nemugyo夜中3時

Pushkrimp’s head perked up. He nearly turned to face Horza but stopped just short of doing so. Maybe he could see the orc in his peripheral vision. It wouldn’t have bothered him if the uruk had turned to face him, if he faced him the entire time that he was bathing, but he didn’t and he cleared his throat, nervous. 

“E-Erm-? Y-Yey? H-Horza…?” He said his name so softly… Horza felt his heart slam against his ribcage. He nearly swallowed a mouthful of water but spat it out as he brought his head fully out of the water.

“Y-You… can- c-can join m-me…. If you wish…” His voice died in his throat as he spoke. Pushkrimp didn’t react immediately, almost as if he was straining his ears, uncertain of what he just heard. He hesitated a few times, seeming uncertain with what course of action he wished to take, before slowly turning to look over his shoulder. 

Pushkrimp’s intense eyes were looking above Horza’s head, almost as if he was afraid to acknowledge him. It was such a strange sight… Horza was accustomed to being ignored, largely due to his status as both an orc and a slave in Mordor. He knew what disgust looked like, what hatred and misplaced superiority looked like. This was not it. Pushkrimp leaned in on himself, hunching his shoulders slightly in a bid to look smaller. He was chewing on one of the corners of his mouth, enough so that Horza could see it plainly even when so far away. He swallowed thickly, starting to rock back and forth in a bid to soothe some of the anxiety that was raising his blood to his head. 

“...yey? Are… Hrmm…” Pushkrimp stuck the nail of his thumb into the corner of his mouth, hooking it inside of his mouth and tugging on it as he ground his teeth against his sharp nail. Against everything that Horza has ever heard about Ferals, Pushkrimp took remarkable care of himself. Even when he was… Horza blinked and nodded beckoning Pushkrimp into the water with a raised arm. Horza was surprised that his hand wasn’t trembling as much as the rest of his body was. Pushkrimp looked down at his arm, then at his face. Horza’s face was tense but not fearful. He wasn’t afraid of Pushkrimp. Not anymore. It seemed to be the other way around now, with Pushkrimp uncertain and hesitant, fearing to hurt him, to scare him away… 

To hurt him again…

“You won’t hurt me.” 

Pushkrimp’s hand dropped away from his mouth. His brows knit together as he studied Horza’s expression and posture. He wasn’t appearing small before him. He wasn’t hiding his gaze or his person. He looked at Pushkrimp, awaiting his response. ‘You can say no’ hung in the air, but it wasn’t what either Horza nor Pushkrimp wanted. He nearly started to pick at his nails again but only grunted as he stood up, nodding to Horza as he began to undress. 

Horza's eyes lingered on Pushkrimp for far longer than he intended. He had already removed the furs that hung off his shoulder, laying it on the ground and was moving to remove the rest of his garb. By the time he had looked away, Horza had already seen much of Pushkrimp’s bare body, his eyes flicking back over to him as he tried not to stare. It was difficult not to, as Horza often found himself staring at Pushkrimp, longing to get closer to him but too intimidated to do so. 

Pushkrimp was a large uruk but he was also very handsome to Horza. It was unusual for an uruk to be covered in hair. Not only did he have a head full of long and thick hair, almost as long as Horza was tall, he had hair on most of his body as well. On his arms, legs, on his chest… Pushkrimp often wore thick furs that covered most of his body, even his arms and chest, maybe especially his arms and chest… It was unusual but it wasn’t unattractive by any means to Horza, though it wasn’t the only thing that had caught his eye about the large, Feral uruk. 

His scars… 

That was one of the many things that always stood out to Horza. Pushkrimp’s scars… There were many across his entire body, from what Horza could tell. Gashes from claws, bite marks from wild beasts, dark markings from traumatic bruising… His eyes instantly fell on the large, thick gash that ran from Pushkrimp’s left shoulder down to nearly his right hip, thickest on his upper ribs, right above his heart.

The wound that he had given him.

Horza fluttered his eyes and looked down at the water. Knots formed in his stomach as that moment flashed behind his eyes. His throat began to squeeze shut and his breath came out in short puffy. Horza’s heart throbbed in his ears and his eyes began to ache. 

It’s still so… so raw…

Dark and thick with a shiny gloss of scar tissue. Pushkrimp never complained of any pain that he felt, not- not then and not now. Does it still hurt…? How can he look at Horza and think that he would be the one to hurt him and not the other way around…? The circumstances of that fight were terrible. Horza can’t even bring himself to feel regret for it but a twinge of guilt is still squeezing around his throat like some sort of viper. A splash had Horza’s heart dropping and his eyes pulling upright. 

Pushkrimp was barely waist deep in the water that Horza was barely able to poke his head out of. He looked at Horza, then around, then back to Horza. His ears were a little dark as well as just underneath his eyes. As tall as he was, he ducked down, so that his nose barely poked out from the water’s surface. His hair pooled around him, reaching almost to Horza as he stood a few feet away. 

“...”

Perhaps this was a mistake… Pushkrimp looked miserable, the exact opposite of what Horza wanted… The large uruk blinked a few times, his reddish-orange irises grabbing the orc’s attention and pulling him to lock eyes with him. Pushkrimp exhaled through his mouth, bubbles forming just in front of his face. It was sort of cute in a way, if an uruk like Pushkrimp could be cute.

Which was something Horza thought was possible. 

Pushkrimp closed his eyes, his shoulders dropping as he reopened them. He looked over to Horza, then away, almost sheepishly. 

“‘s… g’d…” H-Huh…? What did he-

Oh.

‘It’s good.’

Horza felt his heart leap into his throat. Pushkrimp was terribly awkward but he was charming in his own way. Horza had to trust that he wouldn’t say or do something unless he truly meant it… and he did believe this. Pushkrimp didn’t have an aversion to intimacy but he seemed wholly unfamiliar to it. This was a change that he was ill accustomed to but instead of fearing he tried to embrace it. 

Pushkrimp wanted to. He didn’t want to waste this opportunity that Horza had broached with him. Was he making a fool of himself? Likely, but instead of ridicule or a look of confused disgust, Horza seemed in utter awe, looking him up and down though… Surely he must be mistaken…? The little orc settled in close to Pushkrimp, not close enough to touch him but not so far that he was out of reach. Maybe he was testing him a little, to see what his intentions were, if he truly meant when he said he wanted to do right and wanted nothing but the best for Horza… 

This would become a fixture in their lives. Neither thought another living creature would want to be anywhere near their bodies as they were, scarred, damaged, unattractive… But instead of revulsion and disgust being expressed, they both looked at each other through shy glances and a gaze that would sometimes be held for just a moment too long. Though… maybe it wasn’t long enough… Horza wanted to be closer to Pushkrimp and he the same. The little orc has offered often to wash the uruks back but he was hesitant, in spite of the fact that he has done the same for him many times. Pushkrimp wasn’t disgusted by Horza’s scars. He didn’t pity him either, though his heart ached and his throat squeezed shut ever time he remembered the fateful raid that had their paths meeting. 

If he was only an hour later-

“Pushkrimp?”

Horza said his name with a peculiar accent. It always made his ears heat up a little. He picked at his nails under the water, swallowing thickly as he sighed.

“...go un-” 

“W-Wha-?”

“G-Go-” Pushkrimp motioned over his shoulder with a tilt of his head. They both spoke in accents and dialects that were difficult to understand. Still, they didn’t get nearly as frustrated with each other as they thought the other would. A very pleasant surprise. Pushkrimp hoped that his anxiety would soothe after this gets done and for a brief second, he forgot about it as Horza’s cheeks darkened a little and his eyes lit up. Horza’s eyes are so… pretty… No, maybe ‘handsome’ would suit him better… or would he prefer ‘beautiful’...? Pushkrimp’s heart seized in his chest as the little orc waded behind him, cloth in hand. There was energy behind his step.

Until he saw his back.

I-It’s just like… 

Gashes littered his back. Some mimicked symmetry, others were elongated, mismatched, hideously deep. There was no mistaking exactly what they were and the reasoning behind such punishment. The reason itself mattered not. It was cruel and they were as deep as they were faded. Old…

His own scars… 

Pushkrimp picked up on Horza’s apprehension almost immediately. His initial, gut reaction was that of shame. Shame… His body sagged and his ears seemed to drop. Pushkrimp’s posture was no longer at ease and instead rigid. Expectant. He was anticipating something, though what he was unsure of. Ridicule? Disgust? Disappointment? Horza should be angry, perhaps. The suffering Pushkrimp experienced was nothing in comparison to his own, the Uruk would readily admit to this. His pains are old though not forgotten, still fresh in spite of all the centuries since they bloomed onto his back. He would never forget the bite of the switch against his back and his shoulders and the bitter words that shaped him into the thing he would become. Pushkrimp didn’t want pity, he didn’t even want understanding. He only wished Horza wouldn’t despise him further than he likely already did. 

But how could he hate him so? 

The first touch was on his right shoulder, delicate and feather light. It made his shoulder twitch with enough vigor that Horza thought he had harmed the larger uruk. Pushkrimp wouldn’t turn to face him, for fear of what he would see looking back at him. He didn’t want to know what the orc thought of him. He didn’t want to know if he even understood what he was looking at. Pushkrimp hoped he wouldn’t but… 

He did.