WHO Orym and Dorian Storm WHERE Outside the Bells Hells Spooky House WHEN Morning of February 9 WHAT Taking a break from their morning sword yoga, the boys talk about Flipped Vallo. STATUS Complete ART CREDITHere WARNINGS None, really! Just Flipped Vallo stuff and lots of fluff.
Standing beside Dorian as they methodically moved through the graceful movements of the Zeph'aeratam, Orym found himself trying desperately to focus on his breathing, the motions, and the rising sun lightening the sky. Though still very much February, the weather had been mild enough that morning to allow them to practice outside, even if it did mean that Orym was a bit more covered thanks to a hooded sweater and sweatpants. Sometimes, he found, the crisper air helped his focus, somehow making him even more aware of his body and clearing his mind.
Today, however, was an exception.
In truth, Orym had been finding it hard to focus much at all since he had been quite literally thrown through the portal, landing himself back in the Vallo he'd spent the better part of two years in. He had known it was the right call and was silently thankful that Diego had listened to the Dorian of the other world to make sure he actually made it home. Orym didn't think he would have stayed behind, but the hesitation and panic had been real. Having the choice taken from him had been a kindness as he looked at a very injured Dorian.
It was that image that kept returning to Orym. He didn't know what became of that Dorian--or Chetney, FCG, and Ashton, for that matter. His boyfriend and friends had been safely returned home, not even Dorian showing a sign of injury, something Orym had thankfully clocked before launching himself at him at first sight. Even so, it was easy for his mind to supply vision after vision of his Dorian covered in blood, injured beyond what moss and bandages could help while Orym stood by helplessly. They weren't new images, as Orym had been plagued by them off and on even before they were in a relationship, his history making it all too easy. He'd been making progress, though, setting those anxieties aside as he trained Dorian and promised him that he would trust his skill and not throw himself into the line of danger to protect him.
Orym could feel himself backsliding and he didn't like it, but he wasn't sure what he could do about it. Communication seemed wise, but the last thing he wanted was for Dorian to think that he was doubting him. This was Orym's problem.
But, he thought as his arm arched through the air with Seedling in his hand, wasn't that the whole point of being in a relationship? Weren't these problems the sort that could be--or, perhaps, should be--shared?
Finishing the set of movements, Orym let his sword arm drop before he could transition into the next. Instead, he pushed his free hand through his hair and let out a sigh. "I know we just got started, but I think I need a break already. That okay?"
Missing memories for ten days could have been worse. There was something odd about the whole ordeal, hearing it from the perspective of a collection of stories from Orym and the other Outlanders. Listening about things he did or didn't do, the type of person he was and wasn't, felt strange. Like Dorian was being given a story about someone else who didn't share all the same characteristics as him—physically, mentally, emotionally. He could almost pretend it was someone else. Except that he trusted Orym to tell him the truth, and this was all, mostly, coming from Orym.
Somehow, the easiest thing, was getting back to some sense of normalcy. Waking up to do morning exercises with Orym was normal. And Dorian clung to it, all the while aware that the normal feeling was only a sham. A cloak covering something deeper that Dorian couldn't speak on—because he didn't remember that week and a half away from here.
Dorian was stepping into the next move when Orym stopped, and asked for a break. Alarm bells pinged immediately in Dorian's mind; that anxiously little part of him that was always too keyed into the world, always too aware of Orym and his moods. It wasn't a bad thing but it was a worrisome thing. Dorian dropped his sword arm too.
"Yeah, okay. It's okay. It's fine, fine, really, it's fine," Dorian said, because when he was concerned or nervous he tended to just repeat himself. Like that would make it better. It didn't, he just sounded unhinged for no reason and would only cause Orym to worry in return. He stepped closer to him, bolstering up his confidence, and resting his free hand on Orym's shoulder, and sliding up to the side of his neck, in comfort.
"Is everything okay?"
It was so natural to lean into Dorian's touch, the comfort so easy for Orym to take as it was offered to him. For what might have been the thousandth time, he found himself vowing to never take that feeling for granted, this time with the reminder echoing in his mind that they were lucky. They had found one another, had been allowed to find one another, in Vallo.
Lifting his free hand, Orym caught Dorian's hand. He turned his head and pressed his lips to Dorian's palm, eyes closing for a few seconds as he took in the moment, then backed away to look up. "Everything's okay," he assured him, because that was more or less true. His mind might have been turbulent, but he was here, alive and whole and with the man he was in love with. Of that, he was grateful and had no complaints. But still, he added, "I'm just having a hard time focusing. My mind keeps drifting to, well. You know. The other Vallo."
At that, Orym turned just enough to plant his sword into the ground; not the best treatment of the blade, but he had stabbed worse and it would do for now. He then tugged down gently on Dorian's arm. "Sit with me?"
The soft affection was always welcome from Orym, but today it felt needed on a level that Dorian wasn't prepared for. Not in a bad way, but in a I should have expected this and now I'm not ready way. But he allowed for the tender kiss, and how Orym pushed his cheek into his palm. All smooth, calm, collected. But Dorian knew that look, Orym was hiding a feeling he hadn't shared with him, keeping it bottled away for a later date or never. So Dorian wasn't surprised when Orym admitted he was thinking about that other Vallo. The later date had come.
He nodded, and quickly mimicked the motion, stabbing his sword into the ground. Dorian sat before Orym did, pulling him into his lap, chest against his back. This might not have been what Orym wanted when they sat, but Dorian liked how he could curl around Orym, solid and protective, with his chin on his head. This was a much better way to have a serious conversation. Other ways included overstuffed duvets and fluffy pillows, sometimes in pajamas or nothing at all. Since none of those options were available, Orym was going to have to settle with this.
"All right, go ahead," Dorian said, arms snaking around Orym's waist like a solid, warm belt. "Tell me what's on your mind. I can feel that it's a lot. Don't ask me how, I just can."
"Because you know me," Orym said, matter-of-fact and appreciative in tone all at once. For as much as he had learned to open up and be his true self around his friends in the past couple of years, it was Dorian who knew and understood him best. It wasn't just this moment, but so very many where Dorian knew if Orym needed affection or space, to talk or be silent, a joke or advice. There were still moments of misunderstanding, just as Orym didn't always read Dorian correctly, but this was not one of them and Orym appreciated him so much.
He was lucky, he thought for the umpteenth time as he settled into Dorian, pulling his strong arms a bit tighter around his halfling body. Recognizing it bolstered him, making the conversation he wanted to have feel safer than even a minute before.
"I am really happy to be back here," Orym prefaced, feeling like that was an important point to start on. "As much as I wish things might have ended on a better note when we all left, I know that it's here--" He turned a bit, nuzzling deeper into the warm comfort that was Dorian's embrace, "that I know I'm supposed to be." Though Orym meant this Vallo in general, he also meant here, with Dorian, with his Dorian, too.
"But," he continued, because there was always a but, "I keep seeing in my head how hurt he was when Diego grabbed me and it's hard not to, I don't know...think of you, too."
Dorian considered what Orym was saying. Somehow it was better that they weren't facing one another, so that all the faces Dorian was making as he thought about Orym's words could be met secretly to the sky above them and not Orym's worried stare. He didn't want Orym getting the wrong impression when his expressions went soft, or confused, or just genuinely sad, thinking about another version of him. Who might not even be alive.
He now understood why Orym's mind was so heavy. Even Dorian didn't like the idea of another version of him gravely injured and he hadn't even been there. He settled heavier around Orym, allowing his arms to be directed and pressing a kiss to his temple. He hoped it was comforting. "I'm glad you're here too, even if I didn't even know you were gone." Dorian paused, then tried again. "I didn't even know I was gone."
Even now, Dorian closed his eyes and tried. He had tried a dozen times since he had 'returned' but everything was endlessly, mindlessly blank. He should have been more concerned about that. Right?
"But," he continued, because there was always a but, "I'm okay. I know that doesn't exactly help, but I do whatever I can to make sure you don't always think about it." Another nose wrinkle; Dorian knew how that sounded. "Except it's me, so you can't not always think about it. But if he was anything like me, he'd probably hate that it was bothering you, too."
Despite himself, Orym let out a soft chuckle that lingered on his face as a little smile as he thought over Dorian's words. "You're right," he agreed. "He would definitely hate it, but he'd tell me it with a bunch of swears in between. Maybe even an eye roll or two, for good measure."
There was fondness to Orym's words, despite the teasing. Of course he had liked the other Dorian; Orym would find himself hard-pressed to not like any Dorian and it wasn't just because he was physically attracted to him. He may have been biased and liked his Dorian the most, but it had been interesting to interact with the other version of his boyfriend and see what was the same and what was different. Caring about Orym, he'd thought, was a similarity, no matter the different level it might have been.
It made him think again of that last moment and Orym very nearly faltered, almost stopped himself before he barreled forward. "When he was telling me to go through the portal, he made it very clear that I was supposed to come home and make heart eyes at you." Turning just enough so he could look up at Dorian, that small upturn still there at his lips, he added, "Have I been successful in that, you think?"
He had more to say, of course, but Orym couldn't help the sliver of a tease. It came so easy, something that made his heart a bit lighter despite the hard conversation; it was, as he so frequently recognized, almost always easy with Dorian.
"Are you sure it was me and not Ashton?" Dorian asked, very seriously. The more he heard about the other him the more he wondered what if. Could he have ever become that much of a hardass? What was out there that would force him to maintain that sort of attitude? Dorian wondered if he could do it down, pretend to embody Ashton and send out a curse of swears for good measure. He could barely manage to form the f in the word fuck before he blushed. He hid his face in Orym's hair.
As Orym tilted his face up, Dorian kissed his forehead on instinct. "You make heart eyes at me all the time," Dorian said, a little cheekily. "But if these are special case scenario ones, I'm going to give you top marks. Definitely successful." Dorian continued kissing Orym, on his ear, on his jaw, burying his face into his neck.
He hated the way that suddenly, overbearingly, the sadness for his other self crept in. Other Dorian knew Orym had to get back to him. He had made sure to take care of himself in the process. It felt very aware in a way Dorian didn't feel now. Maybe the other him was better? Maybe the swearing helped? Maybe he would be different if he had an Orym to go home to?
"Do you think he's happy?" Dorian asked. "I know the world there wasn't great but maybe he could be?"
Orym considered the question for a quiet moment, all while he reached up to find a lock of Dorian's hair to twine through his fingers. It wasn't a great world, Dorian was right about that. There was a lot of fear and worry and mitigating situations, all of which made sense in why that Dorian was the way that he was. Still, there had been moments of laughter and levity. They had sparred and egged one another on in a way that had made Orym smile. There had even been something akin to tenderness, like when Orym had bandaged Dorian's wounds. It made him think that happiness was possible.
And, Orym considered, he wasn't the first other Dorian that he had met in his time in Vallo; he'd had the opportunity to meet an older Dorian that had lived in similar, but very different, dire straits. There had been a hardening around the edges of that Dorian, though he could see the foundation of him originating from the man he was currently lounging upon.
There was a similarity between the two, though, one that Orym immediately felt bad considering as he liked to think his ego was under some sort of control.
"I hope so," Orym said, his tone wistful in a way that could only mean that he really did have hope. He paused for a beat, then just said what he was thinking. "I keep hoping that maybe a version of me will arrive there for him. A version that might help make him happy." Again, Orym looked up at Dorian, nose wrinkling. "Not that I'm some, you know, key to your happiness or whatever. I like to think I help, though."
"I would think the same thing," Dorian admitted. He knew that Orym had been happy with Will. And he liked to think that out of the same sadness that came from after Will's death that Orym had found happiness with him. It was the one selfish thing Dorian allowed for himself that he didn't ask permission for or didn't seek validation in. The more he thought about it, the more he knew that he was that person for Orym. Not the same happiness with Will but a different kind that was just as good.
So he wanted Orym to know that his happiness was keyed into having him around. Losing their friendship would be devastating, and losing this—Dorian squeezed Orym tight, kissed his cheek again—would ruin him. Was it a little co-dependent? Probably. Was he adult enough to understand the consequences of throwing his heart out to Orym and knowing with such certainty that he would catch it? Obviously.
"Any version of you would make him happy," Dorian said, much softer this time. "There's something missing when you're not around. I can't quite place it, but there is a sense of—wrongness. And being unable to place that feeling or fill that missing piece is where the unhappiness comes from." Dorian nodded, as if this was a universal truth. "You help. Even with the short amount of time you spent with him, it helped. You might not know it right away, but it did."
There wasn't any way Orym was going to refute that. The way Dorian spoke, as though it just was, soothed Orym's heart and soul in a way he hadn't fully realized he'd needed. It was clearly true that he had been happy with Will. Had life gone differently, as that alternate version of himself from months ago had shown, Orym had to assume that he would still be with Will. But his life hadn't gone differently and everything he had overcome had led him to here, sitting in their yard with Orym in Dorian's lap.
And Orym was happy. Dorian helped, he always did. This conversation and the way his shoulders seemed to already feel lighter was evidence of that.
"I think you're right," Orym said, settling once again into Dorian as heavily as his little self could. "No, I know you are. I wish there was more that we could have done to fix their situation, but knowing that maybe I helped him--and Chet and Letters and maybe even Ashton--means a lot." It meant everything, really..
"And I know you're not fishing for compliments," Orym continued, taking one of Dorian's hands and placing it on his chest so he could feel the steady thump-thump of his heart, "but you help me. Every day, Dor. You make me real happy."
He might not have been fishing for compliments, but it didn't mean he didn't blush wildly and sigh softly when Orym gave them. Dorian never lacked the kind words from his boyfriend, and it seemed to do things to his whole being—fundamentally re-arranging the parts of himself that were small, unnurtured, wanting to be bright. Orym unintentionally, or maybe intentionally, brought out the best in Dorian. It was why the times without him seemed so lost.
"You make me happy too," Dorian echoed,as his hands started to do that nonchalant, habitual thing: running his fingers up and down Orym's arms, drawing comfort from him where he could. He supposed it might be a comforting thing to Orym too. "Even if other me probably sounded mad all the time. Was he mad all the time? He seemed mad all the time." Then again, Dorian would be mad all the time without Orym. Probably cursing the world for the unfairness of it all. But if he never had Orym? That seemed exponentially worse.
Dorian settled into the rhythm, feeling the steady beat of Orym's heart in his chest where Orym directed his hand. It all seemed so soothing, and if he didn't just wake up an hour ago, he could have fallen asleep right here again. "Are you going to be okay?" Dorian asked after a long stretch of contemplative silence. "You know, with not having fixed it when you left. At least, not having fixed it where you could see or know how you did."
Kind of like the future. They had defeated the big bad, and assumed all was right in the world but there was no telling for sure. The big bad in this other Vallo were people they knew, and everything was so murky. He kissed the top of Orym's head, as if to say I understand.
Orym's gut reaction was to comment on that he had little choice. What happened in that world was now out of his hands, so he ought to soldier on. He didn't have to soldier on, though, not with Dorian. Knowing that he could be honest with these sorts of thoughts and feelings was what had driven Orym into having this conversation in the first place. He could tell Dorian.
"I don't know." Orym closed his eyes, just letting himself soak in Dorian's presence and attention. "I think that I might, eventually. It's hard, not knowing, but I have a feeling he'll keep going until everything is fixed. I just have to trust him--and Chet and Ash and Letters--to stick together and do their best to take care of each other." He smiled, small and more to himself than anything else. "I think that if there's anything I can trust our little family to do, it's take care of each other, no matter how mean or grouchy they might be on the outside."
That brought him back around to the other part of what had been plaguing Orym's thoughts enough that morning to pause their routine. "What I'm worried about most, though, is that I might not react very well if I see you get hurt, in a battle or something similar." His eyes fluttered open and he looked down at their hands at his chest, his own shifting to lace his short, rough fingers between Dorian's long, musician ones.
"I know how skilled and capable you are," he continued, because he absolutely did, "but I don't want to backslide. I'm going to try not to."
Dorian could sense the shift in the conversation. He could sense that he was being obliviously empathetic, but he knew that Orym was trying to broach something that would inevitably hurt to think about. Dorian wanted to make sure it wasn't as terrible as it could be. Not that he could take those memories out of his mind, though. He exhaled, deeply.
"I wish I had an answer. And not one that is like exposure therapy or anything because that would be awful," Dorian said, flinching at his own words. He would have to hurt himself over and over to make sure Orym didn't react poorly, but he would never want Orym to see him badly injured in the first place either. This theoretical pain on both sides was easily reciprocated. "But I know you'll try. You always do. That is what I love most about you, Orym."
He reached to touch Orym's chin, to turn his face so that they could kiss properly. Or as proper as one could in their positions. "You never give up. Some people would think that is stubbornness, and it kind of is, a little bit," Dorian teased. But he was smiling, that compassionate sort of way he got when having these tough conversations with Orym. "But your perseverance, even if it's something like this which is honestly hard enough on it's own. And you've seen it so many time already and I'm not sure if—"
No, nope. He was going off on a tangent. Get back on track, he told himself. "I know you're worried that you would get used to something terrible, and that you shouldn't. But I know you, and I know that you know I would rather you be safe. I'm not saying not to care, but I am saying you should care about yourself too. In all of this."
Caring about himself was never Orym's strongest suit. It wasn't necessarily due to a lack of esteem or self-hatred, but simply due to that instinct that had been drilled into him by his own hand: everyone else came first. In Zephrah, he had been lucky enough to have a mother and in-laws, and Will during the before, to try their hardest to remind him of exactly what Dorian was saying. Those had been easier, more simple times, but the years since had been anything but and it was easy enough to forget--especially in a time like now, when Orym's mind was plagued with new and difficult memories.
Which was why he was so glad to have known that it was Dorian that he needed to come to with this. It was Dorian that would remind him that there were people who loved Orym, just as much as he loved them, and they wanted him to be here and whole with them. And while maybe it was only human (or halfling) to have moments of indecision and doubt, it was a comfort to be reminded that he had the support he did.
"I'll try." Orym was still turned after the kiss; he was like a flower seeking out the sun, his face focused on Dorian's. He shifted then, turning until he was facing Dorian, kneeling in front of him. He wasn't quite eye-level from where Dorian was sitting, but that was all right. "Both not to backslide and to care about myself."
Orym reached out, hand on Dorian's cheek, and smiled. The heart eyes, he knew, were on full display as he started to guide Dorian closer and added, "I knew talking to you would help."
"You won't backslide," Dorian confirmed, as if saying it made it true. He didn't have that kind of power—and honestly would be terrible if he could wield it, he knew the kind of overwhelming feeling control of that magnitude could cause—but he felt like he could do it to Orym. If he believed in him, the same way Orym believed in Dorian every day, then it would always be true. It would manifest, something he had learned from Letters about goals and futures. Manifesting.
Dorian let Orym slip free from his grasp and face him. He didn't have to tilt his head down much, but the height difference always made him smile. He liked being tall enough to wrap around Orym, protectively. His own sort of shield. Probably not one he should do in battle though, to avoid—well, everything they just talked about. He kissed him again for good measure, affected by heart eyes and all.
"I'm glad. I'm always glad. I know that you and I have have this unspoken agreement where we can tell each other everything. Sometimes, I feel like there is nothing you don't know about me already," Dorian said, mimicking the motion to touch Orym's cheek. For two people who had intended on practicing their sword fighting, they certainly did so little of it this morning. This was just as much training though as the physicality of the Zeph'aeratam.
"One day though, I'll surprise you." Another promise, that would likely go unfilled. He was too much in love with Orym to keep secrets long.
"One day," Orym agreed, though he couldn't help but think that Dorian surprised him on the daily. Not in big, life-altering ways, but in small ways. In a way, he had come to expect the surprises, the little shows of love and affection that he still couldn't believe some days he, little Orym of the Air Ashari, was on the receiving end of someone like Dorian Storm. He knew that wasn't what Dorian was talking about in the moment, but the thought lingered. Orym would be so lucky to be surprised by Dorian.
Orym stepped in until he was leaning against Dorian, more or less using him as support as he took a kiss. "I love you, Dor," he sighed, fingers finding purchase in the hair at the back of Dorian's neck and the sleeve of his shirt. Glancing once to the side where their swords were waiting, he asked, "Should we finish? Or do you think we're done for the morning?"
It wasn't all that often Orym offered an out on skipping their morning Zeph'aeratam, but this felt like a special circumstance. He felt more at ease than he had when they'd started and wasn't that what his morning routine was about?
Dorian's whole face lit up. "I love you too. Every version, every world. Whatever that may be." It was cheesy, but Orym liked cheesy and so did Dorian. And it was true, much like any other words of affection shared between them were. He would always love Orym.
His attention shifted over to the swords as well, and Dorian's eyes narrowed as he turned back to Orym. He quickly hopped to his feet, offering out an unnecessary hand. "Nope. No skipping. You said you can't backslide and that also means keeping up with routine. Other me would be so disappointed, and probably curse you out a bit too."