inactive

To Hush, hunger used to be a foreign concept.

But ever since he took on his humanoid form- the fleshy disguise that was a mockery of what he was capable of- there’s a simmering under his skin, crawling and clawing for something. There’s a sort of hollowness that couldn’t be filled.

Hush manifested in an underground tunnel full of humans. There were signs above him with words like ‘to Union Station’, ‘Santa Monica’ and ‘Mind the gap’. He followed the crowd to a stationary vehicle, ethereal and glowing with artificial light. As soon as he stepped onto the platform, the metal doors closed. Inside, it was cramped and narrow.

Someone’s elbow was digging into his side and someone pressed against his back. He found the fact interesting, as he discovered that most humans liked their personal space. But not here. Not inside the tunnel that currently moved in speeds that reminded him of Aria, the windows that lead to outside blurred what remained of the scenery into long lines of color. 

Between the sea of people, Hush took in the surroundings as best he could with people breathing down his neck. A man was sitting on the far end of the cargo. He took out a bowl with a transparent lid. He opened it, revealing the insides of rice, meat, and vegetables. He spooned the food into his mouth and chewed with vigor. Beside him, a woman is holding a cup with a dark liquid, steam wafting off of it. She took a sip and winced. The next time she approached the drink, she slowly blew on it, disturbing the vapor. She let out a sigh as she swallowed. In the forgotten corner near the window- a couple was kissing and sucking on each other’s lips. One of them slid their hand down the other’s thigh. The action produced wet, smacking noises and the humans around them looked revolted, turning their backs away. 

He sensed that they all felt a similar sort of feeling, a concoction of desire, relief, hunger, craving mixed into one. Hush didn’t find other humans interesting, but he noted that there was something to be made of the fact that there’s an animal-like primalness to the act of eating something. To him, Arcana is just a source of power floating in the vastness of Aria. He didn’t need to chew or swallow- it’s just absorbed into his form, imbuing him with energy. Hush recounted that Doc also took pleasure in the act, losing themselves in the morsel. 

—

Doc pulled a chair and joined Hush at the kitchen table. “Oh, man. I’m starving,” they sighed as they took a burger out from its paper bag, the colorful logo of its origins crumpled beyond recognition. “Still not into food? Eating in general? We can share it if you want,” they gestured the bun towards his direction across the table.

“No, thank you. Arcana is more than enough sustenance.”

Although he still relied on Arcana as a source of energy, his body never seemed to be rid of the feeling of lacking something. It’s a phantom sort of sensation- like it knew how it’s supposed to act when unfed, but couldn’t seem to find the right functions to do it.

“Suit yourself, then.” They took a bite and hummed in pleasure. Their white, ivory colored teeth sank into the bread and patty. It was pliant under their grasp, their fingers marking it with dents. A crunch from the lettuce. “Wow. That really hit the spot.”

Doc wiped off their mouth with the back of their hand, yet their lips were still shiny, slick with oil, the meal marking an evidence of their appetite just. Hush watched unblinkingly as they chewed, barely swallowing before inhaling and going in for another bite. He noted that there’s something strangely intimate yet taboo about the way humans eat. Like it should be done behind closed doors, away from onlookers.

His human companion themself- had a particular affinity for food that was eaten directly with their hands. “Tastes better that way. Burrito, fries, sliced fruit. Sushi. It’s kind of nice to touch and feel it going into my mouth,” they said, muffled between bites.

There’s something sacred about the way Doc eats. They always do it with a reverent sort of enthusiasm. Completely indulging themself in it, not holding anything back. They cradled the burger as if with affection, with tenderness.

Hush felt oddly shameful, as he watched the food disappear past their lips into the cavern of their wet mouth. The act of watching them eat, almost voyeuristic in nature.

He imagined what it would be like to cook them a meal- the food that they metabolized being his own picking. He’d gather out the ingredients, meticulously cut and sear it.

He made up his mind to do so.

—

Hush found himself in front of a glass display of animal carcasses hanging from hooks. The flesh was plenty, hanging off the bone with white fat between the muscles. He couldn’t recognize what they used to be. The hook twisted the carcass slightly when a stray gust of wind moved it. On the rack, other rolls of meat filled with what looked like herbs sat. It was bound with twine rope, the layers of meat dimpled out provocatively. 

“You!” the burly man beside the display acknowledged him, sharpening his knife with a clink, clink, clink. “Are ya’ buyin’ anything or are you just gonna stare?” 

“Sorry.” 

Doc told him that it was wise to apologize whenever someone is displeased with him. They said it could get him out of unsavory situations. 

“What do people usually buy?” he asked, taking good care to make himself look as conventional as possible. 

“Eh,” he mindlessly tapped the cutting board with his knife. The cuts of meat around him shook slightly. “Rib’s popular if ya’ got the money. Shank for broth. Maybe…flank? For steak.” 

“The flank, then,” he said, looking him in the eyes as a sign of respect. He looked uncomfortable under his stare, and averted his gaze down to the board. 

“Ya got it.” He groaned with effort as he took one of the hanging pieces and put it on the table. Hush noticed that there’s hints of extremities, like two protruding hind legs. The man’s knife scored the top membrane- a thin film with a pinkish hue- to reveal ruby-red fibrous muscle. He cut the muscle away and folded it into a neat roll. “She’s a beauty, this one.” 

There’s a strange sort of tenderness the butcher had for the meat. The man was protective of them, like a father might for a daughter. He’d give Hush a glare whenever he stood too close to the chops, and cut the skin with a delicate hand when he himself was anything but. 

“How do you usually cook it?”

–

The flank sizzled in a sea of butter and garlic, red slowly turning into brown. Hush flipped the meat and it made a loud sound. 

Strangely, it reminded him of the demon in his companion’s apartment. The surge of rage and power that ran through his veins when he saw them threaten his companion. The explosion of connective tissue and viscera on the kitchen floor.

Both an act of devotion, he thought. His power tore through sinews and bone- and the knife in his hand sliced the flank clean, revealing the pink, rare, inside. Tempting in its dampness. 

Doc opened the door with a clatter of their keys when Hush was setting the steak on the dining table. It looked accurate enough to the pictures he saw in the books he studied. A firm, supple steak in the middle of the plate. A fork and knife on its side. He even set the table with a tablecloth, candleholders and a bowl of apples in the center. Romantic wasn’t quite the word he looked for when he did all this, but it was quite accurate to how picturesque the spread was. 

“I made you dinner,” he turned to them. “Oh, I was wondering why it smelled so strong,” they laughed as they put away their shoes. “Thanks, Hush. Appreciate the effort.” 

They looked surprised when they saw that the kitchen was clean despite the smell- although he committed to making the meal by hand, he’d used the help of magic to wash the dishes. “You really know how to spoil me,” they teased. “What’s the occasion?” 

“I like seeing you eat,” he confessed. “There’s something…appealing about it.” 

They raised an eyebrow, and good-naturedly huffed as they walked over to the dining table. “Thanks. I guess. I’ll take that as a compliment. Hey, you even set the table and everything.” 

“Yes. It’s to add to the experience. Humans eat with their eyes first, before their mouth.” 

Doc sat themselves down in front of the plate and gave Hush a strange look when he kept standing. They pat the seat beside them.

“Aren’t you going to sit down?” 

“Okay,” he obeyed and mirrored their sitting position. Hush watched as the human took the fork on the side of the plate and put a piece of steak in their mouth. “Mm. It’s really good,” they groaned. “Definitely not bad for a first try, Hush.” 

Hush felt satisfaction when he saw them enjoying the meal, the warm light of the candle lighting the planes of their face that twisted into indulgence. “To be honest, it’s kind of odd to be eating just steak and nothing else. But y’know what. I think there’s an appeal to it.” 

They cut another piece with the knife and pierced it with a fork before nudging it to Hush. “It’s your first time cooking anything, is it not? I think you should at least try what you made. Fruits of your labor and all.” 

“Why didn’t you eat with your hands?” he asked. “You said that it makes things taste better.” 

“Oh. Well I guess steak isn’t really a…hand food. In this scenario, anyway. Do you still wanna try this?” 

“No,” Hush answered. 

Doc hummed an assent and continued eating, Hush watching intently as they swirled the steak in butter before slowly closing their lips around it. He wondered if they did it on purpose.

“I’ve told you that there’s a lot of things I’d like to give you,” he broke the silence. “But, there’s something…I’d like you to give me.” 

They set the utensils on the plate, resting it. Their expression was thoughtful, unreadable. “...What do you want me to do?” 

“There’s a…feeling I get when I’m with you. Like I’m starving but there’s nothing that could fix that. It’s like…” 

Hush reached out to hold Doc’s hand. They gently squeezed it back and traced the back of his palm with their thumb. He guided it to hover above his neck, before lightly pressing it against his skin. He let out a noise from the back of his throat as he moved it down his clavicle, to his sternum. Their hand was warm when he moved it down his stomach in a straight line. 

He brought it up again, back to his neck and traced a horizontal line across the base of his throat. He felt Doc’s heart speed up, along with the tension in the atmosphere. He started another line at the bottom of his ribs, tracing across the fabric of his clothes.

“Like gutting a fish,” they muttered, entranced. “Or…butchering lamb.”

“Yes,” he approved. “Like meat. Like something alive.”

“I share a similar sentiment,” Doc uttered, half-lidded. In a quick gesture, they dropped themselves down to the table, pulling Hush down with them. The remaining plates clinked with the sudden movement. Hush noticed that they looked utterly pleased with themselves, as if laying between leftover steak and utensils like they were part of dinner was an indulgence he couldn’t understand. 

“I have something to offer you. A form of thanks for dinner.” 

Doc reached for Hush’s right hand and covered it with their own, not unlike how he held theirs earlier. Hush balanced on his other arm, caging them in with his body. They flashed him a rakish grin from below. Hush licked his dry lips, feeling like he was going to be swallowed whole, even when they couldn’t hurt him in a way that matters. He could feel their intense emotions: hunger, thrill, desire, frustration. Doc trailed both of their hands against their sternum, moving it past the collar of their shirt. It stopped on the right side of their neck, slightly below their jawline. They sighed into a pleasured smile, their eyes rolling back before meeting his gaze. “Do you feel it?” They whispered, wide-eyed and frenzied, firmly pressing his hand against their supple, pliant skin. 

Hush could feel the thump of a pulse, loud and clear through his heightened senses. It was a delicious sort of sound, the rush of something and its channel opening, closing, and opening again. A rhythm. “There’s thumping. Like your heart in your chest. I don’t understand what you’ve offered me.” 

“You will, in a bit,” they replied. “Your lack of pulse,  the lack of breathing, the lack of body temperature- it suggests that there’s nothing to be revealed. As it should, if what you told me was right- a disguise, a vessel for you to put a fraction of your power in.”

“That’s true. In a way,” he said, noting that he could feel their breath on his face- contrasting his lack of. “This isn’t… me. But more of a form of me.” 

Doc toyed with the ends of his hair that pooled on the side of their head, twirling it with their fingers. They laugh sardonically,” To a being like you, the human body is simple, inconsequential. But we have our secrets, too.” 

“It’s not,” Hush rebutted. “Human bodies are irrelevant to my purpose. Not yours, somehow. I want to know more about yours.” 

“Oh, you flatter me,” Doc slurred, their eyes ravenous. “Much like how you’re a container of instrumental force, the human body is also teeming with energy. Our veins are thrumming with life. Blood rushes to our extremities, pumping. Stomachs shrink and expand and absorb. This body…is the opposite of silence. It’s noise. Mechanical and biological in the way magic isn’t.” 

Hush could feel the pulse in their skin get louder and louder, along with the sloshing of blood, its passage narrowing and widening. A drop of sweat dripped down his human companion’s face. They reached for the knife- still dirty from the steak earlier. Doc finally let go of Hush’s hand in favor of wiping it off with their shirt, revealing their abdomen. 

“Hold this with me,” they pleaded.

Doc repeated their earlier position, his hand under theirs. They breathe heavily, their chest rising and falling. Doc guided the knife to the left of their chest. “Between the third and fourth rib- closest way you can reach the heart,” they muttered shakily, letting out a sound of pleasure from the back of their throat. They let the knife dig into their skin, not enough to pierce through, but enough to let the fabric of their shirt sink into its edge. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Hush whispered. “Why do you want me to?” 

“Why?” the word rolled in their mouth. “You had every chance to. I know you could do it, even without the knife. I’ve seen you destroy Reticuli in seconds. What made me different? Just because you’re interested in me?” 

“If I’m in the way of your purpose- if I stood in the way of your mission, would you? You let me go after capturing me when we first met- is that not a defiance of your purpose?” 

“I-” he faltered, eyes searching for meaning when there was none. 

“Aw,” they cooed. “Am I so important that you’d forgo what you were made for?” 

“Either way, I’m not asking you to,” they laughed warmly, their breath warm against Hush’s pulseless neck. “I’m giving you an option because I know you wouldn’t do it.”

“You knew? What’s the point of doing that, then?” 

“I like you. And I trust you. I need to know that this isn’t a mistake,” Doc said lightly, as if they were used to being on the other end of a knife. Realization dawned on Hush- the fact that unlike himself, who did the things he did for the sake of his larger purpose- Doc seeks thrill, jumping headfirst into an opportunity to put their life in danger. It’s a strange form of taking control, being out of it and accepting that they couldn’t do anything but give in. 

“I can feel the gears turning in your head, Hush.” 

Doc tangled Hush’s hair in their fingers and tucked it behind his ear, lightly grazing his cheek with intention. “It’s cute.”

Hush felt the ever-so-familiar feeling, the clawing mix of hunger and desire coiling in his immaterial gut. He licked his lips. Doc shrugged at the lack of an answer,”Well, If you’re not interested. I’ve worked up quite an appetite.” 

Doc supported their weight on one of their elbows and leaned forward. They reached back for an apple from the centerpiece bowl and started to peel it with nimble hands. They cut a piece and popped it into their mouth while keeping their gaze on him, as if daring Hush to do something. 

For once, Hush felt himself break. 

He took the apple from Doc’s hands and did something that would’ve been unthinkable before he met them. 

Completely irrelevant to his purpose, completely self indulgent. 

He took a large bite out of it, tasting the odd flavor. There’s a crunch, and he could feel his teeth sinking into the flesh. Cloying and sweet. Wet. The juice drips down his lips, down his chin, onto his clothes. He let it and watched Doc swallow, wordless. It’s succulent, ripe. Unmoored, he finished what he could, leaving only the core intact. 

“Delicious,” Hush commented, looking down at Doc, sprawled and pinned like a butchered animal.

Hush sensed the want to gorge, a craving. He could no longer tell whether it was Doc’s or his. It’s hazy, like his being was covered in fog and he only relied on the sense of taste for sensation. Doc looked at him, hungry, ravenous. When their gazes met, they both understood, a phrase coming to both their minds. Good enough to eat, his thoughts repeated. It wasn’t a fight for dominance, but rather submission. The will to give in to be ravaged by the other. 

He pressed his lips to theirs. It was Doc who deepened it, eating his face and mouth, draining him of what he has to offer. It was frantic, depraved, spit-slick and messy. He let out a noise. Hush noted that it was not unlike the pleasured sigh Doc did when they ate the burger. 

On the dinner table, Hush felt himself consumed as he indulged in what he had deprived himself of. This was the closest Hush was to being human since his half-death. 

The closest he was to being sated.

Satisfied.