— breaking out of the shell (aslan)

He is ready to leave, Bagheera. He is ready to leave and he has been ready for almost half an hour now. Ready to go out and enjoy the bars that the capital has to offer, lose himself in something of a fun time before the conference which awaits him later this week. His hair is tied up in colourful scrunchies matching the shade of his eyeshadow; colourful rainbow to offset the blackness of the rest of his attire. He is ready to leave but he has not left yet and he will not leave for a while. Because as he was about to put his lips through the same treatment as the rest of his face, he received a text from Aslan which led him to frown and almost smudge the makeup which magic had not yet set. There was something in the words, in the way in which they were presented, that made him think this was not a casual visit like they sometimes shared. Therefore, he waits. Lying down on the couch of his home, playing with the plating of his skirt with his rainbow-coloured nails. He waits and next to him rests a half drunk glass of wine. Here and there, he brings it to his lips, lets the deep red liquid stain his skin. For the first time in a few years, the thought of seeing his friend brings him back to Ushi, to the moment they shared just a few days ago. Could it be that both men feel the need to share something this night? For it is clear Aslan has some news to share, some information he feels cannot wait. Bagheera has some ideas, the way close friends often do. The old auror knows so much of him and of the monster which inhabits him. And is he rarely speaks of things the way the Kaze does, his secrets still find a way into the friend’s gaze.

When the door goes, he seems to float off of the couch and onto the ground, his socks sliding lightly under him as he makes his way to the entrance. “Hi, baby,” he offers like he always does, letting his arms wrap around the wide frame standing in front of him, a slight kiss on the cheek. “I poured myself some wine seeing as I was on my way out. Obviously,” he adds as his hands seem to demonstrate his outfit for the night. “You want some?” The question is asked though it is rhetorical in many ways; before long, Bagheera is already offering Aslan a glass. “You finished my whisky last time you were here, sorry honey.” And then, he just looks at him for a moment. “You okay?”

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why does he feel the need to come and talk to him tonight ? he muses about it aslan, as he heads towards his friend’s house. it overwhelmed him suddenly, the need to talk about it to someone. to someone that would understand, that would not bat an eyelash at it, that by now knew him for a very long time. maybe he just needed to talk about it. maybe he needed someone to tell him it was okay, that he was not crazy, that he was not the worst asshole in the whole universe for doing this to his wife. he had no bloody clue. all he knew was that once he had set his mind on it, it had been a relief to see bagheera accept, a relief to approach the house that belonged to the man. maybe he will resent him a bit for not telling him right away. maybe he should have. but at first there was too much guilt rushing over him. and then, it felt like his own little thing. his own little world. somehow, it was not scary to let bagheera enter it. probably because the indian man let him enter his own. quite literally, as aslan pushes the door open, used to it by now.

he would say he is used to his friend’s attires, to the way he behaves and speaks and smiles — all so different from his own. he never gets used to it. he does not want to, for eera is this flash of color that is sometimes missing in his life. “hi, baby,” he smiles and hugs him back. “hey ‘ra,” sometimes aslan think it could have been easier to accept who he was if he had naturally been a bit more like eera. but then how ridiculous he would be. it just did not suit him the way it embraced his friend with so much ease. “i poured myself some wine seeing as i was on my way out. obviously,” he chuckles a little at that, and only feels a little bit guilty at the thought of interrupting his night. but he needed his friend tonight, and aslan himself would have given up on any evening if bagheera had asked for his attention. “you want some?” “sure,” he never says no to an offer of alcohol, after all. “hako would like her scrunchies back by the way,” he smirks at him, never last to gently tease his friend. he thanks him for the glass though, and goes to sit on the sofa. “you finished my whisky last time you were here, sorry honey.” “good friends make sure to never run dry,” he smiles again, and he surprises himself. he thought he would have been more nervous than that. but as he looks at his friend, at his friend now so opened with what aslan had been keeping a secret his whole life — buried so deep down he had even forgotten about it — there is no nervousness. “you okay?” “i am,” for it’s true. sort of. it’s true when he is out of his house, it’s true when he takes the ring of his finger and pretends he is muggle and single and like all the men at the bars he goes to. it is less true when he comes back and it weighs on him. “i mean, kind of.” he shrugs a shoulder and takes a sip of wine. he looks at the gold around his fingers for a while, thinks about the best way of having it out. in the end, he realizes it does not really matter. “i’m gay,” he raises his eyes to meet his friend’s. his heart is beating faster in his chest. it’s not the nerves. it’s the fact of saying it. it’s only the second time. and the first was to himself, to his reflect in the mirror. “but it’s not what makes me not feel fine. not directly, at least.” he looks at the wine once more. this time, when he glances back at the indian man, it’s with more shyness. “i’ve been seing men.” i’m being unfaithful.

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Aslan and Bagheera have always been… different. Even back in the day when the man had somewhat dimmed his light, when he was not as openly extravagant and flamboyant, they had always seemed at opposite ends of what it means to be a man. And perhaps, this helped solidifying whatever their relationship was back then – that, and Ushi. Today, it would be fair to say that, in some ways, Aslan knows more about the rokurobuki than even Arashi does. Because he has been with him through it all, through the messy parts of his coming out and the darkest moments of his transformation. That is why they are so close today. “Hako would like her scrunchies back by the way.” “Tell her they look cuter on me,” answers Bagheera with a wink as his lips dip in the dark red liquid dancing in his glass. “Good friends never run dry.” One hand on his chest, he lets out a sound which perfectly describes the extravagant shock of his thoughts. “Good friends don’t drink other friend’s booze without replacing it!” They laugh because it is easy – because this is not his first glass of wine. They laugh, though it is clear there is a shadow in the eyes of the friend. “I am.” He is rarely the quietest man in the room, Bagheera. And yet, as he listens to the blatant lie which is being told to him, he remains silent. “I mean, kind of.” He stands somewhere in front of Aslan, his hips rocking side to side to the sound of a non-existent tune – he has always found it difficult to remain still. “I’m gay.” Dark eyes come to meet his and the Kaze does not show anything. There is no surprise – why would there be? – no judgment, no joy either. Because he feels like the tone would not have been so sombre had his friend wished for a celebration. “But it’s not what makes me feel not fine.” He takes a sip of wine. “Not directly, at least.” He waits until the gaze finds him once more. “I’ve been seeing men.” To this, he raises his eyebrows, if only gently.

“I’m gonna need something stronger than this.” As soon as he began to speak, Bagheera already took the direction of the fridge. There, he takes out a packet of synthetic blood, pours it into his wine until the glass is full. A sip and a few steps later, he returns to the friend. “Shuffle,” he tells him as he finds a seat next to him on the sofa. His legs are crossed, the skirt falling between his legs, as his side falls on the back rest – he faces Aslan. “Thanks for telling me. I’d be lying if I told you I hadn’t suspected but… I know it’s a big deal.” His free hand comes to caress a cheek before moving to support his own head. “How long have you known?” There is a certain gentleness and calm in his tone, one which disappears with the next words. “You get two minute of cute coming out party before I start asking about the other thing. So enjoy it.” Bagheera himself has a loose definition of what cheating means. He rarely asks and in the few occasions he had spent time with a previously engaged man he had simply… chosen not to think about it. But it might be because he knows Fujiko, because they have tea together almost more often than he sees Aslan. Because of the kids and his sisters and everything else. Because for once, he cares about the life lying in the balance. For now, his eyes shine once more with a playfulness which is so quintessentially his. “Ever fancied me?” he asks, leaning in with a chuckle.

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“tell her they look cuter on me,” he laughs, shakes his head. “not even you is cuter than my daughter, sorry to break it to you.” for hako is a light in his life as much as eera knows how to be — in the end, it is only fitting he has chosen him as her godfather. the golden rings around his fingers cling lightly against the glass he takes ahold of. “good friends don’t drink other friend’s booze without replacing it!” he rolls his eyes at that, amused smile on his face. “hey, between the two of us, who’s a bloody billionaire, hm ? you can buy your own booze.” he is smiling when he takes a first sip of wine. he is still somehow smiling when he answers. it leaves his face slowly as he goes on, as he talks about the secret for the first time, as he lightens his heart to the friend. he is not anxious about his reaction, none of it. maybe slightly amused at the lack of reaction concerning his sexuality (why did it seem so obvious to his closed ones and not to him ?), but it is not the concern here. it is not what aslan is struggling with. it used to be, a long, long time ago, when he scribbled words down a journal and his heart beat wildly in his chest when he starred a bit too long in the common showers after a quidditch match. it did, around a year ago, when it dawned on him once more of much a big part of his life was not what he wanted — has never been. now, he was fine with it. he was much less with the rest of it. with what it entailed. “i’m gonna need something stronger than this.” he blinks, and follows the man’s journey with his eyes. “i thought you said you did not have whi— ah.” he snorts lightly when he spots the new dark liquid from where he is, returning to his own. it was a part of eera that never bothered him. he had only been careful at the beginning, to not have him around his children. now, he even forgot sometimes. he had seen much worse than rokurokubi after all. and he definitely knew how to handle him.

he moves a bit when asked to, bending his own leg over another. half of his own drink is already drowned, by the time eera is back with him. “thanks for telling me. i’d be lying if i told you i hadn’t suspected but… i know it’s a big deal.” he chuckles, heart warming just a little bit at the gesture. “is it part of that gaydar thing, or do you simply know me better than myself ?” somehow, it is a true question. he knew he hadn’t been obvious. how could he have been, when not knowing ? and when he did, he became extra careful, as if the simplest gesture could give him away. “how long have you known?” he loses himself into some memories at the question, goes back to teenage years that were not always the easiest. “you get two minute of cute coming out party before i start asking about the other thing. so enjoy it.” it brings him back. once more, he laughs. “well, thanks, that’s nice of you.” coming out party. what an odd thought. would it have been a big thing, if he had not buried it deep down, when so much younger ? he thinks it would have. probably not for the right reasons. there was a name to carry out. parents to make proud. ghosts to honor. it would not have been a cute party, back then. “ever fancied me?” “why, interested ?” he raises an eyebrow and smirks at him for a moment, before a light laugh finds him once more, that gets lost in the red wine. “sadly for you we met when i’ve buried that so deep i’ve forgotten about it.” he shrugs a shoulder. “and now we’re friends, so that would be weird.” the glass is emptied. he bends down to grab at the bottle. “i’ve accepted it around a year ago. i…” he smiles to himself, as a face flashes in front of his eyes, memories of when his world tipped over, “i met a man that made it all come back.” he holds up a finger to his friend. “before you get excited, absolutely nothing happened. it was more the fact that i bloody wanted to that mattered the most.”

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Did things change when Aslan became a father? They did; how could they not? Bagheera found something of a renewal in his friend’s soul when he became of family man. As if a part of him had awakened, been waiting for such a moment. Perhaps another part of him died, though this, he does not yet understand it. “Hey, between the two of us, who’s a bloody billionaire, hm?” He gasps. “You can buy your own booze.” “Rich people still have hearts!” What would he know? Rich, he is, and yet nothing about his life of his way of being seems to speak of it. Now, of course, there is the nice watch he gifted himself and he fact he does own a nice house. But it is far from grandiose, far from what he could afford with the money he is actually making. He likes to pretend he is nothing more than a teacher, that his millions only serve him to support other, to treat himself once in a blue moon. But today, the wine was on offer, and perhaps this is why he is drinking it as fast as he is – once he tried good wine, it was difficult to go back. What comes next is somewhat surprising, somewhat obvious. A part of it would have sufficed for the two men to share a delicate moment, an intimate evening. But there is more than one revelation, more than something which should be applauded. Thus he adds more to his wine – something to drown the taste, perhaps – before speaking once more. He wonders, Bagheera. He wonders what it means for his friend to share such an information with him. Coming out to his family and to the world has been… difficult. But he almost never felt the need to come out to his friend – they simply knew. Did he not simply know about Aslan? “Is it part of that gaydar thing, or do you simply know me better than myself?” A giggle for an answer as he dips his lips in his drink – human blood would have drowned out more of the cheapness. “Don’t know,” he shrugs. “I don’t think I couldn’t have told you before but… I’m not surprised.” For a moment, he just looks at him. “You've always tried too hard.” To look like the man his family expected him to be. Eera found freedom away from his home, from the confines of the image his parents made of him, of the man they wanted their son to become. But Aslan was down the road from them, so close he must have only begun to live for himself since they both passed. “Why, interested?” “Maybe,” he lies playfully, letting his hand onto his friend’s thigh like he does sometimes without thinking about it. “Sadly for you we met when I’ve buried that so deep I’ve forgotten about it.” The hand leaves the leg so that its back can come to rest on the Kaze’s forehead in a dramatic motion. “And now we’re friends, so that would be weird.” A frown, a pout. “Ew, yeah, no thank you, honey.” It is his turn to shrug gently. “To be honest, you’re not really my type.” Too harsh around the edges, too much of this constructed notion of what it means to be a man. Too married. “I’ve accepted it around a year ago. I…” Oh, what a smile which comes to light his traits. It is one of those which people let out when they finally feel some kind of peace, when a happiness which had been unreachable for so long is finally close enough to see, to hold. Bagheera cannot help but smile with him. “I met a man that made it all come back.” “Oooh…” “Before you get excited, absolutely nothing happened.” Boo, mouth his lips. “It was more the fact that I bloody wanted to that mattered the most.” There is so much he wants to ask him – about that man, about that moment, about how free it feels. But all throughout it, he cannot help but let his eyes fall to the ring on his friend’s finger. “But you’ve been seeing men?” Playfulness seems to have drained from his traits – only the rainbows above his eyes remain. “Does she know?” His eyes look at the red liquid in his glass. “I’m guessing she doesn’t.” He lets himself fall deeper into the couch. “My parents were ready to marry me off, you know.” Aslan does not – Bagheera had not spoken of it with anyone. “It’s a pretty normal thing back home, for parents to find brides for their children. I waited for so long before telling them…” He looks back up, searches for the man’s eyes. “They’d made up this idea of what life was gonna be like, how they were gonna be friends with this woman’s parents and how they’ll take care of each other in their old age and…” A sigh. “I guess what hurt them more wasn’t that I was gay, it was that I’d lied for so long, that I’d let them believe something that wasn’t true.” Fingers run against the glass. “D’you still love her?”

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“Don’t know, I don’t think I couldn’t have told you before but… I’m not surprised.” Does it make sense ? In a way. He wonders what face he would have pulled, if Eera had suddenly barged into his life to announce him he was gay. It would probably not have been particularly pretty. “You've always tried too hard.” It’s almost a sad smile, on his lips. “Yeah, I tend to do that.” He has done so his entire life, committing his whole persona to being that golden son he had been groomed to become — for one family and then the other, but it was always the same. And now, he was stuck into it. How was he supposed to be anything else ? Could he ? He thinks about it. He thinks about it, thinks about the leather jackets and the tattoos he puts in display some nights — as they are tonight, but it is for another reason — thinks about the people he gets acquainted with. Maybe he is straining aways from the golden person, after all. “Maybe,” there are smiles through the joke, the heart light and not bothered or worried at all by the friend’s behavior. Eera was this way, and they both liked to tease and joke as such. Aslan always had a lot of fun with his drama queen side (he was certain he got a knack for flowing robes because of him.) “Ew, yeah, no thank you, honey.” He chuckles. “To be honest, you’re not really my type.” He raises an eyebrow at that, asking How am I supposed to take that ? but does not elaborate further. There are other things to talk about. Some he does not mind. Some, soon, he knows, he will. “Oooh…” Eera’s reactions almost make him forget about it. Almost. For the friend brings it right on. “But you’ve been seeing men?” He nods, the throat tighter at the thought. At what he know comes next. “Does she know?” He gives him a look. “I’m guessing she doesn’t.” She would not be with him anymore, if she did. And he could not avoid that. He could not avoid the risk of losing his daughters.

“My parents were ready to marry me off, you know.” His eyebrows raise slightly in surprise — at the announcement, at Bagheera not going further into the subject. He lets him speak. He speaks, and some parts resonate within him. Some of that old ways that the Zabini’s had, that his own father had too, even if for different reasons — he did not care about the blood his wife carried, but he cared about his son having a respectful wife. What a joke, for him to be the one disrespecting the union. But his father was not here to see it anymore. Never would. It was better this way. “I guess what hurt them more wasn’t that I was gay, it was that I’d lied for so long, that I’d let them believe something that wasn’t true.” Once more, he smiles sadly. “My mother would call me a monster if she learned about it.” A huff. “Well, she would have forgotten the next time I went to see her anyway.” She forgot her former husband was dead. She forgot her first son was dead sometimes, too. He does not mention his father. There is no point speaking of the dead — yet he thinks briefly about Lia, and figures she would not care about the gay part. “D’you still love her?” “Yes,” that it isn’t difficult to answer. He switches his eyes to his friend. “She gave me my daughters, and we spent so many years together…. I could not stop loving her.” Once more, he drinks. “But I’m not in love with her.” He sighs, rubs his face with his hand. This is so fucked up. “I guess I never truly was.” For there was something missing. Something that never felt quite right — oh but how he had tried to believe in it anyway. “I’m a terrible person,” he sighs, the heel of his hand pressed against forehead, “I know I am, I know what I’m doing is bad but I can’t… I can’t stop.” The hand slips against his short hair, all the way to his neck. The head is turned towards his friend. “I know what it’s like to feel like myself now. How am I supposed to stop ?”

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“My mother would call me a monster if she learned about it.” Pain comes across his traits. A feeling that Bagheera knows too well, though it was his father who scared him, his mother with whom he felt like he could share it all. And yet he never did until the information ended up being out in the world. “Well, she would have forgotten the next time I went to see her anyway.” More pain, still, at the difficulty of what the friend must feel, one he wishes to never know himself. Losing one’s mind surely is the most dangerous and worst thing which can happen to the human being. And perhaps he moves the conversation on, just so that the man sat next to him does not have to think about it any more than he already does. “She gave me my daughters, and we spent so many years together…. I could not stop loving her.” A smile grows upon his lips, dipped in a hint of sadness – or perhaps it is simply the shade given by the bloody wine swirling in his glass. “But I’m not in love with her.” “I understand.” His voice is light, something of a whisper, more of a sound than something which requires an answer. “I guess I never truly was.” His body moves yet again, as his temple rests on the cushions. He cannot even begin to imagine the pain that Aslan must be experiencing, the difficulty of the choice which faces him. “I’m a terrible person.” He frowns. “You’re not.” “I know I am, I know what I’m doing is bad but I can’t… I can’t stop.” Bagheera’s free hand comes to find the friend’s thigh, runs along it as something of a support. “I know what it’s like to feel like myself now. How am I supposed to stop?” For a moment, they just look at each other. “You shouldn’t.” The answer seems to obvious – of course he should not hide who he is. “It’ll be hard but… you shouldn’t. It’s finally time for you to shine, baby.” His coloured fingers come to rub against Alsan’s cheek, leave upon it some of his attention, before coming back to the wine glass. “I guess being honest with yourself also means you should be honest with her. You owe her that much.” Wine comes to his lips – he only tastes the blood. “I’m willing to bet she knows something’s off. She knows you enough for that. Putting words into it will lift a weight off her shoulders.” Eyes find the red liquid. “And put a new one in its place.” He sighs, looks back up at Aslan. “Still, she deserves to know. I don’t think of you any less for what you’ve done, I really don’t.” Oh, how genuine his words are. “But I will if you continue to lie to her for much longer. You don’t have to tell her you’re gay if you don’t want to, it’s your own journey.” Eyelashes bat for a few instants. “But Aslan, she deserves to know that you are not in love with her. She deserves to decide for herself if she wants to find someone that will.”

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“You’re not.” He is. He knows. He appreciates the sentiment, though. Aslan would probably be telling him the same thing. Or would he ? Would he look at it differently, if he was not the one at fault ? Would he be as open-minded than his friend ? “You shouldn’t.” It is maybe worse, to hear what he wants to hear. Maybe he came here to tell him, because he knew Eera would never tell him to hide who he is. “It’ll be hard but… you shouldn’t. It’s finally time for you to shine, baby.” It makes him smile, a little. Eera shines. Shine bright, loud and clear. Aslan, he can only dream of doing the same. It would not even be truly him. He has always been more of a dark light, than a sun. They want to put him in the spotlight, but he is not sure he is meant to be. He feels more at ease these days, hidden in the shadows. “I guess being honest with yourself also means you should be honest with her. You owe her that much.” It is a painful sigh that escapes him. He does owe her that. He knows. Yet, he hasn’t tell her. “I’m willing to bet she knows something’s off. She knows you enough for that. Putting words into it will lift a weight off her shoulders. And put a new one in its place.” She knows something is off yes, but Bagheera is right. Telling her would not make it better. It would make it worse. So he makes them go on like that, with her getting more suspicious, with even a growing worry he can see in her eyes. She hadn’t said anything yet, not truly, not what mattered. He knows it’s coming. He can see it in her eyes. For she knows him just as much as he knows her. It is because of me ? Don’t you love me anymore ? Have I done something ? “Still, she deserves to know. I don’t think of you any less for what you’ve done, I really don’t.” A shaky breath, and this time it’s his hand that comes to find the friend’s knee, in a thankful grasp. “But I will if you continue to lie to her for much longer. You don’t have to tell her you’re gay if you don’t want to, it’s your own journey.” It is not the problem. It is the rest of it. What he has done, for too long now. So long he does not know how to entangle himself from it. “But Aslan, she deserves to know that you are not in love with her. She deserves to decide for herself if she wants to find someone that will.” He wants her to be happy. He truly, truly does. But in order to do so, he needs to hurt her. For real. And probably hurt himself in the process too. He is getting selfish about that. “What if she takes my daughters, Eera ?” A deep, painful sigh. “Eiko will hate me for good, for doing this to her mother.” And Hako… he does not know. He does not want to temps fate. “I’ve lost too much of my family already. I can’t… I can’t take any more.” Even if he knows he will. Even if his mother will come soon to the end of her life. Even if he feels like losing Naka a bit more every day, unable to fix whatever he — they — broke between them. “Maybe… Maybe if I don’t tell her everything ?” He looks at Bagheera as if he had all the answers. “I could be honest and tell her I’m gay and not in love with her, but not… not mention the rest.” He feels like a child, searching for a way to not get scold by his parents. “Then maybe I wouldn’t lose everything ?”

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“What if she takes my daughters, Eera?” “She won’t,” he whispers back, his free hand going for the one his friend has placed on his knee. “Eiko will hate me for good, for doing this to her mother.” “She won’t,” he whispers once more. It must seem so easy for him. Optimistic eyes upon those of a realist, upon a man whose life has been tipping for quite some time. It is never easy to see it fall from the edge of whatever cliff one has pushed it to. Still, Bagheera truly believes that, with time, Aslan will come to realise this is what he needed to do. “I’ve lost too much of my family already. I can’t… I can’t take any more.” He moves in closer, the Kaze, lets his glass of bloodied wine fly to the coffee table. He moves in closer and comes to hold Aslan, gives him some of his warmth, some of his attention. “Maybe… Maybe if I don’t tell her everything?” Their eyes meet and Eera can only let his lips part, speechless. He does not have all of the answer his friend wishes to hear. He can only offer him something of his peace of mind, a hint of whatever he has learned throughout his own life. But his is so different from the man sitting next to him; what does he really know? “I could be honest and tell her I’m gay and not in love with her, but not… not mention the rest.” He does not want to say he does not think it is a good idea; his face speaks for him. “Then maybe I wouldn’t lose everything?” “Baby…” he lets out in a sigh. Fingers come to caress the friend’s face. “I wish I could have all the answers for you, I really do. But… I don’t know.” He cannot begin to imagine the situation Aslan has found himself in and does not wish it on anyone. “She won’t take your girls. That, I know. She’s not like that. You’re always been a great dad, and she…” He wishes he could have more arguments than simply saying what he thinks, what he feels. In the moment, however, it is all he has. “She won’t, okay? I think…” he sighs. “It doesn’t really matter what I think, actually. This isn’t about me; it’s about you.” Seriousness has come to greet his eyes, to harden his traits. “You’re the only one that knows what you should do and what you should say. If it helps, just know I’ll always be there for you.” His smile is caring, gentle. “I’ll be here to help you get back up if you fall. And I’ll be here to drunkenly judge you if you keep going on like you are now.” A wink moves his right eyelid. “You’re not alone in this, baby.”

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“Baby…” It’s silly, how he wants to snuggle close to him and listen to his familiar voice and let him drown him in one of his stories that always have five different side stories and spin-offs and bonuses. Forget about the rest of it for a while. Forget about the heaviness and the hurt and the tiredness of it all. He also wants to get drunk and open up and joke and tell him about how good it feels to be with a man with details he’d never tell anyone else. “I wish I could have all the answers for you, I really do. But… I don’t know.” But the heaviness stays, and Aslan sighs. “She won’t take your girls. That, I know. She’s not like that. You’re always been a great dad, and she…” “M’not a great dad,” he mumbles a little, thinks of his oldest that does not want to speak to him, thanks about former colleagues and how it seemed so easy for them to be aurors and husbands and fathers and not fuck half of it up to be good at the other. He can’t even be a good brother or a good son or a good husband, how is he supposed to be a good father ? “She won’t, okay? I think… It doesn’t really matter what I think, actually. This isn’t about me; it’s about you.” But it matters what he thinks. It matters, because Aslan can’t make this decision alone. It freezes him in place, makes his heart stop beating and explode at the same time. The perspective of a future full of freedom. The perspective of a very lonely one. “You’re the only one that knows what you should do and what you should say. If it helps, just know I’ll always be there for you.” It could make him cry, if he was the type. Rather, it feels his heart with a warm feeling. He comes to hold his hand. “I’ll be here to help you get back up if you fall. And I’ll be here to drunkenly judge you if you keep going on like you are now.” He chuckles a little at that, thankful for the friend, for the easiness with which he says all those things, for the normalcy that remain between them. “You’re not alone in this, baby.” He looks at him. Truly looks at him. He looks at him and their years of friendship, of the hardships the other man faced and Aslan witnessed and how it never brought them apart. He smiles. His fingers squeeze his. “You’re a good man, Eera. I’m glad you’re my friend.” He looks at him some more, tells all he can with his eyes that his mouth can’t. Then, he lets go of his hand. He takes his glass, drowns the remaining drink. “I should go. You had a night out planned, right ?” And he should go back to his family. That’s what he is supposed to do, anyway. He will. Tonight, he will. “I’ll go home.” He stands up. Stands up and looks at him. “Thank you.” Eera’s words of encouragement haunt him as he slips into his own bed.

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