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There was a time when Lillium considered Iris's endless kindness another form of naivety. He'd said it to Iris's face, too: people like him were always the first to die. He didn't know when he started to believe that maybe there was a place for Iris's kindness in this world after all. Kindness was such a fragile, fragile thing--but maybe Lillium could protect it. Protect him.
Lillium didn't think he could ever forget the way his blood turned to ice when he heard Iris say that killing his own mother was the right thing to do. He'd been a fool not to see it coming, to not see the guilt Iris was slowly suffocating under for so long. A fool for thinking he could shield Iris from the very anger that ran deep in his own veins.
He shouldn't have stopped Iris the way he did. Maybe he shouldn't have stopped him at all. A petulant part of him wanted to cry that it wasn't fair--that Iris had always stopped Lillium from killing but Lillium couldn't do the same for him.
But it was more than that--he'd taken Iris for granted. His company, his kind words, his help, his care--Lillium hadn't returned it properly. Lillium turned his whole life upside down for Iris, but Iris had no way to know that. He didn't know Lillium hadn't willingly helped anyone for years without asking for a fat stack of cash in exchange. He didn't know that Lillium didn't just let people into his home, that Lillium didn't smile at anyone like he smiled at Iris. All Iris got from Lillium was a dismissive joke for his 'but I trust you' and rejection for his 'you're my home, let me help you'. Lillium had been a coward, too timorous to acknowledge how much he cared, and this was the price.
Lillium wanted to shield Iris from everything that could ever hurt him. Iris was strong and capable and he never ceased to astound Lillium with his cleverness, but it was hard for Lillium to look at him sometimes and not think about just how fragile he seems. Sometimes he just seemed so... small. Just the perfect size for Lillium to hold, whispered a traitorous voice in his head--a voice that'd kept getting louder the longer they lived together, accompanying a desire to curl himself protectively around Iris and keep him there in his arms forever. It was wrong of him; he knew that. Iris didn't want another cage. Yet no matter how many times he tried to stamp the feeling down, it always found its way back.
He didn't want to suffocate Iris. He didn't want to control Iris. Above all, he didn't want to hurt Iris--yet now it seemed he'd gone and done all three. Lillium would accept Iris's hatred in exchange for preserving his humanity, but he thought he might just die if he had to accept Iris resigning himself to being a weapon along with this well-earned hatred. He was starting to wonder how the hell he ever even survived before he met Iris. It'd been weeks since Iris last came home, but still everyday Lillium made enough food for two. The RV was disturbingly quiet without him--even at night, Lillium keenly felt the absence of hearing Iris toss and turn. Horrifically, he even missed hearing Iris's sudden gasps and inchoate half-screams that announced his waking from yet another nightmare. Lillium wondered if his nightmares were even worse now, after everything that Iris saw and experienced that night. He wondered if there was anyone at all around to hear Iris's struggle to sleep every night, or if it was lost deep in that cold, unfeeling mansion.
Lillium had taken to sleeping in his bed again, his real bed that Iris had been occupying for months--it still smelled faintly of him. It was late at night when he awoke suddenly in the darkness of his bedroom. For a moment he listened warily, breath bated, not knowing what had startled him awake. At first there was nothing, then he heard a few footsteps followed by a thump and a string of muttered curses. His heart leapt into his throat at the familiar voice, and he scrambled to get out of bed.
He met Iris in the small living area. So much relief entered his system just seeing Iris back home again, he felt he could collapse. Their eyes met and he opened his mouth to say something, but Iris beat him to it.
"Lillium," Iris said slowly. He looked strangely relaxed, as if the tension that'd come between them for weeks had ceased to exist.
Lillium furrowed his brows. Something was off. "Iris, are you okay?"
"Hmm..." Iris swayed in place as he seriously contemplated this question. "I don' know," he said eventually, voice awkward and slurred.
"You... are you drunk?" Lillium asked, dread settling into the pit of his stomach.
"Yeahhhh," Iris giggled. "I made a breakthrough on the thingy, an' Heather said I should relax an' celebrate..." he slurred. "I don' think she meant get drunk, but I was kinda sick of everything an' I thought, fuck it." Iris crossed the space between them, stumbling a little, and slapped a hand onto Lillium's chest, who startled. "But I'm still mad at you!" he declared. "You... an' everything... an' whatever..." he trailed off, leaning his forehead onto Lillium's shoulder and slumping against him.
Lillium didn't know what to say. He'd never dealt with Iris drunk before, though he'd certainly been doing a lot of his own drinking these days. He'd been glad to see Iris back home, but now he just felt cold. "I missed you," Iris mumbled without raising his head. Lillium's breath hitched.
"I... missed you too, Iris. I missed you a lot," he whispered, throat tight.
"Oh..." Iris said, as if he hadn't expected this response.
Silence fell between them, and for a while all Lillium could hear was the clock ticking on the wall and his own pulse in his ears. "You should sleep," he said eventually when Iris started to slump more of his weight onto him, clearly exhausted.
"Uh-huh..." Iris muttered. He pushed off of Lillium and stumbled towards the bedroom, Lillium following beside him with hands outstretched awkwardly to catch him lest he fall. Iris all but collapsed into the bed when he reached it, not bothering to take off any of his clothing. With a pang to his chest, Lillium remembered the first time they met, and how Iris had freaked out when Lillium sat on his bed with his dirty outside clothes. Iris sighed contentedly as he snuggled into the covers. "Mmm... it smells like you," he mumbled into the pillow, eyes closed.
Lillium swallowed, chest tightening. "Good night, Iris," he said quietly.
"Mm. G'night."
For the first time in weeks, Lillium rolled out his bedding in the loft, and as he closed his eyes all he thought of was how desperately he hoped Iris would still be there when he awoke.