he was in constant contradiction with himself. his head always overpowered his heart, but how deep he could run. his head was necessary. impartiality was necessary. tuning out the sadness, the rage, the love, the regret, that ran through his veins was necessary. emotions had no place. they were distractions. how much worse he would be if he listened to his heart. how off the family would be if he listened to his heart. how he would ignore his father’s molding, azra’s input, all that made the necessary cruelty, if he listened to his heart. a thinker. never a feeler.
but he wanted to feel. and ‘to want’ was a feeling in and of itself, was it not ? but all feeling had been pushed so deep, he knew not how to access it. he knew not how he could bring himself to feel. and yet, the other man – that half of his soul, some connection he could not explain – had the ability to draw it out. the other man had the ability to access demir’s heart, replace thinking with feeling. or as close as he could now get to feeling. and, for that, he was forever grateful for their chance meeting by the oak. for that, he was forever grateful for estelle’s great betrayal.
iron cloaked itself in velvet. metal cloaked itself in silk. what it was, he didn’t know. what it was, he didn’t care to know. he, who searched for answers in everything, did not mind going answerless this once. “ ah, don’t sell parasites so short, ” he replied, waving a hand. “ recall john donne: in this flea, our two bloods mingled be. parasites may, in fact, be the very epitome of romance. ”
and so in that moment constantin decided that he simply did not mind whatever it was that he was feeling. that he would allow this pot of melting emotions to overcome him until there was nothing of his old self. gone where the fears of amounting to nothing. gone was the self hate that allowed him to hide from others. gone what had once made him terrified of pulling away from his family’s expectations. everything he was. everything that made him. it had all boiled over and flowed away, leaving the barest form of himself for demir. to demir. because of demir.
his body melted forward on the chair, still sitting properly but somehow more relaxed. hand settling back against the table cloth, closer to demir but still far enough. willingly giving himself to the moments happening around him, the never ending motions of life. the moreau patriarch voice of conscious silent for once, its judgmental words had disappeared. there was no fear in his heart only silence.
“do you truly find them to be the epitome of romance? for me they are the opposite,” he said thoughtfully, mouth pursing in thought. “parasites the likes of leeches are common, in today’s age, vessels of healing. i once saw in a nature channel a video of a man using leeches to lower the swelling.” brushing his fingertips against the centerpiece, giving his hand something to do while he talked. “in that moment the leeched stuck to the area swollen with blood, and became the vessel for it instead. so, i feel like we shouldn’t confuse parasites with romance, for they might mix the blood of two in one common place, but who is to say they aren’t stealing that romance away rather than uniting it?”