Ask I Feel Fine

[Emryc Thorne]

Unsurprisingly, Emryc was put up in the best hospital on Thyferra after he was finally returned from ‘captivity’. His media team was already putting together stories about how he escaped during the crossfire between Sith and Syndicates. The ransom had already been partially paid, and no one knew about the deal Emryc made with the Trandoshan he had carved up. By the time Jaikus and Amon pulled him from the scene, he had been out cold.

His hospital room was packed with flowers, candies, stuffed animals and other items from all over the galaxy. Many of them had the logo and title of the Emryc Thorne Fan Club on them, but there were gifts from other diplomats as well. The half Sephi paid heed to none of these, sorting through the items on his datapad. He was methodical by nature, and that meant he was back to his workaholic tendencies as soon as he was conscious.

Emryc was seated upright in his bed, dressed in some comfortable pajamas offered by the hospital. His face still had bruises and a bandage over the cut on his cheek. He was bandaged around his torso to treat the wound on his back which just barely missed his spine and paralyzing him. The half Sephi despised medical bays, but he absolutely loved the food. As a result, he was nibbling on some crackers while typing a Holonet address he would be delivering soon.

He paused when he saw visitor request pop up. As he had a constant influx, now it was based on notifications sent to his datapad. He could approve or reject as he pleased. It was an alias, but Emryc recognized it at once. He stared at the name for a while, his jaw tightening as his thumb hovered over the reject button. After a few seconds of that, he abruptly switched to approve. Emryc exhaled quietly.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan was certain his heart was about to leap out through his ribcage and punch him in the face for coming to Thyferra. This third time visiting Emryc in the hospital was no easier than the others. He'd told himself he'd wait patiently, but the half-Sephi being badly injured again worried him without end. He'd been shot in the back and beaten, how could he not fuss? Swiftly he stalked down sterile halls to the desk to request a visit from the nurse before his nerves convinced him otherwise.

A part of him had already resigned to a rejection. He tried not to look too happy, surprised, or panicked over the approval notice. Luckily the nurse was staring steadfast at her screen since he sorely failed.

The closer he got to Emryc's room the more his heart hammered while determination kept him walking. Morgan hadn't seen him in person since Firrerre and conflict clashed confusingly in his stomach but he walked on anyway. At least disguising himself too thoroughly wasn't needed, hair swept into a rightward part and slim dark sunglasses covering his eyes.

He was rushing through the door almost without realizing, wearing what he considered casual so he could blend in better with other visitors, sleeves down to his wrists. A large single-strap backpack he'd put together in a nervous fervor was slung over his left shoulder, right hand holding a datapad. Right away his face tightened at the sight of Emryc in the bed, lips curling downward into a deep frown that threatened be more. Background sound slipped away, replaced by the steady beeping of medical monitors. Scents of rubbing alcohol and hospital food assaulted his nose.

A wounded soldier boy carried home again, but he was alive. Pain panged through his chest from just seeing him after so long. Morgan's gaze rapidly passed over the cuts, bruises, and residual swelling on the half-Sephis face, then down to his wrapped torso, over to the hospital food he'd always liked. Back up to eyes that held slivers of yellow in silver. Unsupported, the door behind him quietly closed itself shut.

Emryc Thorne was directly reflected in golden eyes for the first time in a long while and Morgan's mouth didn't quite know what to say. He wanted to say something nice and supportive, something comforting that'd make him feel better. At least a proper greeting instead of standing and staring in stunned, stupefied silence.

"You look terrible," is what came out instead, deep concern in every word. Rather than awkwardly loiter he manually pulled a chair over, put the backpack and jacket down on the floor, and sank into a seat by the bed. His eyes passed right by the abundance of gathered gifts.

"Emryc," Morgan cleared his throat, blinking. "I'm glad you're back safe." He was relieved to see him but his heartbeat was definitely audible to those pointed ears. "Will you be okay?" Eyes locked to the bandages again and he leaned forward a little, face tightening. His hand moved to reach for Emryc's all on its own, settling on the bed's edge instead.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc had to mentally find tranquility as he expected Morgan to step through that door. The last time they had been across from one another had been right before the half Sephi went into a downward spiral. Ever since then it had been a slow road towards recovery peppered with pangs of tabloids that now surrounded Morgan and the Chancellor. Emryc had grown numb to that side of the matter by now, but the rest bubbled just beneath the surface.

Silver gaze tinted with yellow were fixed on Morgan as he walked in. Emryc said nothing in return as Morgan spoke, but there was a visible flinch at hearing Morgan call him by anything other than cheri. The half Sephi’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t look away from the other man as he took a seat. His gaze flicked briefly over to his bag, lingering there for far longer than necessary before he looked back at Morgan again.

“I don’t have a choice but to be okay,” Emryc stated flatly after a moment. His expression was difficult to read even for Morgan. Internally he had to call on all his training to level himself. As he looked at that delicate face he had known in so many ways, he felt sharp pangs in his chest. He thought he could simply flip a switch and that would be it as everything else in his life had been. As he saw the look of concern, as he saw Morgan once again sitting by his hospital bed, as he saw that he had brought a bag - it didn’t matter what was in it - Emryc felt as if a thousand daggers pierced into his chest. Love had buried its claws deep, having turned into something that only brought agony. He had yanked out what he could see on the surface, but Morgan’s presence here and what it did to him only proved there was more to pull out yet.

“A bit more lively than the last time you saw me in a hospital,” Emryc gestured vaguely to all the gifts that surrounded him. When he had been blinded he had been in a Sith operated hospital manned by droids and privately tucked away to conceal his identity. The droids had their memories reset and repurposed shortly after.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Seeing Emryc flinch from hearing his name in Morgan's voice was painful. The half-Sephi's face was extra hard to read but golden eyes still tried, watching minute jaw movement and the lingering look toward the bag. It felt like glass shards pierced through his chest and settled in his stomach as coiling knots.

By contrast Morgan's face was simple to read, open as a book and constantly changing. Everything he felt flickered over the surface. Golden eyes left bandages to find the half-Sephi's face when he spoke, lingered on the cut over Emryc's fractured cheekbone before returning to yellow-tinged silvers. They could obviously still see and Morgan slightly relaxed. He glanced briefly at the other man's hand, back to eyes again. Slender fingers on the bedside grasped rustling white sheets.

"Yes you do," he blurted out about being 'okay', voice somewhat soft but steady. Mention of the last hospital visit furrowed dark brows, and he turned to look over the gifts. Morgan had failed to comfort Emryc back then, a wounded and abandoned man who'd needed him. Said foolish things while caught up in being upset. Sitting by his side again was so easy and difficult at once after everything else. All the same, here was where he wanted to be.

Morgan didn't give most of the gifts a second look except one in particular he just could not ignore. He stared at a blue-suited plastic figurine labeled 'President Thorne action figure! With Teras Kasi chopping action!!' His free right hand reached to pick it up, visibly bewildered and grinning a little.

"Hmm," said Tiny Emryc while his arm chopped stiffly up and down.

Morgan gave regular-sized Emryc a complicated look of amused bemusement. "A bit? Your fanclub's been very busy." He paused. "But you don't care about this stuff." In fact Emryc really hadn't looked at all of it since the Firrerreo walked in.

The figure was put back and his sunglasses joined it on the table. Fumbling fingers worried at the backpack strap, thumb running over the zipper while his heartbeat thumped and thundered away. They lifted to comb haphazardly through neat hair, black strands unintentionally mussed completely out of place. Goldens looked at the bag, then Emryc. A new expression replaced much of the mixed tension on his face.

An honest smile. Soft, warm, brilliant as the sun without restraint in celebration for the breath Emryc still drew, even as other things still made it bittersweet. Shades of gold briefly brushed across Morgan's neck for the first time in months as he let out an immense sigh of relief. Lips slowly parted as if to say something profound, roundabout, or otherwise long-winded in that clipped accent of his.

"I missed you." Morgan blinked. "Want an apple?"

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc didn’t argue with Morgan’s retort to his lack of options but to be okay. The Firrerreo had a tender side to him that the half Sephi usually leaned into when things were rough. Emryc hadn’t even realized how much he had grown to depend on it and how much he missed that warmth. He had been conditioned to rely only on himself, and that sense of reliance on another was especially jarring when it was abruptly pulled from beneath him.

He heard the action figure noises, vacantly staring at the little figure. Every toy and drawing of him exaggerated his ears far beyond what they actually were. He was silent as Morgan mentioned he didn’t care about the fan club. While that was true, he couldn’t deny the sense of identity he felt from it. He was Emryc Thorne. That name had weight now. It was a name that originally came from a code name on a Cadre ship and a random generated last name. It was given to a nobody soldier on a ship who was nothing but a cog in the machine. That name was now a household name across the galaxy and all from his efforts. In many ways he did care, far more than he would ever admit.

Emryc was still adjusting to being in Morgan’s presence, his stomach and chest still tangled up in knots. It was exactly the kind of thing Raze warned him about, but having him be a part of him more solidly now meant Emryc wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown of some sort. The half Sephi said nothing as Morgan admitted he missed him. It was a sentiment that was obviously shared by Emryc, but not one he would give voice to.

The half Sephi shook his head to the offer of apple, pointing to his face, “I took several blows to the jaw,” He explained, “I’m on smoothies and soups,” Emryc said, “So your mushroom soup would be more-” He stopped himself there. Emryc exhaled slowly, shaking his head before he looked away for a few seconds of silence.

“How’s your Chancellor boyfriend?” He blurted out before he could stop himself. However, he didn’t take it back as he normally would have when he said something by accident. The yellow glint in his eye meant he owned everything he said. He was unapologetic.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan frowned slightly, wondering why he'd even brought apples of all things. Emryc liked them but obviously he wasn't in any condition to eat solid food. When soup was mentioned however golds lit up and he ducked down to his backpack, swiftly unzipping the side pocket. Two plastic wrapped apples were moved aside to pull out a thermos and spoon he thunked down on the bedside table.

As much as Emryc relied on the Firrerreo's he'd always loved doings things for the other man and being a source of close comfort. It was a closeness he unashamedly craved to give to the man who'd missed him back.

While coming back up Morgan paused, head tilting slightly as Emryc said the words mushroom soup and cut himself off. Morgan's expression was complicated from the memories invoked but kept moving, untwisting the thermos top/handled mug in the moments of silence. It wasn't mushroom stew but instead a hearty mixed vegetable soup.

Emryc's question made him flinch now, stopping just before he grabbed the thermos to pour it, the fingers grasping sheets squeezing tighter. "He's not my boyfriend," he quickly reassured, head turning back around with widened eyes and mixed frown, a nauseating pain dropping to the pit of his stomach. "Or whatever else the tabloids say. Don't know how he's doing."

Morgan looked at the half-Sephi's face for a second, then toward the wall behind him. "I went out to drink, dance, and see the sights," he added, fingers rubbing against his wrist. He'd tried drowning himself in doing things as one distraction before the next. Seeing the tabloids and how the ISC President looked and acted jealous on the senate floor shocked him and sparked a change of mind. Having so clearly hurt Emryc wasn't what he wanted.

Focused goldens returned to Emryc and his yellow-tinted silvers, leaning forward with a sure smile. "But it's not like when I'm here." The hand caught in sheets let go and moved on its own to what it wanted, slender fingers wrapping over Emryc's larger hand. Morgan's heart felt like it'd explode but he didn't take back his tender touch or unapologetic warmth.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc turned to regard the veggie soup, smelling that familiar and delicious aroma he had many times before. As if on cue, his stomach growled in response. It was subtle, but no doubt audible to the Firrerreo. Emryc didn’t reach for it, staring at it for a moment until he was distracted by Morgan speaking. He didn’t miss the visible flinch at the topic of the Chancellor. The half Sephi hadn’t known himself to be the jealous type and his own tone and behavior surprised him. He had moved on enough to never pull any tricks on Ro again, but there were still some lingering feelings obviously.

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” Emryc stated icily, “You are at liberty to do as you please with nothing between us,” He reminded both himself and the other man before he added quietly after a moment, "As am I."

His gaze remained on Morgan as he spoke, feeling the hand that came over to rest on his. It was a tender touch he had missed and craved. A part of him wanted nothing more than to grasp the hand back and entwine their fingers like in those stupid Holomovies.

A moment of pause passed before Emryc finally exhaled. He slipped his hand out from Morgan’s grip, looking over to the soup and then back up to meet the other man’s gaze.

“You could have discovered the state of my health through Holonet,” He said flatly, “What do you want from me?” The yellow tinge remained in his eyes, a reminder of the permanent state of Raze always just hovering beneath the surface. Putting his feelings aside, Emryc wanted to understand what Morgan sought from him. Was it an ally? Was he afraid of having him as a rival? What were the two men to one another when a relationship didn’t exist?

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan's keen eyes watched attentively wherever Emryc's traveled just like when they'd been only silver. Absolutely he heard the all-so-familiar growling belly and couldn't help the brief smirk from the sound, although it vanished when talk of the Chancellor started.

An icy tone was met by unwaveringly warm fire, chin slightly raised. "I don't, this is so. And yes, we both are." Mutual verbalization of their separation sent lonely pangs of longing through his chest. Painful, but the truth. He didn't expect the half-Sephi would become suddenly sexless. "Also at liberty to answer your questions, no?" This wasn't the first time Emryc said Morgan didn't owe him answers, a moment of jealousy in the cafe on Terminus. Even so, that didn't mean he wouldn't give them.

Emryc struggled briefly with Morgan's touch. When his hand left the Firrerreo's dark brows furrowed with a pout, a pang of lonely longing running through him. His hand wanted to chase the other, but he always let him back away if he needed to. Morgan looked into the half-Sephi's eyes when he spoke, visibly bemused at the idea of just looking up his status from the holonet and seeing he'd glanced at the soup again. He understood Raze was always nearby now, a core part of the half-Sephi's being, a grounding force. He didn't reply right away, considering the question pensively in the meantime.

The chair was scooted much closer to the bed and turned to better face the bedside table. Without a word he poured some steam-wafting soup into the thermos' mug-top, the smell intensifying to overpower the sterile hospital scents. He swiped a napkin from an earlier hospital meal as an improvised coaster, put the spoon in the mug, and moved the soup carefully over to Emryc's hospital food tray beside half-eaten crackers.

"Firstly, I want you to eat. Could've heard your stomach rumble from outside." A grin graced his features, teasingly playful humour glinting behind golden eyes. Clearly he was happier to be around the other man and, despite the talking topics Morgan was growing more comfortable in the presence of someone who was both Emryc and Raze. He rummaged through the bag, pulling a disposable e-cig from some pocket or other and took a long drag he blew politely to the side, a pack of three more placed on the table with a datacard.

Morgan gave Emryc at least a minute to think and enjoy the soup.

"I came in person to see you and spend time together," Morgan eventually explained, utterly confident and straightforward. "It's you I want, no matter anything or anyone else." The man he'd first fallen for had little to call his own. The things Emryc accomplished since then always made Morgan beam with pride, massively amazing works that would change the face of the galaxy forever. But if Emryc had been paralyzed by that blaster shot or even lost everything he'd gained there'd still be a Firrerreo sitting by his bedside pouring him homemade soup.

Golden eyes focused entirely on Emryc, thoughts turning to the frenzy he'd automatically gone into after he was retrieved from Kafrene, a smile lighting up his face without him realizing. Morgan hadn't gone to Bothuwui just because Emryc thought it was a joke, but because he wholeheartedly believed in him.

"The name 'Emryc' means 'immortal ruler', you know. Of course I have my own ambitions, to know and understand many different things. But I also want to support your goals and be with you however I can." Not dissimilar to Diabolus, his teacher. A man who'd secretly loved Andraste from afar in his own strange and distantly frosty, stormy ways. The difference was that Morgan wanted to be so much closer and wasn't afraid to say it. In the end, he did exactly as he pleased.

For once Morgan didn't fear being seen for exactly who and what he was. A selfish but tender man, a Drast, someone who chased what they wanted with unapologetic abandon. A nobody soldier boy, named by an uncaring computer aboard the Cadre station, raised to be used and discarded like a common vibroblade. President Emryc Thorne, a half-Sephi who'd formed not only the Independent Systems Consortium but the Galactic Senate itself. Darth Raze, a ruthless and cold Sith Lord who cared nothing for sentiment and removed those that stood in his way.

A beautiful and terrible monster all his own who, despite how much he closed off and everything that'd happened, made Morgan feel free. A tortured man who wanted to be more with every fiber of his being. Someone who tried desperately to be human through every misstep. Someone who knew and understood they'd hurt him with how they acted.

Morgan couldn't help but truly see everything that was Emryc Thorne. In the face of everything, he loved him. Given the choice he'd rather be with the man than without. He also wanted to ride him like a rodeo nerfboy at any given time but he wasn't about to say that aloud just then.

Suddenly he expressed his thoughts before he could stop himself, leaning against the bed and desiring more than anything to embrace the half-Sephi. Composure nearly broke from one word that simply meant darling. However, it was unrepentantly honest and he owned it completely. Passionate golden eyes, strong and determined with a certain spark still thriving behind them, rose to meet yellow-tinted eyes exactly way they'd done when Emryc's were only silver.

"I want to call you cheri. What do you want?" And with that said he felt more brave, bold, and openly vulnerable than he'd ever been in his entire life.

Emryc could take his time. Morgan would patiently wait.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc watched as Morgan opened the thermos and poured out the soup. Memories flashed through his mind of them spending time in a kitchen with Morgan humming and Emryc silently waiting while he checked his Huttball leagues. It had all seemed so simple and easy, and it had brought so much warmth. He didn’t even realize how much he cherished those moments until they were gone. It all came back from the smell of the food, a familiar aroma that always made him feel a sense of belonging.

The half Sephi didn’t even realize when he began to eat, his thoughts far away as he tasted that delicious broth again for the first time in months. Emryc looked down at his food, not glancing at the Firrerreo as he ate. He was still attempting to figure out how he felt being in the other man’s presence. Everything with Morgan had become a source of pain and numbness the past few months. Having him only inches away opened up all those wounds all over again.

In typical soldier fashion, Emryc finished the meal within moments. By then Morgan began speaking again as the half Sephi used far more napkins than needed to clean off his face. He was largely silent as Morgan mentioned wanting him - a sentiment he had known since even after the glassing of Firrerre.

The half Sephi was looking at him now, taking in sight of his eyes, the way he moved, the tints on his skin and any other subtle cues that accompanied what he said. Emryc’s own expression was largely blank, his eyes windows that looked into a frozen lake perfectly undisturbed. There was no response from the larger man until Morgan finished explaining about the meaning behind his name.

“My name,” He said icily, “Was derived from Code Name 3MR1K. My last name was randomly generated,” Yellow tinted silver gaze drilled into Morgan’s eyes, “I gave my name meaning. No one else. Nothing else. And there is no prophecy written about me. There is no larger destiny foretold by the gods Sith or not. I am the master of my own path as I have always been. As I will always be.”

The stern look on his face made it clear he had no desire to discuss or debate the topic. It was typical of a Drast to always tie everything to some greater meaning. Every outcome, every name, every instance always had to anchor to some greater destiny. Emryc once thought like that, but over time he knew that things were far simpler. Outcomes were shaped solely by his direct choices and actions, nothing beyond that.

Emryc stared at Morgan for a moment, considering the other man in silence. He could see the look of loneliness in the Firrerreo’s eyes. He could see the tint in his skin and the subtle hints that betrayed how Morgan desired Emryc right then and there. The half Sephi, by comparison, had a deadpan look on his face. There was no fiery passion in his eyes, only the calm resolve of a man carved by stone.

He thought about the desolation of Firrerre and the destruction of Morgan’s assets on the planet. Emryc thought about the several times he had distanced himself and the Firrerreo followed nonetheless. He thought of how Morgan immediately went into a spiral seeking out attention in ways he hadn’t observed the Firrerreo do before. The half Sephi, by comparison, didn’t have that overwhelming need or desire for companionship. He was a loner at his heart and perfectly content to be in solitude for the rest of his days. He realized several things in quick succession as he stared at Morgan, and he realized that not all of it had to do with Emryc at all.

“Do you not know how to exist in your own company, Morgan?” Emryc asked quite bluntly. It was similar to a question he asked Art before, and one that had thrown the noble for a loop.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

The way Emryc finally looked at him was familiar even if the expression was blank. Watching skin, expression, eyes, movement, every tiny thing. It's how Morgan knew he cared and understood Emryc was struggling too, trying to maintain tranquility. Being by his side made his heart ache, race, and twist, light and heavy all at once. It felt strange. Even with pains he'd tried not to think about resurfacing, Morgan didn't regret being here after seeing him power through the soup.

The origin of Emryc's name was new to Morgan, widening his eyes. He listened without pity, but with sorrow for how the soldier boy had been treated. As the other man went on it became pride. Emryc's achievements weren't Morgan's, but all the same it gave a deep satisfaction. He didn't argue, only listened, and not just because of that specific look that sometimes popped up when talking about the Ryloth Rancors. Deep doubts about fate and prophecy already existed in him, thoughtful as he considered the collection of gifts.

"You're right." The two men grew up very differently. 3MR1K had written a destiny all his own to become who and what Emryc Thorne was today. A man of his own making. A Sephi-ear headband that'd been perched atop a large teddy bear's head found its way into his hands. Idly he toyed with the vastly exaggerated ears, a thumb brushing across the soft felt.

Emryc's next question visibly surprised him. It was also the first time his baritone voiced Morgan's name since he arrived, something he hadn't realized he wanted to hear. "That- uh," Morgan blinked, looking pensively down at the headband. He'd never been asked that before. Being alone wasn't so bad, he was used to it. The Firrerreo sang and wrote music, played games, read books, studied, tried recipes, or just lounged around doing as he pleased. Quietly sharing space was lovely, perfectly content to lay lazily in Emryc's lap to do things or even be in a different room. Morgan liked all of those things.

Even the other man being away for long periods hadn't bothered him so much. They'd kept in contact, so Morgan was happy and looked forward to the next visit, knowing in his heart he was cherished. Even so, he sometimes resembled a cat pretending they didn't just want some attention.

But when Firrerre and Emryc were abruptly gone from his life they'd left an emptiness behind Morgan struggled to fill with other things. Drowned so deeply he was lucky not to have been hospitalized himself, frankly. He'd seen the half-Sephi in other people, the space in a bed, a shadow sitting in a kitchen chair. Felt his touch when someone else reached toward him. It was getting better over time with every choice taken step by step.

He often kept others at a cautious distance with the games his family played even with their own, even though it make him feel lonely sometimes. Covered up not only to conceal brands but because of grasping and greedy claws. Fingers worried at Morgan's wrist, skin silvering as he tensed keen memory calling up the exact moment those same claws sank into bared flesh. He shivered, expression directed away from Emryc so he knew it wasn't for him.

He relaxed after a few seconds, letting the memories fade. "I didn't think I'd ever try to be really close to anyone, to belong there," he blurted out without thinking, "Especially after Dorian." Morgan usually skirted around this subject, yet somehow Emryc asking his blunt question made it easier. Because he truly wanted to be open with the man and invite him to do the same, if he wanted to.

Goldens returned to frosty, yellow-tinted silvers, surrounded by cuts and bruises, and softened immensely, concern still behind them. They lacked their usual razor focus instilled by Drast methodology. Bright and warm amber-gold, like dandelion wine shining in summer sunlight, the same honest eyes that came alive when he sang with laughter. His expression was somewhat melancholy but self-sure, head slightly tilted.

"No, not always. And I'm content with that," Morgan answered simply. Then he replaced the sullied napkins with fresh ones- Emryc wouldn't reuse them- and refilled the mug with more soup like it was the most obvious thing to do. "Coming to visit when you're hurt feels natural. So here I am."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc was still unsure what Morgan wanted, but he wouldn’t probe beyond what he answered. He had long since grown tired of any games. He didn’t look beyond what the Firrerreo said, and he wouldn’t do so now. The mention of Dorian caused a visible reaction in Emryc, his jaw tightening slightly as his ears swiveled and moved towards almost flattening. Yellows glossed over his eyes for a flash before melting back into the mixed new color.

The half Sephi said nothing on the topic, reaching over before Morgan could pour more of the soup. He unceremoniously took the thermos and simply tipped it back to drink it down. It was likely an appalling display and method of eating soup, but he certainly had no qualms with it. As Morgan debated his internal thoughts over the posed question, Emryc happily chugged down the remainder of the soup. The half Sephi set the container down on the table and stared at it.

Good soup.

Emryc looked back up at Morgan as he wiped his mouth off with fresh napkins. The half Sephi was quiet for a long moment, taking his focus purposely away from his internal thoughts. His gaze briefly flicked to the side of the room towards a pile of neatly folded clothing. There was a navy blue button up folded up and set amidst Emryc’s clothing, one that clearly did not belong to the half Sephi. His gaze lingered in that direction for a moment before he turned to look back at the Firrerreo again.

“Thank you for the visit and the soup,” He said simply, his tone genuine. His expression didn’t betray any unspoken words or any complexities beyond what he said. Emryc stared blankly at Morgan, reaching over for an e-cig to begin puffing on it. Technically these weren’t allowed, but the Firrerreo clearly had no qualms with clouding the space with smoke and neither would Emryc.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan wasn't always sure how well he phrased things around being direct and literal. He was trying and trusted the other man's blunt ways. Around Emryc, the Firrerreo rarely felt like playing any games that weren't purely for fun. Still, it was difficult, he realized, to fully relax with the tension in his chest.

The response to Dorian's name was something Morgan couldn't help but notice, even drawn into his thoughs. Subtle jaw movement, more obvious yellow eyes and swiveling ears. It was a brief glimpse at how he'd reacted on Bespin and, despite the content, it was somehow endearing.

Then the soup-chugging happened and Morgan abruptly crashed out from his thoughts. He stared, face scrunching into something between bewilderment, amusement, and mild horror. One brow dropped, the other raised, half his lips curled up and partly parted. Gulping it from the thermos like a fratboy camper powering through his hangover wasn't what he'd expected, having enjoyed serving it to him even if it wasn't in a bowl like usual.

"Just couldn't wait, huh? Could've been hot." Of course it wasn't scalding and Emryc would've known that anyway. Morgan was always careful about serving temperature. He plucked up the empty thermos and shook it, pouting as he screwed the top back on and put it back in his bag. Should've brought the whole pot, he thought, as if the hospital would let him get away with lugging a massive pot of soup through the halls. Goldens looked back up at the other man who seemed pleased with the food during the silence. Emryc's gaze looked away and Morgan followed it like cat to red dot into the corner where the navy button-up was, far too small for the large half-Sephi but still amongst his things. Dark brows furrowed as he took it in, tensing the slightest bit.

Then he was thanked and the other man went right for an e-cig.

Morgan found himself softly laughing, soft and melodic. He didn't even know why it happened, it just was. "You're welcome!" he replied, taking a drag of his own. "Can't let them feed you plastic, can I? I'll bring the rest of the soup after you're discharged. If you like." He went through the stuffed bag's contents- setting aside things like a large water bottle, comb, small bag of snacks, and spare datapad charger- in his quest for something specific.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc was quite satisfied by the soup, and he didn’t realize how much he had missed it. However, that didn’t mean anything really changed with what happened. He quietly smoked from his e-cigarra, silently watching the other man. He hardly heard anything he said, instead focusing on tiny shifts in his expression and movements. He didn’t miss the way he followed Emryc’s gaze towards the shirt and the subtle shift on his face before he plowed right onto the next topic. Morgan actively didn't give voice to his clear reaction to seeing the shirt. Once again, it was filing something away for an inevitable future aggression instead of outright confronting it now. Once again it was a reminder of why Emryc was right to walk away from this.

The half Sephi sighed as he slowly eased himself out of the bed. He was well enough to walk around even though the bolt injury to his back still ached. Emryc glanced at the other man for a while, considering the suggestions to bring soup following his discharge. As if everything were perfectly okay between them. The two men operated very differently. As much as Emryc operated on surface words and took things at face value, he knew Morgan worked entirely differently.

“And if I have a lover? You will bring soup for my lover and I? Cook for us both?” He asked flatly. He calmly smoked his cigarra as he asked, his face blank and impossible to read. It was the same face Morgan first gazed upon when they first met aboard the space station.

“You came here to visit, I thanked you for the visit and the soup,” Emryc exhaled, “So take the damn hint. I don’t need nor desire your company. I don't need you to take care of me. I did fine before you and I'll do fine after you. You need to understand we want different things.”

The half Sephi paused for a long moment before his gaze drifted back towards the folded shirt. He looked back at Morgan, fixing him with a firm gaze. With Raze far more present, Emryc didn’t shy away from speaking his mind or being entirely transparent. He would entertain any questions and any topic, his normally shifty demeanor gone.

“In the unlikely event that I pursue any arrangement similar to what we had, there is someone else on my mind.”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan was elbow-deep in his bag, sinking unintentionally back into his own innermost thoughts, trying to gather his words together in a way that made sense. Determine if it was worth bringing up at all. It was already difficult just being here and the shirt in the corner absolutely didn't help. A desire to address it warred with a desire to avoid conflict with Emryc after all that'd already happened. Goldens looked up from the bag when Emryc got to his feet, brows raising just the slightest bit. He was glad the other man could move around, but-

The question of a lover dragged Morgan kicking and screaming from the places in his head that kept him safe from such things. Those places where he 'found his words' that were never quite what he wanted. Where, despite will and intention, poison still lived and festered. Every word that followed flew out without thinking, thoughts spilling out into words insteaad.

"Maybe I-!" would he nearly answered, stubborn determination and pain both reflected in his eyes as he stood from his chair, but it was a lie he couldn't voice. Morgan only ever lied to himself. He wanted to say he'd accept some other arrangement that let him be close to Emryc, but some part of him knew that would kill them all over again. "No. I couldn't do that as I am."

Emryc outright said he didn't want Morgan's company and he flinched again. Morgan would rather Emryc had just hit him, struck him in rage and anger, than hear those words spoken in the other man's voice. Rather be bruised and broken all over again. Never in his life had he felt like he did just then. Confusion, panic, abject fear, an agony he couldn't put forth in words. Morgan didn't understand what he was doing wrong for the other man to say those things. He felt like running from the room, screaming, and staying all at once.

"Obviously you'll do fine without me. I know you don't need my care, I just-" His entire body tensed, face tightening as his composure neared its absolute breaking point. "Just felt I should be here for you this time." Morgan tried to smile, to laugh, and found he couldn't see. Tears stung and blinded him, a white sleeve coming up to wipe them away in vain. "I don't know what I want."

Yellowed silver eyes were unwavering just like they'd been at the very beginning. Morgan stared at the navy shirt for several seconds before he looked at Emryc again. Along with the clear statement the half-Sephi had 'someone else' in mind, there was something beyond that weighed on the Firrerreo's chest he couldn't yet identify, even past the jealousy that burned through his veins. The two men were mere inches apart, and yet it felt like they stood across the universe from one another. The real truth was-

Emryc had said he needed to let Morgan go. But the Firrerreo didn't know how to let go of the man he loved. The idea terrified him. Did Emryc not love him anymore? Or, if he took every sign literally, was the other man keeping Morgan away another form of love he didn't understand? How much of what he 'saw' was truth, and how much was what he wanted to see? He didn't know that, either.

"This someone else," Morgan began suddenly, staring over at the neatly folded shirt with a complicated expression. Goldens turned to meet silver-tinted silvers. "Do they feel like home?" It was an honest and straightforward question. Without malice, only bitter longing. Even still, he wasn't immediately sure why he'd asked at all.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

There was something to be said for the level of stubbornness Morgan displayed even now. It had always been a core aspect of his personality, and it remained here today. It was a trait Emryc had always admired even if it caused them drama before. The half Sephi stared blankly as Morgan almost attempted to act as if he could take it in stride even if Emryc had another lover. Emryc shook his head, drawing in from the e-cig before blowing out a cloud of smoke. This was proving to be far more difficult than he had hoped.

This was where Emryc fell to his compartmentalizing habits. He had the uncanny ability to box things away and set them aside. Raze especially was an expert at that, and now he was ever present. Regardless of how Emryc may have felt about Morgan either in the past or through his recovery from this, no force in the galaxy would compel him to close the distance and embrace the man the way the Firrerreo wanted. No force in the galaxy would make Emryc tell Morgan everything was all right before he kissed him and held him like he used to. Emryc was steadfast, but with Raze, he was completely and utterly unwavering when he took a stance on something.

He could see the emotions clearly displayed on Morgan’s face. In the past when the man cried it twisted and gnawed at Emryc, and he always made efforts to stop it. Today, the half Sephi remained standing where he was, drawing in another long drag from the cigarra as he stared back. In the core of his being, Morgan knew the kind of man the half Sephi. Even if he never admitted it, he liked that frigid and detached side to him. However, in the past it had always been directed at others. This was the first time it was turned on him and he suddenly found himself floundering and unable to cope. Emryc saw it all play out, his face set in stony rigidness. His eyes were frosty, yellows glinting lightly beneath the surface. He was perfectly tempered and poised as an unmoving boulder across from the tidal waves that were Morgan.

Emryc didn’t follow the Firrerreo’s gaze towards the shirt, but he pondered the question silence. Morgan was comparing. He was wanting so badly to compare something in its infancy to something that was once well established. He wanted so badly for Emryc to line up the two side by side to shape the narrative that ultimately favored him. Likely Morgan didn’t realize what he was doing, but Emryc knew the man played enough games to know that wasn’t the case. Emryc blew out another cloud of smoke through his nostrils before he finally spoke.

“I don’t know,” He admitted truthfully. That wasn’t something that could be discovered in a day. That was something that took dedicated time. Time that he hadn’t invested just yet, nor did he think he would. If this had been anyone else, Emryc would have dismissed them and left it at that. However, with what he had with Morgan, he would allow extra patience even if he found it largely unproductive for them both.

“But I am more myself with him than I have been able to be with anyone else before,” He stated declaratively. For better or worse, Jaikus had been on the receiving end of Raze directly to where he had almost died at his hands. He knew Raze enough to fear him where others found some kind of sick attraction to that side of him that was a monster. There was also no unspoken line there that Emryc couldn’t cross or the compulsion to act politely because Jaikus was some crown prince. While Morgan had never demanded it of him, there were certain barriers he couldn’t cross even after time passed. Emryc didn’t feel as if he were being groomed to become dark lord to an Emperor, and it was far more liberating than he had expected. It was also the first time an individual had sought him out while truly expecting nothing in return. Right from the beginning.

Emryc also confirmed that this was indeed a man. Morgan in the past had only dealt with other women interested in him, knowing fully well that the half Sephi was incapable of emotionally connecting with women. Emryc paused for a long moment as he finished up the e-cigarra. He set it aside and stared at Morgan, jaw tightening as he still didn’t like seeing tears from the other man.

“I’ve kept things from you in the past and you had to discover and stumble into them. Perhaps that was what led to all this, but it has happened and we can’t take it back,” Emryc spoke calmly, no trace of emotion lacing his words, “This isn’t something I want you to stumble upon and be surprised by down the line if it happens,” He stared firmly at Morgan, “His name is Jaikus Altaris. He will likely be working within intelligence which is under you. I’m telling you this not to wound you, but so that you are fully aware instead of guessing and speculating like you frantically will after leaving here otherwise.”

There was a yellow glint to his eye as he continued, his ears actually visibly moving towards flattening, “And so you know to keep things professional,” There was a dangerous edge to his tone, a tone Morgan had never heard from the half Sephi before directed at him. Emryc had already glassed Firrerre. He didn’t need to spell out that there would be zero tolerance if Morgan ever meddled in his affairs again. It was the single pattern of things that had hammered the nail into the coffin. That kept Emryc from closing the distance or thinking he could embrace Morgan again. Memories of Malicia and his unborn sons would perhaps never fully leave him. Memories of Tiamat and Renfry both believing he would abandon them lingered as well. The thoughts washed right over the warm laughters, of shared dances in the kitchen, of carrying the prince around whenever he pleased. Emryc wouldn't let fond memories overshadow the critical ones that dealt the fatal blows. On the flip side he knew had hurt Morgan beyond recovery.

“You have a lot to offer, Morgan,” Emryc said quietly after a long moment, “But it’s not what I need. Nor am I what you need."

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Where Emryc was stolidly stoic and steady, stone solid and statuesque, Morgan was a shifting hurricane across stormy seas. While certainly stubborn, stillness wasn't the way of his mind, always looking for the answer to something or other. Calm balance was something tenuous he found in the eye of that storm and, right now, caught between two points, that simply wasn't happening. Morgan didn't compartmentalize things, he endured and adapted, learned and changed. But when it'd come to love the Firrerreo had at times been stubborn in the wrong direction, digging his heels into the dirt and refusing to move forward.

Surely he didn't know how to handle the half-Sephi's frostiness after so long. The man he'd fallen for had been frigid and detached from the start, of course he liked that side of him. It was blunt and straightforward in a way Morgan had been surprised to find himself attracted to, something he admired. After years of thawed warmth, all the ice returning was jarring.

Morgan was drawn to Raze, chasing its attention at times. By Firrerrreon and Drast standards some of how that monster behaved was attractive. Any time he wasn't treated like a prince he'd felt free. But despite how unnaturally beautiful it'd looked appearing before Morgan's eyes he feared it too, this inhuman thing that couldn't love, not understanding until that point just how different a piece it was from Emryc himself. Raze was the worst kind of monster humanity could spawn, capable of burning down the galaxy under the right circumstances just like Firrerre. The demon had been loved as an integral piece of Emryc, but it was Emryc as a whole who lived in Morgan's heart. He'd learned too late that trying to attract Raze had been a mistake all along.

Hearing that this other person was not only a man but someone Emryc could be very himself with wounded him worse than hearing who it was. Morgan always yearned for the two men to fully relax around one another, insisted on being treated like a boyfriend instead of a prince even after sinking further into that role as his confidence was steadily chipped away by every secret kept to be stumbled across like landmines. There'd been pressure for things to be 'correct' instead of letting themselves be. They'd fallen for facets of one another's truest selves, the ways eyes lit up at old craft, the sound of song on ships, terrible whiskey drunk with choked laughter, and ten thousand things more. But neither man had let go of the surname 'Drast'.

"Wallflower?" he blurted out in surprise, goldens finding the half-Sephi's face, the shirt, then his face again. Morgan's expression was complicated but pain was obvious. Memories of Jaikus flashed behind Morgan's blurred vision. Darker skin and hair that begged to curl, citrine eyes that glimmered with playful mirth, a warm and genuine smile cresting over the hills of frigidly polite masks. Casual jokes with Sith Councilors as if the man held no fear. A corset vest, which were apparently very popular now, and jealousy-inducing dances. An utterly bewildering swap between noble's ways to simply being himself that the Drast prince both envied and admired. Morgan took a deep drag from his e-cigarra and irritably huffed out a cloud of flavoured vapour.

Pointed ears flattened and yellow glinted, the other man's tone and appearance bringing a spike of anxiety. Golden eyes didn't look away but rather stared Emryc straight in the face, defiant of his own emotions. "I won't interfere," he insisted stubbornly, wiping his eyes. Jealousy twisted in his chest and made him feel horribly sick, jealousy he had no right to with nothing but heartache between them. "Will be careful." Besides, he'd already made the choice, a promise, to avoid further conflict that would escalate all over again. Memories of Firrerre would never leave Morgan and he didn't know if, how, or when he'd recover just yet. As Emryc said, they couldn't take back what they'd done to each other. All they could do was stay away from taking even more.

"Thanks for telling me," he grumblingly choked out, but it was genuine. Knowing crushed him. It still felt better to know than to guess the way Emryc realized he would otherwise. The half-Sephi had kept his secrets while the Firrerreo filed things away rather than speak his mind. It all made no sense, in hindsight, and both men were well aware of that. During the long moment of quiet Morgan alternated between wiping his face with a clean napkin and heavily drawing from the e-cig. Like holo stills Morgan remembered everything he'd ever seen. Promises and closeness, arguments in bedrooms, declarations of love and commitment like it was just yesterday. It was only natural to yearn for it all over again, for one home when the other was gone completely. Even if a part of him knew, deep down, that if Emryc had simply embraced him during this visit it would've been no better than lying.

“You have a lot to offer, Morgan. But it’s not what I need. Nor am I what you need."

Morgan froze, pulled from memory to harsh reality once more. A hand lifted as if to reach out. "So do you, Emryc, I-!" Then it fell back down to his side. Golden eyes turned to look at the haphazardly overstuffed bag on the floor, partway through being unpacked. The Firrerreo was quiet for another long moment. Other expressions faded from his face, replaced by fear and heartbroken sorrow. "This is so," he whispered. He sat down in the chair to repack his bag one object at a time. Somehow he doubted Emryc wanted him to leave it behind this time, although he was welcome to keep it and its contents.

"How do you find tranquility, Emryc?" Morgan quietly asked, stuffing a snack bag into the pack with far more force than necessary. The half-Sephi was usually so calm about things, seeking inner balance, something the Firrerreo often struggled with. Becoming a stoic was utterly impossible for a man as passionate and fiery as Morgan. All the same, he was desperate for a shred of insight on something he didn't know how to do.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit at Morgan referring to Jaikus as a wallflower. However, he said nothing on the topic. In truth, the Axxilan’s more laidback and nonchalant nature was one of the main things that attracted Emryc to him. There was no dramatic destiny about becoming some ruler of the galaxy or holding some epic title. The half Sephi did that himself already, and the idea of having a partner that was removed from that appealed to him far more than he ever expected. A part of him hoped Jaikus never had ambitions for the council or other positions that would potentially put them at odds with one another or inevitably lead to using one another for ulterior motives. The half Sephi largely wanted someone he could fall into as a calm sanctuary, not someone that took over the room just like he did.

There was no further change in expression on Emryc’s face as Morgan continued to display his emotions. The half Sephi stood quietly, staring at the other man as he packed up his things painstakingly slowly. He knew the Firrerreo well enough to know he was burning with jealousy. He knew he would toy with the idea of finding ways to harm or destroy Jaikus without linking it back to himself. Morgan was a hunter and a predator at his core, and his laser focus was now on a target much weaker than him. However, he also knew that Emryc stood as a monster to contend with, one that wouldn’t budge so easily when he was trifled with. Whatever chapter unfolded in their story after this would spell the fates of the three men.

While Morgan internally went down memory lane and cycled through all the warmth he had experienced, Emryc’s mind was devoid of any such thing. The half Sephi stared blankly at Morgan before his icy gaze briefly flicked over to the chrono on the wall and then back to him. For all the things the Firrerreo knew and loved about Emryc, he appeared to completely forget how little the half Sephi enjoyed lingering on things that bothered him. He was a methodical and efficient man that had made himself clear several times on a message the Firrerreo refused to hear. Emryc knew he would cross paths with the man several times after this, but he was still reeling.

There were a few moments of silence after Morgan’s question. Emryc slowly crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against a counter behind him.

“I remove myself from situations that disturb the tranquility,” He stated flatly. Shortly after that, the lock on the door to his room clicked open as Emryc used the Force to push it wide. Emryc gazed in that direction before looking back at Morgan.

“Leave,” He said curtly.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

It hadn't occurred to Morgan that the reasons for his internal nickname for Jaikus weren't things Emryc was privy to. Nor did it occur to explain them given everything else going on in the room just then. As much as he'd originally hoped to keep a lighter mood, now really wasn't the time for jokes.

But he did realize at some point that, despite their fondest moments often being the most mundane, there'd been unintended pressure to be the best they could be from early on. To be worthy of one another in the face of their individual ambitions and pride. That, combined with secrets, could breed insecurity. Of course Morgan was burning with jealousy, disparate thoughts running through his headd like wildfire that he didn't know how to handle in the moment.

Morgan hadn't realized how slow he was repacking the bag until Emryc answered his question, wet eyes darting up at the other man. "Ah." The last thing was rapidly stuffed inside the bag before he zipped it closed and pulled it over his shoulder, electing to just carry his jacket in hand. "Right. Sorry." Morgan hadn't forgotten. Without thinking he'd been stalling, as if Emryc would stop him from going and suddenly change his mind. If Morgan had been 'fine' the way he wanted he would've heard and accepted Emryc's message the first time. The door clicked open and he was told to leave. He understood they both needed him to go. It still felt horrible to hear and admit.

Morgan wiped his eyes and covered them again with sunglasses. He took a backward step toward the door, face tightening, sad, troubled, and determined. "Bye. Thanks for the visit," he said genuinely but sad. One last fleeting look at Emryc's face as he turned on his heels to leave, quickly walking out before he said something else or tried to stay, fingers iron-tight around his things. At least the half-Sephi wasn't paralyzed, was recovering.

The Firrerreo hoped that next the two men met he'd achieved at least one goal of his, sparked by the question of tranquility. With everything he was and wanted, after everything that'd happened, Morgan needed to achieve balance all his own. He didn't know yet how he'd handle the jealousy, heartbreak, loneliness, Firrerre or anything else. He hadn't let himself change and adapt like he should. But he must, or else risk destroying core pieces that made him 'Morgan'.

First, more immediate goals. Get back to his speeder before he started ugly sobbing in a public hospital hallway, lost his temper, or both. Return to Voyager and exist alone for a while. Maybe he could remember how to do that without collapsing in on himself for the second time.

@Sreeya