Archive of Our Own ^beta

After spending so long stranded over in the Desert Otherworld (a vast, endless place that, as the name not-so-subtly implied, was a giant desert) and spending so many nights on edge, Carlos had grown accustomed to the feeling of not having his beloved Cecil in the bed beside him. It wasn’t a nice feeling by any means of the word. It was the exact opposite; for it filled his heart with longing and weighed down in the pit of his stomach with homesickness.
Cecil was his home, his rock of semi-normalcy in a world of unexplainable phenomenon and surrealism. Even if that rock was just as strange as the town he inhabited.

So spending so long without Cecil sleeping beside him in their shared bed was something Carlos unfortunately had to grow accustomed to, if only for several months. But that time had been enough for Carlos to be distant from his love, distant enough to not be startled by the lack of body heat beside his own.
Sure, he had Doug and Alicia and the other members of the Masked Army for company, and...somebody else, but they didn’t compare to the comfort and serenity he felt with Cecil by his side.

Nobody could compare to sweet, sweet Cecil.

Which is why now, as Carlos awoke from his well-deserved slumber in the bed that he hadn’t slept in for almost an entire year - well, a year in Night Vale time; how long it had actually been for Carlos was too much for him to let Cecil know without worrying him half to death (if Cecil even could die) -, he wasn’t immediately aware that the bed he occupied was empty.

It was only when, as he chased away the last few wisps of sleep-mist (which had manifested around his head in a glittering lavender haze, much like the rest of Night Vale citizens), his hand fell onto the cool bed-sheets that he noticed the lack of his presence.

Carlos’ first instinct, shamefully, was to think that nothing was wrong; that he was merely back in the Desert Otherworld, and that everything (from returning back to Night Vale following the opening of the Opera House and spending the evening with his beloved) had been a dream. That he was sleeping in his own bed, with an army of Masked Giants lumbering around outside with a not-quite-as-deranged-as-before-but-still-quite-deranged grinning masochist broadcasting all over the desert from a nearby radio tower.

But the room he woke up in wasn’t filled with all manner of half-constructed, logicless machines, or half-buried in debris from where Alicia’s giant dog had came in and unleashed havoc. This room, though dark, was the one he and Cecil had spent countless evenings sleeping in, with its dark purple walls, not-so-secretly-concealed secret microphones, and star constellations on its ceiling.
This was undeniably the bedroom he and Cecil had shared, and he was ever so glad to be in there.
But that didn’t explain why the bed was unoccupied save for himself.

Groggy but still a little on edge from being back in his lover’s life after spending so long not playing an active role in it, Carlos swung his feet over the side of the bed and crept out of the bedroom. The apartment, though small, was pretty much a maze after spending so long not walking its halls. It took Carlos, admittedly, far too long to find the kitchen, which is where he found his lanky, sweet Cecil sitting at the table.
The table that he and his beloved had shared coffee and eye-pancakes over so many times before.

Carlos looked back on those memories fondly, but it looked like those times were behind him now.
Cecil didn’t even acknowledge his...his...boyfriend’s presence until Carlos cleared his throat.

“Ceec? What’s wrong, hon?” Carlos whispered in tones that were once described as oaky and lovely, though now, Cecil didn’t even remark on its sudden raspiness. Instead, his head slowly raised from where he had been staring into the mug in his hands, and his eyes, red-rimmed and glassy, blinked wearily.
“N-Nothing, Carlos,” he replied, voice hoarse. “Just go back to bed. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Carlos didn’t like that answer. Usually he wasn’t one for persistence, though he was suddenly a lot more confident in himself.

Instead of heading back to bed like he’d been recommended, Carlos took out one of the seats at the table and sat down, directly across from Cecil. Cecil seemed a little taken aback at first, like he hadn’t expected Carlos to ignore his request, but didn’t remark on that either. He just went back to staring into the coffee mug, clearly doing his best to avoid eye contact (all three of them were fixed on whatever he had inside the ceramic).
“Cecil, I know I was gone for quite a while-”
Cecil visibly winced at that, reminded of the dark place he had been in.
“-but my senses haven’t dulled down at all. I can still tell when you’re being dishonest with me. So, please, can you tell me what’s the matter?”

Cecil rapped one of his bony fingers against the mug, pondering on the question.
“You just said it,” he responded glumly. “You were away for so long. A lot has changed since then, Carlos.”
His voice, usually a deep and loveable baritone, was scratchy and rough, as well as a little slurred. Carlos noticed that his lover’s hands were trembling, and his fingernails were caked with what Carlos hoped was dirt.
“I still love you, but the time we spent apart… There’s no denying that it took a toll on our relationship.”
Cecil paused, debating whether he should say the next part.
He didn’t.

Carlos gulped nervously. He had been anticipating this conversation.
Though he had anticipated it to be him having his doubts about resuming life back in here in Night Vale, as though nothing had ever happened. Especially since he had spent so much time away from his life here. There was no way he and Cecil could settle back into their usual routines of being a scientist and a radio host.
There were bound to be hurdles and miscommunications.
But Carlos had rehearsed this whole scenario in his head, and even though the roles had been switched, he hoped that he could still salvage it somehow.

“I know that, Cecil,” Carlos replied, his voice somehow strained, like the words he was saying seemed too synthetic and forced to be considered genuine. He didn’t know why. “I feel the same way.”
“Do you, though?”
That caught Carlos off-guard.
Cecil hastily tried to elaborate before his boyfriend got the wrong idea.
“W-What I mean is, you made a point about wanting to stay in the Desert Otherworld, and yeah, I was happy for you, and yeah...I wanted to come along too, but you did seem to enjoy it there more than you enjoy it here. Then you just came back out of nowhere and just sprang it all back on me again.”

“I’m happy that you’re back, Carlos,” Cecil continued, his voice shaking just as much as his hands were. “Believe me, I am, but I just can’t shake the feeling that the only reason you came back here is because of obligation. If you had the chance, then you would have stayed there.”

His eyes were blinking rapidly, but Carlos could see the tears sparkling in them as Cecil choked out words he had been holding in for months and months. Words he hadn’t spoken earlier when they had been whispering to one another in bed, words he hadn’t spoken then for fear of ruining such a pure and happy moment.
But the thing about Cecil, Carlos had noticed, was that he could still sense when he was being dishonest.

“Cecil.”

Cecil refused to meet his gaze, opting instead to let his tears splash into his mug.

“Cecil, look at me.”

Still nothing.

“Please.”

Whether it was Carlos’ newfound persistence or his genuine plea, Cecil shakily raised his head to meet his lover’s gaze. Carlos took note of just how sallow and tired his boyfriend looked. Tearful, reddened eyes ringed with dark purple bags, messy, unkempt hair, and protruding, sallow cheekbones that definitely weren’t as prominent a year ago. He just looked exhausted, and Carlos’s half-forced, half-willing absence had contributed to most of Cecil’s unhealthiness. He was beginning to second-guess himself on whether it was coffee in that mug he held, or something stronger.

“Cecil, do you really believe that?” Carlos asked in a hushed whisper. Cecil shook his head slowly, his lower lip quivering. 
Carlos took the mug and set it down before his shaky hands dropped it and made a mess. He took one of Cecil’s hands in his own, which made him start a little, but he quickly melted into the long-awaited contact and let his tears flow freely.
“No,” he whispered.
“I came back because I love you,” Carlos continued, gently stroking Cecil’s skin with his thumb. He traced small circles over the pale skin, letting himself baske in the warmth of his boyfriend after so long. The hand seemed melded perfectly to match his own, which he found solace in.
“I came back here because without you, I was miserable. I may not have sounded like it, but I was. I missed you so, so much. Every day was a drag without you there to make me happy and give me encouragement.”

Carlos chuckled lightly to himself.
“Without you, I couldn’t find the determination to complete even a single machine,” he joked, hoping to lighten the mood. Cecil did laugh at that, and it was sweet, honeysuckle music to Carlos’s ears.
“I guess so,” Cecil whispered hoarsely. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Carlos. I just...spent so long wondering if you were ever coming back, and I had nobody to turn to… Nobody to talk about my feelings. You came back and...everything was…”
Carlos stroked his hand tenderly, lovingly, reassuring him that everything was okay.

They were okay.

They were together again.

The unspoken, unbridled contact continued for a while longer; Carlos soothingly stroking Cecil’s hand (watching as his boyfriend slumped down deeper and deeper into his chair as the loving made him feel drowsy) and Cecil wiping away his tears. Their hands were pressed together, a clash of caramel brown and porcelain white in the darkness of their apartment.

“We’re certainly putting on a show for the secret government agents,” Carlos almost joked, but decided not to ruin the mood with his corniness.

After a while, Carlos leaned across the table, and tenderly pressed his lips against Cecil’s. It wasn’t the first time they’d kissed since he’d returned to the surreal town, though this time held more significance.
This was a turning point for them.
Carlos could taste alcohol on Cecil’s breath, and could feel the hot tears that flowed freely from his beloved’s eyes sting against his cheeks. He was right about the coffee thing.
They pulled apart after a few seconds, and Carlos found himself content. Cecil looked much more uplifted in spirits now (not counting the ones currently haunting their residence who were silently “ooh”ing and “aww”ing at their compassion), and smiled. It was a shaky smile, with lips specked with a few tiny vodka bubbles, but it was a smile nonetheless.
Carlos found himself smiling too.

“You want to head back to bed now?” Carlos asked.
Cecil nodded wearily, his third eye already slowly sagging shut from exhaustion. It looked like a burden had finally been lifted from his shoulders, and his posture seemed a lot more like Cecil than how it had been before. He wasn’t bouncing with boundless energy just yet, but it was an improvement from a dishevelled, miserable slump sipping alcohol from a coffee mug.
“Yes, honey,” Cecil responded. The two stood, and Carlos took Cecil’s hand in his own, then led him back to the comfortable darkness of their bedroom, hoping to get a good night’s rest before they began the rest of their lives together.