#goodnes

Montparnasse can’t breathe. The air is beingforced out of his lungs by the searing energy pouring into him from everydirection. He can’t see for the light pouring out of his eyes. There is no wayto hold on to this. It’s too much. He wants it all and he claws at it, but it’sslipping through his fingers. Ripping through him from the inside. He wants, hewants, he needs—

The blinding light dies. Montparnasse can’tkeep it alive. He wasn’t strong enough and he’s drowning. His hands aredripping lead, too heavy to lift. There’s nothing to reach out for. Only gapinghunger in his insides. Nothing to fill it with. There’s never enough, but nowthere is nothing. He’s going to drown in it. Starve on it—

There’s asharp tap to his face and Montparnasse jolts awake. Lamplight stings in hiseyes and he lashes out wildly. Cold metal digs into his skin and he screams,before a hand is clamped roughly over his mouth.

“Parnasseit’s me.”

Montparnasse’seyes stare up into Gueulemer’s face and he stops thrashing. For all of asecond. Then he kicks viciously.

Gueulemerremoves his hand from his mouth and half a beat later he also lets go of theiron chain wrapped around Montparnasse’s wrists. Hands dripping with lead. Montparnasse shakes it off, hurling itaway from him as hard as he can. It thumps against the wall and slides downwith a dull clang.

Montparnasse’shands clasp together instinctively, fingers grabbing at his wrists to lose thecold feeling of magic-choking metal. “Fuck you,” he gulps, letting his magicfan out wildly, scraping past the contours of the world around him, ready tograb what he can. But he’s not hungry. Not empty. He doesn’t need to take.

Gueulemerhas taken a step back and is standing silently beside the bed, large andlooming like a statue.

Montparnassetakes in frantic gulp of air. It was a dream. He was dreaming. It did happen,it was real, but he isn’t in thereanymore. This was just an echo. Just a dream. Fuck Gueulemer and that fucking chain.

Before hecan hurl any of the half-formed accusations brewing in his mind at his friend,however, he spots the amulet around Gueulemer’s neck. The dark wood and leatherdon’t stand out against his skin, but now he’s no longer half-asleep and fullof panic Montparnasse recognises the shape. Gueulemer had to block his secondsight to come in here. A weight settles in his stomach and he sits up straighton the now coverless bed.

“Did Ileech?” he asks, his voice coming out strangely even.

“Don’tthink so,” Gueulemer replies.

Montparnasseexhales and closes his eyes for a moment. If he didn’t hurt Gueulemer while hewas so close, he can’t have done anything else.

When heopens his eyes Gueulemer his looking at him with an intensity that is nothingshort of unnerving. Montparnasse doesn’t like it when Gueul uses amulets, hegets way too focussed.

“So, nightterrors then,” Gueulemer says blankly.

“Lay off,”Montparnasse grunts, running a hand through his hair. “I nearly died remember.”

Gueulemer’seyes narrow. “You woke me,” he saysdarkly. “Your magic was going fucking haywire. There are scratch marks everywhere.”

Montparnassefeels cold and Gueulemer stares down at him. He knows what his magic looks likein Gueulemer’s visions. It’s never particularly flattering.

“You weredoing it in your sleep,” Gueulemerfrowns at him. “You never do that.”

Well, he’snever felt like that before. The starving feeling is still clinging to theinside of Montparnasse’s mind. “Oh fuck off,” he mutters, going to sit on theedge of the bed. His legs feel strangely tired. “Nothing happened, did it.”

Gueulemermakes a threatening noise at the back of his throat. “I told you there’d berepercussions.”

“You didn’ttell me about this,” Montparnassesnaps. Gueulemer can fuck right off. His visions are usually no better thanglorified hind sight. Useless images tears in walls and gready fingerprints.Nothing that can help Montparnasse not to feel like that again. That weak. Thatempty.

“Go sleepwith Claquesous.”

Montparnasseblinks. “What?” he says, staring at Gueulemer.

“You didn’thave nightmares the first night,” Gueulemer says matter-of-factly.

Montparnasseopens and closes his mouth without making a sound.

“What,”Gueulemer scoffs. “You though I didn’t know?” He sniffs. “You’re both moretolerable when you’re together. So get your ass over there and let us both getsome damn sleep.”

“No,”Montparnasse glares. Who the fuck does Gueulemer think he is?

“Oh comeon, you guys are in and out of each other’s beds all the fucking time,” he saysirritably.

Montparnassebristles. “That’s none of your damn business. I don’t ask where you go onTuesday evenings.”

Gueulemerdoesn’t even react to that. He stares at Montparnasse for a long moment andsays, far too calmly:

“I won’tput the runes on you again, but next time this happens I’m telling Sous.”

“Like hellyou will,” Montparnasse snarls. The worry seeping out of Claquesous’ skin isdisconcertingly tangible at times and he is still refusing to talk about thenecromancer. Montparnasse cannot have him finding out about this.

“Well ifyou don’t want him to know then you better figure out a way to deal with it,”Gueulemer says. He’s insufferable when he’s like this. Montparnasse hates this.

He claws ahand through his hair, looking away from Gueulemer’s damn judgemental frown.It’s not that it’s a big deal but… Montparnasse doesn’t actually sleep with Claquesous that often. Especiallynot without the excuse of immediate exhaustion. Claquesous bleeds emotions inhis sleep and he doesn’t like to have people close enough to touch when heisn’t fully in control. That is, of course, exactly why Montparnasse does liketo be around him when he’s asleep. It’s also the reason why Gueulemer’ssolution to this shitty situation makes a certain amount of sense.

“Fine,”Montparnasse grunts and he gets up, pushing his way past Gueulemer. “Get thefuck out of my room.”

“Keep yourclaws to yourself,” Gueulemer retorts coolly. And he picks up the iron chainwith the rune-imprinted links with just a bit too much emphasis. He followingsMontparnasse out the door and turns abruptly towards his own room.

Montparnassethrows a last glare in his direction, but Gueulemer isn’t watching him. He’srubbing his left temple with one hand the other is tugging hesitantly on theamulet. Montparnasse makes a conscious effort to rein all his magic in asclosely as he can. He doubts Gueul will sleep with that thing on, which meanshe’ll be drowning in background senses as soon as he takes it off. Drowning…

With avicious shove against that particular train of thought Montparnasse movesresentfully towards Claquesous’ room.

As soon ashe slips inside and closes the door behind him, he feels the faint echo of tranquillityat the back of his mind. Claquesous’ curtains don’t block all the light fromthe streetlight outside and Montparnasse can see him lying sprawled out in themiddle of his bed. Montparnasse was hesitant before, but he isn’t now. He walksround to the side of the bed that he usually ends up sleeping at for someunknown reason, and tugs on Claquesous’ covers.

Claquesousgroans and actually moves over to let Montparnasse in, before groggily openinghis eyes and frowning at the sight of Montparnasse getting into bed next tohim.

“The fuck?”he mutters.

Instead oflying, Montparnasse leans towards Claquesous and drops his voice to a mockinglychildish whine: “I had a bad dream,Sous, make it better.”

Claquesousblinks at him in disoriented confusion, sleep still clinging heavily to hiseyes. For a moment he stares at Montparnasse like he’s insane and then he makesa tired noise, grabs his second pillow and pushes it into Montparnasse’sdirection.

Montparnassegrabs it and tucks it under his head, lying down on his side with a grin.

Claquesousgives him one last incredulous look, before resolutely burying his face in hisown pillow and falling back asleep almost instantly.

Thetranquillity hanging in the air never really faded, but as soon as Claquesousbreathing becomes deep and even again, it grows noticeably stronger.Montparnasse draws his knees up a little and lets the foreign feelings wasgently against the barriers of his mind. He doesn’t mean to reach out for more,but it’s too easy. Keep your claws toyourself. Montparnasse doesn’t use his claws though. He’s careful about it,gentle. And he doesn’t take too much. He only pulls a little. A little of thedrowsiness, the calm, the tranquil sleep, towards himself. Claquesous doesn’teven stir and Montparnasse lets his magic dissipate as gently as he had itreach out. His eyes close on their own accord and, blissfully, Montparnasseactually begins to drift off. Here the dark isn’t blindingly bright or gapinglyempty. Here it’s just quiet.