Work Text:
Dorian
The fireworks started before the sun had gone down, bursting over the city in rampant showers of color and booming far and wide across the country. They clattered ram shod over the bells that sang from the High Chantry at sunset.
Listen to the fireworks, Rilienus had said. Listen . He’d never thought to. In fact, he’d gone so far as to invest in exceptional noise cancelling headphones specifically to not listen to them at various points during the year. One watched fireworks. Admired the flashing lights and patterns, then tutted over the smoke that billowed across the sky as a result of the crackling and fizzling chemical reactions.
Not for the first time in their acquaintance, Dorian caught himself gazing at Rilienus’ profile, realizing he’d forgotten to breathe at some point. What a marvel he was. What a spectacular, intricate mind hiding inside such a wonderfully sensual form. His whole body was built to be kissed and touched, responsive to the smallest stimuli of breezes or touches, but his sensitivity didn’t end there. Light and sound and the texture of food and the scent of varying trees and even the different kinds of cement that were used in different parts of the city. Dorian had never noticed those details; he’d wandered blithely ignorant through a world that was utterly beset with the fantastical elements that fed Rilienus’ psyche day in and out.
“You’re staring again.”
“Sorry about that,” Dorian laughed, because what else could he do? How could he explain that Rilienus’ existence sometimes brought him to tears? It was such a strange feeling, being so grateful that this one person existed in the world. Never mind that he existed in close proximity, that he liked Dorian and shared all those wonderful parts of himself with him. Just that he was.
“You can stare at me whenever you like,” Rilienus chuckled, giving him a sly smirk, crossing his ankles below the park bench and uncrossing them again. “How often do they bathe Val Royeaux in booming sound and sparkling color, the sun catching on the waves in the harbor and turning everything caramel?”
“Like this? Let’s see- there’s Empire day. There’s Satinalia. And the night before First Day.” He quirked a brow. “You’ve been to Empire day in Val Royeaux before, haven’t you?”
“Yes, but they’re always a little different,” Rilienus nudged him with his shoulder. “Last year everything was more silver and the year before that wasn’t nearly percussive enough.” He stretched his arms over his head, sighing. “This one is nice. The colors over the water match the sounds and the weather. A more thorough harmony.”
Gods, what must it be like to look out on the world with those eyes and hear it with his gentle, edible ears? “Yes. This one is nice.” Dorian leaned back, peering up at the sky. “The caramel is nice.”
“It matches you, too,” Rilienus added, almost too quietly for him to hear. “Gilded light at dawn and before dusk.”
Like breathing champagne. Like licking the bowl clean after Rilienus had made his spiced pudding. Dorian flexed his hands together, his heart pounding in time to the bursting displays above them. Percussive. He took a breath. “Should we open the wine? Do you think anything can really compare to those jewels we had at the cookout?”
“Kaffas, I hope so,” Rilienus laughed, reaching into his bag to pull out the bottle and a corkscrew. “It’s not at the right temperature, but at least we have proper glasses.” He passed Dorian a glass and peeled off the top of the label from the bottle. “It’s though they were trying to mock us. Do they think the faculty wouldn’t notice?”
“Well,” Dorian considered. “There are those who come prepared. Hennessy in World Religions always comes to these things with a snifter in a velvet bag. But he also wears housecoats in the daylight, so…” He shrugged. “I understand it. It’s less work for the organizers. And they only just agreed to get recyclable cups.” He chuckled. “It does make you feel rather like a drunk, though, drinking cheap facsimiles of wine out of cups meant for playing beer pong-” He jolted as a particularly massive explosion of yellow boomed over their heads. “Is this one percussive enough?”
“Absolutely,” Rilienus grinned sharply, dragging the cork from the bottle with a soft pop. “A nice range. Sets your teeth on edge. A visceral experience.” He poured a sip of wine into Dorian’s glass. “Is the vintage to your liking, my dear sir?”
Dorian tilted the glass, lifting it to watch the fireworks sizzle through the liquid. He sniffed. He sipped. He couldn’t have said, if pressed, what the scent was, nor the particular notes, nor whether it was objectively a particularly eventful wine. He could have described in detail the way Rilienus’ eyes crinkled in amusement and the way his lips curved just so - from smile to smirk to sideways sweetness like the setting sun. “Delectable,” he murmured, meaning it, and held his glass out for more. “Perfectly uncarbonated. Thank you. I hope you’ll find it pleasing as well.”
“What a relief,” Rilienus hummed, splashing more wine into Dorian’s glass before filling his own, sipping and sighing. “Ah, yes. All is once again as it should be.”
“It is.” Dorian tapped his glass to Rilienus’ lightly. “Good wine and good company.” He took a deep breath, letting his second sip linger on his tongue. “‘Drink to me only with thine eyes, and I will pledge with mine; or leave a kiss but in the cup, and I’ll not look for wine.’”
Rilienus exhaled softly beside him, low and shaky. “I haven’t heard that one before. It’s-“ His eyes glittered with the reflection of exploding, sparkling stars. “Apt. I like it. It’s-“ He hummed a little tune, joyful, but with a hint of longing. “It’s right, too.”
“Is it?” Dorian ducked his head, grinning foolishly. “I was afraid it might be too on the nose.”
“Sometimes on the nose suits quite well,” Rilienus chuckled, sipping from his glass. His fingers tapped out a rhythm on the seat of the bench between them. “I can say it now: I’m officially glad I joined you this afternoon. I’m not certain how you managed to make such an event palatable, let alone somewhat enjoyable.”
“Ah.” Dorian could feel his joy in his toes. “Hypnotism and drugs, mostly.”
“Is that it?” Rilienus lifted a brow. “You’ve drugged me? Hypnotized me to feel delight at the sound of your voice?”
At the sound of his voice-The warmth rushed up from his toes to vibrate through his chest at the next collection of fireworks. “Reciprocal hypnotism. Very tricky.”
“Reciprocal?” Rilienus tutted. “No, no. I worked very hard to make you delight in me. Have you already forgotten this morning?” He turned, smirking. “Will you need a reminder when we return to walls and ceilings?”
“This morning,” he hummed, hiding his grin behind his glass. “This morning. Nnn… no. Not ringing any bells. All I remember is a kaleidoscope of light and sound and percussion… Perhaps the fireworks began early.”
“That they did,” Rilienus snorted. There were people about, but it was too dark to make out their features, save for the quick flashes of light that illuminated them all briefly before fading again. A little hilltop in the park full of benches, families and couples, but they were easy to forget with Rilienus beside him. “Alright, then, it seems we need a repeat in order to leave a more lasting impression.”
“It seems we do.” Dorian shut his eyes, listening to the sounds of the booms in the distance, the cracks and fizzles, the oohs and aahs from others, all eyes on a sky full of wonders. He dropped his fingers towards the tapping on the bench, letting his hand rest in the path of the percussion as he listened to the Orlesian anthem bellow from a barge on the sea. “I’ve never really listened to them before,” he sighed. “Without the lights, they almost sound sad.”
Rilienus’ fingers stopped moving as soon as they contacted Dorian’s. There was a moment of hesitation that dragged on for an eternity, before finally Rilienus exhaled and set his hand on top of Dorian’s, stroking the side of Dorian’s hand with his thumb. “It does sound a bit melancholy, doesn’t it?” His voice was nearly drowned out by the crashing explosions. “The way the echoes fade away… There are some old symphonies that have cannons written into their scores. This is one such, actually, though the fireworks aren’t keeping a very good tempo.”
Dorian blinked rapidly, staring down to where Rilienus touched his fingers. Tempo? Tempo? His heart was racing like a track full of horses. A glancing touch, he’d thought. Something to stem the tide, to fill the space between them. His eyes burned with unshed tears. He looked up, finding eyes that were the color of wondrous poppies in a field of verdant growth. “Ril,” he whispered, helpless. “I love you.”
Rilienus closed his eyes, pressing his lips together, silent among the applause and clatter as the finale began. Exhaled slow, deep, painstaking breaths, but he kept holding Dorian’s hand, feather-light touches keeping time to the crash of symbols over the loudspeaker.
He didn’t open them again until the fireworks stilled, smoke filling the night air, crowds of people shifting, beginning to mill about the gardens of the park, on their way back to their merry little lives.
Rilienus still held his hand, only the pulse over his fingers, the twitch of his thumb, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest signaling that he was more than a statue carved to sit upon the bench ad infinitum.
And when the echoes of voices drifted into the evening, dissipated like the lights and smoke, did Rilienus meet his gaze and with the barest of breaths whisper, “I love you, too.”
Dorian smiled, catching a fallen tear from his lips with his tongue, his bated breath returning in a rush that left him light-headed. “They were good this year, I think,” he murmured, hearing his pulse in his voice. “Better than I’ve seen. Definitely better than I’ve heard.”
“The best I’ve had the privilege to enjoy,” Rilienus whispered, squeezing his fingers. “Dorian?”
“Hm?”
Rilienus smiled slightly, his eyes fractal emeralds. “You’ve something on your cheek.”
Dorian barked a laugh. “You’re a menace; do you know that?”
“I do,” Rilienus glanced down at their hands. “And yet you’re still here. Wonder of wonders.”
“We were having a nice confounding, miraculous moment, you realize.”
“Can’t possibly have one of those with your lines marred,” Rilienus hummed. He reached up to brush away the drops that caught in Dorian’s skin, smiling as he poured them each another glass of wine and taking his hand again, the only sounds those of lapping water, distant traffic, and evening songbirds. “I do so appreciate your symmetry. Almost as much as I enjoy being the one to set it askew.”
Dorian sniffed back a renewed set of happy tears, memorizing every angle of his face and the way his eyes caught the smoked starlight. “Am I suitably symmetrical to your tastes?” he asked, sipping from his glass to clear the clog from his throat.
“I’m not sure there is a single part of you that isn’t to my taste, Dorian,” Rilienus admitted quietly, cradling his wine. “It’s rather mortifying, that realization.”
“Mortifying?” he repeated softly. “I find the experience rather vivifying.”
“Mortifying thing, living,” Rilienus raised his brows. “Being seen. It takes a bit of adjustment.”
Adjustment. Dorian studied him curiously, thinking of the panic attacks that had plagued him well after he’d made his way to Val Royeaux and the stuttering nerves blended with revelation he felt each time he touched Rilienus in even the most innocuous ways in the daylight. And now it was dark and there was the scent of burned revelry in the air and the lap of the sea against the harbor… and Rilienus was holding his hand. Not in sunlight, but moon and starlight, without walls and ceiling to protect them. High diving. Free falling. Dorian carefully turned his hand, tangling their fingers together; palm to palm. “It is,” he agreed quietly. “I’m very glad to be seen by you.”
He felt a subtle shiver go up Rilienus’ arm as he squeezed his hand lightly. “Likewise,” Rilienus breathed, closing his eyes again. “If I’m to be seen by anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”
“Thank you,” Dorian murmured, watching his exhales puff against his scruff. “For allowing me to. For today. For taking my hand.”
“Thank you,” Rilienus stared out over the harbor, the smallest hint of a smile curling his lips, “for helping me realize I could.”