BURN LIKE A TORCH

     Once Aydin‘s arms curled around Levi‘s body, the water witch crumbled into his embrace. His face was buried in the crook of the shifter‘s neck, his fingers curling into the fabric of Aydin‘s shirt. He deeply inhaled the other’s scent that had an incredibly calming effect on him. “I don’t think I can talk about it.” Not yet. Not now. Levi’s voice broke as he spoke those words, and he inhaled another deep breath. All these years, he wanted nothing more than to get his memories. And now? “I want to forget.”

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Aydin’s grip tightened around the witch— he was a dancer, his form was slight and he felt as though if he clutched him hard enough he would feel the outline of every bone and lean muscle, that he could eventually stitch together what was broken within him. He had done his own damage upon Levi, he knew that well enough, but if there was even the slightest chance that he could redeem himself by doing something good— he pulled away, hearing Levi’s words by his ear. “Okay.” Nervousness hummed its own song in his chest but he pressed his lips to the other’s, bringing them together, tasting salt water while he did so.

Cihangir nods his head along, it doesn’t sound like an unreasonable assessment. “Alright then.” He doesn’t truly know enough about engines to dispute it, and the fact remains that he would rather make sure it stays in prime condition than get simple patchwork done. He trails after Aydin into what appears to be some sort of office, eyes darting around the room as if it could give him any clues as to who his brother has become over the years. “I could ask the same of you.” He slips into Turkish, their mother tongue flows more natural from his lips than Greek does. Still, Cihangir shakes his head lightly, before running fingers through his curls. “Their plans for my future did not align with my own. When it came to a head, I chose to move on.” It’s a simplified explanation, skipping over the weighted details of the story, but it’s all that Cihangir feels comfortable divulging at the moment. “I had half thought that you were dead.” 

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Aydin found some paperwork, Elif had done him the service of prepping blank sheets and he scrawled the make and model of the motorcycle onto it before turning the sheet over to his brother, indicating where it was that he needed to sign and fill out his information. The slip to Turkish felt like tugging on old clothes, it was familiar but brought back memories— he hadn’t of noticed that he had neglected his first language so much until he was using it now, speaking without pause or second-thought. “You always knew how to say much without saying anything at all,” Aydin pointed out, but he didn’t pry further, before laughing. “Not yet.” He had travelled and he had learned a great many things, but he had not died as a result of them, despite his own recklessness. “How is our mother?” The shifter paused, asking something he cared for an answer more. “And Rey?”

“I’ll just send her a picture of the mess, she’ll do the rest.” Bastien said with a shrug, maybe if she didn’t respond he’d send a series of question marks until Winter inevitably got the hint. “Suit yourself.” At the mention of Post Malone Bastien just made a face, as if he’d ever listen to such shitty music. “Huh, no never. Tim McGraw has a new album out.”

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“I have a sister too,” Aydin noted idly, divulging a little bit about himself that Bastien would have otherwise been denied. “Reyhan.” A witch, just like his roommate’s sister, but— “She’d string me up alive if I tried that shit.” Or at least, he assumed so. She had been nothing more than a child when he had begun to leave home, what she was now was a mystery to him at best. “Tim McGraw?” The shifter echoed, “I can’t tell if that’s better or worse.”

    It was almost too much. Levi’s fragile heart could barely take how carefully Aydin draped the blanket around his form to keep him warm. The water witch had thought before that with his new memories he would shy away from touch even more, but not with Aydin. Instead tears now filled his eyes, and one or two of them spilled over. “Can you hug me?”, he whispered, his voice trembling under the weight of his tears as everything in him yearned to be held, for someone to take over holding his broken pieces together for once — especially if it was Aydin.

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Can you hug me? It was such a simple request, but from Levi’s lips it was needle-thin, as though a refusal would surely send him spinning into a state that was closer to falling apart than he was now. He caught the glimmer of salt water in eyes that watched him, and he nodded, swallowing down what felt like glass as he curved his arms around the witch, pulling him close to his chest. “Do you want to talk about it?” He murmured the question against the crown of Levi’s head, before offering an alternative. “Or do you want to forget?”

    Was she betraying Miri if she told Aydin about Levi’s well-being? Luce wasn’t sure, but he was her best friend. And they had talked about Levi and Aydin before — there was no harm done in giving him some peace of mind by letting him know. Even if she knew in the foreseeable future he probably wouldn’t like what she could say about Levi. “I will,” she promised quietly, resting her head on top of his. “I’ll let you know whenever she tells me something.”

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Aydin kept his eyes closed, instead focusing on the steadiness of their heart beats. He wasn’t so often as docile as this, curved into his best friend as she spoke quietly. Despite his jagged edges and the sharpness to his words, she didn’t dart away, Luce had refused to leave his side, even if she thought he was wrong. He wanted to do better, that much he knew for certain and he tucked in a breath saying words he didn’t often utter. “Thank you.”

    Levi didn‘t want it to get to him. But to hear that Aydin wanted to check whether he was okay caused his heart to flutter in his chest, a cautious warmth taking over his body. But he still felt small, he still felt cold, and he still felt as if his brain was clouded with memories of someone else that were too traumatizing to process. He was a small ball in the corner of the couch, watching Aydin move through the apartment. The witch had always pictured that to be different, but it was nothing he could change now. His lips opened in an attempt to say that he was fine, but the words wouldn‘t leave his lips. “I‘m not okay,” he whispered then, pressing his forehead against his knees.

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Aydin reached for the blanket that was draped over an arm of the couch and he reached to pull it over Levi’s shoulders, wrapping him up warmly before reaching to tuck some of his long hair behind his ear. He moved slowly, and his touch was cautious despite how he yearned to do more than to ghost his fingers against the witches’ skin: it had been too long since he had seen him, and he had swallowed and sat in enough shame to last him the duration of a lifetime. “How can I help?” His brows drew in, “What can I do?”

    Levi was completely stunned by Aydin’s appearance. He wondered how he knew, because Miri certainly hadn’t told him, and he didn’t think any of the other visitors he didn’t let inside had told him either. He had such tunnel vision that was focused on Aydin’s face, not even noticing Miri was still there. For just a moment he considered shutting the door in Aydin’s face, to give the other a man a bit of his own medicine. But he couldn’t. So far, Levi just wanted to be alone with his thoughts and his memories. But seeing Aydin now, despite what had happened, the witch felt the intense need to curl up against his chest and feel his arms wrapped around him. Whatever progress he had made to get over the shifter would be ruined if he let him in now — but if he was honest, he hadn’t really started to get over him at all. So after another moment of silence, he nodded a little and stepped aside, pulling the door open even wider to let him inside. “Come in,” he whispered, retreating to the couch to curl up, the sleeves of the hoodie pulled over his hands to somehow comfort himself. “How did you know?”

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Aydin closed the door behind him, shutting away the glare from the witch that stood on the other side of it— more pitbull than girl and just as likely to close her teeth around his limbs and bite as a result of a wrong move. He was nervous enough, coming to see Levi like this, after everything that had happened, and everything that he had done. The apartment was dark now, with curtains drawn tight to shroud away any whisper of light, and it was cold inside as he padded over to where Levi sat, tucking himself smaller and smaller. It made his chest hurt, and he swallowed, finding space on the couch to sit with him. “Luce told me.” She had yelled at him too for what he had done, telling him that he had been cruel: not only to Levi, but to himself, and that alone had made him feel sick. His voice was quiet, like gravel crushed to sand, pressed between them as though another above a whisper would echo too loudly. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Cihangir doesn’t know what to do, other than just stand there. It’s been a long time since the brothers even stood in the same room as each other, Aydin had made a run for it long before he’d ever worked up the will to do so. But that wasn’t so surprising, Aydin was always running while Cihangir was stuck in place. He’s the last person the air witch ever thought to see again, though. A part of him supposes he always thought his younger brother would’ve remained in Turkey, though now he clearly sees the fallacy in that logic, considering his own travels. “The acceleration is losing power. More effort, less output.” His gaze similarly turns to the Bonneville, because he doesn’t know what else he can say, and tucks his hands inside his pockets to keep from fidgeting. “Don’t know if it can just be patched, or if it needs replacement entirely.” 

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Aydin bent, squinting as he studied the machinery. “I’m gonna have to take it apart. If it needs to be patched, that means it’ll be a temporary fix— if you’ve got the money now, just replace it.” He straightened up, carding a hand through auburn hair, caring little for the grease that would streak through it. His bathwater would swirl oily and dark when it went down the drain later, evidence of a hard day’s work. “I won’t overcharge you at least, brother.” He had a bad habit of adding a zero to the end of a bill when the client looked like they wouldn’t blink twice at it, but Cihangir was different and Aydin didn’t doubt that he would know well enough what a simple replacement would cost. He gestured for the witch to follow him, and made his way to the desk to grab papers and draft up a damage release. “What brings you so far from home?”

@aydinlykos​

     Getting his memories back from Atlas was certainly not what Levi had always pictured it to be. In no way did he think all of those memories would be good, quite the opposite — but he had not expected this level of pain, of torture, of trauma. He always wanted to understand why he had so many fears, why he could not sleep in the dark or step into an elevator. Now none of those fears surprised him anymore. Levi had not eaten or slept since the memories flooded his mind, instead he had wandered from the bed to the couch to the floor. He did not know how many times Miri had knocked on his door in the last 24 hours alone, but he had not opened to her or anyone else who stopped by. He kept himself locked away, and he had every intention of keeping it that way. The water witch did not know what time it was when the next knock on his door followed. His eyes stared at the ceiling, puffy from tears he cried, with dark circles underneath. He did not intend to react to the knock — not until a voice he did not expect to hear again reached through the heavy wood. Any memories were swiped from his mind right in that moment, and he sat up and moved to the door slowly. He carefully pulled the door open, as if afraid there would be no one on the other side. But there was, and Levi was suddenly painfully aware of his sweatpants, oversized hoodie and messy hair. “Aydin? What… what are you doing here?”

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It had been Luce that had told him what had happened with Levi. Her story of the events were disjointed— but the underlying truth was plain, the witch was wounded, and as time stretched on, he was alone. It was starting to occupy Aydin’s own thoughts, an incessant tug on his mind during the day, with the updates from Luce that Miri had likely sent her, growing more and more distraught. He felt like something caged, and his pacing steps around the shop had even began to set Elif off, who in turn begged him to leave and to sort out what it was that was on his mind. He would have brought flowers if he wasn’t so anxious, pressed forward by the need to make sure that the witch was alright. Aydin had told himself in the mirror that he didn’t care, that it would be fine and Levi would be fine without him, but as he made his way up the steps to the apartment two at a time, he was sure that he could hear his own reflection laughing at him. He cared very much, shrinking away from the venomous glare of Levi’s sister as he brought his own fist to the door, pressing his cheek to the wood. “Levi,” the shifter called, “Please let me in.” The door, despite the pause and the quiet that had seemed to span the length of an entire day, slowly creaked open and he let out a breath in relief just to see the other’s face. “Hey,” he said quietly, keeping his hand from reaching out to wipe at a shiny track of tears on Levi’s face. “I needed to see you, I was worried.” He looked back briefly, at Miri’s narrowed eyes and he bit into his cheek. “Can I come in?”

“Right. You sound like my brother. He left, too. He was a witch.” Anders didn’t want to explain more than he had to, so he just moved on. It was strange for him to understand how their family could have split so far apart, so many generations between he and this Andrew. “Perks? No. I miss shifting. You have immortality, but for what? To outlive everyone you care about? It’s shit. I’m trying to find a way back to it all. And to stop drinking blood. It’s not good. So it must suck for you – to find all this family here. You hate having people that care about you, too?”

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“Dante, or the other one?” Aydin had met a handful of the Lykos in Corinth, and he gestured now as he tried to summon a name. “Arvid.” It sounded to him like there were very few witches who had stayed in their home, and he wondered what the coven was doing now— if it continued as his own had without him, or if the loss of a handful of young people was felt like a wound. He shook his head, Anders’ words were too far from the truth. “No,” he said, looking at the other man. “I don’t hate having them care about me.” He snorted, thinking back to the home he had run away from in Istanbul. “I don’t even know what that’s like.”

     Luce knew that she was treading in dangerous waters here. Aydin was like a wild deer ready to run away at the slightest headlights, and she was currently shining hers on him full force. But maybe tough love worked better on him than just staying silent and ignoring the elephant in the room. „I know,“ she said quietly, and then she extended her hand towards his as an offer for some sort of comforting body contact. She wished there was more she could do, but at the end of the day, Aydin had to face his demons alone. He was the only one who could destroy them, if he wanted to. „Is there any way I can help you with this?“

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Aydin didn’t reach for Luce’s hand and instead he leaned in, pressing his forehead to her shoulder. She was something steady, a constant who only wished the best for him— he knew that in his heart, and he was glad that despite the fact that he had shown her so much resistance, she still approached him with kindness, and gently. He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I don’t think so.” Aydin let out a breath, “Can you just let me know how he’s doing? If Miri tells you?”

“Maybe Winter will come by more often if I ask nicely.” Bastien offered, he hated cleaning, and the idea that he needed to do more of it - or any of it - was not in the least bit appealing to him. “Well, it was in my drawer.” The witch pointed out, “It’s okay you can wear mine.” When they got dirty he could just turn them inside out, that’s what Bas always did anyways. Bastien scratched at an unkempt beard before he ran a hand over buzzed hair, “Alright, fine. I’ll take you in.” He didn’t want to drive out of his way but Aydin did the grocery shopping so if Bas was going to get gas out of it then maybe that was the least he could do. 

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“Yeah?” Aydin piped up, “How likely is it that you’re gonna ask nicely?” He had siblings himself, and despite having never been close with them, he had an inkling of how such a request would go. “I don’t want to wear your stretched out underwear, that’s fucking gross.” The shifter made a face, and he rubbed at his jaw. He hadn’t of been sleeping well, not with Levi and him not talking, and going to work didn’t feel appealing, especially when Elif looked at him the way that she did. “Are we gonna listen to Post Malone on the way in though? Because if we are, I’ll just fucking walk.”

“My dumb ass did,” Leon answers honestly and without shame. He flashes his pearly white in an oversized grin. It had cost quite the pretty penny to get the damn truck this far, Leon would be dammed if he just scrapped her. “I’ll pay whatever you want, my guy. As long as she makes it another ten years.” The outside was really all that was left of the original vehicle. But Leon didn’t care. 

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“If you’re going to spend the money on an import, at least make it worth it.” He tipped his chin towards his own vehicle, the gleaming black Hellcat that sat like something hungry on the asphalt. Aydin had been forced to get a roommate and sell his motorcycle in order to afford it with his mechanic’s salary, but the glow of the red lights in the dark, foggy evenings made it worth it. “I can’t promise ten years, but I can get you five if you’ve got good enough credit to get that far.” He gestured to the paperwork on the desk, “I’ll need money up front for parts.” He’d also need some to skim off the top, but this particular shifter didn’t seem as though he’d realize he was being scammed until he drove away with his clunky truck.

While Cihangir wouldn’t necessarily consider himself a car guy, he does take exception to his motorcycle. The Triumph Bonneville is his pride, the fun he gets to have rather than responsibility, and so he takes care of it as a prized possession. That includes taking it in for maintenance, rather than tinkering away at it on his own. Cihangir rides the bike into the shop, long legs swinging off the side before he takes off his helmet. “Are you open for walk in service? I think I’m in need of a new—” He stops in his tracks, words cutting off abruptly as a familiar visage steps before him. It’s been a long time, nearly ten years since he’s seen his younger brother. His face is thinner, the soft features of youth fallen away over time, but the foundation is still the same. “Aydin?” ( @aydinlykos​ )

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It was the start of a new season and it seemed as though everyone in Corinth had decided to make an appointment at once. Being busy was better than the slow days— he was paid by his billable hours, not for sitting idly in the shop, but as he passed keys from a vehicle to the satisfied owner’s hands before gesturing for them to hurry and get the fuck out of the bay so he could have it empty again for someone else, the rumble of a motorcycle engine caught his attention. He turned, “I’ve got about thirty minutes—“ the words died on his tongue too, and his chin lifted, blinking up at familiar features, placing them in a way that made him steel his jaw. Every road lead to Corinth, it seemed, and a reminder of home, especially now, had him feeling wary. “Hey.” The word is ashy on his tongue, awkward, even. Dark eyes swept over the Bonneville, deciding that the motorcycle was a safer place to fix his attention onto, “Not a bad ride, but that exhaust doesn’t sound right.”