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eldritchqueerture · 4 months

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@lighthouseshepard you asked for a tag 🥰 decided to split this one into a few chapters (looking at 4 so far I think)

Summary:

"His arms still felt tense without the connection to Arthur. Anxiety – was that what that was? – was brewing in his gut at the distance between them, despite it only being two feet at most. At least in Arthur’s eyes he had a better position to warn him should something approach; now there were too many distractions, and the angle was off. He had an almost overpowering urge to grab onto Arthur again, hold him tight against his body and never let him go ever again. That way they could be close again, close enough to protect against any threats, close enough to feel… whole." --- John and Arthur finally separate and temporarily stay in New York to get used to this new arrangement. It doesn't go as well as they might have hoped.

Arthur did not get his sight back.

This was the first thought John had after he had gathered his own surroundings enough to notice Arthur heaving on the floor beside him. Abandoned were the thoughts of free movement, finally after months of being confined to the space in Arthur’s mind and one arm, of a physical body finally of his own – as soon as he saw (with his own eyes at last) the pain on Arthur’s face. His hands shot out to grab the man by the shoulders – and they were big hands, significantly bigger than Arthur’s and darker by a few shades at least. John felt his stomach constrict at the sight, but the worry crowding his mind prevented him from getting overwhelmed with these new, physical sensations.

As soon as Arthur raised his head to look at him, John could tell he was not able to see. His eyes were clouded and unfocused even as he whispered Arthur’s name, his vocal cords not used to speaking.

“John?” Arthur asked shakily. “I—I’m… Are you…?”

“I’m here, I’m fine,” he whispered again and cleared his throat to get his voice working. “I’m... I’m here.”

There was wonder in his voice at the realization, but his eyes were glued to Arthur’s, his heart still beating fast with worry. This was supposed to work for both of them, it was supposed to give Arthur back what John had taken from him.

He felt his hands tighten on Arthur’s shoulders.

“I…” Arthur started, unsure. Then, he let out a mirthless laugh. “I can’t see.”

“Arthur, I’m sorry.” The words spilled from John’s mouth like a tide. “I’m so sorry, I thought it would work. I really hoped—”

“John, it’s alright,” Arthur interrupted him, his right hand searching and grabbing John’s shoulder. The touch felt so strange and foreign to John that it effectively stopped any other sounds coming from his mouth. “We knew it was a long shot anyway. It’s… It’s alright.”

He said that, but John could see his eyes glisten with unshed tears. “What about your arm? And, and—”

“I have it all back,” Arthur said, gaining a bit more control of his voice and flexing his left hand carefully. “All except for…”

He trailed off, and John tightened the grip on his shoulders again.

“Arthur—”

“What about you?” Arthur shook his head slightly, changing the subject. “You have—You have a body now! How do you feel?”

“I… It’s…” John hesitated and tried to take stock of his body. He felt the strength of muscles in his arms, legs and torso, felt the hair on his head, falling onto his shoulders. He was naked, skin forming goosebumps from the contact with the stone floor and the draft from the corridors of the hideout. He could feel every point where his skin touched something, the length of his shins on the stone, the stretch in his knees, the tension in his shoulders and the warmth of Arthur’s body on his palms. He could feel the air entering and leaving his lungs through his nostrils and his mouth; he could feel his own heart beating. It was… “So much.”

He hadn’t stopped gripping Arthur’s shoulders like a lifeline. He could not imagine letting go of him and dealing with all these new sensations alone. Arthur, he knew Arthur. He knew Arthur’s body. This one… would require getting used to.

“I can’t even imagine what it’s like…” Arthur mused. “Experiencing the physical reality for the first time. Are you okay?”

“I… think so?” John frowned and blinked a couple times. From what he could tell humans didn’t need to control breathing and blinking all the time, so why did it feel as if he stopped paying attention to it, he would suffocate? Why was his heart hammering like it wanted to break his ribcage open and get out? How did Arthur do this?

“Are you…” Arthur licked his lips almost nervously. “Is it… human?”

John blinked again, tilting his head slightly to look himself over. From the front he looked human enough, but he felt a crevasse on his back, the length of where his spine should be. He had full control of what hid there, barely material until he willed it into existence. One by one dark tendrils of shadow began to snake from behind him, carefully, as if testing the air.

“Mostly…” John said. With one of the tendrils he touched Arthur’s right hand, making him gasp. “But not… entirely.”

“Fuck,” Arthur let out, a look of wonder crossing his face as he felt the limb with his hand. It was material enough to touch, but the edges undulated slightly like fabric underwater. “Did you—?”

“I can hide them, I think,” John supplied. “If necessary.”

A bit of tension let up from his shoulders at the little smile on Arthur’s face. “Might be, if we plan on ever going out.”

“If people can even see them,” John remarked. When Arthur frowned with confusion, he explained, “Remember the Vizier and his… Well, the creature on his face? Noel saw it as a simple mask.”

“True! You’re right,” Arthur nodded. “I guess we’ll need to test that.”

John swallowed and cringed slightly. The tentacles for one were familiar – as the King, he had plenty of those, even if the memories were faded. He still clung to Arthur for dear life though, some of the tendrils wrapping around his arms as well almost without his conscious input.

“John, what are you…” Arthur let out a laugh. “You can let go of me, you know?”

John blinked at all the limbs he managed to connect with Arthur and detangled them all one by one, his chest growing heavier with each one. Eventually he forced his hands to let go of Arthur’s shoulders, his palms curling into fists immediately to search for something grounding. Nails in his skin – that was pain. At least this sensation was somewhat familiar. He focused the tension on his left pinkie without really thinking about it. Yes, that. He knew that.

“I suppose we need to find you some clothes,” Arthur spoke. “Didn’t you mention a wardrobe somewhere in this place?”

“Yes, whatever cult had been residing here used this place to sleep as well,” he said, acutely aware of the strain speaking put on his vocal cords. “There were robes as well as normal clothes.”

“Yes, well, I think we do prefer the latter,” Arthur laughed and stood up with a slight groan. John belatedly realized he could do that as well.

“The nearest room will be on our left,” he spoke. “In the corridor we passed through getting here.”

“Right, right.” Arthur walked in the right direction almost confidently, with John following him close by. His arms still felt tense without the connection to Arthur. Anxiety – was that what that was? – was brewing in his gut at the distance between them, despite it only being two feet at most. At least in Arthur’s eyes he had a better position to warn him should something approach; now there were too many distractions, and the angle was off. He had an almost overpowering urge to grab onto Arthur again, hold him tight against his body and never let him go ever again. That way they could be close again, close enough to protect against any threats, close enough to feel… whole.

Yes, it felt like an essential part of John was missing, left behind somewhere in the recesses of Arthur’s mind, and only that way he could at least get close to what he knew. He dreaded the thought of Arthur somehow disappearing from his line of sight, lost somewhere in the shadows of these old stone halls. The prospect made him feel sick.

Wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn’t notice that Arthur had stopped at an intersection.

“Ouch!” Arthur yelped as John bumped into him, turning back to him with a slight crease of annoyance on his forehead. “You’re the one with eyes, John. Use them.”

“Sorry, s-sorry. Uh, right here.”

Arthur’s hand searched for John’s and squeezed lightly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Just… A lot to get used to,” John managed through the tightness in his throat. The touch of Arthur’s hand was a lifeline to a man drowning somewhere deep within him, and he desperately wanted to grab onto it and claw his way up along it towards the surface. His hand shook.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” Arthur asked, some concern coloring his voice that made John feel… Something in his stomach. Something he did not like. He frowned.

“Of course, Arthur,” he growled. “Let’s move.”

Arthur let go of his hand then and turned right, and it was one of the hardest things John had had to do not to pull that hand back to him by force if necessary. He followed Arthur with gritted teeth, the unpleasant tension unchanging in his chest.

They managed to find enough clothes to fit John in some pants, shirt and a jacket with a high collar. John was sparse with his descriptions and gave them only once Arthur asked. Most of the time he needed to get dressed had passed in silence, save for the rustling of clothes.

“Alright, ready to go?” Arthur asked once the rustling stopped. John was looking himself over, his jaw still clenched tightly.

“Yes,” he replied, keeping whatever thoughts brewed in his mind to himself.

“You should take my arm,” Arthur said. “It will look less… Weird.”

John frowned at him again. “Weird?”

“Well, I can’t very well hide the fact that I’m blind now,” Arthur replied. “Gonna have to learn to navigate on my own, now that we’re… apart.”

Something coiled tightly in John’s stomach. Again.

“Gonna have to buy a cane, probably. But either way, this will be easier for now.” Arthur stared in John’s direction expectantly. Carefully, John stepped towards him and wrapped his arm around Arthur’s forearm.

They managed to find their way out of the hideout, emerging from an abandoned building somewhere on the outskirts of New York. The train station was near enough that they made it there without issue and were on the train to New York before the sun started setting, painting the sky a golden orange.

They were alone in the car, as far as John could tell. The ticket taker had passed and checked their tickets, without so much as a second glance at the two, and the short ride to Grand Central was shaping up well. John was quiet, looking around the car and out the window once the train started moving. He felt Arthur at his side, close enough for their knees to touch, and it had to be enough. It had to be enough.

“How… How is it?” Arthur spoke up carefully. John blinked, realizing he’d probably been waiting for descriptions.

“The weather is clear, only a few clouds in the sky,” he started speaking. “The early sunset is painting everything in a golden hue, as we pass the houses on the way to the city. The train is mostly empty, there were a few people in the car that we passed on our way in, but now we are alone.”

Arthur huffed an unrealized laugh. “Thanks. But I, uh… I meant, for you. How is…” He licked his lips. “How does it feel now?”

John looked away, even though he knew Arthur could not see him.

“It’s still… a lot. A lot of sensory information I didn’t have to process before. It’s… harder to focus with it all.”

“Hm, I bet,” Arthur nodded.

“But I think it’s getting better,” John lied. “I’m getting used to it.”

“Good. Good,” Arthur offered. “Your brain starts to filter out some things once you get used to it. But I… If there’s anything you need, or, or—”

“I’m fine, Arthur,” John said impatiently. “I have experienced a lot through your hand already.”

The words felt sour on his tongue as his gaze involuntarily travelled to Arthur’s left hand. The hand that had used to be his. Practically the only manifestation of him, of who he is, out in the world.

And now it didn’t even belong to him anymore.

He clenched his jaw so hard his teeth hurt, and he forced himself to look away. Arthur deserved to have his arm back, he deserved to have control of his own body back, regardless of what John thought might have been his. Everything that he was in Arthur’s head had been stolen, taken without consent, without consideration. What fucking right did he have to claim that part of Arthur? Now that he had his own body – one without the scars, without the wood wedged into the bone of his left pinkie that always ached ever so slightly; the marks that he had considered his own. No, those were now Arthur’s to bear, Arthur’s alone. He had no claim to that body anymore, no matter how much of his identity he had weaved around them.

They arrived in New York before nightfall and managed to secure a room at the hotel. It was too late to call anyone – they had ended up near New York by accident, so no one was expecting them to arrive. Not that they assumed anyone would – Marie could have very well found a new tenant and they didn’t know whether Noel was still even in the city. When John had suggested Daniel, Arthur got slightly nervous and brushed the suggestion off, saying that they should definitely visit him, just maybe not so soon after separating. John could only guess at what that meant.

The hotel room was sparse, with a decently equipped bathroom, a radio and two beds with accompanying nightstands, as well as an empty wardrobe with a mirror door. John stopped in front of it, trying to reconcile the unfamiliar face of the man who he now was, standing – almost towering – over Arthur. His face was long, with a protruding chin, square-shaped jawline and a big nose. Half of it was covered by a splintered, white mask.

John obliged when Arthur asked him to describe himself. He kept his tone perfectly neutral throughout until he mentioned the mask and Arthur’s breath stuttered.

“Can I…” he begun with hesitation, reaching to grab John’s arm. “You don’t have to say yes, but… Can I touch it?”

Something seized in John’s chest, grabbing hold of his throat and squeezing for a moment, so hard he could not get a sound out. Then he breathed out, putting every effort to mask the shaking in it, and whispered an affirmation.

Arthur’s hand first found John’s collarbone and traced it up to his neck and jaw. A shiver passed through John’s body that he sincerely hoped escaped Arthur’s notice, and the careful fingertips reached the edges of the mask.

John could feel through it, the mask an integrated part of his body, with nerve connections leading to and from it as they would on any part of his skin. Almost involuntarily John raised his own hand to match Arthur’s movement, to feel what he could feel – the smooth, silk-like texture of the mask under his fingertips. In doing so, he covered Arthur’s hand entirely, effectively cupping it to his face.

“John…” Arthur sighed his name in a tone that made John’s stomach do some really strange twists, and he was really growing sick of this. He gripped Arthur’s palm perhaps a tad tighter than he intended and drew it away from his face.

“Well, I can’t really hide this one,” he announced, with frustration bubbling over into his voice.

“It’s—It’s alright,” Arthur said in a thick tone, withdrawing his hand back to himself. “Some people wear, uh… Masks like that to hide facial scarring sometimes. It’s alright.”

John did not mention how the mask looked way too similar to the Pallid Mask that the King’s cult wore, and Arthur didn’t seem inclined to either. Some sort of bundle of emotions coiled in John’s chest at that thought – shame? Regret? Guilt? But also some sort of satisfaction – a feeling of it being right. This was a part of him whether he liked it or not – whether Arthur liked it or not. And John would just have to deal with what that meant for them going forward.

#malevolent #niki.writes #malevolent podcast #malevolent fanfic #john doe #arthur lester #jarthur #private eyes #i MAY be guilty of being inspired by izel's john design #it was. not intentional its just that john is how i imagine him and i cannot change it 😭 hes just perfect

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