Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Martyn had moved to the city pretty much on a whim.

He’d spent year after year working as a drama teacher in his hometown, the painfully small place he’d spent all his life in. With a degree from the local college up the street. For the longest time he’d figured he could live with it, live in these same places he’d seen every day for as long as he could recall. And perhaps, if things had panned out differently, maybe that could’ve been quite happily true? Maybe he really would have stayed there.

But things didn’t pan out.

His disastrous attempt at dating his childhood best friend had left him feeling exposed to all the worst sides of himself. Someone flaky, traitorous and mean-spirited, and sometimes unintentionally self-centered. He’d felt rubbed raw and listless for so many months, riding the emotions like a rollercoaster, till one day he’d gotten an email through the school he worked at.

The city university was hiring.

The performing arts department needed someone to run tech, as well as teach introductory classes to production methods. Martyn only had a bachelors, but he figured, in the dim morning as he was headed to work, it couldn’t hurt to try. Worst they could do was say no. So he’d applied.

Color him surprised when he got the job.

That led him here.

Right here.

In the performing arts building of the university, leaning in the doorway, wondering how after five years of swearing off romance he’d stumbled his way ass-backward into crushing like a flustered high schooler.

When he found himself working at the small corner desk he’d taken too, perched in a loft above the stage from which the catwalk for the lights stretched out, he’d time it so that he could watch the rehearsals of the university players, or the performing arts classes taught on-stage, he’d never be able to focus. He’d end up rushing to finish all his work later that night when he got back to his cramped, hastily secured studio apartment.

But when Ren was down there, who could blame him?

Ren was the performing art director as well as the lead drama professor. He taught classes on stage-writing, directing, as well as studies on various productions. When his players were rehearsing, he would often read in lines or circle the stage, looking every bit as absorbed in the action as if he had never seen the play performed before.

Tall, with broad-shoulders and a narrow waist, always sporting brightly colored button-downs with suspenders, despite how he also wore a belt, and flared slacks. A pair of dark sunglasses were always either on his face or hung from the collar of his shirt. He had very long hair, dark brown that fell nearly past his hips, always secured into a low ponytail. With neatly trimmed facial hair and long sideburns. Handsome features.

Martyn was down bad, and he knew it.

Except…I’ve never actually spoken to the man.

He thought to himself grumpily as he mashed on his laptop, clicking through the schedule for performances this week, hardly retaining any of the info even as he scribbled it down into his calendar.

The players were on-stage, rehearsing, and Ren was there as always. His booming voice and barking laughing carried on with the students, keeping them in high-spirits even as he tried to drill home certain parts as they prepped for opening night. Martyn had seen this view so many times in the past two months, but it was past mid-terms now, and he’d been unable to so much as broker a conversation with Ren.

In the back of his mind were memories of all the times he’d stumbled before, and the people he’d hurt on his way down. He and Scott had run something of the heartbreak gambit in high school and college, and crowned the achievement by dating and then breaking each other. Martyn knew he’d stabbed his best friend in the back. Even if, older and wiser, he realized they wouldn’t have worked out, that didn’t mean he felt any better about it. That didn’t mean he felt like Scott had deserved that treatment. So looking down at Ren, loud and bright, he felt like a shadow by comparison.

That man was gorgeous, and not just in looks.

He clearly adored his job, everyone in the department, faculty and students alike, loved him, and he walked each step with his shoulders back and his head held high.

Martyn hadn’t felt like he could do that for a while now.

It hadn’t just been Scott. That’d been part of it, but more so it’d just been the final straw. The last weight on a pile they’d been mounding up higher since high school. He’d wanted someone to call his own, but in all those ventures, he’d brought both a dagger and a rose. Glinting metal and blood-red petals wielded from either hand, honey-sweet words in a heartbeat turned traitorous. Here he felt like he was finally finding his footing. The other faculty at the department were friendly, it was more that Martyn had shrunk from any offers of companionship that he hadn’t grown to be better friends with any of them in the two months or so since his hiring.

That was part of why he sat up here on the catwalk desk instead of down in the faculty room, or out in the atrium past the stage entrance where plenty of staff would do their work. Instead, he hid up here, watching from the shadows as Ren strode across the stage, in the spotlight.

And again…I’ve barely spoken to the man…

Martyn sighed, shoulders slumping, and tiredly turned his eyes onto his laptop again.

Later that evening, he was headed out, beat-up messenger back slung over one shoulder. The spring air was getting warmer, pretty soon, he could trade off his green puffer vest and white turtleneck combo for something more suited to the weather. He’d been growing his hair out, blonde locks now falling just past his shoulders. A black headband held it back from his eyes.

As he was headed through the atrium to leave, his heart leaped into his throat. Sitting at one of the tables in the otherwise empty atrium was Ren, he had several printed-out, stapled-together sheaves of paper on the table, and was grumbling, pale blue eyes narrowed on his tablet as he tapped at it with a stylus.

Martyn’s heart continued to jump erratically as he turned his eyes ahead of him to the door. He wanted to speed up his gait, and quickly head out. Felt the urge to pull out his phone and pretend he was busy looking at something to avoid eye contact. Just keep moving, get home, and continue the evenings' loneliness.

But if he did that, what had he moved to the city for?

He’d moved here trying to escape his listlessness, force himself up and out from the shadows he’d lived in for years at this point. If he just carried on when something was tugging him to stop, when he’d been presented with this golden opportunity, then he’d be nothing but a coward.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, he shoved his hands into his vest pockets to conceal their nervous fidgeting and turned away from the door.

“Hey, Ren!”

The brunette looked up, frustration was obvious in his expression. But he schooled it down as he saw Martyn approaching. “Oh, hey, how are you?”

“Doing well! I know we met at the new faculty orientation at the start of the year, but we haven’t really talked, I’m…”

“Martyn Littlewood, right? I remember. Besides, you’re always up in the catwalk during my classes.” Ren said, his voice smooth and cheerful.

Martyn nodded. “Yeah! Maybe I ought to be paying tuition or something, but I just like watching the students rehearse, not to mention when you go off. It’s impressive work.”

Ren’s eyebrows shot up, and he tipped his head left slightly. Martyn saw his pulled-back hair seem to slip with the motion, before a smile reformed on his lips, warmer and less prim than the one before.

“Thank you, dude!”

Martyn looked down at the tablet in Ren’s hands. “You having tech trouble?”

Ren groaned, planting his hand, the one still with the stylus between his fingers, against his head. “I just can’t with this stuff! Call me old-fashioned! I’ve got mark-ups to make for my class tomorrow, but my stylus isn’t working for some reason.”

Martyn pressed his lips together thinly, took another deep breath, and then dropped his bag, sliding into the chair across from Ren. He put his hand out.

“Mind if I take a look? I am the tech guy.”

“Would you? I’d really appreciate it.” Ren passed him the tablet.

A few minutes of fiddling with settings later, Martyn handed it back. Ren gave a relieved gasp when his stylus worked again, and he grinned. “You’re a lifesaver! Thanks so much!”

“No problem. Technology not your friend?”

Ren scoffed. “If I could demand all my course submissions in print-outs, I would. But I know that costs money, and I don’t want to put that on my students…no matter how much it hurts me.” He tossed his head back, putting the back of his hand over his eyes as if he were swooning.

Martyn found himself laughing at the gesture, and Ren gave him a lopsided grin, pale blue eyes peeking from beneath his hand.

“A brave sacrifice, truly.” He lent, and Ren sat up again, setting his tablet down. He propped his elbows on the table. “Aside from my heroic deeds, what are you teaching this semester?”

The blonde’s eyebrows lifted, he recognized anxiety jumbling together in his chest. Ren wanted to make conversation.

This was stupid.

This was so stupid.

He shouldn’t be this nervous and excited about just talking to a guy. Even if it was a really hot guy. Honestly, the him of five years ago would’ve laughed him out the door. Back when words were light and meaningless, and the only fun to be had in their tiny little town was to see what twists of the tongue it took to make it between the sheets with someone.

It’d been fun. Martyn didn’t necessarily regret it, not all of it.

Parts of it, though, had been cruel. The cruelty ascribed to late-night pillow talk turned deeper, to text messages ignored and calls ended mid-sentence.

Martyn always knew where to strike when someone was their weakest. He’d done it plenty of times. He’d even done it to Scott. But he’d come here trying to get out of the shadows.

So he tried to push back his shoulders, avoid the slope he knew had come to them as he’d struggled, and gave his reply.

He’d try.

That was all he could do.

He and Ren ended up chatting for a while. Pretty surface-level stuff, Ren had asked Martyn what brought him to the city, Martyn had spun out some reasoning along the lines of ‘new job, clean slate’ and left it at that. As they talked, Ren seemed to hold his weight onto one side. He left one leg kicked out beneath the table, angled off so he wouldn’t accidentally bump feet with Martyn. Occasionally he’d rake his hand down the side of his head, perhaps a fidgeting tick? Fingers played along the loosely tied dark brown hair that completely concealed his ears from view. The entire time they talked, he was engaged and enthusiastic. He smiled and laughed, gave anecdotes about other faculty or his current students, or outstanding stories from past players. Martyn didn’t even realize how late it was getting till the buzz of the atrium lights abruptly stopped, and the room plunged into darkness.

Ren barked out a laugh. “We were sitting still too long! Stupid movement triggered lights!”

In the dim half-dark, Martyn saw Ren waving his arms above his head and covered his mouth to conceal a snort of amusement. “Is that the strategy?”

“Usually works. I’ve stayed here later than this before.” Ren replied before he finally grumbled and stood up. He trotted out into the open linoleum of the atrium without any fear of misstepping despite the darkness, throwing his arms out and spinning around.

“I summon thee! Let there be light!” He called out, loud voice echoing through the empty hallways, and Martyn giggled, then pushed back his chair.

“It’s not listening to you.”

“Well, it’s a big room! Maybe I’m not pro-ject-ing!” Ren sang the syllables of that word on a rising bar, voice a baritone that cut clear in the shadowy atrium lit only now by the distant street lamps out the window and the exit signs.

“Is it movement or voice?” Martyn prodded, and Ren put his palms up with a shrug.

“Figured it couldn’t hurt.” He then began running a lap of the atrium, and about halfway the lights snapped back on, sensing someone moving around.

“Voila!” Ren declared as if he’d done it intentionally, and Martyn snickered again.

“Bravo.” Martyn gave a few claps before he stood. “It is getting awfully late, though…I risk missing the shuttle at this rate.”

Ren’s cheerful expression fell, only momentarily, at the realization Martyn was leaving. But he quickly scooped it up again and strode back to the table, his flared pant legs nearly completely hiding his sneakers, only the toes visible popping out and in.

“I kept you awhile, huh? My bad, dude. It was fun talking, though.”

“It was.” Martyn nodded along, reaching down to grab the strap of his bag, then straightening up again. He felt somehow lighter after their talk. It hadn’t been anything special, but he’d done it. He’d done it.

Maybe he could manage to do something else.

“Hey, why don’t we exchange numbers? You can shoot me a message if you have any more problems, I promise I’ll answer faster than the university tech department.”

Ren beamed at the suggestion, hand already reaching into his pocket for his cell. It was a beat-up model, from a no-name brand Martyn couldn’t place.

“Here, want me to put it in?” He put his hand out, but Ren had just swiped open the device and was at the ready.

“I’ve got a new contact open, just tell me your number, I’ll punch it in!”

So he did, and within a few seconds, he also had Ren’s contact information saved, and he tried to conceal how giddy he felt about it.

“Well, good night then, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Martyn started toward the door as Ren took his seat at the table again, picking up his tablet and stylus.

“For sure! Have a good night!”

He pushed out the door and into the balmy night air of Spring. He let his eyes trail down to his phone, the name and number saved there, and a breathless huff of delight escaped. He bunny hopped down the stairs, hand dancing on the railing, and walked to the shuttle stop with his shoulders back for the first time. It was a good night, after all.

Chapter Text

Summer

To Ren: Hey! Haven’t seen you since semester ended! There’s a cool arts fest going on in downtown, I thought maybe we could go? We’ve never hung out outside of work before, it would be fun!

No, no, no, too forward!

Delete, Delete, Delete.

To Ren: Hope you’ve had a good break! Have you seen the ads for the art fest in downtown? I’m planning to go, was wondering if you wanted to join me?

Too flippant!

Delete, Delete, Delete.

To Ren: Hi, how’s the break been? Started on syllabi yet? I was wondering if you wanted to meet up at the art fest in downtown, maybe get some inspiration? It looks like it’ll be fun!

Martyn glared down at his phone.

He was sitting on the thrift store loveseat sofa crammed into his tiny studio apartment, the arm of it right up to the side table it shared with his bed. He’d been trying to draft this text the entire morning to no avail. Honestly, it was pathetic. He was this nervous about just texting a guy? Seriously?

But Ren was different, there was something about him that was simply electric, and Martyn really didn’t want to screw this up.

By now, he could safely say he and Ren were friends.

Something he hadn’t been thinking he’d achieve mid-semester in the Spring. But after the evening when he’d stopped to help Ren with his tablet and managed to get his number while he was at it, things had begun to snowball.

In a good way.

Ren had texted and called him for tech support multiple times, the man really was hopeless when it came to that sort of thing. His tablet also seemed to be possessed, Martyn had noticed several odd network connections he didn’t recognize, almost like it ran on two separate services, which was probably why the poor thing was always one badly timed sneeze away from exploding. Aside from tablets in need of exorcism, Martyn had found himself getting summoned to the break room for coffee, and after his classes, Ren would call up to him at his desk on the catwalk to come down. They’d sit on the stage, Ren for some reason seemed to find laying around on the stage, legs stuck out straight, papers and stage play compilations scattered around him, to be more comfortable than relocating to a table in the atrium. The only times he actually did sit at a table in there was when he needed to grade in-bulk, and having a surface to write on that wasn’t the same as what he was sitting on was a necessity.

Martyn didn’t mind it.

So he’d join him.

They’d spent long hours together there, especially as semester cranked up and more assignments came in for grading, important content in both their classes needed hashing out, all that fun professorial stuff. Martyn only had a bachelor's, but his hands-on experience running an entire drama department on a shoestring budget for years in his hometown had gotten him the position to teach practical courses. Martyn didn’t know the extent of Ren’s education. He didn’t seem much for talking about himself, despite the bravado he poured into his personality. It was certainly a juxtaposition.

Martyn couldn’t help but be attracted to it.

So sue him!

Ren was handsome and excessive, but he also managed to be sensitive and reserved. He read a room without issue, and effortlessly made Martyn laugh almost on command. He was friendly and bright, despite his quirks.

Now here Martyn was, trying desperately to figure out how to frame him asking Ren out on a date as him not asking Ren out on a date.

Why don’t I just ask him out!?

Martyn had demanded of himself. He considered it. Just calling Ren instead of texting, telling him everything that’d been occurring in his mind all Spring.  That he thought he was handsome, and funny, and enjoyed spending time with him. If Ren were interested, he wanted to give them a try.

Martyn would’ve done something like that with ease five years ago. In comparison to Scott, who’d always been the pretty, suave, smooth-talker, Martyn was straightforward. He’d never found it embarrassing to ask for what he wanted, and he’d never taken issue with discarding things once he was done.

A lurch from the shadows over his shoulder, slithering up his spine and darting behind him, felt nearly physical.

He deleted the text to Ren again and set his phone aside with an exasperated sigh. He raked his hands back through blonde bangs, falling free into his face, frizzy from the early morning bedhead.

Take what he wanted, toss it aside when he was through.

Once upon a time, that’d just been easier.

But Martyn wanted someone to hold onto, this time. He didn’t want a summer fling or a weekend companion or a friend to sleep with, he wanted something real. For a while, he thought maybe he’d found it in Scott. That maybe they’d play out that trope of childhood best friends who’d dated everyone in their tiny hometowns aside from each other, only to realize what they’d been looking for had been at their sides all along.

That hadn’t been true.

Scott was teasing and manipulative, not necessarily in a bad way.

Martyn was blunt and apathetic, not necessarily to his detriment.

But when you put the two together in a romantic relationship?

Man, we crashed and burned…

Martyn heaved a sigh, planting his hands to his knees and standing up, walking the few paces across the tiny space to the kitchenette and turning on his coffee machine. The thing whirred as he popped his mug into it and waited for it to heat up. Turning, he leaned his hips back against the countertop, folding his arms and staring up at some point in the ceiling. He considered turning on the TV, or grabbing his speaker to put on music or some random podcast or something to fill the empty quiet.

But that felt like running away again.

What is it this time?

There was something different about Ren.

Something about him that Martyn couldn’t put a finger on. For some reason, he was tempting the blonde all over again to try and shed the shadows. Step out from beneath the dark cast over his shoulders. There was something in Ren that hadn’t been in any of his relationships before, and Martyn was trying, he was trying to figure out what that was.

For a moment, almost lazily, he thought he’d call Scott.

Complain to him about it. Explain to him the jumbled-up mess of emotions in his chest that he was trying to parse through with useless extended metaphors. Scott would laugh at him, poke some fun, and then easily untie all the knots. He was good at that sort of thing. Scott was clever, he understood emotions and read people no different than his favorite trashy romance novels. Martyn was sure he’d be able to help him understand.

That is, if they were still friends.

Which they weren’t. Not as far as Martyn was aware.

Besides, after what I did to him?

Scott had quite a complicated relationship history as well, and Martyn had been front row to witness it all, considering how they’d been practically attached at the hip from kindergarten all the way through college graduation. He knew him better than anyone.

So that meant he knew all the weak spots.

Martyn had never been one to pull punches.

It’d been ugly, it had been really ugly. 

He’d called Scott out. How he was desperate for love after losing his parents, how he took advantage of his good looks and easy voice, and he knew it. A liar who was needy for control and little else. He would never find anyone who’d satisfy him, and pretty soon, he’d shatter, and no one would be there to put him together again. And he could only blame himself.

But for as well as he’d known Scott, Scott knew him.

Selfish backstabber, broken-hearted thief. Nothing, and no one, will ever be enough to pin you down. You always get bored or decide you’d rather see what happens when it hurts. And you make it hurt. You always make it hurt. So why bother trying? No one is ever going to be enough for you to protect them instead of hurting them!

Yeah.

Ugly.

The last words they’d shared had been spat vitriol.

So calling him now to bemoan his newest crush as if nothing had ever happened? No, Martyn couldn’t do that.

His coffee was done, so he took his mug from the machine and turned it off again. Then walked back to his sofa and sat down, slouching forward, elbows on his knees. Long blonde hair tumbled either side of his neck, electric green eyes gazed down into the dark surface of the steaming coffee.

Why bother to try?

Scott had said it.

Martyn knew he’d been right. Why did he keep trying? He’d thought maybe he’d finally stop, after them. After he’d managed to stab his best friend in the back and twist the dagger to the point Scott had moved to the city less than a month later, without saying goodbye. He’d driven everyone away. He was lonely even back home, surrounded by familiar faces and sights. In the city, it felt like he could be swept away in the tides. So many people, the threat of rifts opening below. The mysteries of the under-city, monsters emerging from fissures in the pavement. Superheroes streaking blue, orange, pink, black through the sky.

It was wild and terrifying and wonderful here.

It was new.

And maybe Martyn could give ‘new’ just one more chance.

He brought his mug to his lips and gulped down almost half of it, scalding his tongue. Then he slammed it onto the side table and snatched up his phone.

To Ren: Hey! Hope you’ve had a nice break! We’ve never gotten together outside of work, so I was thinking we could meet up at the art fest downtown? Might be some good inspo for syllabi, and I’d love to see you.

Sent.

Martyn took a few deep breaths like he’d just run a sprint.

He’d done it. He’d asked Ren out.

Ok, so maybe he hadn’t exactly asked him out, but he had said he wanted to see him! It was progress. It was something. The blonde felt the tension in his shoulders uncoiling, stress that’d piled up the entire morning as he’d grappled with his feelings. He figured he’d have to wait a while for a reply.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone chimed with an incoming text.

Scrambling the device off the couch cushions, he swiped it open, eyes flying across the screen.

Ren: That sounds awesome, I’d love to! It’s Saturday right? Where do you want to meet?

Martyn sank back against his couch with a long sigh of relief. After all that, he didn’t know what he’d have done if Ren had said he couldn’t make it. But here was his opportunity to give himself one more chance. Even if he still clutched a dagger in one hand and a rose in the other, thorns jabbing in his palm, cold metal gleaming like encased starlight. He’d try again. He had to.

Chapter Text

Saturday.

Martyn was grateful it was Summer, and they were going to be outside. It had really narrowed down his options for outfits, which made sure he hadn’t overthought things too much. Electric green, his favorite color, a nice tee shirt and cute jean shorts, flip flops. He’d braided his hair back because it was far to hot to leave it down on his neck. He was waiting at the street corner near the park entrance where the art fest was already in full swing. They’d agreed to meet a bit before lunchtime and grab food together as well, then take a look around. He scanned the street, and of course, Ren was easy to spot. He wore he usual flared pants and sneakers barely popping into view. A white undershirt with an open button-down overtop, sky-blue with a motif of yellow flowers. Suspenders, and his incredibly long dark brown hair tied at the nape of his neck in a ponytail, dark sunglasses on his face.

“Hey, Martyn!” He called, waving, and Martyn met him halfway, in front of the park entrance.

“Ren, good to see you! Thanks for coming out!” He greeted, smiling.

“Thanks for inviting me, dude, anything to get away from doing my job…syllabi are…in the works.” He winced, and Martyn snickered.

He looked up into the dark lenses that concealed pale blue eyes from his view. “Hey, hey, listen, we’re here to get inspiration!”

He waved one hand in an arch, like a rainbow overhead, and Ren gave a bark of laughter. “Right, right, so we’re working. Totally.”

“Ah, they aren’t due for another month, we’ll make it.”

“I say that every year, and every year I cut it closer.” Ren commented with a dramatic sigh, shrugging his shoulders.

“Well, shall we? You want to find food first, or take a look around?”

“Whichever, I didn’t keep you waiting long, did I?”

Martyn waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, no, no! I only just got here a couple minutes ago!”

He’d been thirty minutes early.

Anyway.

They started off into the park, where dozens of different stalls and tents were set up. Handicraft booths, information about various arts and humanities projects around the city, as well as the typical hawkers.

Martyn’s eyes cast over a stall with a banner, handing out flyers promoting youth programs and educational opportunity in the biotech institute.

“Don’t they work with the council?” Martyn asked, nodding in that direction.

“Weird to see folks like that at an arts festival.”

Ren gave a chuckle Martyn pinned as distinctly nervous. “Ah, well, they tend to show up anywhere they think they can get some recruits. Most of the lead scientists there left after the previous head of the council died…some sort of political thing-a-ma-jig, I don’t really pay attention to it.”

He sped up his strides to pass the institute stall as quickly as possible. Martyn supposed he probably just didn’t want to get tagged with a flyer, so he followed suit. “I think there are some food trucks across the way.”

“Oh yeah? Let’s check those out, then! And I read online that the city ballet and the performing arts conservatory are putting on shows this afternoon, that should be fun!”

“Sounds like a plan!”

They beelined for the food trucks.

Lunch was every bit the fun Martyn had been hoping for. Ren was just as theatric and excessive as he was at work, bits and jokes and observations juggled throughout the conversation. Martyn told him some anecdotes about running his hometowns performing arts department off a shoestring budget.

“I had to have them share mics, those kids were pros at getting the clips on and off, it was like a fireman’s drill! We only had four, for like…ten of them!”

“That’s ridiculous! So only four could talk at a time?”

“Unless one of them had a really good set of pipes, yeah!”

Ren laughed, leaning back on the picnic table bench, one leg kicked out beneath the table. “No wonder the university seems like heaven by comparison, at least we have enough mics for everyone.”

“You’ve got a stage! We had to share the auditorium with the debate team. Me and the debate teacher, ohhhh…we almost had it out at the scheduling meetings every year.” Martyn recalled, shaking a fist, mock-ruefully.

Ren’s grin was brilliant in the sun, even if his eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses. “I’ll bet. I can imagine the screaming match.”

“She was lucky it was only a screaming match, ‘dying art’ my ass! You teach kids arguing I teach them acting what’s the difference!?”

Ren was laughing again, and Martyn felt his lips pulling even further up into a smile. This was fun. This was really fun.

They finished eating and then headed for the temporary stage set up in the center of the park. As they strolled along, Martyn fought down the urge to get closer. Brush their hands and see what happened, because so far as he’d tested Ren had seemed open. Then again, it wasn’t like he’d actually framed this as a date. He was just using syllabi for excuses. Distinctly, he felt like he heard Scott’s voice in the back of his head, calling him out for being a coward, but oddly enough, it was a comforting thought.

If that was the case, that meant he had changed. He could hope he wasn’t the same man he’d been five years ago. Cling to the idea that his time in the shadows had bent but not broken him. He cast his gaze to the side, just able to see between the lens of Ren’s sunglasses to his pale blue eyes, bright and dancing as his baritone voice carried on. Another anecdote about the university players, this time a crew from a couple years ago, apparently they’d been a wild bunch. Martyn smiled, felt laughter bubbling in his chest again. Even if this wasn’t exactly a date, it was still wonderful. He was happy with it. That didn’t stop him from fantasizing about those last few inches, swinging interlocked hands and laced fingers back and forth on a hot summer day.

Wouldn’t that be nice?

Sure would. But he wasn’t there yet.

This was giving him more and more courage, though, to keep pressing. There were some chairs set up, but Ren had insisted they sit further up the hill in the grass, claiming it was a better view. He dropped back onto the ground, kicking his legs out and propping himself up on his arms. Martyn dropped back to sit next to him as Ren looked out over the gathering crowd coming for the shows.

“Looks like a lot of people bringing their kids…that’s good, ‘dying art’ and all, like you said.” Ren commented, and Martyn looked out over the crowd, considering.

“Yeah, that’s true. Also a lot of couples, huh?”

Ren pitched his head left, then raised one his hands back up to rake over his hair, still completely covering his ears.

“Huh, you’re right!”

“This is cute for a date.”

“Certainly! Better than something like a movie.” Ren mused, and Martyn had to resist the urge to sigh.

He didn’t pick up on that one…

The show went on, dancers followed by improv crews followed by short skits or portions of plays. The entire time, he and Ren continued to chat. The entire time, whenever the opportunity arose, Martyn would try and drop hints.

“The knight having long hair is a nice touch, most people leave that out from the original stage play.”

“I like long hair! When a guy pulls it off, it’s very handsome.”

And.

“I should make my players do more improv, it’s good to stretch your performative limits…but I don’t know how to teach it as well.”

“I’m sure you’d nail it! You’re an incredible performer!”

And.

“Is the visor supposed to be mysterious?”

“I dunno, sometimes dark glasses give a guy a sort of charm, y’know?”

Nothing.

Ren was completely, totally, absolutely oblivious.

Now that he’d settled into the determination to pursue this, Martyn hadn’t held back, he’d dropped every hint he could think of and taken each chance he’d seen to make some sort of comment or gesture that he was interested.

Now, here’s the thing. If Ren had noticed and pointedly tried to change the topic or ignored it or looked uncomfortable, Martyn would’ve stopped. He wouldn’t taken that as a message that the man didn’t see things that way, and left it at that. He would’ve been pretty torn up, sure, considering Ren was the first person he’d felt any desire to pursue in five years of living with his shadows, but he’d have gotten over it. He never wanted to make Ren uncomfortable.

No, no, no, the thing was Ren wasn’t reacting at all.

If Martyn made a comment, he’d carry that conversation no problem, without a moments delay. When he said things that might’ve been in reference to Ren’s looks, it was like Ren didn’t even realize he fit the description.

It was maddening.

But it wasn’t rejection.

So as they were leaving, the sun starting to dip toward the horizon as the muggy heat of the city evening set in, Ren had beamed fondly, and lowered his glasses just enough to let Martyn see his eyes over them.

“Thanks for inviting me out, Martyn. I had a lot of fun. Let’s do it again sometime soon, ok?”

Martyn might’ve been a bit too eager when he’d replied. “Yes! I’d love too. Thanks for coming, Ren. Have a good night.”

Little victories.

He’d take the little victories.

Ren

He was hitting on me he was hitting on me he was hitting on me!

Ren barely kept it together once he’d turned the corner and knew he was out of Martyn’s sight. When the blonde had texted him earlier in the week inviting him out, he’d been over the moon about it. When they’d first met, Martyn had just been hired by the university. He ran tech for the larger productions the school put on, as well as teaching practical production courses. He was slightly shorter than Ren, thin and willowy, with blonde hair nearly to his shoulders usually held back by a headband or braided. His favorite color was electric green judging by how often he wore it, and his eyes seemed to match, bright even in the dark of the catwalk desk where he tended to do his work. Ren had noticed him up there immediately, and pretty soon after he’d started to scramble.

Because he’d never exactly crushed on someone before.

Ren had always been a solitary person, not by choice. It wasn’t exactly easy for him to get closer to others. He continued on his way, mind still spiraling all the different line Martyn had bounced off him that’d completely played dumb too, unsure of how to reply one way or another.

He arrived back to his apartment and drummed up to his floor, unlocking the door and heading inside.

Removing his sunglasses with a long sigh, he felt the haze of glamor rush in his mind, and the vaguely needling headache that’d been developing disappeared. The concealment over the sides and top of his head faded away as he reached back and pulled out the hair tie holding his ponytail. As he did, it caught on knots and tangles worked into the incredibly long locks from a day out and about in the summer breeze and the hot sun.

All tangled again...such a pain! Another half a bottle of conditioner down the drain tonight...

He kicked off his sneakers, reaching one hand down to loosen his belt and untuck his shirt. He whipped his tail up and out from where it’d been concealed down one flared pant leg. Fluffy with dark brown fur, a match to the tall dog ears also covered with fur atop his head. The sides of his head where human ears should’ve been were empty, but between his long hair, grown out specifically to conceal the spots, as well as extra glamor used to help conceal, he got by. No one had noticed anything amiss quite yet.

But then, he’d also never dated anyone before.

Ren continued grumbling under his breath, ragging on the pick-up lines and hints that’d grown increasingly less subtle as the day had gone on.

Pale blue eyes moved around his apartment, and he immediately squinted when he realized he’d left his curtains open that morning. Moving across, he pulled them half-closed, bringing down the light level in the room to something more bearable to his sensitive vision.

A hunter in the dark tunnels of the depths needed to make out movement even in pitch darkness. Ren wasn’t meant to be up here.

Then again, there were a lot of people like him.

He dragged his feet into his bedroom to change into something more comfortable, his tail beating a wagging pattern behind him, revealing his true feelings about the day.

It was so much fun.

He found himself smiling despite his hesitance over where to take this.

He changed into a different tee shirt and shorts that had a slit seamed into the waistline for his tail. The appendage was achy, and he felt a crick in it from having forced it still so intensely while they were sitting watching the shows. He used glamor to conceal any potential twitches or odd movements that anyone might notice, but it was still nerve-wracking. He wore such wide-legged pants in order to help hide the movements, but when he’d been with Martyn, he was under such a careful eye.

Electric green and fond.

What do I do?

Ren plopped back onto his couch, dark brown hair free from any tie splaying all around his head.

Martyn had been hitting on him.

Ren had suspected perhaps he was being asked on a date when he’d received the text, but he’d thought that was too pretentious of himself to assume. When they’d started talking at the shows, though, that had gone out the window. Martyn had made comments first subtle, but then increasingly less so, in reference to his feelings on Ren.

That he was attractive, and funny, and kind.

That the art fest was a great place for a first date.

The entire time, Ren had played dumb as if his life depended on it, ensuring he acted as though he hadn’t the foggiest idea Martyn was flirting.

But oh boy had he been flirting.

Ren had loved it.

He had to pin his tail beneath his leg to keep it from attempting to wag at the praise, his ears, concealed beneath glamor, had been flicking and tall with delight. He’d been grateful for his sunglasses, and the heat of summer, because without them he was sure Martyn would’ve seen his true reply. In dodging eyes and warming cheeks. Ren felt the same way. He would’ve loved to give a reply to any one of those remarks today.

Really.

He really would’ve loved too.

But I just can’t.

Ren raked a hand back through his hair, fingers running over and pressing down his dog ears, which popped up to stand tall again. He scratched behind one of them a few times, an itch that developed where his fur met hair and then skin in quick succession. In a momentary fantasy, he imagined what Martyn might think of his ears.

Would he think they were cute?

Would he still call him handsome?

Or would he see him as a monster?

Call him a freak?

Someone who isn’t supposed to be here.

Ren deflated against his couch cushions, staring tiredly at the ceiling.

There was nothing for it. A hybrid living in the over-city gave up parts of themselves to see the sun every day. For Ren, that meant glamor headaches and bright light-triggered migraines mixed together with an achy tail and annoyingly long hair that he didn’t even like that much, but he kept as a cover for the shifting and twitching of his dog-like ears.

Glamor concealed. It didn’t make them intangible.

Ren knew that, he’d known that from the moment he’d pleaded with his parents at fourteen to let him join the acclimation program at a high school in the over-city. When he’d gone, like so many others, to chase his dream of a life beneath a wide blue sky. 

He’d sacrificed a lot to get here. It seemed unnecessarily cruel, tossing this in his path. Someone he wanted, but couldn’t have. Martyn had placed himself well within reach, but to Ren, he may as well be untouchable.

His tail drooped on the couch beside him, only the very tip flicking, the delight he’d felt upon coming home washed over with discontent.

But he’d carry on.

Wasn’t like he had any other option.

Chapter Text

Martyn

Despite the promise to do something again soon, Martyn didn’t see Ren again till semester picked up. After the arts fest, he’d been overthinking everything again. Trying to figure out if Ren actually had picked up on his flirting and was ignoring it purposefully hoping he would stop, or if he was actually just as oblivious as he thought. In the end, semester had snuck up on him before he could work up the courage to ask Ren out again, and the brunette hadn’t reached out to him, either. The relief in semester was, while it meant getting back to work, busy schedules and morning commutes, it also meant seeing Ren five days a week again.

Martyn was never going to complain about that.

That had brought him to today, sitting cross-legged on the stage with Ren, who was sitting with one leg pulled in and the other kicked out, completely surrounded with scattered papers, scribbled notes and various print-outs.

“How do you already have so many papers?” Martyn prodded, looking over the stage.

Ren glanced up at him from where he’d been glaring daggers at his tablet, one hand rising to push back the loosely tied arch of long hair that’d fallen nearly into his eyes. Pale blue stared over at him, dark sunglasses tucked into the collar of his bright red button-down.

“Because I hate this thing, haven’t we been over that?” He replied, waving the tablet in his other hand, expression scrunching with mock disgust. Martyn chuckled. “Aw, don’t hurt it’s feelings, or maybe it’ll be even meaner to you.”

“Huh? Wait, I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t mean it!” Ren dramatically held up his tablet as if he were apologizing to it, and Martyn laughed openly this time. He had his laptop settled on his crossed ankles, and had been tapping his way through submissions for the first assignment of the year for his own course.

Ren lowered his tablet again. “Are you doing fancy tech stuff?”

“If by ‘fancy tech stuff’ you mean commenting on discussion questions, then yeah, sure.” Martyn replied.

The main stage lights were out, leaving the area relatively dim. Only the lights along the edge of the stage and the ones backlighting the area were on, and by now it was well past the time when any students would’ve gone home.

“Sounds riveting,” Ren commented before he sighed.

“I’m going to make a coffee run to the break room. You want one?”

As Ren set his tablet to the stage floor and stood up, Martyn put aside his laptop as well, resting his hands on his knees. “I’ll come along, stretch my legs.” He stuck his hand out toward Ren for a pull up, and Ren quirked an eyebrow at him, but his lips carried into a lopsided smile.

“Getting lazy are WE!” The last word turned into a yelp when Ren took a step toward him, and his back foot shot out from under him where he’d stepped on one of his scattered sheafs of paper. The pages slid beneath his sneaker and he toppled forward. Martyn kicked his legs out in a poor attempt to dodge but only ended up getting pinned.

Ren had managed to catch himself, hands landing to either side of Martyn’s shoulders, knocking the blonde down against the stage floor.

“Sorry!”

He quickly made to push himself up again, and Martyn was caught in a moment only half a heartbeat long. Ren was so close, pale blue eyes only an inch above his own, he could feel the arm of his sunglasses hanging from is collar against his chest. The dim stage light cast shadow from one side of Ren’s face across the other. Shadow so much different than the one slithering up Martyn’s spine, and hissing in his ear that he’d be no different this time. That he’d never proven himself capable of gentle moments, and all he’d done was fall victim to his own cynicism.

Offered a rose, with a dagger hidden behind his back.

Maybe not this time.

Maybe this time he’d force himself to fall into something else.

Sliding one arm between them, he got a fistful of the collar of Ren’s shirt and yanked him down into a kiss. They clashed harder than he intended, and the moment they did, what he’d just done slammed into him with the force of a freight train. He immediately stopped pulling down on Ren’s shirt, and he jerked back, shock painting over his features and racing in his eyes. Guilt surged in Martyn’s chest. “I’m so sorry, Ren, I-”

He was cut off when Ren closed the minuscule space between them once again. The surprised noise he made caught in his throat, as the guilt eased it’s coiling grasp around his heart.

Because stars Ren was kissing him back. Ren wasn’t pulling away, confused or disconcerted or unhappy, he was pressing down and forward, and in the snapshot moments where Martyn opened his eyes all he saw was dark hair and pale blue eyes.

A few seconds went by where the kiss grew deeper, and without thinking, he brought his other hand up, the one not still loosely grasping the collar of Ren’s shirt. Fingers trailed past Ren’s jawline, nearly reaching the loosely tied arch of long dark hair that always covered his ears. He vaguely sensed Ren shifting his weight, then suddenly, fingers closed tightly around his wrist, shoving his wandering touches away and pinning his hand against the stage floor above his head. Caught in the throes of half-formed thoughts and mismatched emotions, he felt Ren hesitating. So he tightened the grip his free hand still had on his collar and tugged. Now that he’d gotten this far, he wasn’t letting this end in only a few harried seconds. No way.

Martyn couldn’t have guessed how long it took before he finally relaxed his grip on Ren’s shirt and they came up for air. The warmth of Ren’s breath rushed past his cheek. He saw the man was flushed, eyes warm and wanting. It was a couple seconds spent staring at each other before Martyn gave an amused huff and flexed his hand, the one still pinned down by the wrist above his head. “So…? I’m not complaining, but…”

Ren’s eyes snapped into a cold clarity, and he scrambled up, letting go of Martyn’s wrist, and Martyn at last let his fingers release from Ren’s shirt.

“I-I am so sorry, I…”

“Hey, hey, it’s fine. I’m fine.” Martyn insisted, and even if he’d only been pinned to the stage floor for a handful of minutes, it felt like concrete to lurch upward.

Ren had fallen back to sit just inches away, and Martyn’s previous near-delirious contentment began to cool when he took in his posture. Tense, leaning away, shoulders wound up tightly, breathing rapidly speeding up, eyes growing frantic, and Martyn felt his mouth opening halfway, trying to find some other words.

“Ren, I..”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t, it was an accident…” Ren rasped, shaking hands rising to press his palms over his ears, still concealed beneath curtains of dark hair. Pale blue eyes hazy with panic, glossing with tears.

Martyn tried to insist against whatever fear was causing him so much distress. “I’m not angry, I promise I’m happy, I-”

His heart turned frigid when Ren cut him off.

“I’ve gotta go!”

“Huh? Ren!” He shouted, but the man scrambled to his feet, snatching up his tablet with trembling hands as he went, bolting faster than Martyn had thought possible. He hurtled the edge of the stage down into the aisle between the seats and rushed up the dark red carpet lined with tiny strip lights. The warmth of his hands and the touch of his lips had barely faded, and Ren was slamming the door behind him, gone.

Martyn was still sat frozen in the very same spot where Ren had pinned him down, like he was nailed in place.

Ice joined the shadows along his spine.

Ren

Why?

Why did it have to go this way?

He’d been fine alone, really, he hadn’t needed this. But when Martyn had kissed him, he’d been unable to contain himself, even if he knew he should pull back. Even when he pinned the blondes hand down to stop him from running his fingers through his hair.

Even if he wanted to let him, then Martyn’s fingers would’ve passed over fur, and how the hell was he supposed to explain that?

He burst out from the atrium onto campus, heart-thumping rabbit quick, and tried to remind himself to slow down. Someone seeing the drama professor running faster than any competitive sprinter wasn’t the end of the world, but he certainly didn’t need to add to his list of concerns. He was a born hunter, and yet here he was, using that strength and speed to flee from what he’d wanted so badly for months now. Even if he slowed down, he didn’t stop running, even if he doubted Martyn had chased him.

Even if some little part of him hoped he had.

Stupid! That’s stupid! He almost found out!

But if Martyn had found out, would it really have been that bad?

Ridiculous.

He was being completely and utterly idiotic.

Would it really be bad? Of course, it would be bad!

He was an illegal hybrid living in the over-city, he had dog ears and a tail, even the mere concept that Martyn would accept him without batting an eye was utter fantasy.

He’d decided over the summer he needed to keep his distance. After that day at the arts fest, when he’d had to pour his all into playing dumb, he’d known he wouldn’t be able to keep it up. Maybe he’d slipped on that oath when he’d seen Martyn again on campus, hoped maybe they could manage to stay friends, that he could keep electric green eyes and delicate blonde hair somewhere in his periphery. Tall and willowy, sideways smiles, someone who’d seemed so jaded when they’d first met, opening up like petals to the sun.

He’d seen it all, he’d just felt it all, and Martyn had said he was happy.

He was happy that Ren had kissed him back.

But here Ren was, running away, and with every hit of his sneakers to the pavement, he left behind hints that he hadn’t felt the same way.

Which was a lie.

Martyn had kissed him.

Ren had been happy.

But the problem was, he couldn’t just say it. Not without risking the darkness of the rifts and the too-loud buzz of the under-city circuits, clattering rails and echoing voices, and a life stalking dark tunnels hunting monsters for minimum wage. That, or even worse, seeing green eyes go cold, dismissing him as a liar and a freak.

Yeah.

Ren had been happy.

But that wasn’t allowed.

Chapter Text

Two Months Later

Ren knew it was being immature about this.

Really, really he did.

But he just couldn’t bear to see Martyn and pretend as though the kiss hadn’t happened. However, he also didn't want to talk about it, because to talk about it would mean having to lie again. Lie and claim he didn’t feel the same way, it hadn’t made him happy, it wasn’t something he wanted to pursue.

Lies, lies, lies.

Ren didn’t want to lie to Martyn.

So he took the easy way out, and just avoided him.

Which really wasn’t making the situation any better, but it was drawing out his eventual collision with the inevitable, and if Ren could thank his skills as a hunter, born of his truth as a dog hybrid, for anything, it was that they made him damn hard to catch. He could recognize someone by their footsteps long before they turned a corner, scents carried on the air recognizable no different than voices, which he could hear three rooms away, and his eyes drank in and processed information at a speed that would’ve been overload for a human mind. He was faster, and far stronger, and in all those little things he cursed the physical attributes that kept him distant.

But as he was strolling center green, his tall dog ears, concealed beneath glamor, swiveled, recognizing Martyn’s gait on the sidewalk up ahead. Ren froze, eyes darting around, completely out in the open. He’d been walking back from getting lunch on the city street that looked onto campus, so Martyn was between him and his typical safe havens in the performing arts building. From behind dark glasses, blue eyes panned to the side and recognized the building he’d just passed.

The architecture building.

He bolted inside, scrabbling for his ID card to unlock the door and beelining his way through the halls. He knew Martyn wouldn’t follow him in here, and it wasn’t like he wasn’t allowed in other department buildings, but hurried anyway. Turned a corner and found the office of a newly tenured professor, and without hesitation he yanked the door open, stepped inside, and slammed it shut.

Darks eyes raised from his laptop, which whirred and hissed like it was seconds from bursting into flames. Messily scattered papers covered every available inch of space, despite the shiny silver three-ring binder that’d recently begun attempting to alleviate the mess.

Blink. Blink.

“Ren what are you doing?” Grian asked, voicing his words like an afterthought, and Ren, who’d pressed himself back against the door as if to barricade it made a forced chuckle.

“Uh…just stopping in to say hi?”

“Uh-huh.” Grian’s eyes moved past his shoulder to the door, then to Ren again. He sighed.

“And how long are you expecting me to buy that?”

Ren groaned, shoulders slouching forward as the tension broke. “Would it kill you to play along?”

“I’m uncooperative, it’s one of my best features,” Grian replied, waving a hand flippantly as he reached up and closed his agonized laptop.

“Lock it if you need to, I’m not expecting anyone.” He offered, and Ren nodded, letting his hand move down to turn the knob lock on the office door.

“It’s not glamor headaches, though,” Ren said.

Which was usually why he’d stop by Grian’s office, considering the performing arts building had a large shared faculty space which meant he couldn’t release his glamor and rest in there.

Ren walked a few steps into Grian’s office and slumped into the chair across from his desk that he kept for when students came to talk to him. He kicked his legs out, splayed gracelessly, and slouched against the backrest.

“So…it’s not a glamor headache?” Grian tried, leaning back on the rolling stool he had in place of a chair to keep pressure off his folded wings, and crossed his arms.

“Does it look like one?” Ren asked him tiredly, to which Grian scoffed.

“Looks worse.”

“Shut up.”

“If you wanted me to, you shouldn’t a come to my office, then.” The avian fired back, and Ren groaned again.

“I should’ve just run for it.” He raked his hands back into his hair, over his head, pinning his ears down flat. The world muffled as a result, like he’d just plunged his head underwater, and it was a momentary reprieve. He lifted his hands again when he saw Grian’s expression shift from teasing to concern.

“Run from what? Are you ok, was there trouble?”

Ren made a disconcerted noise in his throat.

He and Grian had been friends for a very long time.

Since the first day of school when Grian had moved in with Doc and Etho from the depths, and Ren had turned ten, making him old enough to commute via rail cart from the mid-level where his family lived up to the school on the near-surface. His parents were hunters, an old and well-respected clan at that, but honor and respect didn’t pay the bills. Ren’s immediate family was huge, and his clan even larger, there were a lot of kids and a lot of mouths to feed. Despite that, when his parents had noticed Ren’s lack of talent with the early training he and his siblings did to prepare to enter the family business and his aptitude and enthusiasm for academics, they’d made a judgment call.

Paid the extra fees, even if money had already been tight, and enrolled Ren in a lab-funded school in the near-surface, instead of having him continue at the basic grammar school on the mid-level all his siblings attended.

So on the first day of school, Ren had ridden the rail carts with his backpack and lunchbox, weaved his way through the tunnels his mother had dragged him up and back a dozen times till he’d proven he’d memorized the route, and arrived for school. That just so happened to also be the first day of an avian trio recently moved from the depths.

Raven-black, macaw banded, and gold.

Grian and his twin sister Pearl were a year older than Ren, and their cousin Jimmy a year younger. The school wasn’t very big, but even still, they’d hit it off along with a handful of other kids, and that friend group had stayed close-knit for all these years. It’d been Grian and Pearl who’d dragged Ren to the first information session about the acclimation program for high school in the over-city. Jimmy had been hauled along as well, but then, the youngest avian had always just been carried along with whatever his louder, wilder, more excessive cousins were doing. Ren had practiced his pitch to his parents with the three of them, considering they’d already gotten permission from Doc and Etho to go above. The first day he’d walked the over-city and seen the blue sky, he’d had Grian excitedly bouncing around him, Pearl yanking on his arm, and Jimmy frantically hissing at them to stop being so obvious.

All this to say, Grian was one of his oldest friends. One of his best friends.

And so, as only a dear friend could, he was in absolute hysterics when Ren explained to him what the problem was.

“Last time I come to you in distress!” Ren growled, the noise humming lower in his throat than a human voice could manage.

Warbling, twittering laughter bounced from the office walls, Grian was face-first on his desk, pounding his fist on one of the piles of papers.

“You…you gotta…you gotta be kidding me…you…you fell on him!? And then what!? You were like, ‘well, while we’re down here!’ MWAH!” Grian gasped on his laughter, making a dramatic smooching sound.

“Are you twelve!? Stars, shut up!” Ren whined, face burning with embarrassment as his fellow hybrid continued cackling at his expense.

It took a few minutes for Grian to recollect himself, and even still, his cheeks were flush, and his eyes were wet from how hard he’d been laughing.

“Honestly, Ren, that’s gonna be a great story for the kids.”

“What are you talking about? I ran in here to avoid him!”

“Yeah, well, you’re like stupid hot, I’m sure he’ll forgive you,” Grian said easily.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but that doesn’t make me feel better,” Ren muttered, slouching back further into his chair, one leg kicked out so his tail wasn’t bent uncomfortably where it was concealed in his pant leg.

Grian pushed his rolling stool and glided around the desk to park himself in front of Ren, closer now. “Ok, ok, alright, I’ve had my fun, so what’s actually the problem?”

“What do you think is the problem, Grian?” Ren demanded, and Grian threw his hands up.

“Hey, hey, I’m just confirming!” He then turned his eyes up toward the ceiling, as if contemplating.

“So that’s it, huh? The big secret?”

“Always.” Ren sighed, and for a few seconds, quiet held. Grian’s dark eyes moved toward his desk, landing on the shiny silver three-ring binder set beside his laptop. He looked back at Ren again.

“Y’know me and Scar started dating recently, right?”

“During the mid-term grading extravaganza, right? Pearl wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“Yeah. He knows my big secret.”

Ren shot up to sit ramrod straight, hand flying down to plant on the armrests of his chair, which he struck with so much force the furniture shuddered. “What!?” 

Grian leaned back on his stool, eyes widening at Ren’s overblown reaction.

“Y-Yeah, uh…it was, kind of an accident, if I’m being honest.” He said, threading his fingers together to fidget nervously.

“Wait, wait, wait…what does he know? Which parts?” Ren demanded, and Grian made a low nervous noise in his throat.

“All of it?”

Ren’s shoulders slackened. “All of it?”

Because Ren knew about Grian’s side hustle. It’d have been impossible for him not to know. Not like there were many avians with that haircut, that powerful glamor, and that sardonic sense of humor flying around out here.

Cute Guy as a concept had come up pretty much out of the blue. Ren hadn’t been closely involved, he’d known the avian trio were dedicated to trying to change the narrative about folks from the under-city, but he hadn’t involved himself beyond serving as a sounding board. That was the case for most of their friends, and some had been more supportive than others, on the basis of how dangerous it was, and how reckless Grian could be. It was unstoppable now, though, and Ren had to admit when he saw Grian in black and pink soaring in the blue sky over the city, it did give him hope that things could get better. Maybe it did that for all the other hybrids and mutants hidden up here? If so, he supposed Grian found it worthwhile.

“All of it,” Grian repeated with a firm nod.

“Oh my stars, Grian, you’re insane,” Ren grumbled, shaking his head.

“I didn’t, like, tell him it was…really a big series of accidents, just, like, all of the accidents. But…it worked out.”

Ren pursed his lips. “And he…he’s ok?”

Grian again fidgeted with his threaded-together fingers. “He’s…wonderful.”

Ren whined in the back of his throat again, rolling his head back on his chair and staring up at the ceiling. “You’re giving me hope, Grian. Don’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t.”

“What if he’s not the same?”

“But what if he is?”

Ren raised his head again to fix Grian with a tired stare through dark glasses, heavy thoughts chasing each other half-formed in his mind.

Ren was acquainted with Scar, but he wouldn’t claim he knew the man that well. He couldn’t draw conclusions by comparing him to Martyn. It was too dangerous. After all he’d sacrificed, all his family had sacrificed to get him to this point, it’d be lunacy to pin it all, everything so precious, on a human.

A human who’d grown up in a small town far away, always with a view of the sky.

How could he ever get it?

What if he was horrified?

What if he hated Ren?

What if he turned him in, or spread rumors?

What if he made Ren go back to the dark for good this time?

Ren swallowed, his throat was growing tight, and Grian leaned his hands on the edge of his stool, heels perched on the foot wheel.

“I mean…do you like him?” Grian asked.

“What sort of question…of course I do.”

“Then I say go for it. We came up here to take risks, after all.” Grian grinned, and Ren vaguely wanted to throttle him.

At the same time, he’d have to remember to thank him later.

Living off of ‘what if’ couldn’t have brought him to this point. If he’d based everything on ‘what if,’ he’d be down in dark tunnels right now, stalking monsters for minimum wage. He was already here. He was already at risk.

May as well go double or nothing.

“…mind if I take a break in here, a minute?”

“No problem! I’ll never complain about an excuse to procrastinate.”

“Do your work, Grian.”

“Do I haaaaave too?”

“You are a tenure track professor, my guy.”

“Andddd?”

Ren rolled his eyes, but an amused chuckle broke through his lips, and Grian grinned at him again. He sat up straighter, reaching up to remove his sunglasses and hanging them from the collar of his shirt.

“I’ll shoot him a text, try and work this out.”

“There you go, Ren! Get the boy, hell yeah!”

“Somehow, having you encourage me makes me even more nervous.”

“What!?” The offended squawk further lightened the air.

Ren pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time. A couple hours till Martyn’s course for the semester let out, and he supposed he’d give some time after that. He needed to clear his head. And then he’d reach.

Toward someone beautiful and untouchable.

Untouchable? No one had made that rule, aside from him.

Even if it meant bending the truth, keeping some distance, keeping some secrets, maybe one day he could bring them to a place where a fanged smile would be accepted no different than the one glamor helped him create.

He’d reach. No matter the result, it would be better than regretting.

Martyn

Mid-semester was rearing its ugly head, and Martyn was in the atrium at the corner table he’d been using as his own for the past few weeks. At first, he’d tried to talk to Ren. Even just casually, pretending as if nothing had happened, as if those few minutes of accidental closeness hadn’t occurred, but the man had avoided him as if his life depended on it. Martyn had still sat up on the cat-walk desk, but Ren no longer waved him down as his class ended. Instead, he’d leave along with his students, the stage lights going dark behind him.

Curtains falling closed.

I guess I was too optimistic. That's not my style.

Martyn considered tiredly, half-lidded eyes moving methodically over his laptop screen. He’d been working for a few hours, but he barely remembered what he’d done. It was like parts of his brain were on auto-pilot, while the rest floated off with broken considerations.

Ren had kissed him back. That much was, without a doubt, the truth. So something had been there. When he’d pulled back, Ren hadn’t been upset, or angry, or disconcerted.

He’d been scared.

Which was worrying on several levels. Martyn wasn’t nearly close enough with the brunette to claim he knew anything about any past relationships or childhood traumas, but something had obviously triggered Ren. Something had transformed that moment. The moment of warmth, and closeness, and a haze of wanting, into something scary for Ren. He’d been on the edge of a panic attack, hands shaking, breath short and ragged, and when he’d left, he’d sprinted up the aisle and slammed ut the door faster than Martyn thought he’d seen anyone run in his life. And now he was avoiding him. Those weren't the moves of someone angry. Someone regretful or discontent. The only thing that could drive the flinching, the dodging eyes, and quick 'good mornings' as Ren hurried past him the couple of times they had actually managed to exchange any words...it was fear. 

Was it something I did?

But all the typical motifs weren’t there.

If anyone had been getting pinned down in that scenario, it’d been Martyn himself, and he’d been all for it. Ren had been the one in control, and he’d chosen to continue it, so what had it been?

It was only once he’d realized what was happening…

Martyn heaved a sigh, trying to drag himself back down to fully focus on his laptop. He’d gone down this rabbit hole of thought so many times in the past weeks. Sometimes he found himself waking up in the mornings wondering if it’d just been a dream. Then he’d get to campus, and Ren would flinch, duck his eyes down, and rush off into some other room just to get out of his sight.

And he’d know it was real.

Sometimes, he wondered if or not he was happy about that.

If maybe it'd have been better if Ren had never slipped on those papers, and he was still pining uselessly as he had when he'd first seen Ren from the desk on the catwalk. 

Maybe it was a cruel coincidence, or perhaps a kind hand of fate, that just as such a doubt crossed his mind, his phone buzzed in his back pocket. Shifting his chair, he reached back and grabbed it, lazily checking the screen only for his hand to shoot out and slam his laptop shut. He began frantically stowing his things into his bag, papers crumpled and crammed in, half-zipping his laptop sleeve and shoving it into his messenger bag. Then he raised his phone to reply as he scrambled from his chair, bag swinging off his elbow as he tried to yank it up onto his shoulder.

Ren: hey, did you leave campus yet? I wanted to chat, I’m at the coffee shop across the street from center green. if you aren’t busy

You: on my way

Martyn had to remind himself not to sprint across campus, slowing down, gathering his breath, checking to make sure he didn’t look too harried.

For all he knew, this was Ren wanting to properly shoot him down.

Even if that was the case, he couldn’t help the clipped speed he took as he made it across campus, how he bounced with nervous energy on the balls of his feet as he waited for the light to change at the crosswalk.

He pushed the door open to the cafe, eyes darting back and forth, and spotted Ren sitting at a corner table, an untouched slice of coffee cake and a half-finished cup of coffee in front of him. When he saw Martyn come in, he waved awkwardly. 

It was the first time since that day that he'd met Martyn's gaze and hadn't flinched.

“Hey.” Martyn greeted, breathlessness undercutting his voice as he dropped his bag and slid into the seat across from Ren.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to interrupt if you were working, I…”

“It’s fine. Really. I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” Martyn insisted.

Ren turned his eyes up and away toward some distant corner. His lips pressed together thinly, and his shoulders wound with tension. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I’ve been…rude.”

That was quite the term to use, but Martyn just shook his head. “If I was making you uncomfortable, it’s not rude, it’s…”

“You weren’t. That’s the thing, you…I promise I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

“Ren, you nearly had a panic attack, don’t think I didn’t notice.” Martyn jabbed, and Ren huffed, he almost sounded exasperated with himself.

“Yeah, but that had nothing to do with you.”

Martyn swallowed any further words.

Ok, knock one for the ‘previous trauma of an unknown variety’ assumption that’d been rattling about his brain.

For a few seconds, it was quiet, and Ren’s expression changed several times within that short span. Eyes narrowing, widening, lips parting then closing, like he was trying to sort out something to say.

“Um…the art fest over the summer…”

Martyn sat back straighter in his chair, surprised. “Yeah?”

“Was that a date?”

The din of the coffee shop seemed distinctly muffled for a moment, as Martyn dropped his head one way, then the other, as if changing his perspective would somehow get him to process that faster.

Don’t tell me he only figured that out just now!?

“Um, yeah. I mean, it was an attempt at a date.” He admitted with a wry shrug.

Ren nodded, one hand coming up to hook around the back of his neck. He worried his lip, then finally managed to make eye contact. Pale blue eyes that were trying to settle. “I…think I like that idea.”

Martyn felt like the wind had been knocked from his lungs. The ice and shadows that’d been splitting rent along his spine thawed and slithered away. He felt his throat tightening. “You….look, Ren, if this is because of what happened, I don’t want you to feel pressured or…”

Scared. I couldn't bear it if I ever made you scared.

“I’m not, Martyn. I promise. It just took me some time to…get my thoughts straight. But that didn’t mean I should’ve been avoiding you. I’m sorry for that.” Ren apologized, and Martyn shook his head again, harder this time.

“No, don’t say sorry about something like that, it’s ok, I just…let me make sure, you’re…you’re saying you’ll date me?”

“If you’ll date me,” Ren replied, his nervousness fading as a lopsided smile climbed on his face.

And after a few seconds, Martyn let his concerns temporarily flee to the winds. Because that smile didn't look fearful in the slightest. It carried the bravado that'd been missing from Ren ever since that tumble on the stage.

Martyn gave a single sharp gasp of laughter. “Of course I will.”

Ren nodded, dropping his hand from his neck and leaning his elbows forward on the table. “Ok. Settled, then.”

He glanced up toward the counter, then back at Martyn again. “Want something to drink? I’ll buy.”

The blonde had to tamp down the giddy little jig he wanted to do in his chair, and he nodded. “Deal. I’ll buy next time.”

“It’s a date.”

“Is it now?”

“Indubitably, darling.” Ren laced the words with a Shakespearean accent, and Martyn felt his heart jumping pleasantly in his chest. A giggle slipped out. That made Ren smile again, broadly, despite how when he did so he never seemed to show his teeth.

As for Martyn? Well.

He’d spent a long time falling.

Falling down, realizing it was his own fault.

Falling hard, wishing to keep it contained.

Always carrying a dagger in one hand and a rose in the other.

But as Ren was getting up to place a second coffee order, and his dark hair swayed in the incredibly long ponytail down his back, past his hips, individual strands drifting on the air as he went by, Martyn felt like he was falling again.

This time maybe it’d be better. Or maybe it’d be worse. He couldn’t claim any prowess in getting these sorts of things right. But he’d damn well try.

He’d always carried a dagger and a rose.

This time he’d set his dagger down.

All he wanted to give to Ren was roses.