wizardmanor | Floor 2, Room 4

I'm...

[Here he has to pause for a moment, trying to put his thoughts together into a coherent sentence.]

... haha. Do you really need me to answer that?

[It's mostly the alcohol speaking at this point. His reddened eyes and the still-damp tracks of tears down his cheeks tell the story without any words needed.]

[ ... ]

I'm sorry. I didn't think askin' you that was gonna embarrass you in front of everyone else.

No, it isn't your fault. I don't think either one of us was thinking about the truth charm...

[He brings his arms up, wrapping them around himself and digging his fingers into the sleeves of his pajamas.]

Besides... I would have had to admit to it eventually either way.

[But it would have been on his own terms, not... that.]

...What happened when you guys got pulled to help out at the City of Rain?

[ Something just have happened, he's sure.

Day carefully reach to try touching Phil's hands, to get them to relax their grip a little. ]

[Phil sucks in a deep, shuddering breath, holding it for a long moment before at last releasing it in an audible exhalation.]

... we were called in to help deal with the clockwork automatons that had somehow seemingly gained sentience and taken over the City. When we made it to the workshop where they were created, we found... we found their creator dead. Killed by his own creations, who he had been putting pieces of moon rock into.

They...

[He inhales again.]

They wanted to return to the moon. And they hated him because he tried to stop them.

[ That matches what he was told by the other Easts, with one extra detail. ]

...Was that all that unsettled you?

[ Day is reaching to try and take Phil's hands into his own, if he's allowed to. ]

[He allows it, though he makes no move to grip those hands back.]

... no. Mikaela said that what happened in the City could only have been done by a human-- that it was human nature to hurt others by dabbling in things they don't understand, and by treating lives like playthings out of their own selfish desires...

[... he doesn't think he needs to say a word to Day about exactly why that had cut so deeply.]

[ Oh. Oh. Now he knows what Yamato wasn't keen on going into detail about. Good old prejudices and communication issues, bane of all serenity, indeed. ]

Some people oughta meet a damn god or two, I swear. [ ...Though, he realises that is beside the point.

He gently squeezes Phil's hand. ]

And after that, your heart hasn't been able to settle.

[Phil doesn't respond to that. Instead, he just continues:]

He's right, you know. That's exactly what I did. I thought of the lives I'd created as things rather than people... it's only natural that they would hate me for that.

[Just as the automatons had hated Collodi.]

It's only natural...

[This is the answer to Day's question, albeit not in quite so many words.]

[ ...

How he wishes there was a simple answer for this pain Phil is in. But there isn't, and there won't ever be. ]

... Phil, are you plannin' on dyin'? [ Which is such a morbid thing to ask, he knows, but feels like a logical sequence, considering the deliberate parallel being drawn here and how Collodi turned out. ]

[At that, Phil's head jerks up, his eyes going wide in surprise. The very same question that Marcus had asked him not long before he'd arrived here...

He hadn't answered then-- he knew Marcus had already known the answer. And he knows that deep down Day likely knows the answer too, yet at the same time he feels that he owes at least this much honesty to him after everything.]

If that's what Ix desires, then I'll grant that wish. It's the very least I can do for him after warping him the way I have.

[But saying it feels hollow, and he can't quite grasp exactly why.]

[ Phil is right. Day had an inkling, he just didn't want to be right about it. His gaze drifts down to their hands. ]

Even though there are people who want you to live?

[ Day and Marcus, surely. Maybe other people Day doesn't know about. ]

What else can I do?

[To make up for the suffering I've caused him, is the rest of that sentence, although he doesn't say it out loud.]

I can't undo the things I've done. All I can do is whatever he asks of me now. So if that is what he wants...

[... then he'll acquiesce to Ix's request.]

[ At that, Day lets go of Phil's hand to reach up and cup his face. ]

Phil. Even if he hates you, would that Ix really want that? Truly.

[ Perhaps Day is putting entirely too much faith in Ix, but... He finds it hard to imagine. ]

[At that contact, Phil can't help but to lean his head into that hand just slightly, his eyes fluttering halfway closed. Even through the alcohol-induced haze in his mind, he knows that Day speaks the truth. He knows, and yet his heart still can't bring himself to believe it because he's so convinced it's what he deserves.

And so he sighs, letting his eyes fall closed the rest of the way and just nuzzling into Day's touch.]

[ Ah, there's his answer. What is he going to do with you, Phil...?

But watching Phil nuzzle into his hands makes his breath catch. He knows they're both tipsy, maybe they should save this for when they're both sober, especially after such a heavy conversation, but... He's wanted to kiss Phil for weeks now, and Phil looks so vulnerable that he wants to pull him close and never let go.

Day leans in, carefully tipping Phil's head so he can kiss him on the lips, gentle and sweet. ]

[Oh.

Phil's eyes snap open the moment Day's lips brush his, his own breath stuttering to a halt at that soft contact. It's warm, but more than that, it's electric, spreading out through his body like a current and making him keenly aware of every single place their bodies are touching, from their lips to Day's hand warm on his cheek (which suddenly burns so hot he feels as though he might melt away beneath this gentle touch).

He doesn't know what to do, or even what he wants to do, so instead he just stays motionless, afraid that if he moves he'll somehow break the spell and Day will pull away. All he knows is that he doesn't want this to ever stop, and if he were to disappear from existence right at this very moment he thinks he wouldn't mind having this be the last thing he felt.]

[ Day is dimly aware that this...is probably Phil's first kiss, which is weirdly exhilarating to think about, even if it also makes him a little anxious to make sure it's a good experience.

(He's Phil's first, he can lay claim on this man's body and heart, or at least a part of it. Someone he can hold onto and cling to, all to himself. His, his.)

When Phil doesn't move, he slides his other hand through Phil's hair, carefully taking it slow to take in the sensation of running it through his fingers, before settling at the back of Phil's head. He opens his mouth slightly to nip at Phil's lips, as if to ask if he can have more of him. Let him take the lead, since he's the one with experience. ]

[That's all it takes to galvanize Phil into action; his lips part immediately, seeking more, and he tilts his head to the side just enough to allow him to press closer into the kiss. The fact that he doesn't know what he's doing doesn't seem to matter so much when it's clear that Day does, and there's a certain thrill that runs through him in anticipation of what's to come for that very reason.

He's still not quite sure where to put his hands, though, at last settling on resting them against Day's chest (remembering as he does so that day on the beach where he'd seen exactly what lies beneath this shirt and feeling a fresh wave of heat reddening his cheeks at the thought). In the back of his mind he realizes that he'd like to be able to touch without the fabric in the way, but saying as much would mean having to detach his lips from Day's and that's the very last thing he wants to do right now. Instead, for now he simply tries to map out the contours of muscle beneath his palms as best he can despite the barrier.]

[ Oh. Day both is and isn't surprised, because he's always known Phil as someone shy. Until now he couldn't imagine Phil pressing closer like this, but what was that about how it's always the shy ones who turn out to be wilder than they look...?

His cheeks flush a little when he feels Phil's hands. He can hardly remember the last time he was touched like this; it's been about two years since he was last intimate with anyone and it feels like such a long time in this moment.

His hand on Phil's cheek starts to move down to brush against Phil's neck as he takes his time savouring the feel of Phil's lips against his. Once he feels that they're comfortable, he traces Phil's lips with the tip of his tongue, a tentative gesture to test the waters. Is this going too fast? Too slow? ]

Edited (Typos,) 2024-06-16 08:59 (UTC)

[If Phil's reaction is any indication, the answer would be the latter. For all of his lack of knowledge and experience, he's making up for it in enthusiasm; he wants more, as much as Day is willing to give him, only he's not sure how to make that clear beyond keeping up that wandering touch and parting his lips even more.

Day isn't pulling away or trying to stop him; that means he must be doing something right. It's a heady feeling, and while he has enough fuzzy sense left to realize that at least some of this is due to the alcohol, he can't help but feel proud that Day wants him enough to be so eager to do this. Logically, he knows exactly where this is headed, and he finds he can't think of a single good reason why they shouldn't just follow their instincts on this front.]

[ If Day were sober, this would be when he'd want to slow down. He's had his share of wild nights (with and without alcohol) and flings without strings attached; this is not what he wants with Phil. From the moment he confessed and told Phil he would love things that would be inevitably lost, Day's wanted to romance Phil properly and stay with him until they're no longer able to.

He is, however, not sober at the moment, and two years of otherwise tanked desire are hitting him with a vengeance now that he's smitten with someone. Day isn't listening to the tired romantic in him, but he is listening to how eager Phil is. So he deepens the kiss, takes it as permission to have a drink of Phil, with the hand behind Phil's head tightening ever so slightly as he pulls Phil in closer. Let him memorize Phil's taste and the warmth of his mouth. ]

[Oh. So this is what it feels like...

It's hot, and Day's mouth is soft but absolutely not gentle, and Phil should probably be thinking about the fact that he can taste the alcohol on Day's lips too except he can't think about much of anything at the moment that isn't that heat and Day's insistent tongue.

He responds in kind as best he can, hands fisting into Day's shirt to grab him and hold him there exactly where Phil wants him. There's some small portion of his mind becoming aware of the fact that heat is beginning to gather somewhere else too, but he ignores it for the moment in favor of focusing his energy into the kiss. Dimly he realizes that he's going to need to breathe at some point, then realizes that he doesn't really care about that fact right now, not when Day is apparently determined to kiss him breathless anyway.]

[ At this point, Day is dimly aware that they're both still standing and it is not exactly conducive to makeouts. He could lift Phil—he's strong enough for that—but the fuzz of the alcohol makes it seem less appealing when he can't trust himself to not drop Phil by accident.

So he's...clumsily (uncharacteristically for Day) going to try to steer them towards Phil's bed, even while they're still kissing. Or where he thinks Phil's bed is, anyway. If Day was sober he'd remember it perfectly well, but again, he is not sober. ]

[Phil at least has enough awareness left to figure out what Day is trying to do and moves easily with him, tugging gently on his shirt to lead them in the direction of the bed. He knows what this means - what Day wants from this - and he's all too eager for it, his pulse speeding up as if to keep time with their awkward fumbling.

Sober Phil would never even think of being so bold. Tipsy Phil, however, is a different creature entirely, and the moment the back of his knees bump the edge of the bed he's trying to turn just enough to push Day down into a seated position on it, because there are places he would much rather be sitting than on the bed itself.]

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cw: suicidal ideation here we go again

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