August 10th | Louis's apartment | WARNING: Mentions of death & violence
He was running late.
Of course he was. After all, Quentin only had two speeds: stupid early or unfashionably late.
He came into the room at a brisk pace, but immediately stopped dead. Terrible adverb, considering the wrecked state of things. It was too much to take in at once, but he zeroed in on the sprawl of Eliot's body, all twisted up the wrong way. Margo was hunched over him, shoulders racked with sobs. Q ran to their side. His knee slid into a pool of something he couldn't look at, but knew exactly what it was.
Margo's hand snapped out and closed around his wrist, nails biting in sharply. "He found us. He found us. We shouldn't have—" She coughed, and it sounded horrible and wet. "Run, Quentin. Goddamn you, run."
Somehow, he knew she would be dead before he stood and got two steps away. Q sprinted into the next room and found another familiar face. "Louis! Oh, thank god."
He folded his arms around his boyfriend, who had stood from his crouched position. Louis trembled against him, and Q made a solemn vow to protect him from whatever was coming.
The door in the other room slammed open, and Quentin yanked them both down. Shadows shifted around them, the light turning fluttery. A whisper of hundreds of wings grew louder.
A pause unfolded like a held breath. Then the windows surrounding the room blew in with a terrific crash.
He moved on instinct to cover his boyfriend, but he was yanked out of his reach. Louis rose above him, scrabbling at some invisible force holding him by the neck. A suited arm came around his chest and pulled him back. The moths cleared.
Quentin was staring at himself. He couldn't breathe, first from shock, then from magic.
Beast-Quentin smiled in a sick mockery of the face Q saw in the mirror every day. He drew Louis's head to the side. It looked almost tender, the way Beast-Q moved his hair away. Light caught on his too long teeth. He sank them into Louis's neck with so much savagery that Quentin screamed.
It was still in his throat when his eyes flew open to darkness.
So far no nightmares had crept into Louis’s dreams and he was thankful. There was too much to choose from and frankly he didn’t want to relive any of them. He knew life wasn’t perfect and that there would be bumps and rocky roads along the way, but for now he wanted to revel in the happiness that was consuming his life for a little longer.
It was so nice having Quentin sleep beside him. There were still days it was hard to believe he was him, that he loved him and wanted to be with him. But he did and that had changed his life completely in the best way.
The scream that came from his boyfriend jolted Louis out of his sleep. “Quentin, are you okay?” He did a quick scan of the dark room to see if anyone was in it then quickly switched on the bedside lamp and turned back to him “Quentin, are you hurt?” His mind raced and fear gripped him because he wasn’t sure what was going on, and that scream, it had almost been blood curdling.
Whatever part of Quentin's brain that governed higher reason had yet to kick in. He went from night blindness to being dazzled, but still zeroed in on Louis's face as soon as his vision cleared. Tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and throat thick with a terror he hadn't yet lost, Q's hand launched at Louis's neck and trembling fingers searched for any sign of injury. When he found none, he took a single shuddering breath and flopped back down onto his back.
Quentin shoved the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars and started to come around to the fact that he'd been dreaming. "Fuck," he cursed softly, "fuck. That was—fuck. I thought I killed you."
Louis was a little confused when Quentin’s hand went to his neck, eyes glued to it as well as if looking for something. He didn’t anticipate the words he spoke in a trembling tone. Killed him? No, that wasn’t possible. He knew the man beside him would never do that. The realization that his boyfriend had had a nightmare finally sank in. He’d hoped he would be able to avoid what most others seemed to be going through.
“I’m fine and I’m right here,” he spoke gently, fingers pushing the hair from Quentin’s forehead and tucking it behind his ear. His cool fingers brushed over his cheeks and he couldn’t help wondering if the touch was doing any good.
Reaching out, Q put his arms around his boyfriend and dragged him closer, all while leaning his face into the soothing sensation. He blinked a couple of times, and wasn't all that surprised to find them damp. A few more of the dream's details filtered back through to his conscious mind. Another shiver went through him, his brow furrowing. "Not me," he breathed out. "It wasn't me-me. It was Beast-me. The me I would have been if I'd lost my shade and became like Martin Chatwin." In the jittery in-between place, he wasn't sure if he'd told Louis about that. At that particular moment, he wasn't sure it mattered. "I— He grabbed you and bit you. It looked like he wanted to tear out your throat."
The vampire wrapped his arms around Quentin and pulled him close to lay against his chest. He began to slowly stroke his hair and back doing his best to soothe him. Shade. The word was familiar to him because his boyfriend had mentioned it to him not too long ago when talking about a fellow magician, Alice. She’d lost her shade and become not so nice. Quentin had recovered it for her and she’d been upset about that. He still couldn’t understand why if it returned her back to her normal self.
However, he couldn’t recall any mention of a beast or Quentin himself being one. “Shhh, it’s alright, baby. I’m fine and it was just a dream.” A terrible dream. “Do you need anything?” He didn’t think Q would be sleeping anytime soon. There was still a slight tremble to his body and his heart, though not beating furiously as it had been when he woke, had not yet quite evened out.
The audible click of his throat told him he needed water, but Quentin wasn't interested in being left alone anytime soon. He shook his head unhappily, but more so that his current levels of misery hadn't made the word 'baby' burn through him like it usually did. As if he needed any extra reasons to hate these stupid dreams and the stupid storms that brought them. He buried his face into the cool dark of Louis's neck and just breathed him in. He'd never been able to describe it, but it didn't seem that important. It was just one more thing that made Louis Louis, and one more thing for him to love. "Can we just stay like this for a minute? And also, can we say a big 'fuck you' to my asshole subconscious?"
For Louis it hurt a little that he couldn’t take the ‘pain’ away completely from this experience. He didn’t like seeing Quentin in distress or pain and knowing there wasn’t anything he could do to take it away. It’s how he knew he loved him, how he knew he was his and how he knew he would be very overprotective of him.
He turned slightly to drop a kiss on the other's hair. “We can stay like this for as long as you want.” As long as he needed it. A slight grin came to his lips. “Yes, we can say that.” Louis had never been one for cursing. Sure, back in his mortal days some men used more colorful language now and then, but he’d never been one of them. He didn’t mind it and probably in time he’d use it some. “Fuck your subconscious and nightmares.” He gave Quentin a gentle squeeze. “I’ve got you now and you’re safe.”
Before he could settle into the real security he felt, there in the circle of his boyfriend's arms, Q let out a small giggle. The fact that he was able to smile at all was completely down to Louis himself. "I don't think I've ever heard you cuss before. It's kind of amazing." His amusement faded as he began concentrating on different areas of his body and willing them to relax. It only came with middling success. "Really, though, that was a bad one. I don't want anything to happen to you, but especially not that."
The giggle surprised Louis and he looked at his boyfriend with a slight curious smile. “I don’t very often. It wasn’t proper in my day and it just wasn’t something I used over time. I don’t mind if others use it. I think if I became really upset I might use it.” Might being the keyword. He was glad his usage of it had brought even a small moment of a smile. "I’m sorry it was so bad. Do you want to talk about it? If you don't, that's perfectly okay. I’ll just hold you and tell you that I love you. And that I’ll always keep you safe.” Or at least do his very best to.
"I'll try not to really upset you." Another ghost of a smile perched on his mouth before alighting again. Quentin was quiet for a while after that, not out of reluctance to talk about the other thing haunting him, but in an effort to order his thoughts. There was nothing for it, however. Nothing to do but try to bring context to the otherwise nonsensical dream. He moved his head back just enough to lay on his own pillow while still remaining wrapped up in his boyfriend. The closeness was a necessary component to unspooling the whole mess.
"Once upon a time"—he broke off with a dry laugh and rolled his eyes at himself. Cheesy, sure, but Quentin knew it was as good a start as any—"there were three children called Martin, Rupert, and Jane Chatwin. They were living in a country house during World War II when they found a door to a land called Fillory."
He told Louis everything. About them meeting Plover and the books that followed. How Plover had abused Martin, and how Martin turned the darkest magics to get his revenge: on Plover, on a Fillory that rejected him when he needed the escape most. How he became the Beast and terrorized Fillory for decades. How Quentin and his new 'friends' at Brakebills accidentally summoned him when they were trying to find Alice's niffin brother. They now had the Beast's attention, and it wasn't something anyone would want.
All of which brought him to the spell where he and the others attempted to see what would happen if they brought the fight to Martin. Every single time it ended the same: death, death, and more death. "And that's what I was reliving, via my stupid, stupid dreams. Except it wasn't Martin, it was me." Quentin chewed his lip and squeezed at Louis's side as he shut his eyes for a moment. "I never want to hurt you, but I think a part of me is scared that I'll do it anyway."
“You won’t upset me. I promise.” No matter what the nightmare had been about it was just that, a dream. Louis listened to each detail unfold as Quentin shared not only some of his past, but what the dream had been about. It was awful. He found himself feeling anger toward this man, Plover, for what he had done to Martin. No child should have to go through something like that. No adult should do that, they were supposed to protect and ensure that children had happy and healthy lives.
He reached over with one hand and cupped Quentin’s face, turning it toward him. “You’re no beast that would harm others or me. I know that in my soul and bones.” At least not unless he was protecting himself or others. “You have a kind and beautiful heart and that’s why I love you. It was a dream. I know it felt real and was scary, but I’m here and I’ll hold you all night. Together we can chase away those dreams. I promise I’ll always keep you safe.” He pulled Quentin to him, cradling him against his chest and nuzzling him.
A great shuddering gasp racked Quentin from head to foot, and if it was person for one person to melt into another, he was sure that's exactly what he'd done with Louis. The fear still jangled across his nerve endings, but he knew he'd be okay, there in the bed he currently shared with his boyfriend. Rain lashed the windows, and thunder rattled them in their frames. It didn't matter much to Q anymore. He was right where he wanted to be. "I love you too, Louis." Setting his head on his shoulder, Quentin leaned in enough to kiss the side of his neck. "Tell me a story. Tell me anything. I need to get out of my head."
His fingers smoothed down Quentin's hair to his back, rubbing over it. Fear could still be felt in the air, but Quentin pushed against it, still tense. Louis had never liked the feeling of feeling helpless to help someone he cared about. He was doing his best, but could not reach inside the other man's mind and remove the nightmare completely.
"When I was a boy I loved playing outdoors. My mother would always fuss when I ended up with even the least bit of dirt on my clothes." Despite the fact that she was never the one who washed them. "One summer day a butterfly landed on some flowers and I went to try and capture it. Naturally it flew away, but I followed it, running into the forest. It led me to this clearing where a circle of flowers grew. It was a perfect circle, bright vivid colors of purple, white and yellow.
"I stopped just at the edge of it and suddenly these...these balls of light rose out of the flowers, flying and flitting all around me. I tried to grab them, but they were too fast. The butterfly had landed in the center of the circle of flowers. I went to step forward to finally capture it, but I was pushed backwards and fell on the ground. No one was there. I don't know how I was pushed, but I was. I looked all around, but no one else was around. It scared me a little, but I fancied myself a brave boy, so I stood and tried again only to have the same result. It was then that I ran home. The next day I returned to the clearing in the woods only to find that the circle of flowers was gone. I saw no balls of light, but I think maybe they were fairies. I'm not sure I even believe in fairies now, but I know what I saw. The thing that holds this memory so clear in my mind is that years later I came to understand they were protecting the butterfly. I didn't intend to harm it, but I was chasing it and trying to catch it and I could see why they may have thought I was. For that reason I don't fault them for pushing me away. They were protecting a friend."
As his boyfriend began to spin his tale, Quentin thought he might drift off to the soft, almost lyrical quality to Louis's voice. Instead, he found himself enchanted and smiling as the story went on. He was glad he hadn't interrupted, and he pressed a secretly pleased smile against his boyfriend's shoulder. "I thought it might be a fairy circle, from the way you described it. I'm glad they were nicer to you than to some accidental, almost-trespassers. Fairytales are rife with examples of fairies who aren't so kind to strangers—even if they are children. It sounds like a really nice memory, though. And your mom sounds a little bit like mine. I'm truly sorry about that, if she was."
“I kept looking for more fairy circles until I outgrew it, but it is a pleasant memory and the only time I ever saw fairies. I wrote it down in my journal that I’m keeping.” Even if he still remembered it after all these years, who was to say he would in another two hundred years. “My mother was a good woman.” He wouldn’t speak ill of her. She’d always done the best she could. “Feeling any better?” Not that he expected Quentin to feel much better after such a nightmare. “Tomorrow we’ll stay cuddled up all day. I’ll take care of you.”
So, Louis's mother was nothing like his. Quentin noted this with a firm mental nod and resolved not to bring it up again unless Louis did or attempted to draw comparisons between the two. Outwardly, he found himself tracing Louis's tattoo and wishing he could feel the same. The tattoo artist had been very clear about that, however: no touching until it was completely healed, which could take up to a month. Just by thinking about it, it started to itch again, but not to the point where he needed to do anything about it to alleviate things. Q ignored it and shuffled in closer. "Better, yeah," he replied honestly. "I don't really want to go back to sleep, but I feel like it's tugging on me anyway. Adrenaline crash, y'know? Cuddling all day is just what the doctor ordered. Thanks for sharing that moment with me, by the way. I can picture it. Sounded beautiful."
Honestly, he couldn't have asked for a nicer thought to drift off to.