WHO: Dorian Pavus & Max Trevelyan WHEN: Late Morning, Thursday WHERE: Dorian’s Home WHAT: Max Checks In On Dorian, Arguing RATING/WARNINGS: PG-13/Adult Language STATUS: Complete
There probably was no such thing as a world where Trevelyan wouldn’t drop what he was doing and go to Dorian if there was an emergency - and, granted, he didn’t know what had happened but it must have been something big, if Dorian wasn’t even going to the store that was his, that fashion ‘empire’ he’d built up on his own. Max knew how ambitious the man was - when he was determined, there was little that would stop him, but he also knew about the fragility Dorian locked away too. That, in an Imperium where vipers were raised from the cradle, he’d somehow managed to become compassionate with this big heart - and he held onto it, he didn’t change for anyone.
So, really, whatever was bothering him now must have been big. Max would help him through it though, because he wanted to - the memories of feeling like he spent too much time being a figurehead and nothing more were recalled with astounding clarity, and one of the best things about his relationship with Dorian, in what could be considered the past, was that he knew how to rein Trevelyan back in. Knew how to piece him together again when he needed it most. He could even break down if need be - Dorian’s arms had always been open there.
Maybe it wasn’t exactly the same in this life, but Max could still be there for him in return.
He arrived at the house (of awkward dinner parties), and knocked on the door. “Dorian?” Was there anything going on in there? Fuck, he wasn’t dead was he? “It’s me.” More knocking.
Of course the mage wasn’t dead, he’d apparently been briefly in touch with his employees to tell them he wasn’t coming in. But still.
The last thing that Dorian expected was visitors. After sending his morning message, he shut off his phone and stayed away from all electronics that would notify him of messages of any kind. After that, he took to a hearty breakfast of alcohol and more alcohol.
He had never really experienced heartbreak before and didn't know how to deal with it. The house had been his and Agron’s and now he was left alone with nothing but his loneliness to keep him company.
The knock stirred him from the couch and he glanced at it. His place was a mess, to say the least. Using magic to let out his drunken frustrations had left quite a few broken items and scorch marks on many surfaces. Still, he had the energy to get up and approach the door. He was planning to scare the visitor.
Dorian swung open the door and was surprised to see Max there. Dorian only had on a pair of underwear with an open robe. “Sorry...you’ll have to come back later…” He said before trying to close the door.
That was a good effort, really. “Dorian,” Max huffed, hand shooting out to stop the door from closing. If he had to strong-arm his way inside, using magic or simply a sledgehammer, he would do so - don’t think that the Inquisitor made it as far as he did due to just being nice. There were moments when he was stubborn as the day is long, too.
It was why he pushed past and stepped inside the house, taking a look around - Maker’s ass cheeks, what had happened in here?
“Well, at least you didn’t burn the place down,” he noted dryly. And wasn’t at all concerned with the state of undress of the sole occupant - he’d seen Dorian a lot more naked. The whole world had seen Dorian a lot more naked. “He’s gone, isn’t he.”
That wasn’t a question. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the situation - especially since the house appeared to be a lot more empty than the last time Trevelyan had been inside; not so homey, not so vibrant, definitely lacking warmth. And it made him angry. He was protective of Dorian, whether the man wanted to be protected or not.
Dorian knew that Max would stick around and he, merely, closed the door after the man.
“Well, still perceptive as ever,” he commented, dryly, before he picked up the nearby bottle of alcohol and took a drink. “Anything else you would like to state?”
Hearing Max talk about Agron being gone made him scowl. “On the plus side, I will be able to pick up men at the bar…” He may have meant it as a joke but he didn't have the energy to make it come out as one. He was tired and drunk, not the best combination.
“You should probably go and see how Nasir is doing…”
Max rolled those chestnut-colored eyes to the ceiling and back. “You are so drunk,” he said, but that was the last of what he’d like to state for the time being. The bottle of alcohol Dorian had, Trevelyan also plucked it from his hand, “...and I’m officially cutting you off. Sit down, I’ll make you some food to sop up the gallon of booze you just downed and get you some water too.”
He even went to the couch to fluff up the pillows a little, to make things a little more comfortable - first he’d get Dorian settled, and fed, to lessen the effects of a horrible hangover. Then maybe he’d try to clean up a little too; when the drunk mage awakened he’d probably feel better if he wasn’t swimming in a pit of sloth. This was also probably the first time in a long while that he’d looked like hell and unfashionable. Later, he’d probably be mortified that he’d rocked the ‘undies and bathrobe look’ while hammered.
Max held out his hand, beckoning Dorian over. “Come on, then...amatus.”
Dorian reached as his bottle got taken away. This wasn't how he wanted to spend his day, he wanted to spend it alone while drunk off his ass.
He drunkenly grabbed his staff and fire off a warning shot in Max’s direction. “If you give a shit, you will stop trying to mother me and leave me be.” Even if Max was his lover (in their dreams), he was feeling like Max wasn't respecting his boundaries.
“And do not call me that, unless you want the shot to be at your head,” he said as he used his staff as a crutch.
What was he---
Max started a bit, just managing to dodge the blast of magic - usually his reflexes were better, but he hadn’t been expecting that. “Stop,” he warned, and while he didn’t have his own staff with him (it wasn’t something that one tended to carry around unless necessary, the weapon was cumbersome), magic crackled from his fingertips - electricity, tendrils of lightning that sizzled and popped before he squelched them with a twist of those spell-casting fingers.
“I do give a shit, and I’m not mothering you. I’m just worried about you, okay? Will you at least sit down and talk to me without trying to set me on fire?”
The snippy remark to not use the Tevene term of endearment, amatus, kind of stung a little - but he hoped it was only because of how drunk Dorian was. From Trevelyan, it had just slipped out. He didn’t plan on using it, and yet it was there - it was a term of endearment but it also meant that whomever it was directed to made you feel loved in return. Max would always love Dorian, he knew that by now. Didn’t mean they would ride off into the sunset together, or he wanted to jump Dorian’s bones - love took many forms, after all. But he simply wanted to be a part of his life, in whatever capacity.
“Aren't you?” The Tevinter questioned as he stared at Max. “You haven't even been here a minute and you are trying to take things over.”
“Or do you always have to be the center of attention?” He questioned, slightly glaring. “What’s there to say? I am in no mood to talk...if I did, I would have invited you over.” Things were still too fresh and he didn’t want to be reminded of what had been lost.
“Speaking of which, who tipped you off…” he grumbled. Planning to ‘punish’ whoever had caused this situation, in the first place.
"Dorian..." His accusations were ridiculous, and made this Inquisitor sigh, but Max didn't really take them to heart. When Dorian was hurt, he lashed out, and his words covered up what he was really feeling - you had to know how to interpret all of that. Trevelyan knew the language by now, he spoke it by heart. So he just shook his head, going to the kitchen to find water and a glass.
When he returned he sat on the sofa and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward a little, shoulders tense. Ratting out who told him about Dorian's state wasn't going to happen either; the disheveled mage could just keep wondering. "I'm sorry this happened, I hate seeing you hurt." Honest words, and he wished that he could make it better somehow - but he couldn't. Couldn't completely take away the pain, it would just get more and more bearable over time - all he had to offer for the man he loved so deeply was toast and Mr. Clean Magic Eraser for those scorch marks on the walls.
Water would at least flush his system, and Max gently set the glass on a coaster. His eyes tightened a bit. "We don't have to talk though, if you don't want to. Just drink something besides alcohol. Please. Then I'll leave,” he promised.
“Well, you didn’t have to come here, you know. So, seeing me like this is all your own doing,” Dorian replied. He was trying to push Max away and who could blame him. His negative experiences were starting to pile up and he didn’t know if he could handle something else happening to someone else that he was attached to.
“I don’t want to talk and I don’t want any water. Let me cope however I want..give me a day, at least. I’m not your…” he couldn’t finish that phrase and even in his drunken state, he knew better. “Just go check on Nasir, if you are so hellbent on being there for someone, Trevelyan.”
The flash of something in Max’s irises, flecks of deep gold, was another warning of its own without words - to not bring up Nasir again. Nasir, who was perfectly fine - though probably also irritated that Agron just picked up and left. However, that wasn’t the point right now. “You worried people, Dorian,” he pointed out. “By not showing up to work, by cutting off contact. That’s why I’m here, because your actions don’t exist in a vacuum - they affect others. I will give you time alone but I just needed to see you, even if you won’t let me help you. People do care, you realize.” They cared that he’d had his heart smashed into pieces, of course they did.
Trevelyan didn’t even know Agron that well, but if he ever showed up in Orange County again? He was getting a fire fist to the face.
And Maker, he didn’t think he’d be having this conversation with Dorian while he was drunk off his ass and in his underwear, but here they were. If he wanted to open the can of worms that had been overflowing, then so be it. “You are,” Max insisted, and his voice cracked a little. All that emotion was starting to seep out through the armor he cloaked himself in, reminders to be professional and calm and reserved. “Whatever you were about to say, you are that to me. You always will be. I love you.”
He’d never said that to anyone before. Maybe to his parents, when he was a child, before things went south and they sent him away. However, not since, and certainly not in a situation like this. “Later we can talk about what that means exactly, as we dream more of the complete and utter hell we went through, but right now? I know that it means I’m here for you, even when you try to push me away. That whatever you want to do, I’ll support you, maybe not as your lover now but as your friend - and if anyone ever hurts you again, they’ll have to answer to me.”
Then he stood, wiping his palms on the front of his pants. If Dorian wanted him to go, he’d leave. At least he got to say what he wanted to say, what he’d been bottling up for awhile. So perhaps some good came of it.
Dorian wasn’t in the mood to be told that he was loved. The last person, who he had said it to, was now in Germany and had left Dorian a mess, unintentionally. Rather than take his anger out on Max, Dorian blasted the nearby wall. However, it wasn’t enough.
“I am under no obligation to explain myself to my staff but if you want me to get into things now, fine. Let’s start back to last weekend...I dreamt about the Fade and how there was a brief amount of time that I thought you wouldn’t come out. I wake up from that dream to have my boyfriend bleeding from his hands, due to his own dreams. It makes me far too scared to even think about getting sleep because it’s far too coincidental that I dream about losing you and wake up and almost lose him...at least, it felt like it. Then, about a week later, he leaves me but I can’t be mad at him. After all, he has to look after himself and his own health. And now, the day that I finally decide to just say ‘fuck it all’ and decide to just let myself wallow for a change, you show up and start grilling me and using words like Amatus and love. If you are expecting me to say them back, you are sorely mistaken as the last person that I shared those words with is the reason I am like this. I am quite capable of taking care of my own situations, Trevelyan, or are you simply just used to playing the hero?”
He set the staff aside but crossed his arms. He just didn’t have the patience to be scolded and lectured.
“Oh, really, Dorian? You’re quite capable of taking care of your own situations?” Trevelyan motioned to where the fucker had just blasted with his own staff, adding yet another bit of delightful scorching to the walls, “Because that doesn’t really look like you do. It looks like you are throwing yet another temper tantrum as you are wont to do when you don’t know how to actually talk. And I would argue that you are under an obligation to explain yourself to the people who work for you since it’s called responsibility, but what the fuck do I know.”
He didn’t want to do this - all he’d been trying to do was check on Dorian, but everything escalated and he was about to scream.
Everything was also raw, and it ached, and he hated fighting with Dorian - their relationship had volatile moments, they argued as passionately as they fucked, it was simply how their personalities meshed and it was sometimes kerosene and an open flame, but it was beautiful. Though right now Max had to struggle to keep a grip on his own temper; he felt like it was all snowballing and maybe he shouldn't have come. "I'm not sorry I said those things," he continued. "Maybe one day you'll understand. And I'm also not expecting you to say them back. I'm just trying to deal with remembering, same as you are. I'm trying to balance it all."
He shook his head, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "I just wanted you to know that you'll always have me. But I don't want to fight like this, okay, please Dorian, I can't. I'm angry too, that someone hurt you because when you're hurt so am I - but I can't fight like this."
“Oh, come off it! It’s a fucking wall and all these things can be replaced or fixed. Or would you prefer it if I went out and starting taking out my frustration on the neighbors? I’m allowed to deal with all this shit as I see fit as long as I am not harming others...so get off my back about the mess.” He scoffed before continuing, “ As for my employees...I informed them I wasn’t coming in, and I made sure to leave the right person in charge. They do NOT need to know anything more...my personal life is just that, but I suppose that just makes me irresponsible, according to you. Maker’s breath, do you ever get off your high horse?”
Max wasn’t doing a good job at calming Dorian down and Dorian wasn’t going to back down. Not when his life was falling to shit, but maybe this was just what he deserved; for things to fall apart even more. “Don’t kid yourself, Trevelyan. ‘Always’ is a stupid notion because people die...and people leave. And don’t you dare make Agron leaving me about you!”
Dorian silently went to kitchen to find another bottle of alcohol. Fighting like this...well, he wanted to be numb to everything. Still, his body was far too tense and as soon as he entered the kitchen, he ran to the sink and began to throw up.
Well, maybe Dorian was right - people did die, and the truth of it was that he was going to give Max a fucking stroke. But that wasn’t important either; really, how the fuck did he get under Trevelyan’s skin so badly? He’d done it there too, pushing all those buttons until the calm demeanor slipped off and the Inquisitor exploded into a fiery inferno, able to practically shoot lightning from his eyes.
“Dorian - “ Max went after him, fine, if he wanted to have the last word he could have it. Trevelyan was nothing but a meddling goody-two-shoes waving his dick from his high horse, whatever. And it also wasn’t irresponsible to tell your employees that you weren’t coming in for the foreseeable future and then cutting off all contact with them. He didn’t care, he was far too distracted for that.
They'd been covered in blood and dragon guts before, so vomit was the least of his concerns. He rubbed Dorian's back, gently, stroking his hair. "If you puke up a kidney, I'm taking you to the hospital. Just..." He let out a long, shuddering sigh. "It's okay, just relax. Breathe."
Not much came out of Dorian, given his lack of food and how it was mostly all liquids that had been in his stomach recently. Once he was done, or felt done, he turned on the water and rinsed out his mouth. He, also, made sure that his mess went down the drain.
Afterward, he shut the water off and pulled away from Max. “I’m fine…” he said, feeling tired, all of a sudden. “I do not require a babysitter…” He didn’t know why he was still trying to fight. It was exhausting and he was exhausted, to say the least. “But really...you should check in on Nasir,” he said, as he looked into Max’s eyes. Dorian wasn’t going to come between the two men, despite how very much he wanted to take Max to his bedroom. “I’m sure that he will need someone to lean on, and since Agron isn’t here...you are probably the next in line that he’d want to see.”
Dorian gave Max a pat on the shoulder and moved past him and into the hallway. A shower was starting to sound good.
The shoulder Dorian patted slumped slightly. Apparently he was supposed to go help Nasir, message received loud and clear, but he hadn't been able to help Dorian when he'd wanted to - instead, Max felt like he just made things worse. It was his job to help people, and he couldn't even help one of the most important ones.
And he had to admit, those insults and barbs slung at him hurt. That he just came over to be the center of attention? On his high horse? Making Agron leaving all about him? They hit their mark, sunk in deep to his bones. It felt almost cruel, coming from a person he cared about so much. But it was true that the ones you cared about most also had the power to cause the most pain, too.
His eyes were bright with moisture, and he bit his tongue when Dorian turned to head down the hallway. Then found a dustpan and a broom to clean up the broken debris from whatever mess Dorian made earlier, dumping all of that into the trash while he was in the shower. He couldn't do anything about the scorch marks right now, but he left water and ibuprofen on the kitchen counter. Maybe he would take them if no one was watching. Max could hope.
"I'm sorry." He didn't even know if Dorian heard him or not, but felt like it needed to be conveyed - and he was out of words then after that, because everything he said was wrong somehow, but he just knew what he felt; he is half my soul, as the poets say, he realized it now, and that was Trevelyan's burden to bear - there were parts of him that simply belonged to this stubborn, pigheaded, spoiled mage. And maybe they both would move on, they'd love other people, make space in their hearts for more - but as Freud also said, our beds are crowded and the ghosts of the past would linger. They'd never completely go away but when it was right, those spirits would be laid to rest.
The exit was right there, and he'd probably overstayed the welcome he never got anyway. So he opened the door and slipped out quietly, shutting it behind him.