Bo laced their fingers together, leaning in as Everil poured out his failings.
“I wasn’t there.” The words were gentle. Bo was good at gentle. “But if he’d been the partner you needed, I don’t think … Why was it on you to be what he wanted? It doesn’t sound like a mutual thing.”
Everil relaxed into Bo’s touch and too-kind words. The man’s questions came at a slant. He tried, always, to place Everil in the right, when anyone who knew Faerie would see that it was otherwise.
“Those who matter in Faerie possess two qualities. Power and respectability. I have the former but lack the latter. MyHouselacks the latter, despite efforts to address the issue.” To birth a nereid instead of a kelpie. “The House is very old, but it is more idea thanfact. No vassals, now. But we still had a Gate to care for. We have sheltered Talia’s every incarnation since the first. And I am my House’s only heir. To fulfill my duties, to act as guardian as my House is sworn to be, I required a bond. But I am … ill-suited to bonding.”
“Not in my experience,” Bo murmured, and Everil almost smiled.
“Nimai was my one chance. Better still, he’s very well liked. There are few fae so respectable as brownies. His soul is also more amenable to bonding than my own. He was my only option, but I was not his.” He had heard, often, about Nimai’s other potentials. How respectable and pleasant they were. How much Nimai had given up to be with Everil. “My family agreed to much to convince him to accept me. Nimai is ambitious, and he required me to be … better. Acceptable. It was never mutual, as you put it. That wasn’t the oath. He agreed to an undesirable bond, and I agreed to become what he desired.”
Bo’s grip tightened, and it felt so very good.
“That sounds miserable, Ever. Fuck. I’d go out of my goddamn mind with all that on me. With someone only agreeing to be with me if I became someone else. Turn around? I need a hug while I try to process all that fuckery.”
Everil turned, reaching hesitantly to brush his fingers up Bo’s back until he could rest his hand lightly at the nape of the man’s neck. He did no more, no pressure or expectation. But he let his hand linger and hoped that if it wasn’t enough, Bo would tell him what was.
Bo was safe, that way. He never hesitated to show Everil where the path was.
“Not everyone is meant to be happy,” Everil murmured, his voice finally settling back into its usual gentle calm. “It wouldn’t have been any great sacrifice for someone … better. But I could never read him well, even through our bond. I did try.” A soft note of pleading entered his tone. He had told Nimai so often that he wastrying. “But I’m not clever with people, the way he and Declan are.”
Bo’s hand covered his. Gentle pressure, until Everil held him more surely. It almost drew a whimper from him, Bo’s impossible kindness. Being permitted–encouraged–to touch.
“I know you tried.” Bo found his other hand then, tugging softly until Everil settled it at the small of Bo’s back. “A lot of people aren’t good with reading others. And the practiced politic sorts are fucking tough to get a handle on, even if you are. It’s not fair, playing a guessing game like that. Does a fucking number.”
“It’s always the wrong guess,” Everil murmured. “I always made the wrong guess. And still, he loved me. Loves me. That’s always been a sticking point between us. That he stooped to loving me, but I never rose to pleasing him.”
Bo wrapped his arm around Everil’s shoulders, tangling his fingers in still-damp hair. Steady, unspoken direction, guiding Everil to his shoulder. Allowing him this. To breathe him in, vanilla and honey and skin.
“I know what it’s like to need to throw your everything into being something else because someone loves you, and you want them to like you, too. It’s fucking work, all for someone who doesn’t need to work back. Whatever the reason.”
There was old pain in Bo’s words. When he spoke of knowing, it wasn’t merely a nicety. Everil would very much like to meet his parents on a riverbank, someday.
“You deserved better. Bo, I–” Everil cut himself off. He needed to say this correctly. To not turn an attempt at explanation into a plea for further reassurance. Bo was so very kind. “Please, try to listen for your sake instead of mine. I’m ill-suited to a partnership. Experience has taught me that. I struggle with what is required. Intuition. Selflessness. Loyalty. And I know I have already disappointed you greatly, with Nimai. I cannot even offer reassurances of better behavior. I wish it were otherwise, but I cannot.”
This was too difficult. Everil pressed harder into Bo’s shoulder, weak with the need of that comfort.
“The name thing got to me,” Bo answered. “You called Talia out on it before, and I figured that’d keep up. But I’m not disappointed. I– Fuck, right. Look, how he treats you, how you act with him, smacks of abuse from where I stand. I know fae aren’t humans and get from what you’re saying that he’s not in the wrong to you or them. But there’s a huge fucking power imbalance. Which Iget,you agreed to things being a certain way. Doesn’t make it any less fucked to me, how he used it against you. Human views. Not yours or his or other fae views.”
Human views. Bo’s generous, patient, undeserved support. And Bo’s hands, holding him close and closer. Later, perhaps he could offer further apologies or explanations. Reassure Bo on the subject of ‘abuse.’ Nimai had never done him injury. Had hurt him, yes. Taken pleasure in hurting him. But never laid a hand on him in anger. Even if he’d wished to, the oath prevented it.
“Thank you for explaining it. I forget, sometimes, that humans see things differently. Bo, I’m terribly fond of you. I know I responded poorly at the start. I was afraid for you and for myself.” In truth, Everil was still afraid. “I mislike that the ‘work’ of this–of what’s between us–falls to you. If I can, somehow, ameliorate the circumstance you’ve found yourself in, you need only ask. Whatever you wish of me, I will attempt.”
“I’m pretty fucking fond of you too, you know.” Bo’s words came on a sigh. “We’ve both got our work to do. There’s a few things that’d help me. I promise they aren’t ‘be what I desire.’ You already are. Okay?”
Everil traced his thumb down the side of Bo’s neck. Found the place where his pulse beat and left it there.
“Your kelpie,” he offered, voice half-muffled by Bo’s closeness and his own shy hesitation.
“Fuck yeah, my kelpie. Your Bo, too.” Bo pulled him closer. Squeezed and held on.
“My sweet Bo,” he said and breathed in honey and citrus and safety. “Tell me how I might help. Please?”
“First, I don’t want to be the reason the Council decides to yank out your tongue or eyes or what-the-fuck ever. When I ask shit, you being specific, like with the oathsworn-not-just-aversion thing helps me a stupid amount.” Bo tugged lightly at Everil’s hair as he spoke, the gesture warm and affectionate. “Rather than just saying I’m not safe with you. I don’t know how fae society works. Explaining things like I’m a dumb human baby is welcome.”
“I fear I don’t have any puppets at hand,” Everil answered, with hesitant humor. “But I will endeavor to be more direct.”
“That’s all I’m asking.” And Bo’s fingers continued, all soft, reassuring touches that chased the tightness from Everil’s shoulders, allowed him to hold on tighter, nuzzle in closer.
