s i p h o n

He’s spoken her fears into existence and Jazz looks from him to the quiet shop around them. It’s not something she really wants to discuss with a stranger, but what choice does she have at this point? Besides, she has been keeping the plants on the counter perky whenever she comes in. There’s a common thread between them for that kind of thing, she thinks. And therefore she can convince herself that they’re already kind of friends. “Do you have a moment to talk about it? I’m trying to help them. And we could use all the help we can get.”

-

Roman looked over at Jazz now, and he leaned forward to rest his arms on the counter so he could speak to her a bit more quietly. The shop itself was quiet, but most patrons were busy with their books and phones. He decided to be vague about his own power, clearing his throat, “I’ve been finding a way to give them energy. They’ve been...so weak, that it’s been difficult to help. But I don’t know what the common factor is.”

Felix watched the hat slip away until Roman gripped at it, taking it off before he ultimately pulled it back over his curls, looking out at him from under the brim. He had to be careful with his touch, the witches’ was fierce— but he was delicate and a vampire’s couch brush bones like glass, he didn’t dare pull Roman in with the same amount of force. The heady scent of his skin and the network of veins and blood that sat underneath made him let out a breath that he didn’t need to hold: it was strange, all of these little human notions that he hadn’t of been willing to let go of. Eli and Cal had been what they were for so long, but eh still remembered what it was like to be human, to feel everything.

He lifted the hand, pressing it to his lips. “I wish that I was more,” Felix admitted, and the words were something wounded. “You deserve so much more.” More than someone dead, more than a parasite: but this time those thoughts would not be invasive enough to draw him away. Instead, it would be reason for him to stay tethered there, to work until he was someone that Roman could be proud of, or until he was someone that was proud to be the witches’ equal.

-

There was plenty of ways Roman could take that, but he had nothing to say yet. Felix was enough, and the witch would make sure he knew that sooner rather than later. After all, there was little that he’d kept from the vampire, and he wasn’t going to start now. The earth witch intertwined their fingers, taking a step back and pulling the other with him. “Let me help you clean up, Felix,” Roman murmured, looking at the blood that stained his hands. 

They had plenty of time to talk, if that’s what they wanted, but the night air was chilled, and Roman was cold, and emotionally drained. There was no ulterior motive in bringing the other back with him, and he met Felix’s gaze after a second, “Only if you want to – I can help.”

She shook her head, snorting. “He’s not like that.” No, Remzi was the type to bear dark circles under his eyes, to sink his fists into the leather of a punching bag, over and over until those who passed by got concerned— until his knuckles split and bled crimson down the wraps on his wrist. “Come by the gym some day, I’ll introduce you.” She tapped at her chin, “Or we can hide by the treadmill and just ogle, I feel like that’s good for the soul too.” The werewolf leaned over the counter, peering at the selection of herbs and natural remedies. “Probably best to start off with something that isn’t magic, just to see what happens.” She had never had trouble sleeping in her life, despite the nightmares that plagued her at times— her demons had become something expected, they played well in her mind. “I once swapped his coffee for decaf and I thought I had basically killed him.” She grinned, recalling how Remzi had practically fallen down the stairs before she had hurried to prepare an espresso shot. “He needs to sleep more.”

-

Roman wrinkled his nose again, since the idea of him in a gym was basically laughable. He didn’t want to say that out loud, though, and just smiled at his friend, “Right. Me, lifting some weights. I’ll be there tomorrow.” Shaking his head, he laughed, “Yes, hiding by the treadmill I think sounds like the best part. Let’s just do that.” He shook his head again as he lined up the different bags of tea he had available, pushing one forward, “This helped me, for a little while.” Roman pushed some of his curls out of his face, “You know I’ve had insomnia since I was a kid. This made it go away – but I’ve had to start adding magic and different spells to it. Eventually he’ll get a tolerance, as we do with all things, but it might help for now.”

Snitching wasn’t something she was willing to do, but she had faith in her fellow plant witch to be able to figure it out on his own. Jazz gives a shrug of her shoulders, raises her hands a little as if to indicate she didn’t know and then her playfulness dissipates at the mention of the Vidalis kids. He looks worried and she can’t blame him, that’s been the vibe for everyone since Anastasia woke up it would seem. “I’m close with a few of them. I’ve noticed Miri in particular getting…” The coughing, Ade’s nose bleed the last time she’d been in the shop. “They’re getting worse.”

-

Roman sighed, “Right. Well there goes that,” he managed a half smile, but he met the woman’s gaze after a moment. He knew he’d brought up the serious topic, but he couldn’t help but consistently be concerned. “Their energy is...fading. It’s not like they don’t have a soul, you know, like with a cubi, but they’re just...dying.”

The hat was too big for Roman’s head, but perched on the crown of curls it made him look boyish— shrouding the amber colour of his gaze when he looked up at Felix. The vampire could hear the thud of his heartbeat, it was something steady— like a war drum, and the focus upon it had him distracted enough that the kiss was a surprise. He paused, uncertain and unsteady before his own hands found the witches’ waist, gripping at him firmly: as if a changed mind would be all that he needed to dart away and leave him alone in that alley again.

He tasted warm, like sunshine on his tongue and it almost made Felix feel homesick as he deepened the kiss, closing his eyes to do so. It struck him then, how badly he wanted to be something warm as well, to be more than cool marble and cold touches, how despite how Roman gripped at his skin it would never leave a mark. There was no indicator, no reddened promise that someone had been there, someone had held him, that this had happened. His words brushed against the other’s mouth as he pressed his forehead to Roman’s, feeling him tuck in a desperate breath. “Then I’ll stay. We can try again, I’ll do better.” Felix pressed a kiss to the corner of the other’s mouth, and he trailed a line of them along a sharp jaw to the shell of his ear. “I promise.”

-

Roman wondered if the other knew how easy it was for him to unravel. The earth witch liked to think he was as calm and sturdy as the element that he could control, but there were times that he felt more like he could barely control it. His abilities made him drain energies from others, but Felix had been immune to that. He couldn’t drain from the dead, only the living. Roman had felt safest with the vampire, even as his heart remained unbeating within his chest. He leaned into Felix, the cowboy hat on his head still hanging on for dear life. He raised his hand to keep it steady, only taking it off when he was close enough to bury his face into the other’s neck.

The other’s words against his ear made him clutch Felix a bit tighter, the cowboy hat now in his free hand. The other wasn’t getting it back just yet, he’d have to wait until Roman decided he could have it back. The earth witch pulled back finally, putting the hat back onto his own head, “I’m here for you, you know.” Maybe he hadn’t made that clear enough the first time, and he held Felix’s hand in both of his, shirt forgotten. “Whatever you need. Together.”

“Do you know about the coffee in the plants?” It’s an incredibly blunt question and Jazz likes Laila, but she’d painted a picture that this Roman, the man she assumes is behind the counter now, liked his plants. She thinks she knows why, the aura rolling off of him, he’s a witch, she figures that with all the plants, he’s like her, has an affinity for them. It’d be a crime to the poor ficus on the counter to not mention it’s mistreatment. @romxnambrose​

-

Roman looked at the little plant, letting out a sigh, “I think if you could tell me who was dumping coffee into it, I could make it survive longer.” The witch frowned a little more, looking at the other witch once more, “I’ve seen you around the coven – did you know they’re all sick?” He’d hijacked the conversation without a second thought, more worried than anything else.

“I can’t imagine anyone not seeing you.” The words were honest, they were beyond cagey confrontations now — whatever walls he had built and twined barbed wire around had fallen around their feet and Roman was crawling over the rubble, peering at the man that he had once known; the parts of him that he had allowed the witch to see. Then, he was touching him and he could feel a silent heart seizing, clenching like a fist inside his chest, as if it desperately wanted to lurch from between his ribs and settle back in Roman’s hands, back where it belonged. You took that with you. Roman’s eyes carried the world and his hands held the rest and Felix found himself clambering for words.  No, he wanted to say; part of me has always belonged to you, I didn’t take anything, I left it all behind. That was for you, whatever it was worth.

But instead, he let the witch continue, ambling through words as he reached for the hat, tugging it onto his head to crush the curls that Felix liked so much and he swallowed drily, curving a hand around the other man’s jaw. His skin was warm; he felt like summertime, and everything sweet that came with it. “I’ll stay,” he murmured, and the words were a chain that he willingly tightened around his ankle. “If you want me to, I’ll stay.” The vampire’s eyes were dark, but they were serious. “No more running.”

-

Roman felt the heat rush to his cheeks, but what could he say? Felix knew the story. The coven feared his power, so they pushed him from their ranks – from his family. Not even his mother wished to be seen with him, too distraught over the loss of her niece by her son’s hand. But the witch didn’t say anything, since he knew what Felix meant. He sucked in a breath when the other said he’d stay, and for a few moments, Roman felt like he was waiting for the catch. When it didn’t come, Roman’s gaze finally met the molten pair of the vampire’s. 

Instead of saying anything else, he pushed the tip of the cowboy hat that had been placed on his head up, closing the distance between the two with a soft kiss. It wasn’t one of desperation, just slow re-memorization – he knew Felix’s body like he knew his own, and he put his hands on the other’s face, pulling him closer. There would be time for heated touches soon, but Roman wanted to feel once more. “Of course I want you to,” he breathed, breaking the kiss for much needed air. “Always.”

“Maybe.” Diodoros wasn’t so sure, but Roman was his best friend and he didn’t like the thought that he always went to the other witch with his hand out. “But when my family and I get through this I’ll have you to thank.” The healer offered, when being the operative word rather than if. Dio was denying the truth that there was a good chance he would not survive this, that whatever curse had taken hold of him and his siblings would spell the end of the Delphi. “If you ever need anything I’m here for you.” 

-

“No – I really...I’m just doing what I can.” Especially considering his power was hardly helpful at times, it gave Roman a slight boost of confidence that he was doing something right for once. “Maybe, eventually, I can talk to Anastasia. I have questions about...Tanit.” Roman shook his head a little, “But it can wait. Are you sure you’ll be okay going home?”

Laila snorted, leaning into Roman’s side. “I think you’re going to have to work on that yourself, ange, before you I really didn’t care for witches either.” In truth, most still left her uneasy, and others– as the Vidalis girl was well aware, had earned her ire for the smallest of slights. “His story,” she pressed her lips together, shaking her head as she considered how her own was one that she kept guarded. Remzi was similar in that way, and she reached to tug at one of Roman’s stray curls. “He runs the gym, and he’s in the pack. Anything else is his own, though–” Dark eyes found Roman’s, “Do you have anything to help sleep? He doesn’t, and I think he could probably benefit from being weaned off of coffee.”

-

Roman huffed at his lack of best friend privilege, giving Laila a sour look before he looked thoughtful once more. “So he’s a gym rat. Don’t tell me he takes those selfies and flexes for fun.” He put his chin in his hand, “And an Argos member. But no, I’m definitely not working on it myself. That’s all you.” The witch had barely gotten the nerve to say how he felt at times, there was no way he was seeking Remzi out for a friendship. And as long as he treated Laila right, Roman wouldn’t have to find the nerve. “Of course I do.” His insomnia hadn’t run rampant as of late, and he’d started putting more magic into his tea despite not wanting to, “I have a normal remedy, but because of your guy’s high temp, he might have to try something with a healing spell in it.”

Felix watched the line of witches’ lower lip, before his gaze lifted to the dusky lashes that framed Roman’s familiar eyes. He could hear his heartbeat and it was something steady under his skin, summer-tanned and carrying the scent of an afternoon with in his herb garden, working with plants. He could sense all of this, but his own heart lay unbeating in his chest, caged by ribs that could have just as easily been steel rods, under flesh that was no more delicate than marble. Most days, the vampire felt numbed, but now he felt the wicked twist of his heart, as though it was trying to wrench itself free: it had never truly belonged to Felix, he realized, as soon as he had met Roman, it had known a home there.

He didn’t need to swallow, but a lump still sat in his throat. “I don’t want you to have to wait longer for me,” he said, and the words were miserable and forced. At his side, his hands formed fists and his jaw tightened to ward back any tremor of emotion that might cause them to shake. “I don’t know what I want. I don’t really know who I am, most days.” Felix stood close, enough to feel the warmth of Roman’s breath, but he didn’t dare touch him— he wouldn’t make it real, as long as they were apart he could almost imagine that this was a dream, something that he wanted to say in life but had never been brave enough to do. “I should have told you then.” Dark eyes lifted, and they changed from something the colour of mocha to something far more molten, “I think this is it for me, I think you’re it for me.” His brows tugged together and he pulled away from selfishness as it threatened to swallow him up. “You should be happy. You deserve that, even if it isn’t with me.”

-

There was only his own breath between the two of them. With Felix so close, he could almost imagine the sound of his beating heart in the other’s ears. Every now and then, Roman used to hold on to the little things that Felix did. Whether or not he meant to. A breath here and there, a sigh for good measure – unnecessary, but so human, that it was amusing to see a vampire take those actions in the first place. The witch couldn’t help Felix define himself, but he could tell him how he saw him. “When I met you in Ibiza, I thought you were...a really, really bright time in my life, Felix. You saw me. I’d been alone for...years.” Roman was the first to reach out as the other closed the distance, his fingers curling into the fabric of the other’s shirt, all else forgotten. “And when you left, you took that with you. A part of me.” 

To know Felix had held onto it, well, it made Roman’s hazel eyes shine with the threat of too much emotion. “I was – I am happy with you, Felix.” He knew he was opening himself up for a rejection, a possibility that he would lose the one who’d taken his heart and ran away with it. Even the ridiculous cowboy hat on Felix’s head had brought back too many memories. Using it to flatten his curls, deciding he could pull one off – but only if it had belonged to Felix first. “I’d be happy if you stayed.”

Felix looked at Roman, watching as someone gentle steeled himself up, forming walls and twining barbed wire around them— intended purposefully for him to not scrabble over. It was what he deserved in the end, despite how it hurt. He tucked in a breath, filling a chest that didn’t need the oxygen, before letting it siphon out as dark eyes glanced back down at the toes of his shoes. His tongue ran over the sharp point of his incisor, and instead of swallowing down words, he choked them out. “I don’t want you to get over me.” Felix rubbed a hand over his arm, where the sleeve of his t-shirt was wrinkled from the jacket he had previously shrugged over it. “They’re—“ his brows drew in. “Those other people, they’re not you.”

-

Roman knew he had a choice to make. He could shoot Felix down, guard his heart in a way he never had before, or grab onto hope. That same hope he’d had for days, thinking that Felix would come back for him in Ibiza. That what they had was real, and meaningful. It had been to the witch. And now, he willed himself to believe that for once someone would choose him. Clutching the shirt tighter in his hands, he swallowed back his crippling fear of rejection. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he breathed, finally meeting Felix’s gaze. “I told you I loved you. I told you what you – I told you, already.” Roman knew he was repeating himself, but it was his anxiety getting the best of him. 

“I waited for you, and I was still – I was still waiting for you.” Even the few rolls in the sheets he’d had in Corinth had felt wrong. It’d helped him pass the time, reminded him that he could do something like that to feel things once more. Laila had been his support system, building him back up when he’d felt like he’d shattered into pieces. “Where do we go from here, Felix?”

Laila paused, leaning against the wall that they passed, pressing her spine to the brick as Roman continued to prod. “It’s not–” She made a face. “I don’t want to ruin what we have.” The werewolf slurped aggressively at the cup in her hand, despite the fact that it was mostly melted ice now, before looking at him and his unwavering gaze. “I’m in a good place. I’m happy, I have a home, I have,” she gestured, “A family, now. I don’t want to fuck that up just because of one night in the woods.” One night that had stuck to memory like a burr, and made her feel wretched every time she saw him pass in the apartment. “I don’t think he likes witches very much,” Laila admitted with a grin, “You might end up just having to wait for me to come rescue you, damsel.”

-

Roman huffed, “Well, you told him that we’re a pair, right? That he doesn’t just get to say he doesn’t like witches and only like you?” He gave a small smile, though Laila was perhaps one of the few friends Roman was willing to fight for. If others left him, he’d told himself that he wouldn’t chase those that didn’t want to be caught. “I know you’d rescue me. You always would. But I’m still – what’s his story? Tell me more.”

“Is it benefits if it happened once and we haven’t talked about it since?” Laila made a face, sipping loudly at her iced tea. What had happened in the woods had stuck in her thoughts and had made her clumsy and distracted, after two dropped pitchers that morning, Roman had drawn her out of the shop to talk instead of work. She cast her attention to him, shaking her head. “Fate? Stop reading drugstore paperbacks.” Laila paused, shoving one hand into her pocket. “You know, if things hadn’t of gone the way that they did at home, I think that I would have known him in the pack, all those years ago.”

-

Roman rose an eyebrow, though it was still amusing to him as she avoided most of what he was hinting at. This was how it always was, though. Laila liked to be steadfast and calloused towards specific things, while Roman cried while watching Homeward Bound. “I mean it, though. Why haven’t you talked about it? You can’t let things linger. I tried that.” And failed, miserably. “Why don’t you force him to talk to you? I could always...you know, play damsel in distress, you can let him save me, I’ll see how cute he actually is, and then you can bond over being my heroes.”