give me my heart back

Poppy

Well-Known Member
Inactive
Mar 18, 2015
3,930
Florentin sat on his luggage a few feet away from the jet. His parents told him, my child, we would never lie to you, you'll get your request. Request, they said, as if it wasn't a demand. Perhaps he wasn't in any position to make demands at this point, especially after his big screw up, but this was important. Florentin refused to get in the plane first, not with Mr. Big Man hanging around near the stairs.

Was that supposed to be Sasha's replacement? he thought bitterly. There was everything wrong with him. He was atrocious to look at. The shaved patterns on his head were tacky. His nose looked like a diseased kumquat. He was betting he didn't know his way with a gun, and he must have a personality like dry cardboard. No, this was no replacement for his Sasha. He refused. He'd rather die first. He will scream bloody harassment if he had to, and his parents better damn acknowledge that.

Florentin was a little worse for wear today... this week... this whole month. His limbs trembled with nerves and lack of nourishment, and when his hair was normally perfectly done, it was frazzled today. There were large bags under his eyes, absolutely puffy from tears. He loved to dress up when he went out, but today he was only wearing a scarf and a sweater with Sasha's latest letter folded neatly in his front pocket, one he'd read so many times he committed entire paragraphs into memory.

He couldn't take this, existing like this. First Aunt Cosette, now Sasha, with his beloved parents being the traitors that tore them apart. How could they? To Florentin, it was clear as day why he did what he did. He wanted them all back together in the beautiful estate garden and restore all those perfect years. Didn't they see? Sasha saw. Sasha understood when no one did. Sasha took care of him when everything felt fragile and brittle, solid land in a perpetually changing sea of time.

And the more the clock ticked when he wasn't there with him, the antsier Florentin got. He made a break for it twice the month they've been separated, weak with tears and ready to abandon his wealth and position all at once for Sasha. How was he supposed to live with the idea that they would be separated by sea? The very concept made him nauseous. He couldn't.

"Master Octavius, we should leave soon," Mr. Big Man said, and his voice felt so overwhelmingly grating to him then. Florentin scratched his head in irritation. "The estimated time of arrival is in eighteen hours. You shouldn't keep Ms. Octavius waiting —"

Florentin stood up and shoved him away, pacing in irritation. "Where are my parents, then? Sasha? I told them I'll leave if Sasha comes. It doesn't look like he'll be here any time soon! Call one of our cars. Take me home. Tell my parents they're big, filthy liars, and they can get fucked, I don't want anything to do more with their shit —"

"Master Octavius..."

What was it now?

Florentin followed his gaze and turned around.



@"Tom Marvolo Riddle"
 

Tom Marvolo Riddle

the dark lord
Inactive
Jul 19, 2015
1,892
portland, oregon
mantacarlos.tumblr.com
Pronouns
he/him/his
Sasha was lost for the second time in his life, completely unsure of his place in existence, dying from the inside out. What was he, without Florentin, without his everything?

Florentin was very literally his whole world, his reason for being, his… did he have any right, even, to be so possessive? Flor wasn't his.

But Sasha wanted him to be, so, so very badly. So much it hurt and ate at his insides. Wanted, oh god, in ways that warmed all of him down to his core, and needed. Needed everything. It was all mixing into one and it was hard to see where selfish and selfless really began anymore, what was like breathing to him and what was supposedly an inessential pleasure.

He'd poured so much of himself into letters over the month, convinced, feverish, that he would never be able to see Flor again, that some cruel fate conspired to keep them apart. And there was so much he'd never said, never promised, never… never…

He was supposed to be the one that never left that boy, that beautiful, endlessly special young man. He was supposed to protect him forever.

Instead, all of Sasha's family was now gone, replaced with nothing but a shitty motel room and the feeling of lying in your own gross tears and crumpled up paper for days on end. This wasn't like before at all. The scars were all inside this time, the only voice in his mind was his beloved's, and he didn't want to move on.

He couldn't. Wasn't even able to process the idea, and it shook him up, bad.

Sometimes he just drifted along with his misery, let it carry him ahead, fearing apathy more. Others, he lay awake at night, thought about getting rid of everyone else just so he could be with Flor. He'd hurt anyone, do anything, be despicable and impure and greedy, if it meant getting to his love and then staying. Keeping his promises for good.

He could never bring himself to feel guilt over any of it. He didn't think he ever would.

If he'd been human, he would've had a heart attack when the call came in, around the very end of the month. He'd been losing himself in depression again, and when he moved to get up from from his bed, chest pounding and mind scattered, half written letters fell off of him. Sasha was normally a very neat person, with his job as a caretaker (his ex-job, was what hung over him like a heavy smog), but his 'room' right now was a fucking mess. He couldn't clean for just himself in this state, and the looks he offered through barely open doors to motel staff kept them away and uncomplaining. He tripped over his own feet, had to dig through trash on the ground, tearing up his space even further in the whole process. He found his phone just before the last ring finished, picking up instantly at the name.

It's not like it could've been anyone else. Sasha didn't have anything else.

"Julien," Sasha said, voice very small, as he sank down to the floor in his destroyed living space. The state of it all definitely reflected what was happening to him. His limbs were tense, but he was laying back down again, sadness an infection. He was so, so pathetic. "Mr. Octavius… I'm sorry," he corrected himself thickly. And that was about all he had in him in terms of conversation. After that, he just listened.

And when it came down to it, he really didn't have much to pack. Just a few reliable outfits, his silly books (which he hadn't been able to try to read without crying), his equipment, and the clothes and weapons on his person.

The time he took leaving his room, hopefully for good, and to get to the airport, went by in a blur. It was. So alarmingly different, in comparison to the awful drudge of the month.

The fact that none of his surroundings were important might have had something to do with the blur. He moved mechanically, did and said what was needed to get from point a to b, and nothing more. And then, and then.

And then.

Then Florentin was in front of him, looking worse for wear but still radiant, and Sasha's hands were trembling under his gloves and he couldn't move. The air was thin feeling, his head a haze, throat tight. This had truly been Sasha's lowest.

But he was… here.

They were here.
 

Poppy

Well-Known Member
Inactive
Mar 18, 2015
3,930
Florentin almost stumbled sideways as soon as he saw what — rather, who — that person was looking at.

He didn't realize that he'd resigned to his fate. He was always so stubborn, disobeying rules, sneaking out when forbidden. His mother had locked him in his room for days when Sasha was dismissed because they knew he was going to search for him. And he did search. He climbed the gate some weeks ago, braving the cold, dangerous streets of Paris for his beloved, to the point his own body begged for him to stop and his father's men found him.

Florentin knew he was out there, sending his letters somehow, and every time another one came, his heart felt like it was being bled out. He couldn't take the agony. Their time apart only grew wider and wider, seemingly stretching out forever.

Often, he thought of leaving the mansion forever too. It was a big decision. Florentin cared passionately about his studies and his family's wealth and titles, but without Sasha, none of those felt real. Everything was so fluid and so secondary, without importance. How could he function without his heart?

He understood Shakespeare's tragedies then, why Romeo took his life as soon as he gazed upon Juliet's cold body. A life without his love did not feel like a life at all.

But now, he. This. His father, he came through for him, he probably knew he wouldn't budge and he would scream his throat until it was sore and raw if he forced him in that plane. His father knew they were close. He didn't know how much.

"S-Sasha..." he said softly. He was already weak from exhaustion, and the relief and happiness that spread in his body was too overwhelming, pushing him to tears. He ran straight into Sasha's arms and cried into his chest, smelling him, feeling him once again. He was so familiar. Safe. Everything started making sense again and falling back into place. Florentin felt like himself again.

He could lose everything and still survive, but not this, not them. Not home.

"Y-you're back, w-when did —? W-Why, what did f-father say? A-are you coming with me?" He looked up at Sasha expectantly, eyes large and glossy. He had so many things to say, couldn't, not in the presence of his family. Beloved, my heart, my everything. I missed you more than I did all the stars in the sky. Please, please never leave me again.
 

Poppy

Well-Known Member
Inactive
Mar 18, 2015
3,930
Florentin almost stumbled sideways as he saw what — rather, who — that person was looking at.

He didn't realize that he'd resigned to his fate. He was always so stubborn, disobeying rules, sneaking out when forbidden. His mother had locked him in his room for days when Sasha was dismissed because they knew he was going to look for him. And he did look. He climbed the gate some weeks ago, braving the cold, dangerous streets of Paris for his beloved, to the point his own body begged for him to stop and his father's men found him.

Florentin knew he was out there, sending his letters somehow, and every time one came, his heart felt like it was being bled out. He couldn't take the agony. Their time apart only grew wider and wider, seemingly stretching out forever.

Often, he thought of leaving the mansion forever too. It was a big decision. Florentin cared passionately about his studies and his family's wealth, titles, and importance, but without Sasha, it seemed like none of those felt real. Everything was so fluid and secondary. How could he function without his heart?

He understood Shakespeare's tragedies then. He understood why Romeo took his life when he saw Juliet's cold body. A life without his love did not feel like a life at all.

But now, he. This. His father, he came through for him, he probably knew he wouldn't budge and he would scream his throat until it was sore and raw if he forced him in that plane. His father knew they were close. He didn't know how much.

"S-Sasha..." he said softly. He was already weak from exhaustion, and the relief and happiness that spread in his body was overwhelming, pushing him to tears. He ran straight into his arms and cried into his chest, smelling him, feeling him once again. He was so familiar. Safe. Everything started making sense again and falling back into place. Florentin felt like himself again.

He could lose everything and still survive, but not this, not them. Not home.

"Y-you're back, w-when did —? W-Why, what did f-father say? A-are you coming with me?" He looked up at Sasha expectantly, eyes large and glossy. He had so many things to say, couldn't, not in the presence of his family. Beloved, my heart, my everything. I missed you more than I did all the stars in the sky. Please, please ever leave me again.
 

Tom Marvolo Riddle

the dark lord
Inactive
Jul 19, 2015
1,892
portland, oregon
mantacarlos.tumblr.com
Pronouns
he/him/his
Sasha clutched onto Florentin the moment he was within reach, and it didn't take him very long to sob. He didn't know what to do, could hardly be poetic like in all of his letters, he just felt overwhelmed and desperate. His chest heaved and he blinked blearily. He buried his face in Flor's hair. "I love you," he whispered, again and again, just loud enough for his darling to hear.

God, fuck, he wanted to kiss him, be with him in their most vulnerable and honest states, but they were still being watched- and already pushing it, even as the best of friends finally reunited. He felt like he'd waited forever, so surely he could manage for just a little longer, no matter how much it hurt. Having Flor look up at him with those big eyes didn't help, though. Sasha cupped his face with one hand, caressing, as gentle and deliberate as ever.

"Didn't expect to be. I was alerted to what was happening just now, thanks to a last minute call from your father. There wasn't much said, but I am to accompany and watch over you again, yes." His words were clipped, his voice was far too heavy and thick.

He quieted.

"It's… over. We're really going, aren't we?" That was only just beginning to sink in. He didn't think he'd fully process it until they were on the plane, France fading away into nothing. Everything was still sore, and he felt so young, but it also seemed as though… that was all going to change in an instant. It was odd, in the very end, how easy it really was.

Sasha didn't want to let go of Flor. Not while they were still had their feet on this land, at least, and not in general. He swallowed, tipping his head up, making eye contact with the other guard. He didn't know him. Of course not, Sasha had been close friends with all of the regular staff, and still was. They were who delivered his letters. It was… fair, to not have one of them here, even if Flor's parents didn't know the full extent of his affections. If they did, he most certainly wouldn't be here now.

"He's exhausted and sickly, he needs help," Sasha called, as an explanation, then picking Florentin up and holding him, grip tight and protective. He took Flor's luggage as well, easily carrying both. His heart felt like it was stopped. His life was going to change again.

For the better. Florentin was with him.

He gave a nod, rather cold in demeanor, to his near replacement. Then, they entered the jet, together.

He was numb in a very relieving way.
 

Poppy

Well-Known Member
Inactive
Mar 18, 2015
3,930
Florentin's body near collapsed as he relaxed into the hug, burying his face into Sasha's chest and feeling the last month's exhaustion hit him all at once, like a breath he didn't know he was holding. Hearing Sasha's voice, telling him that he loved him, it felt right. It made sense. He didn't know what he would do without him, his entire world.

He nodded as Sasha confirmed what he asked him. They were really going? It was surreal to think about, having the hell that was last month happen, separated, and then suddenly being together again without the snakes that pried them away from each other in the first place.

He didn't think his opinion of his parents would improve, but this was definitely a good start.

When he was suddenly swooped into his arms, he let it happen. His surroundings were muted into nothingness, disassociated from everything other than the safety that was washing over him. He felt young all of a sudden. His last conscious thought was grabbing the front of Sasha's shirt and whispering a heartfelt I love you before he blacked out.



He woke up with a start, at first to bright luminescent lights and then the blurry blindness that followed it. He grabbed blindly at the air (when did his eyes get so bad), struggling a bit, mumbling "no, no, I don't want to go, you can't make me," before he realized... his companion here was no other than Sasha himself.

So it was all real?

They were in his family's jet. It didn't seem like he passed out for very long, since it was still very bright out. There was also the possibility he'd slept through the entire day. That hardly mattered when the very focus of his vision was his beloved, not as great as the last they've seen of each other, but whole and in one piece. With him. They were together.

"Love," he gasped, covering his mouth. Tears began to swell in his eyes as he flung his tired body onto Sasha's lap, kissing him fiercely, touching him where he could and pressing against him. His chest swam with affection and he was warm all over, warm when normally his skin was so cold. "Never leave me. I don't know what I'd do without you, I simply don't."
 
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