#*sveinn

i missed you

@mpsveinn

If Dionysus had been mortal, like he had always been meant to be, he would have been the sort of person that people write heartbreaking poetry about, and very much the sort that people name storms after. The ichor of wind and lighting personified flow through his half-human veins and the human parts of him burn with the energy of it. And at some point, his half-human body can’t contain the tempest and it explodes out of him with gales and static that had eventually turned the god’s apartment into the approximation of what the inside of his head look like at the moment. It isn’t so much that things are broken - of course there had been some collateral damage, a shattered mug here, a splintered chair leg there, scattered bits of ripped paper like snow - as much as things are all over the place. All the right things are there, but nothing is quite where it belongs. 

Like Dio’s mind, as he stands there having torn apart the place he calls home. He looks ever inch the son of his wrathful father, and he knows it, and he hates it. Yet he stands there, eyes bloodshot and glowing a venomous purple and leaking a torrent of fury and pain that he tries in vain to wipe away before they can betray his weakness. But Dionysus knows he is weak. He knows that Sveinn knows he is weak. And he hates it. He hates all of it.

(Almost all of it.)

Looking halfway to a betrayed and vengeful Medusa, newly lengthened hair whipped into a frenzy, Dionysus stands and waits for...something. He waits for Sveinn. He can’t even find it in himself to flinch as the fingers begin to cradle his face. He can barely find it in him to move. But move he does, just a little, the creases of drunken rage smoothing as Sveinn gets closer. The tears don’t stop - there never has been and never will be any hope for Dionysus as anything besides a crybaby. Sveinn knows that. He knows that Dio will make a mess of things. Hell, Dio is a mess of things. He’s a god with a human heart.

With a throaty, broken, child-like whine, Dionysus takes a hesitant step forward. Slowly, carefully, he lowers his face into the crook of Sveinn’s neck and releases a final sob, a quiet and aching little thing.

“I want...you...to stay...”

Yes, that’s technically true. But there’s more there, isn’t there?

@mpsveinn

Or, the first time, continued

Or, the time when I admitted it

Rather than try and continue the conversation, one that Dionysus has seen coming for some time now, the god simply walks on by his past lover. He doesn’t want to talk about this right now. Even after all the time he has spent thinking about what he could possibly say to Sveinn, his brain turns to frantic patterns of color and not much else when he finally sees the man.

It has taken Dio several agonizing moments to realize that the shapes in his head will not condense into thoughts, into words. In this time he has stared into Sveinn, stared through him as though only the thought of him stood before him. But Dio can’t pretend forever. The blissful existence of a ghost living his own life is over.

Now it’s time to deal with the fallout.

Or at least, it will be.

@mpsveinn

Most of the time when it comes to their dates, the two simply agree on a day and time and then one of them (usually Dionysus) figures out something for the two of them to do, or else they just drive from place to place as their whims take them around the island. Sometimes they go shopping, a lot of the time they go to places where they can see art, flowers and plants, animals, or otherwise just wander and mess around and entertain themselves.

So far it has worked out pretty well for them.

Today, Dionysus has decided he wants to go to the amusement park. He’s not really sure how Sveinn feels about roller coasters, but if he hates them then there are plenty of other things to do there. Maybe Dio could win a stuffed toy for him, like in a cliched date. The idea actually makes Dio smile, since he loves doing things that seem cliche but are also actually genuinely fun and nice things to do, especially with Sveinn. Which leads him to another thought.

They’ve been going on dates for a good little while now. What did that make them exactly? Dating? Going steady, or whatever it is kids call boyfriends these days? Probably not, since they had never agreed on anything like that. Not to mention the fact that the two would go on a date, then spend the next two or three days inseparable, but then there would be radio silence for a week or two before the cycle repeated. Is that what people who are dating do? It’s not really like Dio knows much about dating. He resolves to ask Sveinn about it today.

On his way to the Norse building, Dio picks up a bouquet of white lilies, damask roses, and little multi-colored peonies, supplemented with grasses and other tiny flowers to fill in the spaces. The florist has done a wonderful job on it, but Dio pays them well enough that they are more than happy to oblige with his regular stupidly intricate requests for bouquets. When he finally shows up at the door and knocks, after it opens and he gets to smile once more at Sveinn’s familiar face, Dionysus opens the dam in his mind that unleashes a pounding wave of thoughts that had been brewing behind it.

~With the weather getting too cold for any decent trips to botanical gardens, Dionysus had ended up inviting Sveinn to a warm and humid greenhouse that was home to all sorts of exotic and tropical plants, including carnivorous ones, water lilies, and countless others. The climate inside the greenhouse is decidedly more pleasant than the cold early winter air outside, and Dionysus hopes that his selection for a date is as acceptable to Sveinn as it is for Dio.

As Sveinn pauses to admire a particularly intricate and vivid flower, Dio moves in to wrap his arms around the other’s waist and nuzzle into his neck, almost as if attempting to tickle him with just his nose. As soon as he’s comfortably wrapped around Sveinn though, the other man breaks out of his embrace and goes over to another part of the greenhouse with just a vague “Oh, look at that” by way of explanation. How very like him, Dio thinks to himself.