[ he could kill him right now. he could reach through the phone and strangle ash's strapping, sexy throat until he's the one on his knees, begging embry for sweet relief, or at least spewing out a dozen different words that all mean fucking thank you. thank you for keeping his morbid secrets from the entire population of the united states and the world. thank you for being the bad guy again and again. thank you for walking away from greer and the one shred of happiness he'd found during those horrible lonely years away from ash's bed. thank you for not taking his ring, because he knows the meaning of sacrifice. ]
i've done nothing but try to protect you. i bent over for fucking merlin for you. i'm here, holding you up every step you take of your big golden destiny, and you want to criticize how i do it? what more do you want me to give you, ash? because if you ask, you know i'll do it.
You've already given me everything I could ever want. I'm not trying to criticize you. I just don't want you to have to make yourself smaller, to protect me. You shouldn't have to suffer for my sins.
( he doesn't want embry to have to protect him period, but ash isn't so cocky as to think he'd be anywhere near where he is right now, if it weren't for embry. he would've died in the war, if embry didn't give him something to live for. )
That's the second time you've brought up Merlin. What are you talking about?
( ash waits through the pointed silence on embry's end, half expecting he won't get a response, half knowing he'll get it one way or the other, even if he has to track embry down and put his boot on his throat until he relents, secrets spilling out of him like blood from a wound. luckily, embry responds. unluckily, ash is now aware of how easy embry can reject him if they aren't directly communicating — so he calls him shortly after the responding text, simply because he's more confident embry won't hang up on him, than he is in embry's ability to just stop responding. )
[ if anything is true in the universe, it's that ash colchester will always get his way with him. even if it takes fifteen years. no, he's not going to hang up on him, a nearly pavlovian response in simply hearing ash's voice administering a command in his ear, as if he's fixed on his knees before ash's seated form, the safest place in the world to finally confess, and yet he feels like a reckless twenty-something again, on a train careening toward the only person in the entire world that matters to him, being told no. ]
I was coming back from rehab. [ that centers things. after embry nearly died. after ash saved him. after they fucked in the woods in the dead silence of a warzone and his life was never, ever the same. ] I was on the train. And Merlin found me. He'd read all those emails we exchanged, all the dirty shit we'd said to each other. He knew. He told me we couldn't win the war without you. That he believed in the things you'd go on to do after. That you were too valuable to risk. And he said if you truly love him, then there's nothing you can't sacrifice.
[ his anger is back, a live, pulsing thing, all his years of resentment bubbling to the surface. ] I can read between the fucking lines. And you — you would've gotten yourself kicked out of the army for me. You had no fear whatsoever. You would sacrifice everything to be with me. How could I let you do that when Merlin, god fucking damn him, was right? You forced me, over and over and over... [ his voice breaks. ] To say no to everything I wanted to say yes to. I lied to keep you safe. To keep you on the path that Merlin believed was yours, and after seeing the things you were capable of, I believed it, too. I loved you, and there was nothing I wouldn't sacrifice for you.
( it probably says a lot about him that he isn't particularly bothered by the thought of merlin reading his dirty emails to embry — both because ash has never learned the apprehension his sexuality supposedly deserves in his term as president, and because he's not upset by anyone knowing how he feels about embry. sure, there's a violation there, a brief flicker of audacity. but ultimately, what does it matter? he is not subtle around his staff, there's no real mystery to his pining, there was never any question of ash's love for embry. embry's love for ash, however?
that's what hurts, what punches him in the chest with knowing, an exhale of breath knocking out of his lungs while he stares into the middle distance, reflecting. he'd been so sure the way to convince embry that their love was worth the risk was showing him, telling him in every way he knew how, that he'd never choose anything over him. not a war they didn't start, not a country that wouldn't approve of their marriage, not a political career dancing to the tune of dozens of white presidents before him. all this time, he thought the sacrifice on his part just wasn't enough. embry didn't love him enough to make all the same sacrifices — embry didn't love him enough, full stop, to want to marry him. and now?
all that time, every proposal, every broken boundary, every toeing line. he wanted, wanted. )
You — you really wanted to say yes? Jesus Christ, Embry. ( he scrubs a hand over his face, the heel of his palm driving into his eye socket. ) I thought you didn't love me. ( or at least not enough to marry him, not as much as ash loved him. he remembers beating embry raw for three years for that, actually — making him say it's better this way, the fucking, the kink, the sex without the love to compliment it. ash remembers crying over it, wondering why he wasn't ever enough. ) You should've told me.
[ tears sting his eyes, hysteria rising in his throat. even now, he can't say it, that of course he wanted it. of course he wanted to say yes. he would've given up his cushy city life to go live on a farm in fucking canada if it meant being with ash. nothing about his entire miserable existence held meaning before ash locked eyes with him and made him furious for the first time, and he'd give up anything, anything for ash to keep making him feel that way until he was old and gray and wrinkly and dead. ]
What would you have done if I'd told you?
[ a scathing growl that requires no answer. he knows. they both know. ash would never have let him make the choice. he would have squandered his life away like the noble romantic he is, too in love with an aching mess of flaws and warped emptiness that doesn't deserve him in any lifetime. he wouldn't be the man he was always meant to be, the hero embry used to read to him about in quiet hotel rooms while ash's fingers stroked his hair and everything still felt perfect.
he draws in a breath, his voice like lead, like the final page of a closed book. ] It's been fifteen fucking years. And it's better this way.
( the problem is, they'll never really know what ash would've done, because embry never gave him the option of a choice. even if he couldn't leave the war, if they still somehow forced him into politics and the presidency, they could've done it together, secretly. maybe. they could've been a secret, a marriage in a grove somewhere, oaths shared between the two of them, til death do we part. the farm and the cows and the babies could've come later. there were other ways than quiet, painful suffering for the both of them for fifteen fucking years — merlin sure as fuck does not get a say in who ash can and cannot marry. ( he does, distantly remember, merlin being the one to introduce him to jenny, to push him towards marriage. ) at the very least, ash knows he would've told him that much.
and he might say any of this, maybe. embry deserves the verbal lashing and the inevitable outcome — ash fucking him raw until their sharp edges dull and soften and ash lets happiness creep in around the shadowy corners of the last fifteen years. every pain he felt about embry not loving him enough was not true — embry's always loved him, always wanted him, and there's something to be joyous about in that. ash could find it, through fucking all this aggression out on embry. in the daylight, apparently, since they can't fuck at night.
but, embry says the one thing that he shouldn't, and ash feels himself go stone cold and solid, frozen in place. the expression drops off his face, entirely blank. )
[ the change in ash's voice hits him hard, his eyes closing as he remembers a night in the barracks all those years ago when he'd twisted the knife as hard as he could and sold the lie that would haunt him for the rest of his life. sold it so fucking well that he had ash hopelessly, cruelly fooled all this time. easy enough to believe that embry is incapable of love, of normal human feelings that aren't twisted up into something ugly and wrong. frankly, not all of it's a lie. there is something wrong with him. ]
It's better this way.
[ as brittle as sun-bleached bone and just as fragile. it's been too long for it to be anything else. the what-ifs will kill him, the many branching paths that could've been his life, a proposal in a valley that could've been his, ash kissing jenny at the altar when it might've been his lips instead. they could've had years of domesticity by now instead of a violent collection of stolen moments around d.c. a torrid, tragic love affair. ]
You can hate what I did. But anyone who loved you less would've been selfish with you. And everything else is just a fantasy you made up in your head.
( this is familiar to him, the feeling of crying over embry moore. his eyes are wet — if they were in person he'd turn away from embry, not wanting to show him what an ache he is, how much he hurts. they're not beside each other though, and ash just screws his eyes shut, audibly letting one ragged breath fall out of his mouth. fifteen years, and every no was merlin's fault. what is he supposed to do with that?
the knife of it's better this way is a good pain, because it's nice to know embry can still get under his skin, can still say the exact wrong thing, can still hurt ash like no one else. )
I didn't ask you to do that. I'd never want you to. Damnit, Embry, don't you think I want you to be selfish with me? Haven't I always been selfish with you?
( he's pleading, desperate. he thumps his forehead hard against the wall, rocking his brow back and forth on the wallpaper. )
Why? Why is it better this way, if we love each other, if we both wanted to be together, if we've both been heartbroken and suffering for fifteen years? How is that any better?
[ a ragged truth ripped from his lips. he's so fucking glad they're not in the same room because he can hear how he's wounded ash (again), can hear the tears thick in his voice — and yet, some part of him wishes he was there to see it, because then he'd push and push and push until ash shoved him to the floor and made him eat shit for every hurt, every lie, every fucked up thing he's done for more than a decade both behind his back and right in front of his face.
it's okay that embry has been heartbroken and suffering all this time. but to put ash through this? he knows that when all of this misery is finally over for good, when whatever god or devil he doesn't believe in comes to collect, he's not going wherever ash and greer are. he's going straight to hell for what he's done, do not pass go, do not collect two-hundred fucking dollars. ]
What good does it do to stand there and try to make me think about everything we could've had? It's better this way because it's all I've had to hold onto since all this shit started. Do you think I haven't already had every thought going through your mind right now? I know you'd never ask. I know you'd never want this. But you were always meant for something bigger than us, and if our positions were reversed, if you could see yourself the way I see you, you would've done the same goddamn thing.
[ no, he wouldn't. because ash is not a piece of shit like he is. he breathes in deeply, trying to quell the urge to throw his phone against the wall. ]
( the audacity of the request at least stirs the pain from his voice long enough to huff out a disbelieving, single laugh. only embry could piss on his head and tell him it's raining — think that he deserves a thank you for listening to merlin, who is apparently a giant fucking (potentially homophobic) jackass. all this from both of them, in the blind and almost supernatural belief in whatever goodness there is in ash.
ash, the man who fucked and impregnated and abandoned his sister. ash, so loathsome that even his parents didn't want him. it would've been easier if embry said he couldn't marry him because he knew about lyr, because he knew, inherently, what a wretched sinner ash was, too horrible even for the sanctity of confessional. instead, this. it's not because ash is awful. it's because ash is bigger than, he is greater than, he is more than. naturally, no one ever asked ash if he wanted to wear the crown — he wanted chickens and goats and cows in canada with embry. he wanted fat babies to chase around the farm. he wanted, shortly said, the happiness of a full life lived with the man he loves. instead, this. )
I'm not going to thank you for breaking my fucking heart.
[ of course he won't. if he digs past his anger, his hurt, he knows the truth is that he doesn't deserve anything from ash. not his friendship, not his love, and certainly not his gratitude. but he promised to take you any way he could have you. ]
Then thank me for breaking mine for you.
[ he locates his balls just in time to hang up on ash, not just knowing the consequences will come later, but hoping that they do. ]
( embry hanging up on him mid conversation is maybe the least surprising thing in this whole talk — and, after the hot, indignant rage that flares up him for half a minute flatlines, ash eventually simmers. it wasn't a bad move, it's not like there was any progress to be made in this conversation, and embry didn't need to stay here as a punching bag for ash's hurt. that's fine. he thinks about going to meet him, about fucking him as meanly and nasty as he can, about tying his dick up and cinching his balls, about cumming on his back and rubbing it into him like lotion. embry is surely expecting it. but, possibly, he has a better idea. )
I need to cool off. I'll find you tomorrow. Do not hide from me, or I will hunt you down.
( if embry knows ash isn't coming for him, he'll probably look for someone else to pummel against. it might be hawk. but it could be greer — and that's where ash will be, waiting to play barbies again. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
i've done nothing but try to protect you. i bent over for fucking merlin for you. i'm here, holding you up every step you take of your big golden destiny, and you want to criticize how i do it?
what more do you want me to give you, ash? because if you ask, you know i'll do it.
no subject
( he doesn't want embry to have to protect him period, but ash isn't so cocky as to think he'd be anywhere near where he is right now, if it weren't for embry. he would've died in the war, if embry didn't give him something to live for. )
That's the second time you've brought up Merlin. What are you talking about?
no subject
it's been fifteen years, ash. it's not important anymore.
→ voice
Let me decide what's important. Tell me.
no subject
I was coming back from rehab. [ that centers things. after embry nearly died. after ash saved him. after they fucked in the woods in the dead silence of a warzone and his life was never, ever the same. ] I was on the train. And Merlin found me. He'd read all those emails we exchanged, all the dirty shit we'd said to each other. He knew. He told me we couldn't win the war without you. That he believed in the things you'd go on to do after. That you were too valuable to risk. And he said if you truly love him, then there's nothing you can't sacrifice.
[ his anger is back, a live, pulsing thing, all his years of resentment bubbling to the surface. ] I can read between the fucking lines. And you — you would've gotten yourself kicked out of the army for me. You had no fear whatsoever. You would sacrifice everything to be with me. How could I let you do that when Merlin, god fucking damn him, was right? You forced me, over and over and over... [ his voice breaks. ] To say no to everything I wanted to say yes to. I lied to keep you safe. To keep you on the path that Merlin believed was yours, and after seeing the things you were capable of, I believed it, too. I loved you, and there was nothing I wouldn't sacrifice for you.
no subject
that's what hurts, what punches him in the chest with knowing, an exhale of breath knocking out of his lungs while he stares into the middle distance, reflecting. he'd been so sure the way to convince embry that their love was worth the risk was showing him, telling him in every way he knew how, that he'd never choose anything over him. not a war they didn't start, not a country that wouldn't approve of their marriage, not a political career dancing to the tune of dozens of white presidents before him. all this time, he thought the sacrifice on his part just wasn't enough. embry didn't love him enough to make all the same sacrifices — embry didn't love him enough, full stop, to want to marry him. and now?
all that time, every proposal, every broken boundary, every toeing line. he wanted, wanted. )
You — you really wanted to say yes? Jesus Christ, Embry. ( he scrubs a hand over his face, the heel of his palm driving into his eye socket. ) I thought you didn't love me. ( or at least not enough to marry him, not as much as ash loved him. he remembers beating embry raw for three years for that, actually — making him say it's better this way, the fucking, the kink, the sex without the love to compliment it. ash remembers crying over it, wondering why he wasn't ever enough. ) You should've told me.
no subject
What would you have done if I'd told you?
[ a scathing growl that requires no answer. he knows. they both know. ash would never have let him make the choice. he would have squandered his life away like the noble romantic he is, too in love with an aching mess of flaws and warped emptiness that doesn't deserve him in any lifetime. he wouldn't be the man he was always meant to be, the hero embry used to read to him about in quiet hotel rooms while ash's fingers stroked his hair and everything still felt perfect.
he draws in a breath, his voice like lead, like the final page of a closed book. ] It's been fifteen fucking years. And it's better this way.
no subject
and he might say any of this, maybe. embry deserves the verbal lashing and the inevitable outcome — ash fucking him raw until their sharp edges dull and soften and ash lets happiness creep in around the shadowy corners of the last fifteen years. every pain he felt about embry not loving him enough was not true — embry's always loved him, always wanted him, and there's something to be joyous about in that. ash could find it, through fucking all this aggression out on embry. in the daylight, apparently, since they can't fuck at night.
but, embry says the one thing that he shouldn't, and ash feels himself go stone cold and solid, frozen in place. the expression drops off his face, entirely blank. )
Say that again.
no subject
It's better this way.
[ as brittle as sun-bleached bone and just as fragile. it's been too long for it to be anything else. the what-ifs will kill him, the many branching paths that could've been his life, a proposal in a valley that could've been his, ash kissing jenny at the altar when it might've been his lips instead. they could've had years of domesticity by now instead of a violent collection of stolen moments around d.c. a torrid, tragic love affair. ]
You can hate what I did. But anyone who loved you less would've been selfish with you. And everything else is just a fantasy you made up in your head.
no subject
the knife of it's better this way is a good pain, because it's nice to know embry can still get under his skin, can still say the exact wrong thing, can still hurt ash like no one else. )
I didn't ask you to do that. I'd never want you to. Damnit, Embry, don't you think I want you to be selfish with me? Haven't I always been selfish with you?
( he's pleading, desperate. he thumps his forehead hard against the wall, rocking his brow back and forth on the wallpaper. )
Why? Why is it better this way, if we love each other, if we both wanted to be together, if we've both been heartbroken and suffering for fifteen years? How is that any better?
no subject
[ a ragged truth ripped from his lips. he's so fucking glad they're not in the same room because he can hear how he's wounded ash (again), can hear the tears thick in his voice — and yet, some part of him wishes he was there to see it, because then he'd push and push and push until ash shoved him to the floor and made him eat shit for every hurt, every lie, every fucked up thing he's done for more than a decade both behind his back and right in front of his face.
it's okay that embry has been heartbroken and suffering all this time. but to put ash through this? he knows that when all of this misery is finally over for good, when whatever god or devil he doesn't believe in comes to collect, he's not going wherever ash and greer are. he's going straight to hell for what he's done, do not pass go, do not collect two-hundred fucking dollars. ]
What good does it do to stand there and try to make me think about everything we could've had? It's better this way because it's all I've had to hold onto since all this shit started. Do you think I haven't already had every thought going through your mind right now? I know you'd never ask. I know you'd never want this. But you were always meant for something bigger than us, and if our positions were reversed, if you could see yourself the way I see you, you would've done the same goddamn thing.
[ no, he wouldn't. because ash is not a piece of shit like he is. he breathes in deeply, trying to quell the urge to throw his phone against the wall. ]
Jesus fuck, you could at least say thank you.
no subject
( the audacity of the request at least stirs the pain from his voice long enough to huff out a disbelieving, single laugh. only embry could piss on his head and tell him it's raining — think that he deserves a thank you for listening to merlin, who is apparently a giant fucking (potentially homophobic) jackass. all this from both of them, in the blind and almost supernatural belief in whatever goodness there is in ash.
ash, the man who fucked and impregnated and abandoned his sister. ash, so loathsome that even his parents didn't want him. it would've been easier if embry said he couldn't marry him because he knew about lyr, because he knew, inherently, what a wretched sinner ash was, too horrible even for the sanctity of confessional. instead, this. it's not because ash is awful. it's because ash is bigger than, he is greater than, he is more than. naturally, no one ever asked ash if he wanted to wear the crown — he wanted chickens and goats and cows in canada with embry. he wanted fat babies to chase around the farm. he wanted, shortly said, the happiness of a full life lived with the man he loves. instead, this. )
I'm not going to thank you for breaking my fucking heart.
no subject
Then thank me for breaking mine for you.
[ he locates his balls just in time to hang up on ash, not just knowing the consequences will come later, but hoping that they do. ]
→ text
I need to cool off. I'll find you tomorrow.
Do not hide from me, or I will hunt you down.
( if embry knows ash isn't coming for him, he'll probably look for someone else to pummel against. it might be hawk. but it could be greer — and that's where ash will be, waiting to play barbies again. )