#puppetgear

the terrace surrounding the sanctuary of surasthana sits at the highest point of sumeru city, nestled safely within a dense thicket of adhigama trees. it’s more often than not that NIKO [wheelchair-bound, enigmatic, twilight-born] finds himself seeking moments of reprieve up here on his own — solitude from this racing world and a heart full of hectic melancholy. tonight, though, new year’s eve; nearing the date of his birth, niko is not alone beneath the moon pallor. he entertains the company of WANDERER [eternal, sharp-tongued, fragile], his lover of few months, and former rival of many more. 

the two sit by the terrace’s edge, sharing in the silence between them that has grown out of being tense and into something more warm… but still, a bit stiff. they watch the stars twinkle down at them as if to tease and poke at the rope of awkwardness pulled taut between them, they watch the passersby on streets below squealing and laughing and rushing to get a good view of new years fireworks, they watch each other out of their periphery: 

niko nervously adjusting his gloves and twisting at the knobs of his meka leg, fumbling around with too much energy and nowhere to put it. 

wanderer and his pose so casual, aloof, resting his chin upon his palm and heaving a sigh, as if this is the last place he wants to be. at least, this is what he tries to convince himself of. tries, and utterly fails.

NIKO: [faintly, breaking the ice] thank you… for being here with me. for my birthday… and for new year’s eve. it’s, um… nice.

wanderer pinches his brows in annoyance, but it is rather a pretence for how endearing he finds niko like this. nervous and anxious. to trust wanderer enough to be all soul and vulnerability in front of him.

WANDERER: nice? [biting his tongue, exhaling forcefully through his nose, keeping to his resolution of trying to avoid mincing his words around niko] sure, it’s nothing.

niko doubles down and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. he too bites his tongue, uncharacteristic as he swallows down the crass names he’s used to addressing his former rival by.

NIKO: i just, well… i mean it’s nice being here… with you… like, you’re nice…

wanderer spares niko a quick glance, caught off guard by the sincerity of his response. for but a moment, his eyes soften, his heart aches, but he is quick to mask it with his usual bravado.

WANDERER: you already said nice two times. no wonder you’re not in the haravatat darshan.

silence settles between them again, a fragile kind of silence full of unspoken desires. niko swallows hard, and turns his wheelchair to face wanderer. he inhales deeply, flexing his fingers along his armrest, his pulse rushing to his head and dizzying him.

NIKO: [steeling himself] okay. wanderer?

WANDERER: [skeptical] what is it now?

NIKO: [continuing, struggling for words and breath] i… can i—

WANDERER: what — you’re gonna confess your undying love for me again or something?

niko sputters upon hearing wanderer’s teasing words, sounding out a garbled, confused whimper in response. he can wade in grief, he’s used to pools of it, but this… love… it’s almost unbearable, even after months of it with wanderer. he thinks it’s something he’ll never fully get used to.

NIKO: [grimacing to mask his embarrassment] ew, no! i, um… [exhaling softly, voice turning gentle] it’s just…

the look he gives wanderer is almost pained — brows knit, and stars melted in his eyes. longing and yearning that cuts wanderer deep, through centuries past. it’s a silent plea of sorts, he can tell. niko’s bad head with wanderer’s bad heart. together, though, they have something worthwhile. something worth saving.

WANDERER: [growing flustered under niko’s soft gaze] c-cut it out. don’t look at me like that, it’s weird.

NIKO: [quickly, in a single breath] have you… have you had your first kiss yet?

wanderer blinks, eyes blown wide in confusion. he opens his mouth to speak, but the words get lost somewhere between his heart and his lips for a brief moment. WANDERER: [mumbling almost bashfully] even if i did, it’s none of your business.

the words fly through one of niko’s ears and right out the other as he braces himself for what he’s worked up the courage for for months — turning his head from wanderer ever so slightly, and reaching a trembling hand out to hold his slightly larger one in his grasp. niko thumbs at wanderer’s puppet joints, a habit the latter had come to notice as something the former does when afraid.

NIKO: [straining, voice shaky with anxious jitters] can— may i kiss you?

WANDERER: [gritting his teeth and fisting his free hand in an attempt to soothe the fast quiver of his heart] how are you planning on kissing me if you’re facing the other way? dumbass.

NIKO: [reflexively] i-i’m not the dumbass, you are!

wanderer watches with amusement at niko’s weak outburst — the slight pout of his lips, the glaze in his eyes that almost makes him look like he’s tearing up, the sweaty feel of his palm beneath his own.

niko squeezes his eyes shut impossibly tight and leans forward, slowly, tentatively, his other hand gripping the edge of his wheelchair for leverage. each centimetre feels like a kilometre, and if he thinks too hard about it, he’s almost certain his lungs will give out on him. he folds his fear into a perfect flower and presents it freely to wanderer — in the palm of his hand, the purse of his lips as he leans closer, closer. wanderer watches niko, his characteristic sharpness softening into something unreadable. his hold on niko’s hand tightens even without him realising it.

WANDERER: for archon’s sake. [muttering to himself beneath his breath] you’re seriously going to make me wait all night?

before niko has the chance to open his eyes and retreat back into his shell, wanderer leans forward with no hesitancy, closing the gap between them. his hand is gentle as it cradles niko’s cheek, and the latter finds himself giving his heart in soft surrender at the loving gesture.

it begins as a slow kiss, full of unspoken promises and apologies between two individuals of love and slaughter. It feels to wanderer almost as if niko is pouring himself into him when he begins to grow a bit desperate, softly moaning and getting greedy with his lips, and in this moment, he makes sure that he will never let a drop of him hit the ground.