Reve shudders at the touch — a moment, and it’s gone. He has no time to dwell on it though. There are more important things for his focus to fall onto.
Such as the fact that Artemis now appears to be panicking, signing rapidly for… for Mint.
“. Mint? Mint is okay, Artemis, I left him — he was out of the mist, last I saw, I don’t think. Unless he followed us in or it spread…”
It stings, just a little. Artemis’s concern over Mint, despite the fact that he may not even be in the mist and yet —
No, this was stupid. Of course Artemis’s concern was fair after what’s been happening, and. Even if it wasn’t, it didn’t matter. He pushes this feeling down, deep into the corners of his mind he promises himself he’d only plunge into if he ever worked up the courage and funds for therapy, and calms himself.
“Artemis. Mint is okay, I don’t think — would anything have happened to them? No, no, of course not. It’ll be alright,” he tries to soothe, because Artemis doesn’t deserve or need to be panicking right now. No, what he deserves and needs is to get out of this odd place so Reve could make sure he was safe and happy and well and probably leave him with Mint and then go home or something because wow he needs to get home — he is so tired.
Then he hears another yell. This time, it’s distinctly not Artemis’s voice, but rather that of the purple-haired man’s dance partner. Mint, the very one Artemis has been calling out for.
“Artemis? You hear that? Mint, it’s Mint. It’s alright, they’re okay, see?” He takes a moment before turning to try to face the direction he believed the voice to have come from. “Mint?” He yells. “It’s — It’s Reve. Obviously! I-” They’re cut off by Mint’s assertion that these are —
His thought is interrupted by that hand. It’s back on his shoulder. He finds himself spinning rapidly to find…
Them. In the flesh.
He’s frozen, he can’t move, they’re gone, they’ve been gone for what has felt like forever, and, and yet there they stand, smiling at him with that look of soft love he’s been craving for what has felt longer than eons. The one he had once believed to be his life partner, until theirs was cut short.
His voice is weak, “My ruby,” the words just faintly escape his lips, “lovely? Beautiful?”
“The one and only,” they speak, smiling ever-so-softly. “Come back to bed, beautiful. Your lavender is waiting to cuddle — he’s impatient, you know this.”
“I do?”
He notices a third has joined. From behind them, he has stepped out. Artemis Chary, in all of his beautiful glory stands before him, signing, ‘you made me get up to get you,’ he lightly teases. ‘Come with us, back to bed.’
Reve chokes out a sob. He wants nothing more than to do just what Artemis is saying, to go and curl and cuddle up and stay like that forever. They love him, he can see it in their faces. It’s a well-worn expression upon that of his old love, and a new, strange one upon Artemis’s. Each makes his heart flutter.
He is loved.
This is all he has ever wanted.
He believes he might cry.
Of course, a creeping feeling has to rise to his gut. Because no one would ever love him genuinely, not again — he had his chance, and he had lost it. So this... something is wrong, something is off. Artemis was just standing behind him, and he most certainly has never known them. They preceded him in Reve’s life, Artemis didn’t even know they had existed. So this situation, this... this dream. Surely.
It's not real. None of it is real. And he needs to get to his Artemis, the real one, and he has to save him. He has to get him out of here, and he must make sure he is secure and safe with Mint, and then the two of them can be happy and he can go home to cry because as much as he wants this he must resist. For Artemis.
He turns back around, glancing over his shoulder to where he knows Artemis is.
He is met with a view of Artemis. And he is turning away from Artemis. The Artemis that he is turning away from, he.
The hand on his shoulder tightens, “lovely? What are you looking at?”
“Artemis,” he speaks quietly, hurriedly, answering mindlessly.
“Oh, you’re seeing things again, lovely. Artemis is right here. Your lavender.”
“But —”
“Oh, dear. You’re ill. Sit down, I’m making you some tea.”
“No, I.”
“Sit.” He is forced into a chair.
They stand before him, soft and smiley as ever. They turn to the Artemis, the… the new one, and he hands them a cup of tea. He doesn’t know where they got it from.
They crouch before him, raising it to his lips. Suddenly, he can feel the steam. The heat. He tries to protest. This will burn him, surely.
“No, no, dear. Beauty. Beloved. Drink your tea now,” they have raised it to his lips and he has no choice but to drink. It burns. It burns his tongue, his throat, his mouth — saying it all hurts is an underestimate, and he thinks he would scream if he could.
He is in tears, there’s no doubt of that. If there was any chance of it, it is gone as soon as he feels the harsh rag rubbing at his eyes to dry them. His chin is tilted upwards by a hand on it, and he is laughed at.
“Look at you, you’re hilarious. Little Reve Zajac — oh, don’t look at me like that, you can’t be that surprised.” They crouch before him. “Oh. Oh dear. Did you think that was actually going to help?”
A smile is upon that Artemis’s face. As if he is amused by Reve’s distress.
He reaches. He tries to sign to the Artemis. ‘Love?’ He is confused, and he is desperate.
The Artemis just shakes his head. He looks to Reve’s past love, who nods. He strides forward, kneeling before Reve. He signs, ‘There is no love for you, Reve Zajac.’
That, Reve thinks, is what breaks him. He chokes out a sob, and that is it. He is painfully, stunningly numb. If his mind were not so occupied, he thinks he would be worried. He stands from the chair, pushing the hands of his, well, his not-loves off of him.
And he runs. He runs for the real Artemis. He has to get him, get Mint. Get them out, and make them safe.
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