I Don't Know How to Do This

Xanadu Weyr - Koth's Weyr
It's a weyr, in the cliff face of the beach.

This log follows Koth's flight.

It's not long after Roderick's grotesque little form has cleared itself from V'ro's bed upon the greenrider's return to his weyr that a dragon (not his, of course) is landing and familiar footfalls are coming along the stone toward the inner weyr. "Khav?" F'yr's voice precedes him and maybe the steps slow a little just in case V'ro wants to be alone right now. Having a dragon who… well, could be called upon to communicate but doesn't always do that so well or so privately does make things a little tricky to make sure one is welcome at a particular time. "Can I come in?" Since the dragon left, if V'ro says no, he'll have a ledge sitter until he can catch a ride, though, so…

If V'ro saw Roderick, it's likely that he's expecting F'yr to show up at some point. But he would've changed out of his running shorts and into his more comforting weyr clothes either way. So when F'yr does arrive, there's a simple, "Yeah," for the bronzerider, and he'll find the greenrider curled up on his bed, hugging a pillow to his chest. When he sees F'yr, at least, he'll pat the open space on his bed for the bronzerider to feel welcome to join him.

It doesn't take more than one sight of V'ro to have F'yr speeding his barefooted pace to the side of the bed and then into it, scooping one curled up greenrider up into big arms, as if he could save him from… well, whatever has him curled up around the pillow. He doesn't pull him upright, but rather aligns his bigger body to play spoon for his lover. "What can I do?" It's soft but mildly urgent into V'ro's ear.

V'ro probably could have said something to alleviate F'yr's concerns on his hurry toward the bed, but in the end all he does is yelp in surprise as the bronzerider scoops him up. Look, he's not going to complain about being in the big blond's arms or anything. But now, "It's okay, F'yr. I'm fine. I promise. Just a little tired." Which probably explains why he isn't as squeaky clean and fresh-faced as he usually manages. "Are you okay? I didn't even see you." It's not an accusation.

"We came," is apparently the most important thing to communicate. "He's just…" F'yr swallows and sighs, shaking his head. He's Glorioth. He defies explanation even to F'yr. (Probably part of it is that he is actually protective of his eggs, and chasing Koth meant leaving them, so he probably wasn't as single-minded as usual.) In any case, he didn't win. They both know that. "I'm okay." That's not without thought, but surely he's had time to think that through. "Mostly just… wanting to make sure you are."

Fresh-faced or not, V'ro's is still a face F'yr wants to see, and if V'ro will allow it, the bigger man is going to shift his lover around to face him. (Bye, pillow.) He's even searching green eyes with blue and then leaning to press a light kiss to those lips. "He probably won't always catch her. She's too clever for him." There's something wry about that, but surely they both know it. He chews his lip slightly, "Was it… okay for you? To-" pause for words being groped for and eventually being found in the next few moments, "For it to be someone else with you?" Surely, surely, F'yr knows who was with V'ro, but the focus of his question is V'ro's experience.

Once he's facing F'yr, after their light kiss, V'ro lifts a hand to the bronzerider's cheek to brush his thumb affectionately over skin. "I know it won't always be you." Bronze and rider. He knows. "It was fine. Really. Anyway, I'm not some helpless maiden. And he was perfectly nice after." There's a pause, then, "It was weird for it to be someone else, after it's always been us. I mean, we'd usually—" Enjoy the residual feelings, basically. "But I just left." And clearly not sure about that decision.

"I didn't say you were a helpless maiden, baby." There's warmth, love there for V'ro in F'yr's eyes. "Some… some of the flights I've been in, the greenrider's choice of partner will whisk them off. I'm not asking to do that for you, for me," does that make sense? "but we'd never talked about it before, so I wasn't sure if you would have wanted me to." One hand comes up to brush through V'ro's hair and trail fingers along his jaw. "I'm glad he was nice." And he is. Probably, he should be jealous? But that's… not really in F'yr's make-up. At least he's looking at V'ro so adoringly? So there's that.

Something falls in V'ro's expression, but he tilts his face toward the touch of F'yr's hand and closes his eyes to avoid it being obvious. "That's not what I want," he'll admit. "For either of us." And he means that. "Anyway, if you're doing whatever you do," cause it's not like they actually talk about that very much. Or at least didn't before V'ro's meltdown. "Then I'm going to do what I do. Okay?"

"Yes." F'yr doesn't hesitate to say that word quite seriously, and then kiss him, again, because he wants to, he needs to. Of course, in the next breath, rather than letting them slide into the wonderful world of making-up-for-the-fact-that-we-didn't-get-hot-dragon-sex-this-time, he asks softly. "Do you want to know what I do? Would that make anything better?"

"I don't know," murmurs V'ro, sounding more than a little pathetic. "Is there anything you want to tell me?" That seems to be what he considers safest just now, for whatever reason. Or maybe he just assumes that since it's not something they've really talked about up to this point, that's just how F'yr prefers it, too.

F'yr thinks about it. While he thinks, his hands are starting to roam on V'ro because that's a very pleasant distraction for his hands and probably for V'ro too. Moments pass and the hands have worked down arms and come to hips and inward to the greenrider's abdomen, hands finding the skin there before he speaks. When he does, it's probably not quite what V'ro was expecting, if V'ro was expecting anything at all.

"When I was little, with all the brothers and sisters and cousins and nieces and nephews all over the place, it was almost impossible to keep something special just for myself. I could hide things, for a while, in a place no one knew about. As soon as someone found out about the hiding place, or the thing that I was hiding there, there was no way to avoid the inevitable. Either destruction or having to share in ways I really hated. Privacy is… was… a very foreign thing for my whole life before coming here. The best way to keep and protect the things that made me the happiest, that I loved the most, was for no one to ever know about them."

His eyes come back up to V'ro's face from where they'd wandered in the weyr. "I think that's why I have a hard time wanting to tell anyone anything about the things that make me happy. Sharing…" His brows knit, "I want the people that make me happy to be with to be happy, if they can be. If they want other people, too, that's… alright. I want them happy." This is central, it seems. "But sharing what's special for me about a special-to-me person is harder to do. Bad habit. I think." Good habit? Habit, at any rate.

"But I love you, V'ro. I trust you. I want you to be happy. If you want me to share things about what I'm doing, I will. I've been trying to figure out how to… I don't know, tell people about you. So things aren't—" This is getting complicated quickly F'yr. "I don't want you hurt because someone else says something casually, not knowing what you mean to me. Or for you to hurt someone else that way."

It's easy enough for V'ro to listen as F'yr starts. Learning more about the man he loves can only be a good thing, after all. Except that as the bronzerider continues, V'ro is silent, and he stays that way for a time after the blond has finished speaking. Eventually his breaths are coming a little faster and he's pushing away to get up and pace in the direction of the ledge. Does F'yr recognize the signs of panic in the flighty greenrider with nowhere to actually run just now? V'ro lifts his arms, folding them over his head the way he knows to do after a sprint, to breathe in as much as his lungs can to calm the burning. It might not be working so great right now. "I don't know if I can do this. I love you, F'yr, so much, but I don't know how to do this. I can't just be some neat little fucking compartmentalized aspect of your life. That you only think about when you're with me. I want to be whatever you need, baby, but I just don't think I can." The greenrider has tears on his cheeks, so that probably doesn't bode well for the amped up adrenaline.

Maybe it's some kind of progress that when V'ro gets up to run that F'yr gets up to follow him, as though, just in case there were somewhere to go after all, he could and would this time prevent it. He's catching V'ro up whether the greenrider is really in favor of it or not (you know, unless it crosses a threshold that F'yr had slowly been learning between 'no' and no). One arm is around V'ro's waist, pulling him against F'yr's slightly larger body. The other is up curling around the greenrider's cheek. "Baby, baby, baby," hold up, slow your roll; there's urgency in his voice, apology. He conveyed something poorly. "I don't just think about you when I'm with you. You're not compartmentalized. That's— I don't want people to not know. That's not it. I'm sorry. I said it wrong." Did he? He tried. Maybe he doesn't know how to say it better.

He looks frustrated, but probably with himself. "I don't know-" he starts and cuts off at a bad place, eyes pinchin shut. "Fuck. I'm fucking this up. Worse. I love you, Khav. I don't know how to explain that I don't love you less because I feel things about other people." And here, he will let V'ro go, if he wants it, because it doesn't seem fair to keep him after that. F'yr's eyes slide closed, slowly, hands falling to his sides. His Adam's apple bobs and he gets out, raggely, "I'm sorry I'm not the right kind of person for what you need." It kind of kills him, really. Hurts on a deep level, but … what is he to do here? Is that the kind of thing that a person even can change? Would he in his heart of hearts be able to live with himself if he tried?

V'ro does not want to be held, as it happens, but his few seconds of struggle seem more flight than fight, and he stills, arms settling against the bronzerider's shoulders, even if he doesn't exactly relax, as F'yr touches his cheek and talks to him. He doesn't leave even when those big arms he loves so much slide away, and he stretches up to kiss F'yr gently on the cheek. "You don't have to explain anything, baby. I thought I could just make myself be okay with it. You've already given me so much more than I deserve. And I love you more than I thought I could ever love someone again. But I can't even do that." Because he's the piece of shit here, dammit. His voice trembles as he continues, bottling up all that panic from a few moments ago, "You're perfect, F'yr. And if you have people who love you the way you need to be loved, you deserve more than me making a fucking mess of it." There are still tears, but maybe if he can hold out a little bit longer, he won't break down until he's alone. "I'm sorry, baby," he murmurs, lip trembling before he bites it back into submission. Fortunately for anyone who doesn't want to talk about this anymore, this is when Koth appears on the ledge with a concerned rumble in to her lifemate, and V'ro is turning away from F'yr to go meet her.

Normally, F'yr wouldn't stop V'ro from going to Koth. Of all people, he deeply understands and appreciates the essential nature of that bond, but maybe this feels like some kind of last chance, an only chance, so he reaches and catches V'ro's wrist, pulls him back around to face him. "Khav," wait, stop, please. "I don't-" He swallows and he doesn't pull V'ro to him, but he steps closer. "I don't even know what parts you're not okay with. All of it? Me? How I am? Because-" And here he struggles for words. Articulating himself has never been F'yr's strong suit and it's no less true now. He looks anguished, eyes holding as yet unshed tears. "Because people don't know about us? Because I sleep with other people? I want you in my life, Khav. I — you're —" WORDS. WHY. "I love you so much, baby. I can't stand that you're hurting, that I'm hurting you, that — Fuck." The words aren't right. They need to be right. Or maybe it's that what's behind the words isn't right? Can't be right? "I don't want you to change for me. I love you." And yet… is there any answer here for them? F'yr probably doesn't see one, but he can't just give up. Not on V'ro.

When F'yr catches his wrist, V'ro simply lets him, because if he allows any of those emotions to get out right now, he might just explode. Those green eyes stay avoidant, looking down, away, though maybe just to hide the pained tension in his face. "I don't want this… us to be over. But I think we need to spend some time apart for awhile. Be able to think a little clearer." Now he's drawing his wrist away, but gently. He won't force it. But he will take a step back. "Okay?"

NO. BUT. The way V'ro won't look at him is what makes F'yr let go. The man, usually so steady, is not now. He trembles, he draws a ragged breath, but he doesn't reach for the greenrider again. His voice holds the tension of the tsunami about to break on him, within him. "Find me at my place when you're ready." He probably knows that effort is doomed, too, an invitation to his sanctuary. He probably knows that V'ro won't come tonight. Or tomorrow. Maybe not this week. The next. Or, he probably fears, ever. But there it is, the standing invitation. He manages to only a stumble a little as he moves out toward the ledge. "Koth, could you ask-" He could have Roderick summon their old classmate's dragon for a rider - familiar, by now, with the fact that Glorioth is better left sleeping when it happens and probably not expecting F'yr's call yet, but they'll come anyway, soon enough.

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