Heartless
The first thing he did that morning was pay Charmaine a visit and tell her the good news, even if he didn’t particularly believe it. Aiden had doubled down before he'd left, but something inside still suspected him. Regardless, the fact of the matter was that he had verbal confirmation of Aiden’s understanding of what last night had meant and that was enough to save face with Charmaine. She'd been very disappointed with him last time they'd talked, so hopefully, this would clear his name a bit.
As usual, upon walking in, he found her hunched over her desk, white hair spilling over a shoulder to curtain the side of her face. Morning light refracted within the office, shining a plethora of orange hues that painted her skin in warm tones. When he entered, she promptly glanced up, eyes trained on his every movement. Abandoning what she'd been doing, Charmaine leaned back onto her chair to welcome him.
“Well, don't you look accomplished,” she remarked, making his pulse skip, smile growing a little sheepish. “Am I about to hear some good news?”
“Yes; Mr. Yorke is no longer an issue.” Whether or not that was true remained uncertain, but he had to paint last night as a success, since that was what the evidence suggested. “Discipline has been successfully ministered.”
That put a wide smile on her face, perfectly traced in red lipstick, the exact response he'd been looking for. “I had no doubt of your capabilities, Nathaniel; you weren’t chosen for the job on a whim.”
“While you’re most likely correct, I have to say the methods I’m using are neither ethical nor moral, but they work. They’re the only thing that’s reached him so far.”
“Morals are only for the ones who deserve it.” She shrugged, closing her eyes to formulate her point. “Some people are beyond manners, and to reach them, you must lower to their level. You do what’s necessary, not what’s right; that’s what sets the great apart from the rest. Welcome to the sort of elite you won’t be bragging about at dinner parties, unless you happen to be there with me.”
Something grew in his chest. He'd done the right thing.
Undisturbed for most of the day, he went through Aiden’s file again, but this time, he knew what to look for. Hopefully, an analysis of Aiden's past partners and their common traits would give him a better idea of what Aiden looked for in him and what he could do to get Aiden to listen to him—actually listen to him. If he managed to turn himself into Aiden’s dream partner, then his chances of being heard would probably see an exponential increase.
The first guy on the list was Toby Spencer, twenty-one years old when he'd met Aiden, a twenty-year-old college student. They'd met on a campus that Spencer didn’t go to. He was the guitarist of a local rock band; assertive, confident, stubborn and kind of an idiot. The relationship lasted for six months. Aiden broke it off after being cheated on.
The second name on the list was Dylan Jackson, twenty-six when Aiden was twenty-two. They'd met at a work conference three states away and had moved in together after dating long distance for two months. Jackson was a businessman; assertive, confident, stubborn and intelligent. They were together for a total of two years. Aiden broke up with him for getting physical.
Boyfriend number three was athlete Jack Morris, thirty when Aiden was twenty-five. They’d met at a gym and dated for five years, almost sealing the deal on Morris’ part; assertive, confident, strong, romantic. Morris was the one who ended the relationship when he found out Aiden had been cheating on him.
The last one, and the longest of Aiden’s relationships, was Ben May, the vice president of the last company Aiden had worked for. They were introduced at a company meeting when Aiden was twenty-eight and May was thirty-seven; assertive, confident, entitled and a huge jackass. At the time, they'd both been in separate relationships; Aiden had Morris and May had a wife and three kids, but that didn’t stop them from sleeping together and ruining their own lives. They dated in secret for seven rocky years, on and off, with much infidelity and multiple reasons to end their involvement at any given time, but only actually doing it when May’s wife caught them in the bathroom of a charity event. At that point, Aiden had grown completely disillusioned with love and had gone on to spend the rest of his incredibly short life with multiple strangers in one-night stands.
To think Aiden had accused him of having a type. Transparent.
He decided to focus on the longest of Aiden’s relationships, even though it'd ended. Part of him believed that, if the wife had never walked in, they would still be together. The altered state of mind he always entered near Aiden was already very similar to Ben May’s personality, minus a lot of his behavior, which Nathaniel was hesitant to copy. On the one hand, his total lack of kindness was obviously attractive to Aiden, but that approach could easily backfire. He didn't know where the line was. May's romantic side was far easier to simulate, despite how distasteful. He just needed Aiden to like him enough to get him some answers.
With a fist over Aiden’s apartment door, he paused. He wasn’t sure why, but for the first time, decided against announcing his presence and simply turned the handle, pushing the door open. It was completely against protocol; he'd never done it before, but something told him Aiden and protocol didn't mix. Walking straight in, he came across Aiden on the couch, hugging a pillow. The television was on. He wore what looked like pajamas for people that didn’t actually wear pajamas; a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. Brown eyes found him the moment he walked in and watched, from under a scowl, as he made himself at home. Aiden moved to a sitting position, more than just a little alarmed.
“You’re early,” Aiden commented, tracking him as he crossed the living room toward the futon.
“Compared to when? You moved in two days ago.”
“Well, you came over around eight last night and it’s only six. I haven’t even showered yet.” For as conversational as Aiden sounded, something in his voice still was off, hand-in-hand with the way he dropped the stare and shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. It almost put a smile on Nathaniel’s face.
Deliberately, he took the seat next to Aiden, mirroring their positions from two nights ago, except tonight would go differently. This time, he had the upper hand. Spreading a wing across Aiden’s shoulders, he glanced Aiden down openly, making sure he’d notice it. “I don’t mind if you spent all day sleeping on the couch,” he commented, no sharp edges in his tone, despite how self-conscious it made Aiden feel. That was kind of the point. “Are those sweatpants?”
“Yeah, I wear them to bed sometimes, but I didn’t sleep all day; I actually woke up early this morning. I always do; that’s how great men are wired to be. Time is money.” That sounded like something Ben May would say.
“I thought sleep was your greatest enemy—isn’t that what you said? How relieved you were that sleeping was no longer required.”
“Yeah, well, I just felt like taking a quick nap. What’s the big deal?” Loud and defensive. Huh. That didn’t add up, but he decided against pushing the issue any further.
“It’s not a big deal; I’m just saying.” A change of subject might be in order. “Well, what did you do today? How many millions have you made so far?”
“It fluctuates between seventy and eighty grand on a good day, but I’m afraid today isn't one of them,” Aiden joked, reaching for the coffee table. He took an envelope and offered it, surprising given the lengths he'd gone to keep them from Nathaniel. “The Oracle sent me this.”
Nathaniel accepted it. Inside the envelope was a single sheet of paper with only one line: all there was to share is already at your disposal.
“I guess she’s done talking to me.”
“I might be able to help,” Nathaniel offered, trying not to sound way too obvious. The last thing that he wanted was to fight over this again. “I assure you that my intellect isn’t nearly as developed as hers, but I could still be of help. After all, we’re both celestials, despite our differences. What did you want to know?”
A shrug. Aiden leaned back on his seat, eyes trained on the television across the room, semi-absent. “Nothing specific, I guess. It doesn’t really matter.”
Hm. Yeah, he didn’t believe that in the slightest, but pushing Aiden would probably not do him any good, so he’d draw the line here. He could try something more personal, a humble showcase of the bigger man that wasn’t afraid of vulnerability, even if that had only done him disservices in the past.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he began, voice low and poignant. “I was being a dick.”
“So was I; it's fine.”
That answer was too dismissive, uncharacteristic of how Aiden normally talked. His eyes refused to focus on Nathaniel’s face for over two seconds at a time and a restlessness that hadn’t been there before rose up, moving his legs, turning his head, almost squirming. Curious. Different. More importantly, new.
“Are you okay?” Nathaniel asked, leaning closer, watching the way Aiden stared at his own lap. “Because you have a purpose and twenty-five bars down the street, but I don’t believe you've even left this couch today. What's going on? Did you find who you were looking for? Are the clubs in Paradise not up to your standards?”
“Man, I just needed a day off.”
“The economy doesn’t take days off; isn’t that what you used to say? Especially to your employees?”
“We’re not working with a market, Nathaniel; this is just me trying to make sense of things.” Keeping his eyes away, Aiden hugged the pillow closer, both feet now on the futon. Very interesting.
“Hey,” he whispered, softly, resting an elbow on the back of the couch. A hand touched Aiden’s hair, fingers carding through the locks, brushing them off his forehead. “What’s wrong?”
Aiden scowled, but there was poignancy on his face, in the brown of his eyes, in the crease between his brows. Something weighed heavily on his mind, questions the Oracle had deemed unfit to answer, too dangerous for the human mind, perhaps; godly matters that didn’t concern him. He must’ve gone too far.
“What happens if I fall from Paradise?” Aiden asked, small, words practically buried into the pillow. Was that it? No, it couldn’t be. That wasn’t what really bothered him at all; it was just a decoy to throw Nathaniel off.
“You’re not going to, Aiden; you deserve to be here. You’re a good person.” Up for debate, really, but he’d stick to the script.
“Okay, but what if it’s someone else?” Aiden finally looked at him, eyes round, a scowl deep on his forehead. “What happens when you fall? How does it even happen? Do they kill you?”
“No, of course not. There’s a cliff just off the highest mountain beyond the valley; the one you were pointing at when you got here, with the sharp roof and the Roman columns. Down the cliff is the only known passage to The Abyss.”
“So they push you off?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever seen it happen?”
His heart skipped. Okay, this was starting to make more sense now, which probably meant he should end the conversation right here. That first question might not have been what Aiden actually wanted to know, but he sure was inching his way there. Nathaniel didn’t appreciate it, even if it did pretty much confirm his suspicions about the content of those letters. So far, his hunches about this guy had only been proven right.
“Yes.” He touched Aiden’s arm, squeezing it to convey reassurance. “You’re going to be alright. I’m your Guardian Angel, remember? I’ll protect you for all eternity.”
A hand touched his face then, the side of his neck, rounding it for the nape to pull him close. He knew what this was, but still obliged, meeting with Aiden halfway for a kiss full on the lips, hard with intent, soft with feeling. Tenderness gave meaning to the lectures, so he kissed Aiden now to educate him later. Parting from him, Aiden held onto his neck, keeping him close.
“Are we okay?” Aiden whispered, words small between them, brushed against his lips.
“Of course we are.” And he meant that too, even if Aiden didn’t believe him, searching his eyes for the truth, scowling just the slightest bit. Considering everything they'd done to each other so far, skepticism was an incredibly prudent move. He wrapped an arm around Aiden’s shoulders and pulled him close, comforting. “C’mere, it’s okay,” he cooed, helping Aiden scoot over, wing coiled around him like a big feathery blanket. Snuggled up to his side, Aiden rested his head on his shoulder and laid an arm across his lap, cedar wood in his lungs, nose nestled into the curls of Aiden’s hair.
This was weird. He'd never hugged a human like this before. It reminded him of the angels that guarded babies and children and how they comforted those young souls sometimes, wrapping them up in big wings, making them feel safe inside. He closed a hand on Aiden’s upper arm and rubbed a thumb across his skin, trying to project the same comfort.
The earthy scent of Aiden’s hair reminded him of burnt sugar and ground spices, a perfect contrast to the saltwater and seaweed that had dripped with Zea’s sweat and stuck to his skin. Sure, they shared some similarities, but their differences were overwhelming; how had he mistaken one for the other? How could he have ever even humored the idea that Zea had somehow come back to him? It didn’t make sense; he must be losing his mind.
Oh, The Bleeding. Of course, The Bleeding; he had been losing his mind and Aiden must’ve known it too. He must have; he'd clearly exploited it, playing with Nathaniel's memories, toying with his emotions. Maybe Aiden didn’t know everything about it, but he definitely knew more than he should. The Oracle must’ve played a big part in that.
Some cooking show he didn’t recognize played on the TV, but Aiden soon proved not to be paying attention, touching his stomach over the tunic, fingers playing with the folds. He let him; it was inevitable. Being in the same room as Aiden was invitation enough. Soon, the hand on his stomach moved up to his chest, where the tunic no longer covered his skin, and Aiden could run a palm flat over it. He’d never say it out loud, but it actually felt nice.
“I need to shower,” Aiden informed him, voice low, teasing.
“I’ll wait for you.” That was obviously not the answer Aiden wanted to hear, chosen for that reason. It got a thoughtful hum in response, like a purr.
“Why don’t you come with me instead?”
There, the invitation he'd been looking for.
Similar to the rest of the apartment, the bathroom was small; his wings needed to fold and get close to squeeze through the door, knocking everything off the counter. Hands grabbed his body, difficult to think. Aiden kissed him hard and hungry, shedding clothes as they stumbled in, holding him close with a hand behind his neck and an arm across his shoulders. Intentionally or not, Aiden used that leverage to pull himself off the floor, now at eye-level with him. His arms wrapped around Aiden and held him tight, half out of instinct so they wouldn’t lose balance, half just to pull him close, heart fluttering in his chest. That counted as a hug.
He ducked and squeezed his way into the shower, pushing Aiden against the wall, wings boxing him in. The kiss finally broke, only to migrate; his mouth on Aiden’s neck, tugging on his skin, kissing his collarbone. The hands on his shoulders squeezed them, little noises coming up Aiden’s throat, breath catching in gasps.
A leg came up to nudge him on the side, prompting him to take it; forearm running along the underside, palm flat on Aiden’s skin. He knew exactly what Aiden was doing and encouraged him with a touch on his other leg, more than happy to pick him up. It was a leap of faith; Aiden’s weight entirely on his shoulders, pushing him down, knees taking the brunt of it, but only for a moment. Expertly, Aiden locked both legs around his waist, laced at the ankles, a firm grip on the thighs—he'd done this before. No surprises there. With Aiden flush against the wall, Nathaniel angled his hips and eased himself in, body shivering, face hidden on Aiden’s neck.
The pit of his stomach burned, blood singing with every thrust. The dopamine in his veins was addictive, memories of a time long forgotten. He'd missed this so much that tasting it again only made him want more of it, addiction back in full swing. The closeness, the connection, the fire in his veins; it was all beyond comparison. Nothing had ever come close, and holding Aiden like this, pushing him against the wall, Nathaniel almost forgot why he'd come here in the first place. It definitely wasn’t for this. It wasn’t.
“Did you find who you were looking for?” he asked, words pressed against Aiden’s jaw, hips meeting in a steady pace.
The answer was positive, small and curt, whispered into his ear. The hands on his back dug nails into his skin, sharp in a good way, sending shivers down his spine.
“Who was it?” he breathed, half-muffled on the side of Aiden’s face, fingers pressing into his thighs. Was it Zea?
Aiden leaned his head against the wall, a sudden smugness in the glint of his eye, in the way he watched Nathaniel down his nose. Normally, the attitude would’ve driven him up the wall, but with his chest out like this and a smirk on his face, Aiden just made his skin burn. “You.” He sounded deeply condescending, a perfect little demon.
The arrogance brought a feeling from the depths of Nathaniel’s chest, unnamed but vicious, that made him grab Aiden’s thighs hard enough to bruise and push hard into him, hips meeting fast, muscles tensing up. Part of him wanted to hurt him. It was rough, and hot, and carved crescent shapes into his back, but he didn’t actually hurt Aiden. Whimpers traveled across the shower to prove it, moans muffled on Aiden’s own lips, teeth biting into flesh. The heat of his skin and the color of his face, eyebrows drawn up into a scowl, sounds caught halfway up his throat made him mesmerizing. Looking away was never an option.
The sound of the water hitting the tiles below echoed like a peaceful memory. Why had Aiden been looking for him? Assuming his answer had been genuine, of course. How had he not known it immediately, if Nathaniel had been the one to introduce him to Paradise? His first connection, his first interaction—how didn’t he know? Better yet, what did he know about the object of his search and how had it taken him to Nathaniel?
Now that Aiden had found him, or rather, never lost him, what came next? Because none of that seemed to have amounted to much of anything. Thinking back, it was all too convenient that he’d happened to unveil the object of his pursuit on the very same day the Oracle had cut all contact with him. Did she know? How much of what she'd shared about Nathaniel had been complete fabrication on her part? Him being the mystery man just didn’t make sense. Aiden must’ve been lying again.
Falling water raced down Aiden’s body as his hands glided across his skin, a beautiful sheen on his shoulders. In silence, he watched Nathaniel come closer, wings pressed to the walls of the shower, a sort of magnetism pulling him.
“Why would you lie?” Nathaniel asked, taking the soap offered to him. The question received a shrug.
“Sometimes, a lie is just easier to deal with, not as messy.” Aiden spoke carelessly, disinterested, letting the water rinse him. “Sometimes it’s safer to do it too, like a shield over someone you care about, or a shield over your own image. It depends.”
“Which one of these is the reason you lie to me?”
A scowl cut creases into Aiden’s forehead. “I don’t lie to you. At least, I haven’t since I found out who you really are.”
“And who is that?”
“A heartless soldier.”
“Really.” His heart dropped, blood growing cold. “With you?”
“Yeah, with everybody. You don’t really care. You care about yourself, but that’s it. That’s what I’ve read and that’s what I can attest to.”
“Huh.” His fingertips went numb. “Where did you read that?”
“In the books you gave me. My old address is still empty, but I think that’s on purpose; you knew I’d be coming back.”
In order to protect the mental health of the residents, the available literature, as Aiden had mentioned, didn't dig deep into celestial matters. The decision to limit that kind of knowledge had been unanimous across the board; there was nothing Nathaniel could do about it, even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. The rest of that knowledge was safely guarded on his side of the valley, within reach of creatures capable enough to read them. They also had copies of what the humans could read, which he gathered for his own consumption, laying out volumes on both his desk and the floor beside it. Considering just how long it'd been since his last reading, there were probably some new details in there that he wasn’t yet aware of. He had an idea of what they could be, though, since his involvement in the history of Paradise had been considerable in recent years.
The books talked of war, peace and politics, describing his actions as righteous and his rewards as just. Understandably, they didn’t have much about his personal life, or really anything outside of his work, including no proof of his alleged heartlessness. They did talk about the Great Expunging, however, which could be interpreted as heartless in a way, given his relationship with the fallen at the time, but even that was judged as incredibly selfless on his part. Yes, he'd betrayed a lot of his former friends, but they'd posed a big threat to Paradise. They had to be neutralized. He'd simply done what was expected of the defense team. Did that make him heartless?
In the distance, the sound of cascading water, rushing from the top of the mountain down the stones that met its path, racing along a stream that snaked around his office and disappeared around a corner. A portion of the marble flooring shone under the sunlight, shadows moving with the thin curtains that hung from the ceiling. Behind one of them was Charmaine’s silhouette, her wide and delicate wings, the radiance of her three halos, the folds of her long red dress.
“Charmaine,” he called, loud enough for her to hear, causing her figure to stop and turn around, facing the curtains that swayed with the breeze. She hovered over, passing through the gap between curtains to come into his office, dress folds rustling, blond hair blowing gently. “In all your years knowing me, would you say I’m heartless?”
An eyebrow raised with his question, a hint of amusement on her face. “Heartless? Well, that’s never really crossed my mind. Competent, I’d say. Reliable and strong-willed.” Blue eyes glanced off as she pondered, slowly hovering over to take a seat in front of him. “Would that make you heartless? I’m not sure. You’ve always struck me as someone who cares very deeply about righteousness and order; it’s no surprise you’re a Legatus. I guess I don’t really see much of a difference between you and me, to be honest, and maybe because of that, I’m not the most qualified to answer your question. I have to say, though, that you’re far more charitable than I would ever be. Ah, would that make me worse than you? Who's to judge? Fact is out of the question; this is a mere personal opinion.”
“I hold nothing but Paradise’s best interests at heart; how does that make me unsympathetic to the ones who live in it? I’d give my life for any of you.”
“And you do, every time you take your spear and fly down the mountains, so where did that come from? Why are you doubting the authenticity of your intentions when you never have before?”
“I’m not; I’m just not used to such an odd claim. It’s difficult to understand how judgment forms in the human mind, what it takes into account and what it doesn’t.”
A hum from Charmaine, accompanied by two delicate brows furrowing on her forehead. “So that’s how Mr. Yorke feels about you. Have you considered that his claim might be entirely based on how he perceives your relationship, rather than fact?”
“He told me he based it on the literature there is about me, but from what I can tell, it’s completely unbiased; it’s all just fact. It’s the compiled accounts of my military career.”
“Which could come across as horrifyingly inhumane to those who value emotion over reason. I’m sure you can see how the slaughter of one’s peers could be read as a heinous act.”
“I did what anyone would. I was saving all of us.”
“I know that and the rest of Paradise knows it too. You have a wreath on your head, don’t you? But Mr. Yorke wasn’t there and I don’t believe you’ve been affectionate enough to show him just how much you truly care.”
“Charmaine, I’ve done literally everything he’s ever asked me to do. How could that ever showcase indifference?”
“To some, that doesn’t mean much. Each person has their own love language and will only notice loving acts in the language they can understand. From what I can tell, Mr. Yorke must be an incredibly emotional individual, and let’s be honest here, Nathaniel; you can be quite cold in that regard.”
“I don’t understand what you mean; I hugged him just yesterday.” And did a lot more after that, as well.
“Apparently, that's not enough. You’ve become extremely professional and distant since the Great Expunging—have you noticed that? Maybe this assignment was specifically given to you to bring you back to us.” Uncrossing her legs, Charmaine leaned closer to his desk, blue eyes locked on his face. “Read Mr. Yorke’s body language and give him the care that he needs. It’ll do wonders for your career.”
“I’ve been trying, but there are dozens of facets to him and I don’t know which one is genuine, if any at all. He hides behind so many versions of himself that I’m not even sure he’s really there.”
“Then I suppose the two of you aren’t all that different after all.”
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