nyantry

[nyantry]

To leave now, after everything, especially now, was not an option. It was unthinkable. He had decided he would rather die, forever, to burn in hell, than to leave again. Once had been torturous enough for the both of them.

Nico's deep blue note, endless like the ocean and dark, darker than nighttime, was beckoning. It slowly crept through Dmitry's mind, through his heart, through his very soul, swallowing everything it met in the way and replacing it with blue, with shadow, with drowning depth. It scared him a little that he found it so comforting. He had known too much of that blue during their time apart. It reminded him somehow of swimming in Nico's soul, just the two of them, together.

But Nova's words cut right through everything like a razor — exact, unrelenting. Because you were weak. He had the strength to bite his tongue and not let loose something he'd regret saying, but the words stung white hot. He could accept being called weak for other reasons, surely there were many, but not for this; not for needing time after what Murmur had done and the way Nico still made excuses for the demon. The difference was Dmitry had decided it would only be worse to be away from Nico forever than to have to swallow the bitter Murmur pill. Nova was right, Nico needed him. He could not leave.

And Nico had waited.

All that time, Nico had waited. He had not dragged Dmitry back even though it was in his power to do so. He had not forced his presence nor refused Dmitry what he had asked for. Nico had waited and allowed Dmitry to return in his own time, and that was proof enough. If anyone understood him, it was Nico.

Dmitry hadn't meant the words as a threat, so much as an admission that he'd felt there had been no other choice but to leave, and that this was why he had. The way Nova massacred the tomato, though, definitely felt like a threat — a warning, at minimum. He chose to take it as the former.

He sat, on the couch this time. He had no interest in hovering at the kitchen, feeling it would only draw Nova's attention to him further. Sure, he didn't like not knowing exactly what went into the food he was meant to eat, but he didn't like to be analyzed about it either. Nico observing and analyzing was fine, it was Nico. It felt like a love language, like somehow it was the way that Nico could approach the topic without necessarily asking outright. Dmitry was aware, too, that Nico liked to play tricks on him, to screw up counts or hide ingredients and see if Dmitry would notice. He sometimes noticed, other times not so much. But Nova? It felt like Nova would only tally-mark it into the Reasons Dmitry Sucks column, and he didn't want that any more than absolutely necessary; not today. He'd made up his mind earlier to sit with them both and at least try whatever was put on his plate, maybe subtly offer Nico whatever he didn't eat. Now, he was deadset on it. It would have been rude to not try.

But he also couldn't bear to have Nico upset for long, and he didn't want to keep the environment so dark, so heavy with emotion. A thought occurred to him and he offered Nico a sort of joke over the prayer wave: "Remind me not to get between Ms. Lovett's cleaver and the chopping board. Don't wanna be ground up into a sausage or something." He tried not to laugh, fully aware Nova had no idea what he'd just told Nico, and attempted to dissimulate by burying Lisbeth in kisses all over.

@nyantry

Loud showed fear and lack of confidence, the tactic of lack of resolve, or rushing emotions. Her feelings were completely thorough, and she had no reason to rush this. She was competent enough to see the end before Dmitry ever tried to convey it.

He was staying whether she liked it or not.

Her son was still connected to him physically and by a willing mutual bond whether she liked it or not.

He might have been a grown man, but she knew her limits, and saw him more as the teenager that was going to see this rebellion through. Deeper down she knew it wasn't a rebellion, but her dislike of the whole situation made it feel like one.

She made peace with the situation when she first met Dmitry. It was all fresh and easier to trust when her son broke her out of the hospital. Trust was broken and for a person who trusted no one as a constant Mulder state of mind that initial wave of grace was simply gone.

What she was left with was stone cold resignation. It was knowing she had no real choice if she wanted to be in her son's life, which she did.

She heard Dmitry's words and took them at face value. It wasn't that he didn't care what she thought, it was that he didn't believe she'd forgive him.

He wasn't wrong.

She respected his answer more than she expected to. Her body language remained stiff anyhow. She wanted a relaxing Sunday, and she didn't feel relaxed anymore. She wondered if she ever would again now that he was back.

She stayed quiet when Dmitry went on to explain he owed her for everything. They both were watching Nico's expressions.

He looked so outside himself.

He was stuck in a place he didn't want to be, and it wasn't this conversation. It was a blue note so blue he couldn't even see, the one he existed in while Dmitry was gone. It was a place of shameful remorse trying to figure out what was wrong with him. He didn't want to feel that, but it was there threatening to swallow him whole as the reminders were all spoken into existence again.

Fucking-A.

Nova could see it.

This wasn't good for him.

God damn.

It made the moment infuriate her more because what's a mother always have to do? They take it. They always have to take the licks for their children and suck it up when everything is so wrong. They have to keep their mouths shut when they want to scream. They have to give their rations when their children are hungry no matter how empty their own stomachs. They're the embodiments of The Giving Tree in human shapes. People often miss all they deplete themselves of. She just spent the last few years getting to know her son again and she knew him too well now not to know it was time to back off or she'd be harming more than helping even if she felt her own soul was being violated by all this and Dmitry owed her more.

Dmitry offered to tell her everything.

It was a tempting offer, but her mind was on her son. She watched the way they looked at each other. She didn't know they were communicating, but it was clear they had a vibe. She took it as two people trying to convey something through each other's eyes wishing they could speak and being unable to because she was there. It was their special bond she knew she couldn't break much less touch.

All she could think was how much she hated God and hated the devil right then because she could turn to neither to fix this. Dmitry didn't even know how much Murmur was already in the picture since he last left... or maybe he did? What did she know? She was a mother and that's what she'd have to be no matter how old her son became. She handled what was thrown her way and since then it was Murmur in her life again.

She sighed.

"Don't bother. I already know why enough. It's because you were weak."

All she could think was mothers don't get the choice to walk away from their children's problems. A mother never stops even when it sucks no matter how weak they feel, even as it breaks them. Nova marched on broken. How lucky for partners to believe themselves so privy to have a choice. No good mother could.

As the words came out of her mouth Nico was on the prayer wave being clingy not wanting to leave.

"Do we have to?"

Then he realized what came out of his mother's mouth and said, "I love you, Mom." He was just glad she didn't want to rehash it all. He didn't like she put Dmitry down but felt relieved enough.

She sighed again, rolled her eyes, pushed his bangs out of his face, and kissed the top of his head before picking up the grocery bag again, and then finally walked it all the way over to the table. She began to unpack the noodles and other ingredients to make fresh sauce for homemade pasta.

The words Dmitry spoke about not having to leave kept ringing in her head. She'd yet to say a word. She pulled a knife and cutting board from a drawer. It felt like a threat; one she found laughable. What a warning. He was threatening her with staying when all she wanted was him to follow through and not be a cop out son of a bitch again abandoning her son. It wasn't much of a threat.

She put on an apron. She washed a tomato.

Nico watched her like she was the everything Dmitry described despite his pain and confusion in the moment. Maybe Eric Draven was right. "Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children" He wanted her to stop and magically she knew it was time to slow her roll.

Still, as she made the first chop to the red fruit she looked at Dmitry who'd just said he didn't have to leave and said, "You better not." Then she unnecessarily changed knives and hit the tomato with a clever.

[nyantry]

He relaxed a little once he realized Nova wasn't screaming at him. He hadn't even been consciously aware he had been expecting the screaming, nor that he'd been silently bargaining to avoid it. It was just the way things were, just what he was used to doing (except with Nico, of course). Dmitry couldn't quite process that Nova really was that angry and hurt but wasn't screaming at him. He decided he could handle ice. He could live with stern talking-to. It didn't have to be yelling, and he was silently grateful for that.

As Nova spoke, Dmitry felt Nico come closer. He instinctively closed the gap between them, even though he still was not quite comfortable enough to let his guard down entirely. With every word Nova spoke, though, he felt the emotions growing just under the surface, threatening to burst through the carefully constructed wall he was trying to keep put together with duct tape and wishful thinking.

It wasn't just the fact that he had hurt Nova and Nico, but that he had to explain to her everything anyway and possibly tear open wounds that were still raw, still bloody. With the comment about the heart, he felt Nico's hurt mirroring his own —because he had hurt himself, too, in the process— and he felt the weight of regret in his gut choking up whatever words he had been trying to string together all week. He hadn't intended ti steal Nico... And yet, he had. Nico's reminder that he, too, had kept Dmitry's heart was comforting, even if overshadowed by everything else.

Eventually, fighting the threat of crying from the sheer amount of emotions, he managed to speak.

"It's not that I don't care. I want you to forgive me. I want you to believe me, too. It does matter to me. It's just... I don't expect you to. It's not like there's anything I can really say that will make it fair to either of you, there's nothing that wouldn't sound stupid or selfish or... Whatever else. You're right, it was shit, and so it's fine if you don't believe me because even though I wish you did, I don't deserve even that. I'd like to have the chance to explain, and I hope... If anything, I hope you can try to understand. But I don't expect you to forgive me."

He glanced at Nico briefly before stepping closer to Nova, not to threaten her, but in an attempt to convey that he meant what he was saying and that he was trusting her with the ways the whole situation made him feel vulnerable and exposed.

He spoke more quietly now that he was closer. "You were here for Nico, and for that I owe you everything." He glanced at Nico, briefly taking in his partner's expression.

"Everything." He repeated, making sure Nico caught that. Then he looked to Nova again and continued, measuring his words carefully. "I assume you want to know why I left like that. Go ahead, you can ask me. I'll tell you everything. I don't intend to keep it from you. Though..." he trailed off, turning towards Nico again.

"I could talk to her alone, if you want. I don't want to make you go over the same conversation all over again, there's no point in that," he said to him, once again via their secret radio. "Up to you."

He fully realized there was a risk he was taking if Nico chose to opt out. He was essentially backing himself into a very uncomfortable corner, the likes of which he normally avoided entirely if he could. Without Nico around, he'd have no shield of any kind: just himself and Nova. On the other hand, he really did not want to remind Nico about the Murmur ordeal, and he especially did not want to put doubt back into Nico's mind. Dmitry had promised he'd never leave like that again. It was of no use to remind Nico why he had... But Nova needed to understand.

"I'll tell you this right now though," he said to Nova. "You know your son, and you know how he loves me and cares for me. I came back and I'm staying because he's who you raised him to be. As long as that's true, and you know it always will be, I don't have to leave."

[ @iconoclast-infidels ]

"Yeah, Marnie. That's her. It's been a while since I've run into her."

It made him wonder if she had a relapse. It was this subject that she and Nico sort of bonded, but he didn't say his thoughts out loud.

As for dinner Nico knew. It was why he asked. He could see little tells of Dmitry's distraction too. It was in his pauses, his extra thinking time before responding. He was getting back into the swing of attempting to be courteous about that stuff while trying not to deprive himself in the middle of it.

Nico heard that crayon snap. To his sensitive ears it felt like a bomb going off in his head so stark in the silence of the room.

Well shit.

Jovan fading away only amplified this quietness. The air in the room suddenly felt thick and heated.

Maybe it was because Nico saw red and being talked about like some sort of invalid that couldn't manage himself.

The feeling of Dmitry's hand on his shoulder allowed him to breathe. He doubted himself and wondered if he really gave off that vibe. His mind began flashing back to all his days in bed that his mother sat next to him when it all first happened. He suddenly felt squeamish. He felt ashamed.

Then he heard his partner's voice in their private prayer channel. He wasn't the only one Dmitry hurt? Nico hadn't thought of it that way. He was pretty focused on himself. It was his relationship after all, but family was family. You hurt one, you hurt them all. He understood that much. His jaw locked in some attempt to not put his foot in his mouth and disrespect his mother. It was still in his nature to stick up for himself and for Dmitry.

Nova looked down at the messy haired boy and could only see the mess he'd left her son in while daring to think a simple sorry with little to no explanation at all was good enough. Just because no one would want to hear excuses didn't mean she wasn't like every other parent on the planet that wanted to hear more out of an apology so they could see the consequences of their actions were learned from and understood. I'm sorries only went so far if there was no change in behavior. She might not have been a typical momma, but in this she was just the same as any other. She wanted accountability.

"Is it now? Is it fine by you if I don't believe that?"

The glare.

"You sir, have a lot to prove. Strike one. Not giving a shit what I think. You're not off to a good start."

Oh, she had more to say, and Nico squeezed up to Dmitry's side as she continued.

"You should be thanking your lucky stars for all I've done in your absence. I've been doing my job as a mother AND filled in for yours as a partner."

"Mom." Nico was embarrassed at being outed trying to stop her before she went on with how bad it got for him.

No, she wasn't yelling, but her voice was stern to the ice-cold degree.

"Yeah, you're here. Woopty doo. You were here before. Unlike me you weren't drug away fighting tooth and nail to stay. You walked off on your own accord."

She sat the bag down and crossed her arms.

"Why should I believe, it won't happen again? Nico can be hopeful all he wants in his desperation, but I'm not the one in love with you. I sure as Hell ain't codependent either. You broke trust. I don't like liars."

She balled up her fist and her voice lowered right as it had been gaining steam because this one came out more hurt than angry. It hurt so much that anyone could steal a piece of him like it were nothing more than petty theft. Just take the goods and run, but to her this was Grand Theft Nico.

"You broke trust with his heart in your chest. You stole his heart... literally."

Nico put his spare hand on his own chest. Damn. When she put it that way-

"I still had him too." His voice cracked though. It was rubbing salt in the wounds to relive it and hear his old feelings so outspoken by her. A mother's love was fierce. She was too articulate for his feelings' own good. Nico just wanted to move on. He just wanted to focus on the joy he felt when Dmitry actually showed up. He tried to hold onto that.

@nyantry

[nyantry]

It was finally Sunday.

Nico had told him about the Sunday visits with Nova and Dmitry had listened carefully, making note of the way Nico spoke about it. It was only now that Nico had mentioned it was dinner, though. That, of course, had a creaky wheel spinning at the back of his mind now. Had he known he'd have budgeted for it, or maybe skipped— But he reminded himself, Nico was not judging, and Nova knew, and this was his house with his husband. Their home together. Yes, and the sanctity of it could not be destroyed.

But on his features, the split-second of focus on the dinner aspect was quickly replaced by a silly grin. "Marnie? Yeah, I remember her," he nodded. He also remembered the times he himself had conveyed biblical stories to Nico, veiled in wordplay and metaphored to death, always careful to change things, to obscure ideas just enough that it would not be painful for the halfling to hear. Sometimes it was easier than others. Sometimes, he flat-out failed, though never out of negligence. And when absolutely necessary, he'd give Nico a warning, let him know that he had to share but that it would be unpleasant. He was careful to avoid that as much as possible, though.

He liked that Nova did that too. Of course she did, it made sense.

Dmitry had found himself sitting on the floor again, neglecting the more obvious choice of chair or sofa as usual. He had a box of crayons whose contents were strewn about the floor in front of him, and a large sketchbook open to a page where he was idly doodling colors.

Was he nervous? "Kinda." He picked up a dark blue crayon and pressed it into the paper as he dragged, hardlining abstract shapes. He'd really meant Yes, very, but he would never admit that out loud. It didn't matter. Nico knew.

He saw Jovan fade away as Nova came into the house.

Dmitry looked up from his crayon art, meeting Nova's gaze as she paused. She had a way, he realized, to pierce the soul while remaining collected. Nova was not happy, and Dmitry could tell clear as day.

The blue crayon snapped in his hand, surprising him. He had not realized he had been gripping it that hard. Oops.

He picked himself up from the ground, scarce looking away from her. Then he walked up to Nico, placed a hand on the halfling's shoulder and gently nudged him to step aside. "It's fine." Then, just to Nico, with their private prayer wave, "Let her be angry, it wasn't just you I hurt by leaving like that."

Then he faced Nova again, dropping his hand from Nico's shoulder. "Yeah, you were, and I'm sorry. And it's fine if you don't believe that." He'd been thinking all week about what to say to her, fully aware of the promise he had made before... well, before. He'd never quite come up with anything brilliant, or smart, or correct to say. Maybe there wasn't anything he could say. Nova had every right to be angry, and it didn't matter whose fault it was or what exactly happened. It didn't matter what he said, she would still blame him, he figured. He felt he deserved that. "I'm here, though, so..."

He was trying very hard to keep a level head, to not simply assume she would yell or attack him. She was Nico's mom. Nova isn't like that, he reminded himself. Still, he was tense and he had a hard time looking her in the eye too long. He felt like a child again, waiting for the punishment to come, watched.

Lisbeth had stood up from where she had previously been curled up half-napping. She walked closer to Nico and Dmitry and watched carefully, knowing better than to get between his feet just yet. She remained, silent, attentive.

Sunday dinner.

It wasn't a tradition Dmitry would be used to Nico having before, but his mother always made sure to show up for Sunday dinners now. She always came right after service and would stick around the rest of the day. Nico didn't go to church with her, but she always went.

Nico warned Dmitry she'd be coming, but he hadn't mentioned the routine till now.

"We make a meal together every Sunday just like we were never apart all those years. It's just the same again."

Nico made a strained face holding back the words 'except for my sisters being there.'

"She even tries to give me the gist of the sermon minus exact quotes. She's worse than that girl we met that time, the churchy one all into Christian rock." He said this referring to an angel he still didn't know was an angel.

He rolled his eyes.

"Still drives me nuts."

He was usually excited to see his mother. He didn't think she was home enough, always gallivanting around, plotting and scheming. Today he felt nervous. He wasn't sure how she was going to react to Dmitry being back. His mind kept looping over worst-case scenarios. She hadn't been kind to his memory in Dmitry's absence.

"You nervous? She should be here any time."

Then it was like his words were a cue on a set. A key jiggled in the front door.

Jovan's ghosty see-through-self disappeared at the sound. He wasn't sticking around visibly to be in the middle of it. Poof.

She walked in with a brown bag of groceries.

"Nicolo. Darling. I'm here. I brought noodles for-"

She set eyes on Dmitry and her words weren't the only thing that paused. Her feet stopped and her expression grew blank.

Nico had tried to prepare her that he was back via text. She gave Nico the silent treatment and hoped Dmitry would have disappeared again by Sunday. Wish unfulfilled. The disappointment was worn on every dull muscle of her face. All she could remember was his promise. She didn't take kindly to breaking them, not one as important and valuable as her son's mental well-being. She'd done enough damage. She didn't need anyone else making it worse.

A part of her knew Nico might need him, but she wasn't prepared to deal in another heartbreak if this weakling broke him again by running.

Her first words to him were, "I was taking care of him fine without you."

Nico stood tall and stepped mid room between them. "I'm not a child. I don't need taking care of."

Nova didn't even acknowledge his defensiveness. Her sullen eyes stayed on Dmitry.

@nyantry

[nyantry]

"A new life," Dmitry contemplated softly, tasting the words thoughtfully. It was more literal than anything else right now, even if Nico had clearly also meant it in regards to them being together again, home, finally. He had a way of getting thoughtful about things whenever he came back from the dead, and this time, he had plenty to think about. Between the prolonged absence and the reunification, the conversation with Sammy, the certain damnation... It was a lot. He was just glad he was home safe now.

But he brushed the seriousness of the feeling aside, choosing to focus on how Nico felt in his soul. There was a certain lightness there, not the most common from the angsty demon, and it was comforting to feel. Dmitry stayed close with Nico, soaking up the attention and the closeness.

"Your mom's coming on Sunday then? I forget what day today is. I think... I don't mind, just for a while, but it's best to take... me—" he paused, finding it both endearing that Nico couldn't avoid referring to the corpse as Dmitry still, and also strange for himself to do the same. It would take some getting used to, "—to the crypt. Before things start falling apart, I mean, or...

There were many things to consider, he realized as he spoke. Decomposition was not pretty. He knew Nico could watch it all, start to finish, and love every second. Dmitry, however, had never quite gotten completely used to seeing himself dead. There was nothing wrong with death itself, nor with being dead, nor with dying. Not to Dmitry, anyway. But it was nonetheless uncanny to see the formerly-inhabited body lifeless, rotting. He'd seen each one, all the horrible and beautiful ways they'd wound up, the changes over time while alive — and for some, even the grotesque nature of decay, the way colors changed and flesh liquefied, the way maggots and flies and worms and critters fed, the way the dirt reclaimed every bit until only bone was left. As much as Nico loved it and as much as Dmitry loved that Nico loved it, it wasn't something he could avoid feeling strangely about. What humanity remained in him still held tight to complicated feelings, old feelings, feelings that no longer made sense. He knew Death. He knew dying. It was only natural that rot would follow. Self-preservation, regarding death at least, was futile. The reaction to dead things borne out of the desire for self-preservation was even more useless.

But he understood Nico wanting to keep the body —him— as long as possible. He wasn't about to say no to that, not to Nico. This was his death-obsessed Nico and it was of utmost importance to make sure he was not deprived of corpses to cradle and care for. He wasn't so cruel as to usher the corpse away immediately, not even close to being awful enough to deny the request. Yes, the crypt was there for either of them to visit anytime they wished, but he understood wanting death close to home, in your living room, by your side.

"Honestly, I'm just cold still. I wanna stay with you, whatever you wanna do today. Hot chocolate would be nice, too, do we have any?"

No time frame of reference was given. He wasn't getting much out of Dmitry, but by the sounds of it he wasn't beaten or tortured cruelly and horrifically this time. Surely, surely, he wouldn't hide that from him if he had. He seemed so calm like all was a okay.

His heart rate began to deescalate. Though the failed halfling would remain displeased with himself he would relax immensely. For as much of a doomsday mentality as Nico could have, he also had a live in the moment personality too. That one slowly started to seep in and take back over. It was tapering in.

Maybe it was the kiss. Maybe it was the side of his head against his chest, but everything was actually okay again. He might as well roll with it now. He put his arms around him.

"Yeah, we're okay." He couldn't dispute that.

When Dmitry looked up again he might have been noticing the corpse, but Nico was only admiring his partner. He had him back. The time away or how long the Hell-space-time felt seemed most important to him to ask about because they'd just spent four years away from each other. Time and energy were the two things Nico knew were the most valuable commodities. He used up all his own energy trying to get Dmitry back to him. He didn't want to lose him in the mess of time in another realm of reality. Time is where people grew, evolved. That wasn't always a good thing. People could grow cold, distant, and disconnect in absences. He understood their heart connection, but he understood bitterness just as well if he ever failed again. To him it was still day one. Dmitry arrived and they talked it all out and acted on those feelings like the fools in love they always were.

"More than okay. We got a whole new life to live again now."

For once Nico sounded hopeful instead of like an Eeyore with a missing tail.

"What do you want to do first?"

Then he noticed where Dmitry's eyes had roamed.

"Oh, right. Don't worry. I'll take care of you." He spoke of the corpse. He couldn't seem to call it him. "I'll take care of you this afternoon and by this evening we'll be free for all your suggestions. Er-unless you don't mind keeping you around a bit? I don't mind. You're so pretty there. I think it's sort of nice seeing how peaceful you look when I know you're okay. Not like we ever get visitors out here. You're not hurting anything over there. You look like you're enjoying yourself actually, now that I'm calm and can really take notice. We should probably put you in your final resting place before Mom comes back on the weekend. She's been out. She'll be here after church though. Sunday meals are a thing. I mean unless it bothers you having you there? What do you think?"

"You let me know. I'll do whatever you want. Now or later?"

[nyantry]

@iconoclast-infidels hopefully they won't ban bringing husbands, i'd be so upset :( like, break into the museum and steal fossils kinda upset

-dmitry

[nyantry]

accidentally went and got myself killed yesterday but god wont let me die so im back

[nyantry]

Familiar as it was, Nico's inner turmoil was still turbulent as ever, boiling under the surface threatening to explode at any moment.

Still, it was Nico.

Dmitry stepped closer, standing in Nico's personal space, his space too because they were lovers, and reached to tenderly hold the halfling's face in his hands. He allowed Nico to speak his anxieties out with no interruption, listening carefully. Then, before answering, he gently placed a kiss on Nico's lips to greet and to reassure him.

Heels raised to meet the other's height, Dmitry stayed close, resting foreheads together. "I'm back. I was sleeping. You were sleeping too, it's not your fault you were tired after all that. I was asleep in your arms and you kept me safe and you kept me company. I wouldn't want it any other way," he spoke softly and sincerely. "I'm okay. I'm here with you. Time... doesn't make sense, dead. It's weird. I don't think they're too happy with having to let me go, either. But I'm okay, and I'm here with you, and we're okay."

After speaking, his gazed trailed toward the corpse on the couch. It didn't shock him anymore — he'd seen enough of his own corpses, preserved or mutilated, varying degrees of decomposed. Still, the recognition had a tendency to tug at his feelings in some way or other, like mourning but with the acknowledgement that it wasn't really over and it would likely never be.

He noticed immediately that the corpse was carefully laid, tucked in, and he instinctively held Nico close for warmth and for comfort. Something of the cold emptiness of death still lingered, and Nico —alive and warm— was home. Nico, his Nico, had taken the time to tuck the corpse in. It was a gesture of love and it did not go unnoticed. Dmitry rested his ear against Nico's chest for a moment, listening to the beating of Nico's heart, his heart in Nico's chest, steady and undying, and fancied he could hear in it little love notes like paper slips handed to and from each other like schoolchildren in the middle of class, or like flowers sent by courier, or...

He smiled in secret, knowing Nico wouldn't be able to see. Then he pulled back a little, only just enough to see Nico's face again. There, unspoken, he knew and kept something else: the corpse had been tucked in — the Corpse Cradler loved and doted even on the dead remains of his love. Dmitry knew the body had not only been tucked in, but that also it must have been held gent5, carefully, lovingly. He couldn't expect any less from his Nico.

Every death was different. Samael could vouch for that. Still, Dmitry was right about one thing. Nico did not trust the process. He trusted that Dmitry had never had a death under contract before. He trusted Dmitry was naive to the cruelties the process liked to put him through. It didn't matter how many times Nico got knocked down in this world and kept standing back up he trusted the universe was a malevolent trickster that liked to stick its foot out just to see how hard a fall he could push himself up from. So, it wouldn't matter if everything about this death went according to plan, and all was right with the world and set back in motion by the end of it. Nico would trust a time would come the universe would try to shake up that pattern on them just to see how strong they were.

Nico had a long hard sleep after his walk through the veil. It felt like he was asleep for days when his eyes finally opened. That wouldn't be the case. While Dmitry was apparently feeling light and new the exhausted halfling felt heavy.

Something was off. The body his arms were around didn't have the warmth he knew and loved. He sat up startled to investigate.

"Oh God no." Panic swelled his eyes not because his lover was dead, but because he didn't know for how long. Death he expected. He just also expected to follow him. He cradled the corpse and placed it on the couch with the most tender of care. He kissed it's forehead and said, "I'll be back to put you in your final resting place. I promise." Then pulled a throw blanket over him to tuck him in.

Then he tried to focus. Oh goodness he tried. Like a video game his energy was still too depleted for a beginner like him to make such a leap. Traveling in the veil was one thing, a jump to actual Hell was another. He was a living being with humanity in his veins. It required him more energy than most.

He kept shaking his wrists and shaking his head trying to shake the anxiety out and relax to focus.

"I'm coming baby. I'm coming."

He would look so determined and that slowly turned to frustrated after a few failed attempts.

"Don't worry baby. I'm going to get this."

He blew out a long slow breath trying to center himself when a strange glow came from behind him.

He'd turn around and there Dmitry was with Lisbeth shiny and new.

Every pissed off bone in his body got more pissed off at himself for not managing his one job, his ONE job. All the while everything in his body also relaxed because obviously Dmitry was okay.

"You're back already."

"Was it bad? Are you okay? I fell asleep. I'm sorry. I feel asleep. I didn't mean to. I fucked up. I fucked up hardcore. Did it feel like days, months, years there? Oh shit. I fucked up."

[nyantry]

He was pleased. He hadn't quite expected that kind of acceptance from anyone, not even from Not Winston. It felt good to have. It made him feel like he belonged, even. He almost thought the Slytherin would laugh if he voiced that, though. And yet... perhaps not. He did had a sensitivity about him, too, under that mask of intensity he wore; no, he had to wear, to avoid trouble with Malfoy, with the Slytherin house in general, with... Dmitry understood that.

Dmitry sensed the tension in the atmosphere though. Not enough to make him uncomfortable, certainly not enough to make him feel unwelcome —Nico Churchill had just assured him that was not the case, after all— but definitely enough to know something was up. It didn't quite feel right to ask. He could hazard any number of guesses, all reasonable and large enough to cause anyone (and everyone at Hogwarts) to be upset in some form or another.

He himself was looking to escape that. It's why he had come to the willow; He'd been wanting to avoid dealing with the emotional weight of it all. A rest, in a way.

The Ravenclaw sat against the wall of the tunnel under the willow, next to Not Winston. "I hope she doesn't cancel Hogsmeade, I got permission too. It'd be cool to go with you, get outta the castle for a bit," he smiled softly. "That's all I wanted to do, anyway. Was starting to feel suffocated in there with all the everything. I swear, it's like Filch was stalking me or something, he kept showing up wherever I went."

His earthy dirt doodle was the primitive outline of a griffin. It might have looked more like an oversized chicken with angel wings but he wasn't going for perfection. He put lines on the eyelids with luxurious lashes. Even a cave-drawing could be pretty in Nico's doodles.

Dmitry said Nico didn't seem to mind him. He hadn't realized it was a question. He thought it was an observation. Nico glanced up at him and shirked a shoulder in confirmation.

"Yeah, but you're you. You don't count."

He'd look back down and downward stroked lines over one eye so it had emo bangs giving the griffin human style hair as if what he said was explanation enough.

He looked around the inside of the dark space. "Yeah." He felt at a loss for words tonight. Maybe he was sick of Umbridge, Malfoy, the pressure, thoughts of home, thoughts of why home was home, thoughts of why he didn't want to be here or there. He wasn't sure. He just knew he was sick of it all and despite the comfort he showed around this Ravenclaw, he still was guarded. He wasn't the woe is me sort. Usually voicing complaints brought one of two things, a suck it up, or pity from people. Churchill wanted neither. So, he kept most of what went on to himself.

But, not knowing what to say didn't bother the Slytherin. He didn't know why the Raven brought him here exactly, but an evening in the willow never bothered him. They could be silent all night and he'd feel like he had a cool night with Dmitry without a half thought that it was boring or lame.

"I got permission to go out on the next Hogsmeade day." He thought he'd throw out some random information to fill in the gap since his permission slips were only signed when he felt like talking to his foster family, pride making him miss more than a few, while he waited to see if Dmitry had more to say about his wanting to meet up. Unless it was just to crap of Umbridge, but even that was understandable to him. She was stressing out the whole school. So, he decided to add, "If Umbitch doesn't rule those out next anyway." He rolled his eyes.

[nyantry]

HC: Merry Christmas! Nico has a hard time deciding so he snags them both. There will be a huge jar of catnip with a bow for Lisbeth. He'll have painted the outside of the jar himself with abstract tie dye shapes of purples and blue shades with a hint of green.

[nyantry]

No two deaths were the same. Dmitry had learned this by now. It was a little like dreaming, full of symbolism and unexpected happenings. It never ceased to surprise him.

As much as Nico had been adamant about wanting to be with Dmitry, he was glad the halfling was getting some much-needed rest. Unlike Nico, Dmitry trusted the process. He knew that everything would be okay. It didn't cross his mind to assume otherwise. Not ever.

Dmitry saw the familiar bright light and knew, instinctively, that he was not meant to follow it this time. Another day, perhaps. In the end. Not today. Not next time, either. It seemed promising, in the same way that saying farewell could be promising.

The little angel eyed the dark path knowing where it led. It was not really a place he wanted to be, but he had agreed to this. It was in the terms of the contract, and he'd willingly taken it upon himself to be bound by it; A willing sacrifice. He took Death's bony hand, holding on tightly. Calm as he was with the decision he'd made, he couldn't lie and say he had no fear. There was always fear, always. The trick was in accepting the fear and moving on anyway.

"I'm ready," he whispered with a nod, confirming that he understood Death's warning and that he knew it was better to just get on with it. He walked along the dark path with Sammy in friendship, until the Angel of Death and him had to part ways. Death was not meant to linger; he merely guided. They'd meet again another time. Dmitry gave him one last look, a way of thanking him, before continuing the journey alone.

Some time after, past the necessary stop in hell, past its necessary protocols and the enforcement of the contract, Dmitry's path led back into the veil. Like sunrise, darkness became less dense with every step, brighter and brighter, until he reached the boundary. He crossed, met first by Lisbeth —ever loyal— who waited peacefully right there for his return. He smiled at her, crouching down to scratch behind her ears and allow her to greet him in return. Then, with the feline satisfied, they walked together back home.

Dmitry yearned to be in his lover's arms once more.

Death loves.

Samael would adore that sentiment. It was a most feared card in a tarot reading and yet it was hardly to be frightened of. It was one of the most misunderstood cards in the deck. The metaphor went well beyond the tarot.

Death loves.

Death saw now tears upon the young angel's face. He also understood not only by his word, but by his tone, and expression, Dmitry understood the gravity of what he was trying to say.

He stood.

One hand he had placed on Dmitry's shoulder and tapped it, a soft, pat of the shared moment and then it was gone.

The dying one seemed ready. He expressed it as so just before asking one more question while implying he had many more.

"And some questions are better left unanswered."

Maybe that was enough talking for today. This was Dmitry's time. Samael didn't need it. He wore his shroud and welcomed all into the open arms of Death with no judgement or again limit on where they once crossing into his plane.

"Maybe someday." He agreed. Maybe someday they could turn the subject more around on him, but not today.

Then he tucked the hourglass under his cloak out sight. The crow cawed, flapped its wings, and then pulled its own cage door shut after settling in on its perch.

The less sand in the hourglass the faster the sand will fall.

Time was ticking faster even if Dmitry didn't realize it.

His time crossed over as a free spirit was running out.

A blackness would consume them. The surreal landscape would disappear in the swirl of his scythe, the wiping whirl of his cloak that would shroud them both, the sound of that raven behind them. The hoof beats of Samael's majestic horse in the distance grew closer. The breath of hot flaring nostrils would come right at them and then-

Nico was sleeping next to his husband. He was thoroughly exhausted and hadn't realized how quickly Dmitry would go or he'd have been up with caffeine and drinking Monsters if he had to. His long walk through the veil did him in. He was out like a rock holding a lifeless body that just took his last breaths.

Death and Dmitry would be standing over Nico and Dmitry's body.

Nico's face would start to look uncomfortable despite still sleeping. It wasn't the restful sleep it was a mere moment ago. Like a child having a nightmare he'd cringe. He'd toss. He'd turn all while gripping harder at his hold on the body, a natural inclination to never let go.

Samael would turn to look at Dmitry. Every death could be different, but this one would stand out as the first since their soul operation and contract. There behind the reaper would be a typical beam of heavenly light warm and inviting just begging to be followed. Dmitry had probably come across it before in as many times as he's died. However, this time there was a definite dark path that was destined for him. The light would slowly dim as if it was inferring no entrance. Not this time. Then it went out. Only the dark path remained.

"Go quickly. Faster you get there. Faster you return. "

He'd give one sure warning.

"If you don't cross, they'll come for you. Contracted souls never remain as ghosts."

Just in case Dmitry had any ideas of out running Hell.

They'll

Nico was asleep. Still alive. His biggest fear. Dmitry dying before he was a full-fledged demon below to take him in. He was asleep on the job.

"The sooner you fulfill the contract the sooner your body can regenerate. Trust the process."

Then Death stepped away closer to the dark path and held out his hand to Dmitry. He'd help Dmitry step in. Death was always there every step of the way until a soul made it to their destination.

Nico made a disconcerting noise. He gathered at the body like someone grasping at blankets in the winter cold in a dead sleep trying to keep warm.

[nyantry]

One day he might not show up? Dmitry took pause at that. That was a thought he suddenly, harshly realized he did not like. He enjoyed Hogwarts and dreaded going home every summer —for as much as he loved his mom and Amelia, it didn't even put a dent on the disaster that was being around his father— but he didn't really have friends other than Nico. Dmitry knew the ghosts, spoke to a good deal of them, even kept up with the people in the paintings... but Nico was flesh and blood, and that was somehow more real, somehow more important. If Nico someday disappeared, why, Dmitry couldn't begin to imagine a world like that.

In the moment, though, the Ravenclaw was not brave enough to say that. He kept quiet instead and listened to Not Winston talk about how he liked it here (in the roots, under the Whomping Willow) and hated crowds (Dmitry could relate) and was willing to inflict violence on Umbridge. Dmitry didn't really have the guts to use an unforgivable curse on just anyone — no, not even her. No, if ever there was one person... a gun would do. That, he already knew where to find. He liked that he didn't have to think about these things at Hogwarts, though.

Dmitry walked closer to his friend, leaning casually against the wall and peering over at the ground to see whatever it was Nico had been doodling. He liked the doodles Nico occasionally shared, either in their enchanted notebooks or on pieces of parchment held sacred and carefully hidden from peering eyes. For someone who was constantly so gloomy, the drawings were often cute or lighthearted. Some might wager to suggest flirtatious, too, but Dmitry hadn't dared to assume that far. Times were not easy, and he especially didn't want trouble with Madame Toadface.

He had to assume that's what had happened with Nico's hands. He spotted the gloves, the bloody red peeking at the seamed edges of dark fabric. Dmitry didn't ask, but he noticed it for sure. It was a topic of hushed chatter around the school; there was shared horror and resentment.

"You don't mind me?" He asked quietly, looking up to meet Nico's ice-blue eyes. "I like it here too, it's quiet. Anywhere quiet, really. Lets me think."

The Slytherin boy dressed in his green lined school robes topped with a loosened tie and fingerless gloves leaned on a root's curl just inside the hollow of the willow.

Not Winston as he was getting used to be called had sore hands under those gloves and bits of red were peeking around the knuckles and edging. He wasn't unfamiliar with Umbridge's detention techniques. He tried to stay under the radar, but his mouth had a way of getting the better of him. He could swear that pink cat eater was out to get him sometimes. Actually, he thought it was McGonagall, some sort of ricochet.

He was sitting there with his boot hiked up on the root and bent over drawing in the dirt with the tip of his wand, looking bored, like he was stalling time.

"You never know. One day I might not."

It felt like his space. Few students had access to this place and knew the spell, given special privy over the years. Still, with everything going on with Umbridge, his parents, back home, peer pressure behind the scenes, much less his own mind he had a lot going on in there. Sometimes he wasn't sure what he was going to do.

He glanced up from his doodling in the dirt when the Ravenclaw started bitching about Umbridge.

"I like here better than elsewhere anyway."

Here usually meant alone.

"I don't know. That's her one rule I don't mind. It keeps people away from me. Other than that I'm real close to learning crucio just for her."

There was zero sarcasm in his face.

He had one problem.

The Inquisitorial Squad.

Nico was walking a fine line between his friends in the dungeons and his placement in the school.

[nyantry]

he YEARNS for the graveyards, he misses his vulture friends, u wouldnt understand

[nyantry]

"It's a red Camaro," he said, giggling as he explained, "Boxy, like uh... pretty sure it's from the sixties or something? Old hunk of trash, I swear, I didn't really have money to keep it all nice-looking. Only had it cause some old man gave it to me in exchange for this huge mural he wanted and I figured it was a fair exchange. Last I saw it..." he paused to think. "Last I saw it was near where I used to live when we met, the person I sold it to was local. I don't have any contact info but I can text you the plate number, just remind me later, my phone's dead."

Dmitry had no doubt that Nico would be able to locate the car... and obtain it. But it was one of those things where he knew better than to ask for the finer details on Nico's methodology. Bought, stolen, or Jedi-mind-tricked, it didn't really matter to him. It had been more wishful thinking than a demand of a request, anyhow, and if for some reason Nico couldn't find the car, that was no big deal either.

Dmitry made a mental note to ask more about Caim later. That name had come up once or twice, and he knew it was one of Nico's... not-brothers? Demon relations were something still shrouded in mystery to Dmitry. But certainly, Caim was one associated with Murmur in some way, he thought. He hadn't realized Nico was still in contact with Caim, or any of the other demons for that matter. It just wasn't the right time to ask right now, either. The littlest angel was enjoying joking around with Nico and being lighthearted. It felt good, and it felt good to be back.

Nico even promised to get their black parade of ghosts on the game invite list, earning a pleased grin from the emo angel. He rested against Nico feeling distinctly like he would never leave the space between Nico's arms and chest. That kind of closeness, more than just by virtue of being freely-given affection, was especially pleasant because of the relief from closing the distance between their stitched-up souls. He pushed away a memory from the one time they'd had the chance to truly share the same space and swim in each other. It was unobtainable right now. It was better not to dwell. Besides...

Jovan showed up, as Dmitry had been certain he would.

"Sorry! I keep forgetting you're like... It's hard to call out at a normal volume when I can't see ya, I forget," he shrugged. "But see? You're down to show up at the ghost party, it's all good! It's okay if you disappoint me some other time, I got me a Nico," he said, punctuating the thought with a kiss for Nico.

Dmitry wanted his old car back? Nico was clueless. This was obviously before him, but what this halfling heard was a wish.

"Just give me some clues on where it last was and your wish is my command. I'll be your genie for a day, babe. You want it and I'll figure it out for you."

He crossed his arms like the genie on Aladdin. "Poof, what do you need? Your old car? Oh, okay. Just give me some time and the great Nicosa will find it for you."

He was not even worried about who had it last or whether they willing to give it back. Bah. Willing was a word he was good at getting people to feel.

He just laughed about the dishonor shit. All good joking around. "Just don't fuck with Caim's cows. He's weird about his cows. I don't know. It's a Caim thing. Fucker talks to cows. Go figure." He laughed.

He liked being trapped in by Dmitry. Felt like good times, old times, normal, good, old times. He didn't have to cling if Dmitry was already clinging.

Game explained and it seemed like Dmitry got the jist even in his scattered way of explaining.

"Then that's on list. I'll get right on it. Ghost parade." He wobbled his brow and Spocked one up. "Black parade for the invite list and we'll ask them to play."

Then Dmitry was on the ball already hollering for Jovan. The closest ghost usually.

Jovan's voice would vibrate in Nico's ears. "Aint gotta yell, bruh. Aint gotta yell."

He slowly manifested into a transparent version of himself and said, "But no promises on the not disappointing thing. That's pretty much been my M.O. my whole life. Pretty sure it doesn't change in the afterlife. I disappointed my momma. It's very possible I'll disappoint you too, buddy. That said I'll come to your party. Wherever a ghost party shall be found will be the souls that can get down. That would be moi." He pointed at himself.

[nyantry]

Dmitry: i see how it is. do you want me to bring anything? Dmitry: i have zero context for what it means to be bart other than the fact that i know he's the kid right? i shall be excellent Dmitry: are we withholding information because you think it'd give him too much satisfaction or because you haven't figured him out yet? just curious! i make no promises but i'll try Dmitry: i seriously truly promise nothing though, i can't shut up when i can't shut up Dmitry: don't be too mean yeah? we do live in the same geographical area as he's stuck in

Nico: Or lame Nico: bored doesn't cut it for me. He better be lonely as fuck for his wife. That's what he wants to tell me about but he's with holding. He's so dying to talk about his wife it's not funny. Nico: NBC is a classic that never dies. Even Hot Topic can't make it lame. Nico: Plum is Bartman bro. You picked a goldmine of a character Nico: Oh you will. You will see. but just don't tell this anti second christmas grinch anything personal about us. You think you can manage that babe? I refuse while he's being a little twat.

[nyantry]

Dmitry: NOT POE??? HE'S SERIOUS UPSET IF HE'S THREATENING POE Dmitry: he must be real bored/lonely i mean if youre only just now finding out about him ?? i'd be lonely if it were me idk Dmitry: halfsies on the yard and uhhh maybe nightmare before christmas themed stuff? that should help? Dmitry: sign me right up mrs. white, imma be there in a few! save whoever's mr. plum for me, archeology is cool Dmitry: (i look forward to seeing you in a maid outfit)

Nico: Yes Nico: Half and half of the yard. Apparently he's allergic to color. Not really but he was throwing a goth tantrum but not in a cool way like Wednesday or Elvira. Just in an I'm on the verge of being a shitty brat way. He had a problem with Second Christmas and everyone knows real goths love Christmas and pastel sox under their combat boots like My Little Pony. He threatened thoughts of destroying Poe even though he didn't. Though I appreciate he did not destroy your book the threat was very un dark soul of him. Nico: He's kind of a poser. Nico: I never met a goth I didn't like. I'm not convinced I can like him. We'll see. He's trying too hard and I can't figure out why. But you know ghosts. They always got an agenda. Woe is me. It'll reveal itself eventually. Nico: Oh yeah he's still here. We're playing Simpson's Clue. I'm Smithers. Because I'm always Mrs. Smithers. You know I love me a good maid outfit.

[nyantry]

Dmitry: I'M ENID? 🩵 Dmitry: anyway yeah it's fine, where are we putting the white lights? do you think we should get different decorations for the wednesday side? are we talking like *wednesday* wednesday kinda goth or ? Dmitry: wait is he still there? i wanna say hi

Nico: Some punk ass ghost needs to go Enid/Wednesday spideryweb split with the colored Christmas lights. Told him we'd split with white so he wouldn't throw a complete ghosty meltdown and have tantrum. You cool?

[nyantry]

it’s okay to murder people but it’s not okay to disrespect your wife btw