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ft-dads-au · 4 years

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Once Upon a Nightmare - Chapter 3

Shadowlight Week 2020 Prompt: Contest Pairing: Sting x Rogue A Collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404 AO3 | Prev: Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Next: Ch 4

TW: In this chapter Sting recalls phrases he read in Rogue’s journal which describe details of his assault, and Gajeel makes mention of his injuries. If you think this will affect you please don’t read.

Summary: Sting is not doing as well as he lets on, choosing to bottle up his feelings in order to appease Rogue's wishes. It all comes to a head during one of his morning runs.

Chapter 3: Contest

June 20, 2014

This was the furthest he'd gone on a morning run so far, through multiple streets, past the hospital, and the convenience store, and yet Sting wasn't thinking about turning around and going back home. Over a week had passed, and some of the phrases from Rogue’s journal were still on his mind, having never left since the night he’d read them.

“This is about that stupid blond kid, isn’t it?”

He ran faster, wiping the sweat that was dripping down his face with the back of his hand. The muscles in his legs were burning as he hadn't taken the time to do proper warm-up exercises, but he didn't stop. Anger, confusion, sadness, and worry had been eating away at him, and for Rogue’s sake, he’d kept them all bottled up. With no other choice he could think of, he’d saved them to be converted into energy during his runs, which now resembled Olympic sprints rather than relaxing morning jogs.

"...I tell him to piss off, want to get back inside, but he slams me against the wall.”

Sting shook his head, trying to literally shake that thought away. He’d traded in the playlist full of uplifting pop songs he’d usually listen to for a new one he’d made the previous week. A collection of songs he hadn’t cared much about before but felt connected to now because they matched his feelings. He did his best to focus on the track that was blasting through his earphones but barely heard it over the overpowering sound of Rogue’s voice, supplied by his own mind as a sample of what it would sound like if he’d read him his journal.

“I’ll make you forget him.”

He tried to run faster, to outrun the guilt that just wouldn’t leave him, but all he got for his trouble was a stabbing pain beneath his ribcage that left him heaving for breath.

“His hand closes around my throat, and I can’t breathe.”

No matter how badly Sting wanted to push through, he couldn’t. His body had had enough, and he was forced to slow down to a walk, knowing stopping completely would be even worse. His pulse raced, his breath came in loud gasps, and the aches of muscles he’d been ignoring began to demand his attention. He knew he’d pay for this overexertion later but couldn’t really be bothered to care at the moment.

A red light loomed ahead, forcing him to look around and determine where he’d ended up as he’d been pretty much running on autopilot. His skin was slick with sweat, and the fact that he could smell himself was a good indicator that he reeked, not to mention he’d also been gone much longer than usual. All of these were reasons why he should really head home, but that thought became moot the moment he realized that he wasn’t far from the studio where Rogue had once rehearsed with Phantom Lord. He’d already begun walking in that direction, his feet leading him to that dreaded alley before he’d ever made a conscious decision.

He felt surprisingly calm as he got closer, the building already visible, and for an instant, he thought it would be alright. He’d just take a quick look, get it out of his system. Then he’d head home and take that shower. If Rogue felt up to it, maybe they could even go to that coffee shop they liked, a peace offering for having taken so long. They could both use the distraction.

Sting reached the building and quickly moved behind it, easily finding his way to the spot where he’d kept Rogue company countless times while he smoked. They’d talked about all sorts of other things, and many times Gajeel and Maru had joined them, Juvia being the only nonsmoker of the group. It hadn’t always been comfortable, but Maru had never given any indication that he was capable of the violence that he’d inflicted on Rogue.

Although it was still a bit early for anyone to be back there, Sting felt uneasy until he was confident the space was empty. It looked just the same as always, with cigarette butts littered every which way. There was nothing to indicate that anything had ever happened there. Even though that wasn’t unexpected, it still irritated him, the rest of the world had moved on while Rogue had never really been able to leave this spot or that moment.

He was getting ready to go when he noticed a large graffiti tag on the wall of the neighboring building and froze.

“It happens so fast I don’t even realize I’m being turned around until I spot a graffiti tag on the wall in front of me, just over his shoulder. I can’t read what it says, but my eyes stay stuck on it.”

The tag, an otherwise insignificant detail and a common sight in this part of town, now served as a devastating landmark. Without thinking, Sting scanned the alley, feeling his blood run cold despite the heat from the run and the warm weather when he could pinpoint the exact spot where Rogue had been standing when…

“I’m waiting for the moment when he lets me go, but then I feel his other hand, cold against my stomach for a second before he shoves it down my pants and starts jerking me off. All I can think is that I want him to stop, but I can feel I’m getting hard regardless. This isn’t real, right? It can’t be.”

Sting walked over to the tag, needing to touch it and feel the cold hard reality of it on his fingertips. This more than anything else brought home everything that had happened, and with every trace, his anger blazed. Rogue had been here when he’d been attacked. This very tag had been what he’d focused on while it was happening.

“See? I knew you wanted it...Doesn’t that feel good?” His voice sounds distorted and far away. I’m trying to tear his hands off me, but I’m running out of strength. My head is spinning, spots are dancing in front of my eyes, but the worst of all is that I'm not even sure if I'll come or pass out first."

He recoiled from the wall and finding some loose rubble on the ground he grabbed it and hurled it unthinkingly at the graffiti, utterly unaware that he was yelling until he heard the echo of it in the otherwise silent space. He continued uncaring, throwing rock after rock under a stream of curse words in two languages, finally giving vent to the rage he’d held back since he’d found out.

“What the crap?!”

Sting startled at the words, heart racing at being caught in such a state, but he bravely turned around to face whoever it was, his most disarming smile at the ready. He was scrambling to come up with some plausible excuse when he recognized the hulking figure of Gajeel Redfox staring back at him.

“Sting?” Gajeel peered at him in disbelief, “What are you doing here?”

Gajeel’s expression gradually changed into one of understanding, and Sting was reminded of Rogue’s words once again.

“I think Gajeel knows…”

Sting blinked, Rogue had described how Gajeel had invited himself to his house and taken care of him right after the attack, as well as his and Juvia’s efforts to stay in touch even after he had quit the band. There were so many questions he wanted to ask the man in front of him, but they’d never been particularly close. He bit his lip, debating what to do.

“Come on, let’s get you a drink,” Gajeel led the way into the building, his hand fishing around in his pocket for something.

Soon they were standing in front of a vending machine, and Gajeel was counting out change and inserting it into the machine, picking a sports drink from the many options.

“Here, you look like you ran a marathon or something,” he commented, taking in Sting’s bedraggled appearance with a scrunched up nose, "smell like it too."

Sting accepted the drink that Gajeel tossed him, smiling gratefully at the gesture. “I didn’t realize I had made it this far out,” he admitted truthfully.

Gajeel walked over to the front desk and grabbed a set of keys, peering down at a clipboard briefly before heading over to one of the many rehearsal spaces. Sting followed without question, gulping down the sports drink in its entirety in the time it took them to move through the building.

They entered a room that was very similar to the one Phantom Lord had practiced in. It was full of amps and other miscellaneous musical equipment, and that was about as much attention as Sting gave to their surroundings, anxiously waiting to see what Gajeel wanted to talk to him about.

“I didn’t realize you were already back,” Gajeel mentioned, once again examining Sting.

“Yeah, I got here about 2 weeks ago,” Sting replied, feeling impatient by the turn the conversation was taking. He wasn’t interested in pleasantries, and he’d never thought Gajeel to be one to partake in them, but he also didn’t know how to get at what he wanted besides blurting out, tell me what you know. Luckily, he didn't have to. Gajeel already seemed to be on to him.

“I thought about contacting you back then,” Gajeel muttered, “If I had thought it would have done any good, I would have.”

Sting remained silent, although he couldn’t help but think that he wished Gajeel would have. Would they have been able to convince Rogue to get help between them? Probably not, Rogue’s stubborn streak was a mile long, and having the two of them working at him would have more than likely made things worse, but at least he wouldn’t have dealt with it on his own for so long.

“Did he tell you about it?” Gajeel asked, making no effort to clarify what it was. They both knew if Sting was there, they were speaking about the same thing.

“No, he, uhm, let me read his journal, he won’t really talk about it.”

“Stubborn brat,” Gajeel murmured under his breath, but Sting caught it just the same, and he nodded in wholehearted agreement.

Gajeel pulled out two foldable chairs and sat down, not waiting for Sting to do the same before he started recounting his side of the story. “Juvia and I had been calling and texting him for two days, but he didn't respond, and neither did Maru. It was strange, you know, one moment Rogue stormed out for a smoke, the next he’d vanished and Maru showed up walking funny and sporting a broken nose, with nothing but a lame excuse for an explanation.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and fidgeting with one of the many rings that decorated his fingers. “At first I didn’t know what to think about it, Maru said they’d gotten into a fight and Rogue ran off, but it just didn’t make any sense. I mean, yeah, they both have a bad temper at times, but if it was just a fight, Rogue would’ve at least picked up his guitar and come ranting about it to me.”

“Right,” Sting agreed, remembering all too well how Rogue had gone off about what had taken place between him and his brother. He wasn’t one to hide his feelings, unless it would put him way out of his comfort zone, and simply getting into a fight would never have done that. “So was that when you decided to show up at his house?”

“Yeah. I went to Rogue’s, Juvia went to Maru’s, and then we met to compare notes. Maru stuck to his story, but one look at Rogue was all I needed to know he was full of shit. There was no way in hell those injuries were the result of a regular fistfight, not to mention he was acting off.

“Anyhow, once I talked to Juvia, I decided to go talk to Maru myself,” Gajeel continued smoothly, glossing over the part that Sting needed to know.

“Wait, what injuries, how was he acting?” Sting all but threw himself at the chair that Gajeel had unfolded for him, scooting it a little closer.

Gajeel looked down at his phone, his expression unsure. “He had bruises on his throat, tried to hide them behind some ugly as fuck scarf, but the worst was his eyes. I mean, his pupils are already reddish normally, but there were no whites,” Gajeel explained.

“You took a picture, didn’t you?”

Gajeel nodded, “He doesn’t know I did, though. I just figured if he decided to report it, it would help.”

“I want to see it,” Sting demanded, so consumed by the need to know that he didn’t stop to think how it would affect him.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Gajeel hedged, “You’re already pretty riled up.”

‘I need to see,” Sting amended, “I need to know how bad it was so that I can help him.”

“We both know that’s bullshit. You don’t need that to help him, you want to see it so you can justify kicking Maru’s ass. Trust me, I’ve been there, and I already kicked his ass. Right before I dragged him to a counseling session. Maru has learned his lesson, and if you go after him, we’re going to have a problem.”

“Excuse me, what?!” Sting sputtered, not believing Gajeel would dare defend Maru after what he did.

“You heard me,” Gajeel’s tone was affable, but there was no ignoring the steel that lay underneath it. “It’s been seven months, Sting, Totomaru understands what he did was fucked up. He’s put in hours upon hours of therapy, something we both know Rogue needs to do as well. He wants to apologize, to try to make it up to him somehow. You coming in half-cocked and shaking everything back up after all this time is only going to mess both of them up.”

“He wants to apologize?” Sting blinked as he repeated what Gajeel had said, just to make sure he’d heard it correctly, “So that’s why he showed up last week and triggered a nightmare that was bad enough for Rogue to claw his own fucking throat out! I bet he’ll be thrilled to know that, and I’m sure that fixes everything!”

“Of course it doesn’t, smartass!” Gajeel snapped back at him, “Have you even been listening to what I just said?! I’m not trying to justify his actions, what I’m saying is that it’s no good to keep dwelling on the past. For any of us.”

“I get that this is all new to you and you’re upset, I was too, but Totomaru, Rogue, Juvia and myself have been carrying this shit around since November.” Gajeel’s voice turned softer, more sullen, “Do you think I haven’t felt guilty? Not a day goes by without me thinking, what if? I know Juvia feels the same, I know you feel the same, but if there’s one piece of advice I can give you, it’s to clamp down those thoughts because it’s pointless.”

Sting hated to admit it, but he knew Gajeel was right. As much as he’d love to plant his foot in Totomaru’s face or grab his drumsticks and stick them where the sun won’t shine, it wouldn’t change a thing. It wouldn’t make him feel better or make his guilt disappear, and it certainly wouldn’t do Rogue any good either. All it was was an unhealthy coping mechanism, and at its core, it was all about living out some sick fantasy at the cost of someone else, making him no better than Totomaru.

“Fine,” he grumbled, “so what do we do now? Like you said, it’s been seven months, Rogue still refuses to deal with it and ever since that nightmare he’s been getting worse.”

“Worse, how?” Gajeel looked at his watch and dug through his pockets for his cigarettes, taking one out of the package and tucking it behind his ear.

“Well…” Sting thought about the past week and all the things he’d noticed about Rogue that were different from his usual behavior. “He eats less, barely sleeps, lacks the motivation to do pretty much anything, has these unpredictable mood swings, completely spaces out from time to time...Do I need to continue?”

“No, I get your point,” Gajeel nodded, standing up from his seat and jerking his head towards the door as a command for Sting to follow him back out. “I need a smoke to go with this before I get to work.”

“Oh, now that you mention it, he’s chain-smoking,” Sting remembered as he tailed Gajeel like a puppy. They went back outside, not to the alley but through the front entrance, ending up at the main road. Gajeel lit his cigarette and leaned against the wall of the building, blocking his eyes from the sun with one hand, and when he spoke again, his words came as a complete surprise to Sting.

“This is gonna sound weird, but...I’m happy to hear all that.”

“What? Why?” Sting stared at him in disbelief.

“Because that sounds like a depression, which means he’s at least processing it. Juvia and I subtly tried to get him to talk, but he just kept ignoring our questions and pretended that nothing ever happened. That doesn't mean that we should just ignore it and let it spiral out of control, though.”

Sting felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and didn’t have to look to know who that would be. Shit, he’d been gone for way longer than usual already, and he didn’t want to stay away for much longer, but he still had so many questions.

Hey, are you okay? Don’t tell me you got lost or anything xxx

“I’m curious, how did you get him to show you that journal?” Gajeel wondered.

“Hm? Oh, I uuh-” Sting quickly typed his reply, saying he got carried away but would be home soon, “I kind of pushed him to do it after that nightmare. It probably wasn’t the best thing to do, but-”

“It was. Rogue needed someone to give him that push, otherwise, he’d never have admitted it. Maybe I should’ve done it sooner.”

“Then, why didn’t you?”

“Because he looked so miserable that I didn’t dare make it worse.” That was a sentiment Sting could relate to very well, facing the same dilemma.

Gajeel took a deep sigh and took out his phone again. “I wasn’t going to do this,” he muttered, eyeing Sting cautiously, “and frankly, I regret ever taking this because it still haunts me.“ He swiped across his screen, and Sting could tell precisely when the picture popped up from the way his expression changed alone. Gajeel looked away from the screen and at Sting again, hesitating to show him the picture until Sting gave him a small nod.

He wished he hadn’t.

Just like Gajeel had said, Rogue’s eyes immediately stood out. The intense red of his pupils had quite literally bled through to the whites of his eyes, and the dark circles underneath them were a good indicator of how little he’d slept. The bruises Gajeel mentioned weren’t hard to miss either, purplish-red and oval-shaped, peeking out above the scarf that was loosely wrapped around Rogue’s neck. The “ugly as fuck” scarf that Sting immediately recognized as his own, and that spoke volumes about Rogue’s feelings. As did the sweater he was wearing, a hockey jersey that could’ve only been Gray’s. A fat lot of good either one of them had done him, Sting thought bitterly.

“I-I have to go…” he stuttered, feeling suddenly dizzy.

“Sting?” Gajeel eyed him with growing concern.

“I’ll be fine,” Sting somehow managed to muster up a smile, “Thanks for talking to me, I think I have a better idea of what we’re up against now.”

“I'll make sure to pay Rogue a visit soon, it's been way too long already, but I was swamped with work, the shelter, finals, and graduation. In the meantime, if there’s any way I can help, just give me a call.” Gajeel gave him his number then took one last drag from his cigarette before crushing it beneath his boot. He gave a few firm pats to Sting’s shoulder before heading back inside the studio.

The journal's phrases echoed through Sting's head once again, only now they were linked with the image that he couldn't shake. Rogue’s eyes haunted him, not just the injury but the defeat reflected in them. He tried to walk home, but the dizziness returned, making everything around him feel too loud, too bright.

Sting continued blindly, almost jumping out of his skin when he felt an arm grab him and pull him back seconds before a loud car horn blared.

“Look where you’re going, asshole!”

The words raced past him, and still, he had no idea what had happened.

“Are you alright?”

Sting could only nod, his heart still pounding. “Thanks,” he finally managed, eyeing the man who had apparently saved him from being run over. He was tall and lean with dark hair that was held up in a gravity-defying ponytail, somehow managing to stand straight up while the ends curved above his head.

“Maybe you should sit down, you don’t look so good,” the man commented, and before Sting could protest, he was being led across the street and to the park.

“I’m really fine,” Sting tried to assure him, but the man ignored him.

“It’s a nice day, can’t hurt to sit in the park for a bit, enjoy the flowers,” the man suggested, guiding him to a bench near the park gardens. “Is there anyone I can call for you?”

“You’ve been kind enough already, I’ll just sit here for a little bit,” Sting smiled, hoping the man would leave him alone now that he’d made sure he was alright, and although he didn’t seem entirely convinced by Sting’s words he eventually left.

The flowers were most definitely beautiful, and although he didn’t know much about them, there were some he quickly recognized from his mother’s garden, sunflowers, petunias, and zinnias among them. If he closed his eyes, he could almost see her kneeling on her gardening cushion as she tended to her plants, hear her soft patient voice as she tried to show him the proper way to care for some plant or other, and he was hit with a massive pang of homesickness.

Both his parents had always been so easy to talk to, listening without judging and offering advice when he asked for it. While most of his friends had been terrified of their parents finding out about their orientations or career choices, he’d had long discussions on both subjects.

They weren’t perfect by any measure, but his parents had always listened to him, and even when they disagreed with his choices, they’d never tried to stop him. Sting only wished they were here now when he felt so lost and out of his depth.

Could he ask them for advice? They were only a phone call away, but if he did decide to go that route, it would mean that he’d have to disclose the assault, share something private that wasn’t really his to share. He doubted Rogue would be enthused about the idea even if he asked him first, and asking or not, he'd be playing with the level of trust Rogue had in him.

But Rogue was hurting, and he wasn’t getting any better, and despite Gajeel’s optimism, Sting had a nagging suspicion his boyfriend was actually getting worse. Something had to give somewhere, and he was determined that it wouldn't be their relationship.

He bit his lip as he went back and forth in his mind, arguing both sides, trying to come to some sort of decision that he could live with.

He was already dialing his father's number, filled with a need to hear his voice, even if only to have him tease him over calling him at work, desperate for some sense of normalcy, just for a few minutes. A brief escape from this situation that he had no control over and no clear direction to follow.

He was just going to say hi, tell his dad he missed him, maybe call him an old man.

The phone rang several times, and just when Sting thought he’d get his father’s voicemail, there was a click on the other line.

“Sting? Isn’t it a little early for a call?” The sound of his father’s cheerful voice surrounded him, cocooning him in its warmth and familiarity, and that was all it took for him to fall apart.

“Papa,” Sting choked out. All the fear and heartache he’d experienced over the last week, every awkward interaction, every worry, they all tried to burst out at the same time, remaining lodged behind a giant lump in his throat.

Upon hearing the distress in that single word, one Sting hadn't used since he was little, his father’s voice immediately switched to concern, “What’s wrong, son?”

“I don’t know what to do,” was all Sting managed before hearing his father talk to someone in his office.

“Cancel all my appointments for the afternoon.”

#fairy tail #ftdadsau #shadowlightweek2020 #stingue #ftlgbtales #fics #update #prompt: contest

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ft-dads-au · 4 years

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Once Upon A Nightmare - Chapter 5

Shadowlight Week 2020 Pairing(s): Sting x Rogue, Orga x Rufus Prompt: Free (Rain)

A Collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404

AO3 | Prev: Ch 4

Summary: Rogue does his best to get better, but setbacks have him losing his confidence. A night out with some friends gives him hope that things are improving, but when he tries to act on his feelings, it's too much, too fast. Frustrated with his progress, he makes an important decision.

Chapter 5: Rain

July 10, 2014

The following weeks were difficult for Rogue, full of successes but also setbacks. Overall he had kept to his promise to take better care of himself, even though there were some days when it was a fight just to get out of bed.

But the nightmares kept coming no matter what he did to try to tire himself out, and every time he had one, it took every bit of willpower he possessed not to fall apart all over again. It was so frustrating to fight the same battle day after day. To have to force himself to perform simple tasks when he knew that he’d be paying the price for the victory of success with his energy.

And yet, no matter how hard he fought, it never seemed to be enough. Just one bad day could easily outweigh all the good ones that preceded it, and what progress did he have to be proud of anyway? He felt like he was going nowhere fast, running himself ragged but barely moving forward.

In contrast, Sting seemed to be doing better every day, miles ahead, out of reach. It was hard not to feel resentment sometimes. Even though Rogue was well aware it was only his own stubbornness that kept him from experiencing the same.

He did appreciate that Sting had given him room to handle things his own way, only really giving him a hard time if he wasn’t eating. Merely knowing that there wasn’t any pressure put on him returned a sense of control, something he’d lost in so many ways already, but that did nothing to exempt him from the pressure he was putting on himself.

Sting had always been the brighter one between the two of them, facing the world with his chin held high, and his teeth bared in a blinding smile, never letting any hardships bring him down for long. Out of the many reasons why Rogue had fallen for him, this was perhaps the biggest one. Their attitudes used to balance each other out, but now that Sting was so close to being himself again, the difference between them was merely a harsh reminder of reality. He seemed unbreakable, while Rogue had no choice but to admit what he’d wanted to deny all this time- he was broken.

And broken things that couldn’t be fixed would eventually be replaced.

That thought was the whip on his back. No amount of well-meant compliments or I love yous were able to convince him that that wasn’t happening.

No matter what, he had to keep trying, so he forced himself to get out of bed despite his crippling exhaustion and made himself as presentable as he could before leaving the bedroom.

He paused in the doorway, noticing that Sting was talking to someone on the phone.

“A concert? I don’t know, I don’t think Rogue would be up for it. Maybe we can get together another time,” Rogue could hear the disappointment in Sting’s voice, and it was enough for him to completely ignore the little voice that was trying to tell him Sting was probably right.

He waltzed into the room and asked in as even a voice as he could manage, “What wouldn’t I be up for?”

“Oh, hey,” Sting smiled at him in greeting, but Rogue could tell he seemed uncomfortable, and he couldn’t help but wonder just how many invitations Sting had already said no to because of him.

“Uhm, Orga wants us to meet his new boyfriend,” Sting explained, “They’re having a picnic at the park tonight, you know, one of those free concert things.”

“That sounds great, let’s go,” Rogue did his best to sound enthused, but even he could hear how shaky his voice sounded.

“I don’t know,” Sting hedged, putting on a smile that didn’t fool Rogue one bit. “Are you sure? I was kind of looking forward to watching more of that anime we started last night.”

Rogue glared defiantly, knowing this was Sting's attempt at giving him an out, and while he appreciated it, he was no less determined to go. Sting finally looked away with a worried frown, but to his credit, he didn’t argue. Instead, he turned back to his phone, “Okay, we’ll be there. What time should we meet you guys?”

As Sting continued to talk for a few more minutes, getting the details for their outing Rogue tried to quell the doubts that immediately followed now that the outing was a done deal. It was no big deal, they were going to go have a nice night out with friends. The type of thing they should have been doing all along. That they used to do all the time.

And despite how loud and obnoxious he could be, Rogue liked Orga. He’d always been a good friend to Sting, and they’d had fun when he came over. They'd even hung out a few times after Sting had left, bonded in their love of music while missing the same person. He was one of the many people Rogue had avoided or lost touch with after the attack.

He left the room, searching for his cigarettes and heading for the backyard, trying not to think about how many people would be at the park. Or the guitar that was stored in Cana’s old room, along with all the other things his family had discarded but couldn’t bear to get rid of.

How long had it been since he’d put it there? Had he even touched it again since Gajeel had dropped it off?

He lit his cigarette before he could think of the answer. A few moments later, he heard the sliding door open behind him and turned to see Sting step onto the deck, a glass of orange juice in his hand.

Rogue tensed in wait, expecting him to say something about his decision to go out that evening, but Sting only gave him a quick once over before sitting on one of the chairs.

“Can’t believe Orga found someone that actually agreed to date him,” Sting grinned, “ Not gonna lie, I’m pretty curious.”

Rogue snorted in agreement. “Remember the last one?”

“Actually, there was another one after that guy, equally disastrous.” Sting informed him, “He called me last Spring to tell me about it. You know how he is -”

“Go big or go home,” they chorused, trying to imitate Orga’s booming voice, and realizing Sting wasn’t going to say anything, Rogue relaxed, taking a seat next to him.

“Should we bring something?” he asked.

“Orga said Rufus, that’s the guy’s name, was gonna take care of everything, but maybe we could bring a bottle of wine or something?”

“We could stop at the liquor store on the way there, pick up a couple of bottles,” Rogue suggested, and now that he wasn’t worried about Sting’s reaction, he began to feel a small surge of excitement and pride.

He was moving outside his comfort zone, trying to go do something with friends as a couple, and it went well, it could be the beginning of better things.

“I’d have been fine with staying home, you know,” Sting’s voice broke into his thoughts, bringing him back down to reality.

“I’m tired of holing up at home,” Rogue said stiffly.

“Okay,” Sting said softly, grabbing Rogue’s hand and kissing his knuckles gently, “We’ll have fun.”

0-0

By the time they arrived at the park, it was already seven o’clock. Their arms were full of bags from both the liquor store and the bakery, Sting’s sweet tooth as insatiable as always. When they had walked past it, he hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to bring a few dozen treats, just in case Rufus hadn’t packed enough desserts.

Even though the music wasn’t scheduled to begin for another hour, there was very little available space left on the grassy areas. Couples, families, and groups of friends sat on blankets, talking, cuddling, or playing games. Young children ran around with sparklers, but Sting’s attention was fixed on the food carts that were lined up near the stage.

Rogue chuckled, seeing the childish anticipation in his boyfriend’s eyes, “We’re supposed to be having a picnic, remember?”

Sting pouted briefly but immediately smiled, leaning his head on Rogue’s shoulder in a sort of head hug.

“Alright, how hard can it be to find a green-haired giant in this mess?”

Rogue shrugged helplessly, trying not to focus on how many people there were and how hard it was to move around, or on the images that his mind was determined to show him, of how this park had looked on a particular rainy day.

He could feel sweat that had nothing to do with the temperature dripping down his neck as they searched, and he knew he should ask to go home or at the very least stop for a moment, but before Rogue could do either of those things he felt something hard slam into him.

It wrapped himself around him and picked him up in the air, spinning him. His breathing sped up, and a scream lodged in his throat until Rogue heard Sting yelling.

“Damn it, Orga, put him down for fuck’s sake!”

The urgency in his voice was unmistakable, and Rogue was soon placed back down on the ground gently.

Orga stood before him, looking contrite. “I’m sorry, Rogue, I didn’t know you spooked so easy. I was just happy to see you.”

“It’s alright,” he managed through closed eyes and clenched teeth. Everything seemed too loud, but he was determined to stay. It had been an unexpected scare, but it was just Orga. He was safe, and honestly, he should have expected it.

“Are you alright?” The voice was unfamiliar, but the tone was kind, and he opened his eyes slowly, curious as to who it belonged to.

A man stood in front of him, holding a humongous basket which he shoved at Orga, “Carry that.”

He was fair-skinned with long blond hair that was tied back in a low ponytail, his green eyes peering at Orga fondly before turning back to Rogue, “He means well, but he’s an idiot.”

Rogue snorted at the comment.

The man smiled at Rogue’s response and introduced himself, “I’m Rufus Lore.”

“Hey!” Orga complained, looking to Sting for support, seeming surprised when Sting appeared to be watching Rogue intently.

Rogue ignored Orga as well, not wanting him to see how his greeting had affected him. He attempted a smile and managed it even if it was a bit forced. “Rogue Fullbuster.”

“Happy to make your acquaintance,” Rufus bowed his head in what his mother would have called old world charm, and they began to walk behind their boyfriends.

“Uhm, same.”

Although Rufus was incredibly handsome, Rogue was surprised Orga would be interested in someone who was clearly so different from him.

“Have you known Orga long?” Rogue couldn’t help but ask, smiling when Rufus only chuckled.

“I know, we don’t seem like we’d make a good match, but there’s something about him that intrigued me. Even though he was incredibly persistent, I finally realized if I kept saying no to his advances, he would eventually stop asking me out. The thought made me kind of sad, so I figured, what did I have to lose by giving him a chance?”

“He’s a good guy and a great friend.”

“Yes, he is,” Rufus agreed, “He thinks very highly of your boyfriend and of you as well. It made me a little nervous about meeting you, actually.”

“No need to be nervous, I’m more concerned about whether you’ll still want to date him after seeing him with my idiot. Do you go to MU?”

“I did, I graduated last year. I actually work as a research assistant in the building where Orga works as a security guard.”

“Let me guess, he took all his breaks near you, serenading you while flexing his muscles.”

Rufus' laugh was melodious and very contagious, “Something like that. Subtlety isn’t exactly his strongest suit.”

“Are you talking about me, Babe?” Orga slowed down, waiting for them to catch up, and Rogue searched his face to see if Sting had told him anything but didn’t see any change from Orga’s usual expression.

“Of course,” Rufus winked, and they both stopped for a quick kiss. It was adorable, and Rogue felt a pang, remembering a time when that had been him and Sting.

He looked towards his boyfriend, not wanting to openly stare at the couple, and they shared a shy smile.

“Do you have any idea where we’re going to sit? This place is packed.” Sting complained.

“Relax. Dobengal saved us a spot, he’s been here for hours,” Orga declared smugly.

“Dobengal?” Sting groaned, “You didn’t tell me he was coming.”

“Well, duh, then you wouldn’t have come,” Orga pointed out, “You’re already coming up with lame excuses all the time. I was beginning to think you didn’t want to be friends anymore.”

“Hey, isn’t that him over there?” Sting hurried, and Orga chased after him yelling, “Hey, slow down, this basket is heavy!”

“And they’re off,” Rufus chuckled. “So, Orga tells me you’re a writer. I’ve tried my hand at it, but I have to admit I prefer reading.”

“Oh, really? What kinds of books do you like?” Rogue asked, delighted to find some common ground. They continued to talk about their favorite books and authors until they finally found the spot Dobengal had been holding for them.

It was a great location, close enough to the stage to be able to see everything, but far enough away to not be overwhelmed by the massive speakers. Orga had already stretched out the large blanket Rufus had packed on the grass. Both he and Sting were stuffing their faces with the pastries Sting had brought, keeping them away from Dobengal, who was whining childishly and lunging at them.

“There they are. Our lovers,” Rufus remarked loudly, his voice full of barely concealed sarcasm, “Aren’t we lucky?”

Rogue couldn’t help but snort at the embarrassed looks on all three men, although Orga recovered quite nicely, a mischievous grin curling on his lips. “You know you love me, at least that’s what you were yelling last night when-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence Orga Nanagear,” Rufus threatened, but Orga only laughed.

“Fine, I’ll behave. For now,” Orga disentangled himself from his two ex-roommates and walked over to Rufus, leaning in to whisper something in his ear that made Rufus blush and swat the larger man away. Still, Rogue could see something akin to anticipation in Rufus' expression.

It was a look he had seen on Sting often, but not lately. He left them to have their moment and walked over to the blanket, handing Sting the wine bottles he’d been carrying before sitting down.

“Did you leave me any?” he teased, noticing the crumbs that were littered all over the blanket, the only visible reminder from their battle.

“Lots,” Sting grinned proudly, offering him one of the bags. On impulse, Rogue leaned into Sting and kissed him, grabbing the bag and handing it to Dobengal as he did so.

“Thanks, Rogue!” Dobengal cheered, opening the bag and digging in.

“That was a dirty trick,” Sting murmured, eyes crinkling in amusement.

“So’s ganging up on Dobengal, I thought you two had outgrown that,” Rogue chided as Dobengal tossed him a pastry.

He bit into it, moaning at the taste, and when he looked up, he noticed Sting gazing at his mouth.

“You’ve got a little something there,” Sting leaned in, lips moving ever closer and Rogue didn’t wait, he leaned in as well, meeting Sting halfway, feeling the soft brush of Sting’s lips on his and sucking on them.

Sting’s hands moved to Rogue’s head, tugging at his hair with long fingers, their kiss deepening as weeks of pent up need rose to the surface.

“Geez, get a room you guys,” Dobengal whined, “Have a heart will ya, I can’t fucking look anywhere without being reminded I’m alone again.”

Rogue felt that kiss flow through his entire body, awakening a desire that had been lying dormant for so long, and the last thing he wanted at that moment was to be at the park surrounded by people. He wanted to go home to continue what they had started, but that would be rude, and looking at the vast amounts of food packed into the basket, he could see Rufus had put a lot of work into it.

Sting didn’t seem much better, and when Rogue whispered To be continued, he looked just as impatient as Rogue felt.

“You guys brought wine, that’s great!” Orga commented, grabbing a bottle and looking at it, “I hope you also brought an opener cause these do not twist off.”

Sting and Rogue looked at each other in consternation, neither one of them had thought of that.

“Don’t look so glum, this basket came with one,” Rufus announced, unclipping the device from the lid amidst cheers from the others. “You guys sure brought a lot of bottles with you.”

“It was on sale,” Sting admitted, adding cheerfully, “We did bring cups though!”

Rufus set about opening the first bottle, which was quickly divided between the five men, immediately followed by three others. Dobengal sat next to Orga, having given up his space to a group of his friends from the University.

They were already pleasantly buzzed when Rufus began pulling out wrapped sandwiches from his basket, followed by some trays filled with raw vegetables and fresh fruit cut up into bite-sized pieces. Another dish contained cheese and crackers, which were devoured almost as soon as they touched the ground, giving him no chance to distribute the cutlery and napkins he’d brought.

Rogue felt kind of bad, the man had obviously put a lot of work into the presentation, and it was utterly wasted on them, but as much as he wanted to say something nice, he was too busy digging in at the same pace as the others. Both he and Dobengal had learned from experience that you couldn’t fool around when it came to Sting and Orga and food.

“This is delicious,” Rogue managed in between bites.

“How can you tell?” Rufus asked, peering at all of them in horror.

Sting looked embarrassed, and Rogue snickered, knowing his boyfriend was likely hearing his parents yell at him in his head, “Thank you so much, this is all really good.” Sting said politely, having the grace to wipe his mouth with his hand before elbowing Orga.

“Oh yeah, Babe, it’s great!” Orga mumbled while opening another bottle and pouring some into everyone’s cups. “The wine is great too. This whole thing is…. great!”

Sting shook his head at Orga, moving away from him to sit behind Rogue and whispering, “He’s so not getting laid tonight.”

Rogue giggled, the words but you might flitting through his mind before he could stop them, although thankfully, he didn’t say them out loud. He drank the rest of his wine, and when Sting wrapped himself around him, surrounding him in a cocoon of warmth and that cologne he always wore, he was overwhelmed with need.

Fuck the concert, he wanted to go home and well … fuck.

Maybe.

Definitely.

His thoughts blurred more and more as his senses became overloaded, and all there was was Sting. His head resting on Rogue’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around his middle, his legs on either side of him. Rogue felt Sting's breath, slightly heavier than usual, tickling just below his ear, his cock coming to life between them, pressing into his back and letting him know he wasn’t the only one affected.

“How long do you think we need to stay?” Rogue asked Sting in what he thought was a quiet voice, but from the amused looks he was getting from the others, it seemed it might have been louder than he thought.

“Oh my God, you two haven’t changed one bit,” Orga exclaimed, rolling his eyes at them, “No wonder Sting never wants to go anywhere, I wouldn’t either. Go, get out of here, we’ll get together another time.”

Rogue expected Sting to protest, but instead, he’d already gotten up and was grabbing him by the hand, tugging gently.

“It was great to see everyone, uhm bye,” Rogue tried his best to be polite, but all he could think of was getting home.

They left quickly, and as they reached the entrance, the park lights went out, replaced by the stage lights, signaling the beginning of the performance. The music soon began, but neither of them even stopped to peek, both intent on reaching home as quickly as possible.

0-0

They stumbled through the front door, hanging on to each other, breathless from walking so fast and locking lips the second Rogue had stopped to get his key. What little of a shirt Sting was wearing still managed to offend Rogue, and he nearly ripped it in his hurried attempt of getting it off.

"What was in that wine?" Sting chuckled as he raised his arms above his head to allow his top to be pulled over his head easier.

"Don't know, don't care," Rogue shrugged, wasting no time in attacking the newly exposed skin with his mouth.

The force behind the action caused him to tilt forward a bit too quickly. The combined rush of alcohol and his almost feral arousal made everything around Rogue spin for a few seconds before they bumped into something, tipping them over until he had Sting pinned against the hallway closet. He couldn’t say he minded.

A loud crash echoed through the room, the sound of wood hitting the floor and shattering ceramics prompting them to stop and look at the damage. The end table that had held one of his mother's plants had been knocked over, leaving the floor covered in dirt and shattered pieces of pottery.

Sting observed the mess with a sheepish smile. "How is it that we're always this destructive?" he laughed, the sound blending into a moan when Rogue ground against him and sucked a love bite into his neck.

Rogue snorted, he'd never liked that plant anyway, and even if he did, he was too caught up in the way Sting made him feel. The last time they'd done anything more than innocently kissing and cuddling had been in the first week after Sting had arrived, but it felt like so much longer. And even then, Rogue had lacked the eagerness he'd had before Sting left and during his Christmas visit to Edolas, the same one he had now.

He didn't answer the question, too lost in the sounds he was able to coax from Sting, wanting to hear them more, louder.

They somehow made it to the bedroom without causing any more damage, ditching Rogue's shirt along the way. As they fell onto the mattress, the sensation of falling lasted longer than it should have, making Rogue's head spin once again, but he ignored the little voice at the back of his mind that reminded him of how much he'd had to drink.

Sting, however, seemed more concerned about it. He slowed them down to ask, "Hey, are you sure this is okay?" He cupped Rogue's cheeks, a trace of worry shining in his eyes, the beautiful blue just a thin circle outlining his blown pupils.

"Yeah," Rogue kissed him again, unbuttoning his jeans and kicking them off the bed. "Fuck, I want you…"

It wasn’t enough, not when Sting’ s body was still half covered. With a grunt of frustration, his hands moved to the offending button that was keeping him from what he wanted. He could feel Sting’s eyes on him, but he didn’t want to meet them just yet. Instead, he continued to fumble until he got it open.

Feeling victorious, he lowered the zipper, and when Sting didn’t lift his hips right away to help, he pouted. Not to be deterred, he moved the metallic teeth out of the way giving him access to Sting’s underwear.

With a wicked grin, he grabbed the waistband with his teeth, tugging at it until Sting relented, lifting his hips slowly.

Rogue let go gazing at Sting and purring, “Good boy,” before pulling his pants down slowly, eyes never leaving his boyfriends until they were entirely off. For once, he felt very much in control, and that was almost as intoxicating as the wine.

He noticed Sting gulp as he watched him, and the responsive twitch in his tented underwear. God Sting was beautiful, especially when he was like this. Rogue traced a path up Sting’s leg with his finger, moving ever so slowly, enjoying how Sting was trying so hard to stay still for him, even though it was obvious that he wanted to touch.

When he got as high up as his thighs, he started adding soft puffs of warm air, which made Sting squirm. Rogue licked his lips in anticipation at seeing the wet spot on Sting’s underwear, once again keeping their eyes locked as he continued to trail his finger up until he could trace the outline of Sting’s cock, giving him the barest of touches.

Sting’s wanton moan made him pause a moment, the sound the only music he ever wanted to hear. And when Sting called out for him, he moved the underwear out of the way to blow against the flushed skin of the head of his cock, just short of pressing a kiss on top of it.

"Roooogue," Sting whined again, trying to laugh off his frustration. Rogue smiled back at him innocently until he couldn't smile anymore, his lips wrapping around Sting's cock, taking him in slowly, inch by torturous inch.

He watched transfixed, following every sign of satisfaction that graced Sting's face, feeling more turned on by the second by the effects his efforts were having. Like the rest of his personality, Sting wasn't the timid type, and Rogue knew him well enough to know how to get the reactions he wanted.

But as much as he liked teasing, his patience was running thin. He'd been hard since they'd been at the park, and though he'd been distracted by dirty thoughts, now he was aching for relief.

With that in mind, he took in as much of Sting’s cock as he could manage, moving slowly back up and giving one last hard suck before letting go. Ignoring Sting’s protests at his absence, Rogue removed his underwear. He was done with playing, and he could only snort when he saw that Sting had already removed his as well.

“You really want this, huh?” Sting’s eyes were half-lidded, his voice sultry.

Rogue paused for a moment, the words loosening something, but once again, he ignored it, too full of the vision of Sting’s gloriously naked body underneath him to pay attention to anything else.

Instead of a coherent vocal answer, he straddled Sting's hips and rubbed their cocks together, moaning low in his throat at the sensation he'd been craving. Fuck, he probably wasn't going to last long.

He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling building up inside him, trying his best to hold off and go slow, denying his body's persistent demand for more. Rogue felt a slight tickle as Sting ran his hand up to his thigh before wrapping it around both of them and tugging along with his rhythm, groaning at the increased friction.

Rogue was getting close, but along with the climbing tension, he could feel the panic rising within him and begged internally, please, not now.

It did nothing to calm him down, though. He broke his rhythm, feeling suddenly unable to breathe.

He opened his eyes again to reassure himself that he was safe at home with Sting, but when Rogue searched for the well-loved features, he only saw Maru grinning back at him.

See? I knew you wanted it...Doesn’t that feel good?

The feeling of having his cock jerked was already too much, but the added vision, combined with the voice in his head, was enough for him to scramble back in response. He managed to catch himself before he fell off the edge of the bed, but he still couldn’t breathe, and his hand immediately moved to his throat.

“Rogue, are you okay?” He could hear the fear in Sting’s voice, and he wanted to answer, but all he could do was wave him off.

“Just give me a minute,” Rogue pleaded.

“A minute? What just happened?” Sting had already moved off the bed, his forehead creased, and every vestige of his desire gone, replaced by a concern that pissed Rogue off.

“I said to give me a goddamn minute, “ Rogue snapped, surprising both of them.

“Please,” he amended, even though he knew it was too little too late.

No, no, no, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go!

"Okay," Sting conceded, calmly putting his boxers back on and sitting back on the bed, resting against the headboard. As if they weren't just brutally ripped out of a heated moment.

Rogue knew he was waiting for him to say or do something, and with every passing second, he grew more stressed. He felt cornered, unable to be honest about what had just happened, although he was reasonably sure Sting already knew.

A part of him just wanted Sting to make this decision for him, tell him to get a fucking grip already, but he didn't even know what he really wanted anymore. Continuing where they'd left off or even starting over was hardly an option, but so was stopping. That would only drive home everything Rogue didn't want to acknowledge.

"Hey…" Sting softly called him out of his thoughts, "don't beat yourself up over this, we can always try again another time."

There it was again, the gap between them, seeming more significant than ever. A dark abyss that would swallow Rogue whole if he dared to try to cross it.

"That's easy to say for you, isn't it?" Rogue scoffed, "Because you're not fucked up like I am?"

It flew out before he knew it, no matter how much it frightened him to feel this much anger towards Sting for no rationally explainable reason. He had given in to the darkness, and it was feeding off his turmoil.

"I didn't-"

"Oh, I'm sure you didn't! So you're just going to lie to me then?! Pretend that I'm not the cause of all of our fucking problems?!"

Whatever reaction Rogue was hoping for, he didn't get it. Sting didn't confirm nor deny his words, he didn't get angry for being yelled at when he did nothing wrong. The expression Rogue found on his face he could only guess was pity, and it managed to piss him off even more.

"Fine," Rogue got dressed again, choosing to leave before he'd say or do something worse than he already had, "Just leave me alone."

As soon as he'd slammed the door behind him, the devastation of silence and solitude hit him, making him regret every word he'd said. Needless to say, he was too stubborn to go back and apologize, so instead, he curled up on the sofa and tried to get some sleep hoping things would be clearer in the morning.

But sleep wouldn't come, even though he was exhausted from everything the day had brought. He was forced to relive the disaster he'd just caused word for word, the only respite he was given being more flashbacks from the attack. Now that the anger had ebbed away, he was able to reevaluate the situation, and it dawned on him that what he'd seen in Sting's eyes had been repressed hurt. Pity was just what his inner demons had wanted him to believe.

He'd done it again, and he was terrified that he might not be able to come back from it this time.

Rogue tried his best to breathe through it as he felt the cold sweat rising and his mouth watering, but his stomach was already feeling tense. He got up fast, getting lightheaded from the sudden movement, and he thanked his lucky stars that he knew his house like the back of his hand. He made it to the half bath just in time to bend over the toilet and violently expel everything he'd had at the picnic.

It burned, the tears in his eyes and the acid in his throat. His head was spinning again, but not in the pleasant way it had before. A sharp jabbing pain came with it, and the spots dancing in front of his eyes made him heave again.

He'd pushed himself too far today, made all the wrong choices, and now it was time to pay the price.

0-0

The alarm went off, but as soon as Sting reached for his phone on the nightstand, he recognized the sound of rain pelting the house’s aluminum siding, mirroring the throbbing in his head. He quickly decided that he wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon. While he loved the sound of rain, he didn’t particularly enjoy running in it, especially with a hangover.

Eyes still closed he stretched out his arm reaching for Rogue, hoping that despite how the night had gone, he would have returned to bed. He was disappointed to find that side of the bed was not only empty but cold.

Sting was determined not to get discouraged by the relapse. He’d noticed little changes over the last few weeks even if he hadn’t said anything, afraid that if he brought attention to them, it would make Rogue self-conscious.

He must’ve fallen back to sleep at some point because the next thing he knew, he woke up to the smell of something burning and the sound of Rogue cursing up a storm. Soon he understood why: the fire alarm started going off.

“Everything okay?” he called out, clutching his head miserably as the noise pierced through it and added to the headache he was already experiencing. Still, he was determined not to get up unless the house was actually on fire, but the sound of a chair scraping across the floor told him that wasn't likely.

“Yeah, I just- Ah, fuck, hold on!” Praise the heavens, the beeping sound stopped, only to be immediately followed by the ringing of Rogue’s cell phone.

Sting could hear his boyfriend talking to someone, and he sympathized with him deeply, especially as Rogue’s tone became more and more exasperated with every incoming call.

“Hello? No, there is no emergency, just trying to cook breakfast. What? This is Rogue Fullbuster, yes, thank you.”

Sting stretched and yawned at hearing Rogue's end of the phone call, "Cooking breakfast, huh? I'll be right there, just gotta untangle myself from the sheets... and hope my body won't stay down as my soul ascends when I try to get up.”

"Just stay put,” Rogue ordered, “I’ll come to you.”

A few minutes later, Rogue entered the room, holding a tray Sting had never seen before. It was laden with all sorts of food items, including pieces of burnt toast, even more burnt bacon, as well as some overly runny eggs.

Rogue waited for Sting to sit up before handing him the tray, which also contained a bowl of sugary cereal and some fruit along with a glass of milk.

“I’m sorry, I tried to multitask,” Rogue rubbed the back of his neck with one hand while peering down at Sting through his bangs.

“No, it looks great!” Sting was quick to reassure him, surprised that he had put so much effort into making him breakfast after the sounds he’d heard coming from the bathroom the night before.

He began picking at the fruit, not wanting to bring attention yet to what had happened. “Thank you.”

Rogue snorted, “It does not, but you’re welcome.” He left the room, returning a few minutes later with two large mugs of coffee.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Sting asked, eyeing the eggs warily, trying to ignore the queasiness in his stomach as he willed himself to eat them, but before he could make a move, they had already been taken away.

“Don’t eat those,” Rogue paled just looking at them and gagged when he took them to the bathroom to flush them down the toilet. “No, I ate already. This wasn’t my first attempt,” he admitted when he came back, looking rather sheepish when he had to add, “we, uhm, need to go to the grocery store.”

“Maybe after the rain clears?” Sting suggested, not really expecting him to agree but wanting to act normal. He felt a surge of relief when Rogue just nodded in reply.

Like he’d thought earlier, last night had just been a relapse. One that had been both terrifying and frustrating, but not the end of the world. Things were still changing for the better, it was just slow going. He finished his breakfast as best he could, and despite Rogue’s protests got up and helped clean up the mess in the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, there wasn’t a trace left of the havoc they’d wreaked in the hallway the night before.

“Want to go sit on the front porch?” Sting asked. Now that he was up, he was in the mood to sit and watch the rain. The fresh air would probably do them good.

Rogue stared at the door wordlessly but eventually replied, “Yeah, okay, I have a book I want to finish.”

It wasn’t excitement, but it was something, and Sting liked watching Rogue read his books, it was one of the few times when he was truly relaxed. He hurried to their room to change into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, deciding to remain barefoot. He grabbed his phone and headed outside, finding Rogue already sitting down with his book on his lap, although his gaze seemed a million miles away.

Not wanting to disturb him, Sting sat down and poked around on his phone, finding a text from Yukino, asking how they were doing and telling him that she missed having him around. He’d started swiping a response when Rogue broke the comfortable silence.

“I used to love the rain,” he announced, “just everything about it, the smell, the way it felt on my body on a hot summer day, and the rainbows that came after.”

Sting didn’t quite know how to respond, so he remained silent and let Rogue talk.

“Cana, Gray and I would chase each other and jump in puddles, even though we’d promised my mom we wouldn’t. And on good days, when Dad and Gildarts were both around, they’d join in. We’d play tag and just laugh ourselves silly.”

Rogue chuckled softly, “Sometimes those two were bigger kids than we were.”

Sting put his arm around him, urging him closer, as he could see that even though Rogue seemed to be having a pleasant memory, there was something ugly lurking underneath, and he was sure he knew exactly what it was.

“We’d all come home covered in mud, and Mom would give us that look of horror when she scolded us for all the mopping and laundry she’d have to do, but then once we were all showered there was always hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows waiting for us."

“Now, I have a whole new set of memories that resurfaces whenever it rains, and the good ones have all been overridden.” Rogue closed the book on his lap without looking, continuing to stare blankly at the driveway, which was as good as flooded. “And all it took was no more than five minutes. I know, because if it had lasted any longer than that, I probably wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

“Someone would’ve found me, lying in that alley, cold and soaked, with mud in my hair and my pants pulled down.” The hairs on Rogue’s arms stood on end and goosebumps formed on his skin, Sting could feel it underneath his fingertips as he brushed his thumb up and down to offer some sort of consolation. “I’ve seen that outcome too, in one of my nightmares,” Rogue spilled.

Sting held his breath, entirely overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. He was both glad and surprised to finally hear Rogue disclose some of his feelings about what had happened, but the fact that he could’ve died that day, even by accident, sent chills down his spine every time it came to Sting’s mind. The mental imagery of the nightmare made his gut scrunch up in revolt.

“I don’t like to think about that,” he admitted, resting his head on Rogue’s shoulder.

“I...There have been times when I thought it would’ve been better if-” Rogue stopped, swallowing back the words that didn’t need to be said, “But that's not how I really feel. Some amazing things happened that I'm glad I didn't miss out on, and I like to think that there will be many more in the future.”

"There will be," Sting said confidently, wanting to cement that positive outlook more than anything in the world. “It just takes-”

“Time, I know, but how much time has already passed? How much time will it take? How many times will I bring myself down, possibly taking you with me, and how long before one of us doesn’t want to get back up again?”

“I don’t have the answer to that, no one does,” Sting ran his fingers through his hair, “I’m going to tell you the same thing Bob told me. You can’t do this for me, or even for us, you have to do it for you. I will still be here, for as long as it takes.”

“And I don’t care about last night, or any other nights like it, because I know you will get past this.”

“I do care about last night,” Rogue countered, “I’ve felt so distant from myself and from you, and then suddenly, I didn’t, and I desperately wanted to chase that.”

He chuckled bitterly, sucking in his bottom lip when it began to quiver. His voice was watery and cracked halfway through as he added, “But the truth is, I have no control over anything, not the way my body responds or the thoughts and images my mind feeds me. So no matter how much I missed it and wanted it, I couldn’t.”

Sting had heard him cry only once, caught a few sniffles when they’d curled up on the couch together after Rogue had shown him the journal. He’d had no idea what to do or say then, and he didn’t now, either. His chest felt tight, and tears began to well in the corners of his eyes as he witnessed Rogue breaking down in front of him, little by little, shattering Sting’s heart.

“That might be okay for you, but it’s not for me-” Rogue wiped his tears, but it was pointless, there was no stopping the grief that spilled, and all he managed to do was turn his skin red and raw. “This has taken so many things from me already. All the things I used to love and enjoy have been tainted, yesterday was just another cruel reminder of that.”

“And I’m so sorry,” his voice quavered through his hands, interrupted by the spasms of sobs and hiccups, “I should’ve been grateful that you were so understanding instead of giving you shit because I couldn’t cope with the fact that I’m so far from your level. I was frustrated and disappointed, and I took it out on you.”

Sting let him pour it all out, shifting their positions so he could wrap both arms around Rogue and let him cry on his shoulder. Neither of them seemed to notice Rogue’s book falling to the ground.

It killed him inside, knowing that the one he loved so dearly was in so much pain, but Sting was happy to offer the comfort he could tell Rogue needed from the way he clung on to him.

“You know, there’s no such thing as your level or my level...” He stroked through Rogue’s hair, thinking about the guilt he still felt for not being there right after the attack, or during the difficult moments that followed after, when there was no one Rogue trusted and felt comfortable enough with to be this vulnerable. This was, in some way, healing to Sting as well, to be able to offer that comfort even though it was long overdue.

“My troubles cannot be compared to what you’re going through, and even if it could, we’re two very different people. We have different personalities, different beliefs, different cultures, and upbringing. All of that defines what does and doesn’t work for us, how we react and deal with things."

Rogue was slowly calming down again, releasing his tight grip on Sting’s shirt. He spoke softly, almost whispering, his voice barely reaching above the rain that clattered down on the overhang above them. “Your therapist...Do you think he’d want to see me?”

Sting pulled back from their embrace, surprised by Rogue’s words. He studied his tear-stricken features for a hint of confirmation that he’d heard that right.

“I’m so sick of it, Sting, I want me to define me again.” Rogue got up and moved to the edge of the overhang, leaning against the wooden railing. Reaching out a hand, palm side up, he let the rain coat his fingers. A shiver went through him that was unlikely to have been caused by the chilly weather, but he didn’t retract his hand.

“I’m tired of doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different outcome and still being let down when it doesn’t happen,” He sniffed, staring at his bare feet and wiggling his toes in the shallow pool of water he was standing in.

“And I’m terrified- the admission made him choke on the word, “but I know I can’t do this on my own anymore, I’ve tried that.”

Sting walked up to him, making sure to give him some space first and asking, “Can I hold you?” wrapping his arms around Rogue again when he nodded his consent.

“You don’t have to do this alone, I’ll be there whenever you need me,” he promised, “And of course Bob would want to see you, he told me he’d gladly make time for you if it was something you ever wanted.”

“I want to,” Rogue confirmed, sliding the raindrops around between his fingertips, “I want the rain back, I want my music back, I want my writing focus back, I want us back…”

“But most of all, I really want myself back. I miss the person I used to be.”

“Then I’ll text him right now,” Sting said, his fingers already flying across the screen of his phone as he sent a message to Bob, asking if he could see Rogue over the weekend.

He went back to holding Rogue close, nudging them back to the bench where they could sit comfortably. Rogue was limp, obviously exhausted from his outburst, and Sting could see his eyes were fixed on his phone, so he gave it to him to hold.

“Everything’s going to be alright,” Sting murmured into Rogue's hair, rubbing his arm gently when he noticed that he was shivering, “and I know it’s frustrating, but we’re gonna get through this together. I wasn’t joking when I said you were stuck with me, you know.”

“There’s no one for me but you,” Sting continued reassuring Rogue as best he could, “I know that just as my dad knew when he met my Mom.”

Rogue wasn’t sure how much time they sat like that, him holding on to Sting as he kept talking, both waiting for the tone that would alert them to Bob’s response. When it finally came, Rogue had almost fallen asleep, lulled by Sting’s words and the sound of his heartbeat. He looked down in slight trepidation, almost sobbing with relief when he saw the words light up the screen.

How does tomorrow at 3 sound?

#fairy tail #ftdadsau #shadowlightweek2020 #stingue #orfus #fics #update #prompt: free (rain)

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