blue has zero clues

But he opens them anyway, and the sight that greets him is just as pleasant and makes him feel no less fuzzy than every other time before it.

He sighs, happy, letting his hand run up and down the cat-hybrid’s back.

In response, Cellbit stirs, piercing eyes blinking open. Roier’s smile brightens. Buenos días.

Bom dia…

Cellbit lifts himself up slightly, starting to stretch. After a few moments, though, Roier can tell something clicks just right, watching as his husband shudders and all but turns to jelly as he falls right back onto his chest.

He can’t help a chuckle, and the cat-hybrid bristles out of embarrassment, hiding his face and mumbling incoherent Portuguese as he holds Roier’s shirt tighter.

(Cellbit has never been fond of his… feline attributes. He likes to hide all of them, physical or not, as much as possible. He needs people to take him seriously.)

(Roier feels lucky he gets to see this side of him so much. It’s not that often he looks this peaceful.)

Undeterred, one the spider-hybrid’s hands comes up to the back of Cellbit’s head, scratching the base of his left ear.

(Wait for it…)

His husband melts, subconsciously nuzzling into his touch, and Roier is more than pleased when he hears a gentle purr start to rumble, continuing to scratch.

He sees a contented tail flick, and then something familiarly soft curl around his leg. Tilting his head down, he presses a kiss into Cellbit’s hair. Mi gatinho.

(The purring grows a little louder.)

The embarrassment can’t settle with Cellbit for long, not when the sugar-sweet warmth coursing through his veins and seeping into his bones makes him feel positively content and safe. And sleepy.

Besides, he knows Roier isn’t laughing at him. He isn’t weirded out. If anything, he’s the opposite. Cellbit can feel it, in the gentle, soothing touches, the secure embraces. He can see it, in the deep fondness and practical reverie in his dark eyes. He’s looked at like he’s hung the moon.

(He would know. He looks at his husband the same exact way.)

So… maybe it isn’t all bad. It can’t be, if it makes Roier so happy.

Cellbit presses closer even still, and in turn, Roier holds him tighter. The security of it silently says he isn’t going anywhere.

Well, that’s okay.

He lets his eyes close, a steady heartbeat against his ear.

(Even when the scratching stops, the purring doesn’t.)

So it's all gone to hell, but they have each other. And because they have each other, and have had each other for so long now, they walk and walk until they find a flower forest.

(And because they can't sleep, but that's besides the point.)

(It's the closest they can get to a year ago.)

They walk through the flower forest until they find a clearing, standing themselves in the middle of it.

Cellbit is the one to break the quiet that had befallen them, gently taking Roier's hands into his. His voice is soft. "Guapito?"

"¿Sí?"

"Would you like to get married again?"

A smile etches its way onto the spider-hybrid's face immediately, and he's nodding after a couple seconds. "I thought you'd never ask, gatinho."

The investigator smiles, too, feeling lighter than he has in months. Wordlessly, he slides the puzzle piece ring off his husband's finger, slipping the spider ring off his own to press it carefully into Roier's palm.

It's just them, there, and neither of them remember much of the formalities and spiels of words that came with from Father Peta the first time around.

(They were too focused on each other.)

But they both remember at least one thing as clear as day. And, temporarily pocketing his ring, Cellbit takes Roier's hands again, and speaks the words that came to him as easy as breathing. That still do.

"Você foi a primeira pessoa que eu vi quando eu cheguei nessa ilha. No meio de todo aquele caos, você foi o primeiro que apareceu no vidro, e desde que eu vi esse seu sorriso--" he lets go of one of his hands, raising his own to cup the spider-hybrid's face, stroking his cheek adoringly-- "eu sabia que eu nunca mais ia esquecer dele.

Quando eu mais precisei de alguém, quando eu estava completamente sozinho, você apareceu." Somehow, it almost felt even more true than it did back then. Roier, who always somehow knew when to show up when he needed it, who always knew whether he needed to talk or needed a distraction. Roier, who not only loved him through his lowest and most gruesome moments, but was willing to stoop to the same exact level as him.

(Was it unhealthy? Maybe. But Cellbit gave up on maintaining healthy habits months ago. There's no time or patience for that, anymore.

And Roier understands that. Roier understands him.)

He watches his partner lean into his touch, dark eyes closing as he soaks in the words with a small smile. "Eu quero que você saiba que enquanto eu estiver aqui--" Cellbit moves his other hand, to carefully cradle Roier's face in both-- "você nunca vai estar sozinho.”

(He'd gotten a little rocky on that promise, but he came back. And he'll keep coming back, no matter what. Nothing will keep them apart anymore.)

(Roier knows that, too. Because Cellbit has left, but Cellbit always comes back. Time and time again. The one person who hasn't truly left him yet, and the one person it seems he could never truly get rid of even if he wanted to. A scarily beautiful thing.)

Eyes open, Roier lets a few moments pass before gently pulling his husband's hands off his face, holding them in both of his own against his chest. The look the cat-hybrid is giving him makes him want to melt into a puddle on the forest floor, and he hopes that the other is feeling even half as warm and fuzzy as he is.

(Cellbit most certainly is, resisting the urge to pull him closer and kiss him senseless.)

Roier sighs, squeezing Cellbit's hands. "Yo no tengo nada preparado para decirte, pero te lo diré desde el corazón. Eres una de las personas en las que más confio. Eres la persona en las que más confio."

(That had certainly become far more true with time. Cellbit understands him. And when he doesn't, he tries until he does.)

(With Cellbit, Roier doesn't need to worry about feeling seen or heard. He can just be.)

"Te amo." It's his turn to reach out, delicately pushing back some of his partner's hair before stroking along his cheekbone. He hears the telltale rumbly beginnings of a purr from the cat-hybrid, and feels the oh-so-familiar light coil of a tail around his leg. "Te amo con todo mi corazón.

Y, estaré siempre a tu lado, para cualquer cosa que necesites."

(He's proven that, time and time again. Between being willing to go war against the Federation with him and being so incredibly willing to murder worker after worker until their message is clear and everything else in between.)

Cellbit pulls the spider ring back out of his pocket, smiling amusedly when Roier immediately holds his left hand out. "Do you accept me as your life partner?"

"Sí, sí, acepto. I think it's obvious, no?"

The investigator laughs, and, with a gentle meticulousness that makes the spider-hybrid weak in the knees, he slides the ring back on, holding his hand in both of his and raising it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the top. "May not even death do us part."

Roier is momentarily surprised, but his smile brightens in a heartbeat, feeling like he could burst. He grabs the white puzzle piece ring from his sweatshirt. "And do you accept me as your life partner?"

"Aceito. Sempre."

He grabs the white puzzle piece ring, sliding it back onto his husband's own left hand and mimicking the kiss. "Then may not even death do us part.

Is this the part where we kiss, now?" he asks after a beat, making Cellbit laugh even more. He starts to laugh himself at the contagious sound.

When they calm down several seconds later, Cellbit cups Roier's face once more, warmth reigniting in the latter's veins at the fond smile on his husband's face, the brightness in his eyes that goes far beyond their piercing color. "Well, it is now."

"Perfecto. I was getting impatient."

One hand immediately holds the back of Cellbit's head, the other resting against his cheek as he pulls the cat-hybrid closer, slamming their lips together.

Cellbit melts into it instantly, moving one arm to wrap around Roier's neck and draw him even closer still.

(It's a miracle they can even get closer to each other.)

They only pull apart when their lungs demand oxygen, foreheads falling forward to press together as they catch their breath. But even then, only a few seconds pass before they're reconnected in another kiss.

But this one is softer, far more gentle. Roier cards his hand through Cellbit's hair, and Cellbit holds him tighter even still.

Their noses brush when they pull away. "Obrigado, guapito," the investigator murmurs.

"Ya, mi amor," his husband chastises fondly. "No thanking me." Roier tilts Cellbit's head down, kissing his forehead. "Eu te amo, gatinho."

Cellbit smiles, turning his head to kiss Roier's palm and nuzzle into it. "Te amo, guapito."

He lets the spider-hybrid pull him into a tight embrace, no more space left between them. A loud purr reverberates from his chest, and he lets his tail coil back around his husband's leg, effectively keeping them in place for a while.

The Federation could take and take and take, but there's one thing they'll never be able to take, no matter how hard they try.

(You can't take soulmates.)

No one should find them out here, giving them all the time in the world. But should anyone try to mess with them, they'll learn the hard way.

And yet, the worst part is, Roier can’t even be truly mad at him. He doesn’t want to scream or punch or exact revenge on Cellbit for breaking his heart, his very promise, and leaving him alone to do nothing but suffer.

Because Cellbit did what no one else could, and wormed his way into Roier’s dismally shattered heart all those months ago, and mended the shards back together. Made it something whole again.

Cellbit made Roier fall in love with him, without even trying. But for once in his life, Roier was loved in return. Wholeheartedly, unconditionally, unapologetically. For once, Roier was loved because of who he was, who he is, and he didn’t even have to try to earn that love.

No. Cellbit, scarred inside and out and perpetually haunted by the ghosts of his past, gave Roier his heart. His time, his trust. For Roier to protect, cherish, honor. An exact mirror of Roier’s own gift to him.

And together, they survived. They lived. They survived and lived and loved so fiercely that the crashing and burning that has always followed them on this godforsaken island was bound to hurt. Bound to destroy them every single way, including physical.

Something like this was bound to happen. Roier was bound to get destroyed by the consequences of love. But even if God has forsaken him, if the Federation forsakes him, if the rest of the island ever forsakes him…

…he will never, ever stop loving Cellbit.

So, no. He doesn’t have the will to be truly mad. To let him go. He just wants his husband back. And maybe, in a twisted way, that’s the true worst part.

Roier doesn’t know how long he sits in that cell, knees drawn to his chest as he battles perpetual nausea, weaving between consciousness and strangely pleasant hallucinations dreams. He doesn’t know why he keeps pleading for someone to help, when the only one who has ever come is Cucurucho.

But he keeps trying anyway.

Until someone, until a very much human voice, finally answers him.

"Ayuda... Ayuda, por favor--"

"Roier?"

He thinks he's dreaming, at first. "Ayúdame..."

"Roier!"

He thinks he hears footsteps approaching, heavy and fast and all too human to be some sick Federation fuck, just like that voice that's bleeding raw concern and wavering fear.

He thinks he hears something--someone--messing with the lock on the cell door before it's finally pushed open, and there are footsteps rapidly approaching him but he doesn't even have the capacity to be afraid anymore because he's so tired and absolutely nothing at all feels right without--

The blindfold is pulled from his eyes, and when the first thing he finally sees as they attempt to adjust is another set of eyes piercingly blue and so achingly familiar, glossy and brimmed with too many emotions to name, Roier thinks he's hallucinating.

Cellbit isn't here. He shouldn't be here, he can't be here. Because even in the barely existent light of the cell, even dirty and bruised, his husband looks like something utterly divine. Far too beautiful, far too heavenly for a hell like this. It's something too good to be true, which is exactly the kind of thing Roier's imagination has spent its sweet time conjuring in his weird, fucked-up limbo state.

"Guapito..."

And then there are hands on his face, calloused and rough but gentle, always gentle, and for the first time since Purgatory, since the last time he held his husband, Roier feels alive.

Although they feel laden with lead, his arms finally move, hands settling over the ones cradling his face. He blinks, slow, sluggish.

"Gatinho..?" his voice croaks, because he wants to be-- no, he needs to be sure. He needs this to be real.

"Estou aqui." Cellbit scoots closer still, moving one of his hands to carefully brush some of Roier's dirty dark hair from his face. It's warm, he's warm. So, so warm and fond and grounding it can't be anything other than real. "Estou aqui."

He can't be anything other than real.

His heart cracks open with overwhelming relief and a bunch of other things he doesn't have the energy to handle right now. He breaks, and he allows himself to slump forward, right into Cellbit's chest.

As soon as Roier does that, there are arms wrapped unyieldingly tight and secure around him and a fire reignites in his chest. Slowly but surely, his arms wind around in turn, melting deeper into an embrace that was better than all the ones his mind had plagued him with in his lonesome.

He thinks he's crying by now, hot tears streaking down his sunken cheeks, but he can tell Cellbit is too by the way the arms and shoulders shielding him tremble, quiet, hitching gasps for breath between murmured apologies and reassurances.

They can't get any closer to each other, can't hold each other any tighter. But they try anyway.

They have a lot to talk about. A lot to figure out. Fuck, they have to get out of here first and foremost. But it can wait, it can all wait. At least for now.