that might not make him so angry. “We weren’t a couple? I didn’t think we were a couple,” he said, shaking his head.

He let go of him then, his arms falling to his sides as though they didn’t know what else to do. “Did you think we were a couple? Did you want to be a couple?” he said, his words panicked, nervous, a hundred and one questions burning in his mind. He shook his head, as though trying to clear them, trying to silence his mind. “I want you around, I always want you around, you’re my best friend,” he confessed, looking to his eyes. That felt unfair as it rolled off his tongue. “You’re more than just my friend,” he added, conceding to what they both already knew. Friends didn’t sleep together, friends didn’t need each other in that kind of way. “But I always thought you were happy? I thought that what we are, that’s what you wanted,” he said, blinking, finding it hard to piece his words together.

“And Jesus, Pike,” he said with some exasperation, “I don’t even know what love is. I don’t even know what it feels like, or looks like, or means,” he added, “that’s why I’m here, that’s why I’m so confused, because I thought you could help me,” he said, looking to him. “You always help me,” he said, with need, evidence in his voice of exactly how much he depended on the man. He pondered, lost in thought, his gaze lingering on the other man’s. “How long have you felt this way, Pike?” he asked, his voice a bit too high, a bit too thin. A bit too emotional. He knew they were center stage here in front of the bar, drawing attention with their exchange. He didn’t care. He couldn’t help it.

He had to know the truth.

He turned towards Ether as the man approached, not really registering or caring that they were now standing in the center of the thankfully-closed bar, with the few remaining patrons' and staff's eyes on them. Ether was panicking, and Pike desperately wished he hadn't said anything. He didn't like seeing Ether like this... and the man had come to him for advice. Not to be dragged over emotional hot coals.

"I know we were never a couple and I don't think that would be right for us," he said, quietly, leaning his back against the bar, desperately wanting to reach out for the other man and draw him into a hug. Pike had never been much of a talker. He preferred to communicate physically. He couldn't always find the words to express how he felt and showing was far easier. But maybe, based on Ether's words, even that wasn't clear.

"I just don't think people need to be in a monogamous, faithful, co-habiting relationship to be.. something. I don't know what the right word is. Lovers?" He sighed, running his hand at the back of his neck. "I guess my point is that you were never like... a way of satisfying needs until someone better came along. And I missed you when I was with Frey... I didn't... I thought..." he shook his head. Words were jumbled up again. What exactly was he trying to say.

"Maybe it's just... y'know... pack instinct or something," he said, trying to be vague enough so that those that might overhear wouldn't catch his meaning, "But I think I've stopped thinking that there's just one person out there for me that's perfect and will cater for everything I need in a companion. And I think maybe I felt like that before too, but I was trying to fit into what... what I thought I wanted, what Frey wanted, what society wanted? But I missed you."

As much as he hated to admit it to himself, Pike’s reply offered him some relief. He was confused enough as it was, thinking that maybe he had real, serious feelings for Alain. To find out now, amidst all the chaos inside his mind, that Pike felt those things for him, that Pike wanted to be his lover… that would be too much. That would be too frightening. And if there was one thing they both knew, Ether was the type to run far and fast from anything that spooked him too badly.

And he didn’t want to run from Pike.

But perhaps he’d been too quick to relax, to believe this was all settled. “You did?” he said, raising a brow, a bit of disbelief in his voice. “You thought about me when you were… with Frey?” he clarified. He’d really thought they were in love. They seemed so happy. They seemed like they might be meant for each other. And of course Ether had missed him during that time, he enjoyed their nights together, but he thought Pike was happier with Frey. He thought that he wasn’t needed in that way anymore, that someone better had filled Pike’s heart more completely. But now, he knew that to be untrue.

How many things had he misinterpreted over the years? How much of the truth he clung to was manufactured by his own mind? Pike was explaining himself, doing his best, and Ether just wanted to comfort him. He just wanted to be there for him. He hated the idea of Pike missing him, of Pike needing him when he wasn’t there. So, he shook his head, reaching out. He pulled him into an embrace, an innocent embrace, a sign of support and solidarity and just… comfort. Like old times. Ether knew that Pike was a physical creature. Despite being the strong willed, brave faced, masculine man he was, even Pike needed to be held now and again.

“But, Pike…” he said, stepping back, letting him go. It would be unfair to ask this question while they were holding one another. “What do you want?” he queried, meeting his gaze. “Because I hear you, I know better than anyone how petrifying it is to be tied down, to want one person to be your person,” he admitted. Ether was, formerly, about as promiscuous as one could be. “But honestly? Alain and I, we’re… we’re moving towards that,” he explained, his voice tentative. The last thing he wanted to do, the last thing he could bring himself to do, was break Pike’s heart. “I think I… I think maybe we’re… I think I want him to be mine,” he said quietly. His gaze had fallen. He might not have been able to say it if their eyes had been upon one another.

“And if that's what I want, if that's what happens, how can I be here for you? How can we remain in each others futures?” he queried with sincerity. “Because I might love Alain, that’s very possible, but I don’t want to lose you either. I don’t want to lose my best friend." And when he said it, out loud, when the thought was uttered into the universe, his voice cracked. His lower lip trembled. And he was crumbling, and embarrassed, and he felt like a fool. He was terrified that he couldn’t give Pike what he wanted, that despite every effort to avoid it, he was going to break him apart and watch him crumble, too.

The hug was a relief. A comfort. Pike wished it would stay like that forever. That they never had to pull apart and talk about serious things. That forever they could lean on each other like this, surrounded by the warmth and scent of each other.

But Pike already knew Ether's words before he started saying them. Ether, the guy that Pike had thought would never settle down. The one that he'd often joked would remain a bachelor forever... was considering settling down. Going faithful. A few years ago Pike would have never thought that possible... and he;d have hoped, desperately, that if it ever was possible, that it would be for him. But it wasn't him that had changed Ether's mind and his lifestyle. It was someone else. And Pike just had to get over that. He had to swallow his pride, his ego... his jealousy... and continue being Ether's friend. Because that's what Ether needed.

"You won't lose me." He said, steadily. A lot more steadily than he felt. His hand found the back of Ether's neck and he drew him back into the hug, his fingertips stroking against the back of his neck. "And if you... you know.. wanna be faithful with Alain... then... ok. We can still hang out without fucking, right?" His voice sounded distant. Like it wasn't really his. Put like that - fucking it sounded so impersonal and casual. That's not what it had been. But saying it like that made it easier. Like he wasn't losing something that he desperately wanted to keep.

And it would be hard. But wouldn't it be harder to no longer see Ether at all? To no longer have him in his life? Ever? But maybe that's where Ether was heading with this. Maybe he'd really come here to say goodbye.

“Yeah?” Ether murmured, desperate for reassurance, for relief. He felt like such a mess and he hated it, he hated being like this around him. Pike had always been very good about piecing him back together, but it wasn’t his job. Ether was realizing, with a newfound clarity, that he’d always been somewhat selfish in this friendship. Pike had been his friend, benefits and all, but it had never grown past that. He’d been too sporadic to think about it, to consider it. Until now, the worst possible moment, when something else was blossoming in another garden.

Pikes fingertips were pressing against his neck, pulling him closer, and the hug was very intimate. He buried his face in the man’s shoulder, breathing in his scent, wrapping his arms around him tighter. If all was well -- if things were alright -- why on Earth did this feel so much like a goodbye? He was clinging to him, literally, and pulled back a bit to meet his gaze as he spoke. He shook his head, nervous, his breath wavering and unsure. “I mean we -- I think we’re, you know, going to be... together,” he said plainly, avoiding the word monogamous. Even if it was true, it felt cruel to say it -- it still seemed so nonsensical. Ether Vandross? Monogamous? In this context it was like a bad punchline.

His hand moved up, cupping the side of Pike’s handsome face, his lips falling into a slight frown as he felt the roughness of his stubble. “I didn’t know, Pike, I really didn’t know,” he said earnestly, a stinging, aching sense of loss beneath his collarbones. “I guess -- it’s stupid,” he judged, faltering. “I always thought you were too good for me? Like you deserved better -- you do deserve better,” he said, meeting his gaze. “I’ve always been such a wreck, my emotions, but you were so much more sure -- you had people, you had relationships,” he said openly. “I must have -- I guess -- I never thought someone like you would actually want someone like me,” he confessed, “for anything beyond... you know,” he said, shrugging. That part -- between the sheets -- they did that very well. Sometimes it felt like the only thing Ether did well.

He pulled back then, still lingering with his hands in Pike’s. He wasn’t quite ready to let him go entirely, that would feel too palpable. “I should go,” he said, shaking his head, feeling very stupid and very overbearing. “And I should’ve written -- I didn’t mean to just drop in on you like this, a whirlwind of distruption,” he said, feeling very selfish again. Pike had always been good to him -- he’d always truly cared about him -- and yet here Ether was, swooping in and screwing things up. It was a song and dance he knew all too well. He held his gaze, frozen in place, forcing himself to stop and think of nothing but the other man. It was his turn to reply, his turn to talk. His turn to be as selfish as he wanted to be.

He nodded slowly as Ether confirmed that things with Alain were going to be as Pike had thought - as he'd feared. He'd already prepared himself for this blow, but hearing Ether dancing around saying the word didn't help. It all felt so final. "Oh don't you worry about me, chicken," he murmured softly, falling into the safety of the protective mama bear role he played so well. "and don't be sad... it's all worked out mmh? You have Alain, and that's what's meant to be." And Pike believed that. Despite everything that had happened over the years, he'd always clung to an idea of fate. And that things would work out. Maybe not in this lifetime, but there had to be something, some reason, some payoff. Maybe that was just desperate wishful thinking.

"...don't," he murmured softly as Ether talked of leaving. Pike frowned at the mention of a letter. "I'm glad you're here. This is better. Don't ever tell me anything by owl... please..?" He wouldn't have been able to bear that. Reading impersonal words on a cold and lifeless piece of paper. This - seeing Ether in the flesh and hearing his words - hurt, but it was better than feeling nothing. And at least he had a chance to understand. To read the younger man's body as he'd done so many times before. To feel his insecurities. That speeding heartbeat, that hitched breath, that subtle scent of perspiration hidden beneath the man's cologne. Letters didn't communicate those things.

"I don't mind your disruptions," he smiled, raising a hand to ruffle Ether's hair. He wanted to draw this out. To tell the man to stay and drink more, to ask about Alain, to get him chatting about anything that would keep Ether in his presence a little longer. But maybe that was wrong. Maybe, now, he was stealing something that didn't belong to him anymore. That time belonged to them - to Alain and Ether. And he couldn't propell himself into that, some awkward third wheel unnecessary and unwanted. If Ether wanted a friend, and more importantly wanted Pike to be that friend, then he'd come back around when the timing was right. But right now the timing wasn't right. They were a fresh couple, embarking on an entwined path for the first few steps, and Pike would be an obstacle. A fear in Alain's mind and a guilt in Ether's. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, distance, at least at first, was probably what was best.

"You'll come back around for a drink sometime, yeah?" he said, keeping his tone light and non-committal. Trying to get back to something casual. "And lemme know if you want me to rough anyone up for ya. I'm always here for that," he added with a wink. Mama bear.

“I always worry about you,” he confessed simply — and it was true. He wasn’t the best at showing it, but that didn’t make it less accurate. He thought of Pike often. He’d say he was like a brother, but even that didn’t feel like enough. He cared about him deeply, so much so that it would likely make Alain nervous if he understood all this. Best not to tell him, not for the sake of keeping a secret, but for the sake of preventing any bumps in the road. Alain was fickle, this relationship was fickle. He didn’t want to risk it if he didn’t have to.

“Yeah?” Ether said, a smile spreading on his lips. He hadn’t wanted to write in the slightest — why else would he be here? He never did anything he didn’t want to do, at least if he could avoid it. “It gives me a reason to drop in on you, make sure you’re eating,” he teased, gently patting Pike’s stomach. It was an odd gesture, perhaps, but he was feeling handsy and it was likely because of the nerves. It was easier when he was touching, it made him feel less anxious. Pike was comforting, he always had been.

“Good,” he said, scowling playfully as the man ruffled his hair. He leaned into the touch. They both favored long locks, sometimes Ether wondered if he’d grown his out just to be like Pike. Even if he had, he’d never admit it to a soul. And then they were in limbo, close but not close, touching but not intimate. Friends but not lovers. He was looking at Pike’s face and searching for answers, searching for anything that would help make this all seem simple. Nothing could make it simple. Not even magic.

“Of course,” Ether said, clearing his throat and taking a step back. Things were wrapping up. Pike had been at work all day, after all, he was probably tired. And Ether had spoken his peace. What else was there to do but say good night? Hazel eyes fell to the ground as a chuckle escaped him. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he offered, smirking up at him and just waiting. Waiting for something to feel different. Waiting for an absolution that would never come.

“It’s good to see you, Pike,” he said plainly, a hand moving gently to Pike’s arm. He squeezed softly as his eyes held the other man’s gaze. “Take care of yourself, and don’t ever be a stranger,” he said fondly before nodding. He let him go then, taking a few shaky and uncertain steps before finally accepting the fact that he was walking away. He looked back, waving a little, before pulling his cloak tighter around his rib cage and apparating home.

Ether's words had a finality to them which hurt, dear lord did it hurt. But he forced a smile and a nod. This was what was best for Ether. The younger man deserved a chance at happiness. After all, Pike had done the same thing when he'd been with Frey - cut ties with anyone else he had casual relations with and focused on being committed to one man. It hadn't worked out for him in the end, but maybe Ether would be luckier. He hated that there was a small part of him that hoped not.

"Yeah, you too," he heard himself say, the words distance and separate, like they belonged to someone else. He was on autopilot. He was just holding it together now, putting on a brave facade and trying to swallow down the mix of emotions that threatened to break through to the surface. Ether was leaving, and Pike could only watch, hand raised in a gesture of goodbye as the younger man disappeared out of view.

And then there was only numbness.

The rest of the bar suddenly became much noisier, and he wondered whether that was because people had been quietly listening in or whether he'd just blocked out the background sound before. His eyes warily turned to the bar where Lance was gesturing towards a firewhiskey bottle with a knowing look... but there was no point in that. He'd seen enough broken rough sleepers in his time on the streets to know where that path led. Firmly, he shook his head.

"I uh... I think I'll just go home... pretty tired now..." he lied, even though he knew he wasn't fooling anyone. In a daze he picked up his jacket, draping it over one arm and stepping out into the night. It was cold, but that knowledge felt distanced from his body. He didn't feel anything. Not the dampness of the air or the light wind. He didn't bother with his jacket, just slung it over his shoulder as his feet carried him mindlessly home.