#sidewei

The clothes comes off with struggle, he practically tears yours off. The man is impatient, if you haven’t given him the lube, you suspect he would just go like that. Who cares about the pain? Just pleasure. Just the need to get off. Just to fuck.

He is heavy on top of you and it’s perfect. He is trying to take control and it’s fruitless.

He sinks down and you both groan out loud. Too much. Everything suddenly becomes too much. And Chen is not waiting for that too much to past. Too much is never enough. He is already moving. His face contorts in pain. He is struggling to remain in control.

But he can’t. Because he is not in control. You pull his head down, reminding him of that fact. And you calm him down, fingers stroking his sweaty back. Like calming down a big stallion.

“You are not enjoying this.” You says to him and glance down to look at his flaccid cock in between you.

Chen grunts, pulling your attention back to his mouth, fingers digging into your shoulders, leaving bruises, marking skin. “Shut up. I’m old.” He says between kisses. “I don’t need to get hard to enjoy this.”

“It’s hurting you.” You says again, letting his tongue dominate yours as he rides you with force that’s hurting the both of you.

“Shut up.” And you understand, because sometimes, you need to feel pain too. To feel real, alive. But the difference between you two is, he is actually alive. You are just operating. Or is that how Chen feels too? Can he even tells where skin begins and metal ends on his body? Is that what makes him feels like a machine rather than a human being? Is that why he is out, looking for someone to take to a cheap motel, to kiss, to fuck?

It’s *the* night, too.

Is it for Anathema? Or can it be for you? Such stupid thought, of course it is not for you.

“You are tight.” That is an understatement. You know somewhere in between, Chen is already bleeding down there. This is bad, the situation is dire but this is what he wants. Who are you to stop him?

“Shut up.” He might hit you. Would that be nice? Is that what you want?

“Li.” You almost pat yourself on the back. When Chen’s scent is all around you, intoxicating you, suffocating you, you still manage to remember his fake name. What is the point of lying though? The moment he takes off his clothes, his secrets are out. So why bother? Is he testing you? Does he know? That you are actually the kid Ortega brought to the Gala? Is that why he is here, to tell you off? Ah, good old time.

“What?” He is close, you are close too. And when you roll your bodies, he is caught off guard. His instinct kicks in and he swings, would have hit you had you not leaned away. You chuckle and take hold of his wrists, pushing them up on top of his head, holding them down and trapping him there. He is letting you. Wei Chen is relinquishing control. Has he grown too tired of being in charge all the time? Or this is just how he has always been? Interesting nonetheless.

His mouth tastes like yours now. It’s nothing new anymore yet, you can’t stop.

Relief pushes in like waves, hitting hard and washing away everything, leaving your mind white and blind.

“What is your plan?” Chen asks while you are still coming down from the ecstasy. His voice is rough, hoarse.

You push yourself of him, reaching for the pack of cigarette that has been stomped over. Luckily, it’s still usable. You light it up and take a drag. Chen is still watching you. Of course he knows you are that kid.

“Nothing.” You shrug. Which is a half lie, half truth. You didn’t plan for tonight and no, you have never a spontaneous man. Maybe it’s because you have been staying inside Eden for too long, it’s bleeding over. But when you saw Chen sitting at the bar, head hung low, drink in hand, you couldn’t help it. It was dumb, really. Though, you don’t regret it.

“Bullshit.”

You don’t say anything else, just pull another drag of cigarette before putting it on Chen’s lips. He takes it and let you roll him to his side, there is a red spot there, not big and you know there is some too on the condom.

“Don-“ But before he can finish, you have already dropped down, thumbs carefully pushing in and spreading it out. Sure enough, you spot the tear.

“I’ll go buy something for that.” You tell him and let go of the older man. He is flustered but he hides it well. Ever the cautious man. You don’t care though, because you know, once you are out of this door, he won’t be here when you come back.

Doesn’t matter. Nothing is. Not even your aching heart.

“It’s a sad day.” You hear him whisper when you close the door.

2.

You meet them one afternoon as you're walking Spoon. He must remember who they are for he barks happily, pulls the leash out of your hands, and dashes forward.

You almost miss the tiny smile on their face at his furiously wagging tail. Their soft laugh as he rolls onto his back and exposes his belly in its full, furry glory.

You find yourself chuckling as they reach out and give him a rub. But when they (reluctantly) disengage and wave goodbye, you see the smile falter and fall.

And you find yourself promising to bring those smiles back again.

3.

One day, they corner you in the Ranger's base. They look particularly miserable; their vulnerability and exhaustion radiate strongly in waves.

Sadness. Despair. Regret. Pain.

What they speak, their words are halting. They ask if you could go to the dog park. If you could bring Spoon.

You don't know why you're disappointed they didn't just ask for you. But still, you barely hesitate before you agree. You don't know the reason why.

By the time you arrive, they're there by the tree. They turn to you and you sense their immediate relief when they spot Spoon.

You watch as they collapse to their knees and envelop him in a hug. Spoon whines, leans in, and nuzzles their cheek. You see the watery smile upon their face, and you find yourself wishing that it was you they chose to hold.

And when you realize with a start that their smile has never reached their eyes before, you find yourself vowing to make them truly smile.

4.

You ask them out one day, if they'd like to walk Spoon with you. Yet, as shocked as you are by your own words, it's more than made up for by the surprise that lights up their face.

Wonder. Gratitude. Relief. Hope.

"I'd like that very much," they say, their tentative smile sending your heart aflutter.

It's the first time you've made them smile. You hope it will not be the last.

5.

You see them more often now. They feel lighter. Less burdened.

On one of your walks (without Spoon), you find them unconsciously drifting closer to you. And as you gently brush your hands against their knuckles and slip your fingers into their own, you see a tiny smile form upon their lips.

But still, it doesn't quite reach their eyes.

6.

You're with them one night, staring off into the ocean. They're sitting beside you; they’re close, so very close.

"Why do you want to be with me?" they ask quietly.

"Because I care about you,” you say.

They smile, though it's a sad, bitter one. "Why do you care for something that isn’t real?"

You interlace your fingers with their own, trying to ignore the brokenness in their voice. "You’re here. You’re real. This is real.”

They pull away. They don’t meet your gaze. “I… you should leave, Chen. Go back to Ortega. Go back to your team.” Their voice is small. Exhausted.

Pain. Despair. Loneliness. Resignation.

Your heart stutters at that. Taking their chin in your hands, you gently turn them to face you. “Why would I when you’re the only one I need?”

You glimpse a flicker of something in their eyes, but as fleeting as the sun on a cold winter’s day, it fades away.

7.

"Wei? Can I ask you something?"

They're at your apartment. Their eyes dart nervously back and forth, their hands fiddling with their sweater. They look worried. Stressed. Afraid.

Is someone after them?

You rise to your feet, the unspoken question on your lips but they shake their head.

"No, I'm fine. it's just..." They take a deep breath and lick their lips. "If... if I'm not really what you think I am... will you still care?"

The question takes you by surprise, but your reply comes easily; the words are heartfelt after all: "I always will."

You hear their sniffle, sense the desperation in their eyes. "Really?"

Hope. Uncertainty. Longing. Fear.

Their wretched voice tears at your heartstrings. Nodding firmly, you place an arm around their shoulder. "Whatever it is... you will always be you. Nothing will change that." Nothing will change how I feel for you.

It makes them smile briefly, though it vanishes all too soon as their growing fear returns.

"Then...there's something I need to show you."

8.

They remove their sweater. They remove their shirt.

And for the first time, you see them for who they really are. You see the secrets they've hidden for all their life.

Your attention is drawn first to the scars – and there are just so many, far too many; oh, just what horrors have they suffered? – before your eyes land on the orange tattoos that mark every inch of their body.

You swallow hard.

You know those colours. You know those designs.

They're... they're a regene.

And finally, everything falls into place. Finally, you understand why they avoided cameras and hospitals like the plague. Why they refused to submit to those background checks. Why they wore layers upon layers in the dreadful heat of the sun... Why they never could bring themself to smile...

You see them begin to tremble at your extended silence.

Self-loathing. Disgust. Pain. Fear.

Swiftly, you step forward and envelop them in a fierce hug, rubbing tiny circles onto their back. "I know how hard this must be for you… but know this: regardless of where you were from, you've the biggest heart I've ever known. You're human in every sense of the term, and don't you dare think otherwise."

You feel them crumple. You feel them wrap their arms tightly around you, tears soaking deep into your thin shirt. You hold them close and refuse to let go; you never will again.

"Thank you," they say hoarsely.

You’d like to think they smiled then, but you can't tell from the tears in your eyes.

9.

"Do you really think this will work?" they whisper. "Sometimes... sometimes I look at you and the only thing I recall are the times you didn't trust me."

Your blood freezes over; you had feared this would happen.

"I'm sorry I doubted you," you reply softly. "Seven years ago, ... I'm sorry for failing to trust you… to save you… to find you."

Your eyes are watering now, but the words continue to tumble forth like a raging river, unimpeded and untamed. "I'm sorry it took me this long to realize how foolish I have been, for never considering why you needed to hide. And… and if staying away is better for you… if this apology is seven years too late-"

Your throat locks up; please, please I don’t want you to leave. But if this is what will help you heal…You choke down the bile and force yourself to continue.

"-then...then I'll let you go."

You lower your gaze, close your eyes, and wait.

...

...

You feel them take your hands into their own. You feel their fingers find you chin. And when you open your eyes, you see their sincere, tear-filled eyes gazing deep into yours.

"It isn't too late," they say. “I’m not going anywhere you can’t follow.”

You choke out a sob. There's so much you wish to say, so much you wish for them to know. You want to tell them they're the most courageous, empathetic and compassionate person you have ever known. You want to thank them for forgiving you, for accepting you, for loving you. You want to promise to never leave them, to be there by their side forevermore.

But in the end, you simply say the three words that matter most, the three words that encompass all that you promise and feel.

"I love you."

And, finally, finally, you see them truly smile.

It's a genuine, beautiful smile, and it's the loveliest thing you've ever seen.

Faith. Hope. Joy. Love.

Chen watches in silence as he devours the toast in tiny bites, as he sips hesitantly on the coffee. Not a word is said until the plate is clean. Until the cup is drained.

"You finished the toast," he says simply when Marco dusts the crumbs from his lips with a napkin.

"I did."

"And the coffee."

"It would seem so."

Chen laughs at that. The rare smile on his face causes Marco's stomach to do a flip, the flutter in his heart intensifying when Chen leans forward and lays a gently kiss upon his cheek. 

"Thank you," Chen whispers.

A smile graces Marco’s lips as he kisses back. His long arms easily wrapping around the man before him. And as Chen returns the embrace, he finds himself marvelling at just what he’s done to deserve the love of this wonderful man. To glimpse the softer side of this stoic soldier few ever have ever seen before.

"Thank you." Marco murmurs. It’s a soft whisper, words encompassing far more than he can ever bring himself to say.

Chen’s only response is to tighten his arms around him.

Neither of them speak much after that. They know that neither of them are good with emotions and words, but they know it does not matter. Because there's a connection they share that transcends far beyond what telepathy may bring. A bond that lets them see deep into the other's heart.

Because the one they have come to know and love is right there before them, and they know that neither will ever let go.

It’s a thought they both take comfort in as Chen pulls Marco close, as he lays another kiss upon his cheek. In turn, Marco rests his hands on his chest, spindly fingers tracing the ridges where mod meets skin. They remain that way for a long while, neither of them relinquishing their hold on the other.