Chapter Text
"I think this one is too bright," I said, fidgeting with the neon colored jacket and matching blue mask. Muriel just lets out a huff of a laugh, smiling up at me from where he sits on my bed. Asra had picked up a few costumes for us to try on so Muriel wouldn't have to spend too much time around large crowds this weekend. I was still surprised we had managed to convince him to go to the masquerade at all, so I definitely wasn't pushing my luck.
"What about this one?" I held up a deep green chiton styled costume, and though it was still covered in its fair amount of sequence, it was one of the simplest costumes I had managed to dig up yet. Muriel had already refused everything I had offered, except for a bear mask, and I understood that he would be more comfortable in something familiar. So, the least I could do was try and match.
”That one’s nice,” he said softly, but it didn’t take much to notice that he wasn’t really looking at the costume. His eyes kept fluttering about my face, his gaze so gentle and relaxed and, dare I say it, loving.
“Mind helping me out of this one?” I say, turning a little to show him the intricate series of buttons strung down the back of the costume. I had used magic to button it up, but what was the fun in undressing myself when Muriel was sitting right there?
Gods, that was so cheesy, but I just couldn’t help it. I loved the blush that crossed his face and worked it’s way all the way up to his ears as he walked over to me, a faint smirk on his lips. For how big his hands were, they were surprisingly nimble, and that got me thinking of what other sort of things his hands were good at-
But then he stopped, fingers halting to a deadly stillness halfway down my back.
“Muriel?” He doesn’t answer. I barely have time to start worrying before I feel his hand lightly running down my skin.
Oh, that’s right.
It was easy to forget them. I hardly ever saw my own back, and I couldn’t exactly remember what had caused them, but they were there all the same.
A thousand scars splayed themselves across my back like they owned me, like they could define who I was or what I had done. At times, it felt like they could. Most days, I barely even remembered them at all.
“Do you know what happened?” I asked him, though I knew I would probably regret knowing if he did.
“Yes.” One word, and yet it was as if I could feel it digging into the skin he was still touching so hesitantly. Asra had never told me anything, and I didn’t have very many others I would have felt comfortable asking. But now, answers were within my reach. Did I even want them?
“Do you want to know?” He seemed to vocalize my darkest thoughts, but I had been so caught up in my own head that I hadn’t noticed how his voice had gone so dark and cold and distant. I tried to turn to him, but I barely moved an inch before his hands were firmly placed on my shoulders, keeping me still.
“I have an idea in my head,” I started, struggling to speak and just wanting so desperately to see him, to hold him or have him hold me, “about what happened, but Asra won’t tell me anything. I can tell you what I think probably happened, and you can tell me if what’s real was better or worse?” A compromise. Not really an answer yet, but maybe it would satisfy something within me that wouldn’t stop screaming for the truth.
He nodded, so I started talking again. ”I know that I was probably working with Asra and Julian during the plague. And that Lucio wasn’t a very patient man. And . . .”
Muriel stopped me by wrapping his arms around my chest, his big form shrinking down and huddling over me. I could feel him shaking against me, and he was probably crying a little too but I couldn’t turn to see him. When I try, he just holds me tighter, shaking his head. His voice is so shaky when he speaks again.
“He made me-“ and he’s cut off by his own weak sob, but that’s all he needed to say. This time, he doesn’t stop me from turning around to face him. There’s so much guilt and sadness in his teary eyes, it’s like a punch to the chest. “He said either I do this,” and he sounded so disgusted with himself as he touched my back, “or he’d kill all three of you.”
I’m going to kill Lucio I’m going to kill Lucio I’m going to kill Lucio I’m going to fucking kill-
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers again, and I pull him down to me. I’ve seen Muriel cry before, but never like this. I can feel the pain in his soul, and even just the small amount that I can feel is unbearable to imagine. He’s shaking so badly and holding onto me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear, all the while apologizing. “I thought you wouldn’t have them anymore . . . I’d hoped that . . .” He gets out the words in between hitched breaths and quiet sobs, and just when I start to worry that he’ll hyperventilate, he lets out a massive, shuttering breath, only holding onto me tighter afterwards.
“Muriel,” I run my hand through his hair and try to turn his face to me, but he stays firmly buried against my neck. “Muriel. I could never blame you for anything that he made you do. You understand that, don’t you?”
“How can you-“
“Because I know you, Muriel. I know the kind of man you are, and you are not what he tried to make you.”
Slowly, the tears stopped, but he was still reluctant to leave my arms. With a bit of effort, I walked us over to my bed and laid us down. Even without seeing his face, I could tell that Muriel was exhausted.
Eventually, his eyes would meet mine again, slightly fearful of what they may find even though the only possible thing to see is love. Eventually, we’ll have to get up and leave my bed. Eventually, the world will start spinning again.
Eventually.
But I don’t care of the Devil himself comes knocking at my door, I’m not leaving Muriel’s side. Even as he snores softly against my chest, arms still wrapped protectively around me. Even if he drools on me or if my arm falls asleep under his head or if he wakes up in a little while from a nightmare about his past, I will always be there for him.
And gods, fuck Lucio.