They moved on like what had happened and what Azrael had confessed to didn't happen or, more so, that it was nothing that needed to be dissected at all. They both had their own skeletons in their closets, so many neither of them could count them, Azrael was sure. It made sense to talk no more on the topic. What had been had been – the past couldn't be changed so they must move forward. If only what lingered was as simple to sweep away. Azrael quietly dabbed gauze across the scrapes on Pavel's face, trying not to notice how he was being observed.
As Azrael placed a plaster across his cut-open eyebrow, he could the way Pavel's eyes danced across the skin and the scales he had on display, which was almost all of Azrael's body as he had never had the chance to dress. However, he could feel that Pavel was looking not at him as a person, per se, but only at the cruel ridges carved into Azrael that were still obvious even after so many years. Pavel's gaze, from what Azrael glimpsed, was curious, sympathetic, and somehow angry as he rested on each jagged scar that marred the pallid expanse of Azrael's torso, arms, and legs. Curiosity was expected and so was sympathy, to an extent, but anger? Now that was new, but that didn't seem like the right word or emotion to pin on that odd expression. It was far deeper, more turbulent than simply 'anger'. Azrael couldn't quite put his finger on it until he found himself comparing it to how he looked at Pavel.
Vengeance. Pavel's eyes called for something to be done to the people who had harmed Azrael. How peculiar, he seems to feel for me as I feel for him, at least in this moment.That is something I did not expect from this.
"Alright, Pavel, I'm done. Your clothes just need to finish in the dryer." Azrael patted Pavel's thigh, pushed himself up from the chair and went over to the dryer, bundling his freshly cleaned clothes into it before setting it off. "About an hour and you'll be all set to go."
"Could I stay the night?" The question was unexpected and it certainly tripped Azrael up for a moment. Blinking slowly, Azrael let himself replay the question in his head, wondering if he'd imagined it.
Azrael turned to look at Pavel with a puzzled expression on his face, though it wasn't one that refused the odd request. So as not to spook him or make him feel weird for asking, Azrael tried to make it perfectly clear that he was only curious. Gently, he asked, "…Why?"
That honey gaze danced away from Azrael's gaze, meeting it for only a second, though it was long enough to tell why. Pavel felt embarrassed or, at least, startled that he had dared to ask Azrael that question. "I… don't want to go home today. It's unlikely that those people will come at me again but I just… can't bring myself to walk down those streets today."
Considering the request, Azrael was unsure whether that would be a good idea but he knew he wasn't going to be able to say no. Pavel was rightfully apprehensive about venturing back into the outside world after the attack and Azrael's house had become his safe zone, even if he had only been here twice. Azrael's presence was probably not entirely welcome to him yet but there was an unspoken trust growing between them, especially after his moment of raw honesty. An understanding that they were a similar type of person. "You can use my bed and I'll sleep on the sofa. If you want, I'll walk you home tomorrow."
"You don't have to give up your bed for me – I'll sleep down here." Pavel was very adamant, clearly not wanting to inconvenience Azrael any more than he thought he already had. In reality, it would be more far comfortable for Azrael to sleep in the bed than on the sofa because of his size but his comfort was not important. It was not even on the list of things he cared about at this moment. Or ever.
"Pavel, you are the guest and you are injured. Please take the bed," Azrael didn't particularly like the begging tone his voice had taken on but maybe, just maybe, it would be more effective than an assertive tone. Being overly assertive made him feel like he was trying to be an authority figure and it almost disgusted him to hear that tone coming from his mouth. "It's for the best."
Clenching his jaw, Pavel sucked in a sharp breath before he flashed Azrael a look that had an unreadable spark to it. His uninjured eye peered at him again, though it was the oddest mix of a firm assertion and a nervous request. "I'll take the bed if you stay in the room with me. I don't like sleeping in strange bedrooms alone."
Nervous. Pavel was nervous.
Azrael couldn't remember the last time he'd shared a bed or even a room with another person. That's not true, Azrael. You just don't want to think about it, you liar. His head twitched as if it was trying to clear that intruding thought away. "It will be uncomfortable; I take up a lot of space. And you barely know me, I don't want you to feel uneasy." Azrael knew what it felt like to share a bed with the body heat of someone you didn't know – he knew how sickening it could be, how repulsive.
He let out a tiny breath. Having decided not to pry into the confession, Azrael thought it best to let Pavel tell him more if he wanted. Pavel was standing now, only an arm's length away. His arms were crossed against his chest, his jutting ribcage catching the light that was desperately trying to break through the still-drawn curtains. "I can't trust an empty bed. You don't need to stay, just until I'm asleep. Please." It seemed he didn't want to divulge more than that, so Azrael accepted it.
His long ears were trembling and his nose twitched, anxious for an answer. Azrael sighed, conceding. "If that is what you want, I'm happy to oblige." Anything that is within my power I can and will do for you. He kept that thought silent, though Azrael felt like he thought it loud enough for Pavel to hear it, the way it echoed around his brain. "You can stay here for as long as you like."
That would have been a step over the line if the man he had said it to wasn't Pavel, who knew that Azrael meant no harm from it. Pavel smiled gently, as much as his split lip could allow him to. "Maybe I'll just move in. It's close enough to work and you can treat me when a client inevitably gets too rough."
For what felt like the millionth time, Azrael froze. Pavel meant it in jest, but something about the domestic prospect of him staying with here struck close to the part of Azrael's heart that still longed for a being to care for and vice versa. Azrael spluttered out a coughing laugh to cover the way it flustered him, a strange, unnatural sound coming from him. "I didn't mean forever, but if you want to, that's fine."
Perhaps Pavel picked up on that peculiar reaction and the way Azrael's voice hitched on the last part of the sentence, that it wasn't really a joke, not entirely. Maybe he didn't know. And Azrael never wanted him to know because he didn't deserve anything from Pavel. Azrael wasn't good enough to be his anything, certainly not his home. So he would take what Pavel had given to him with gratitude and appreciate the rest of this day and the night they would spend together. Then Azrael would wait however many months it took Pavel to turn back up on his doorstep.
The afternoon passed incredibly swiftly even though they did nothing of consequence. Pavel spoke to Azrael about the few things he could enjoy with the meagre money he had to spare. He told Azrael about the books he had lining the walls of his home, the pages curled and worn from the years of being reread. In an almost embarrassed way, he admitted the he was a sucker for historical romances. To assuage that self-consciousness, Azrael had in turn confided that he could barely read and could only write like a primary school child. He'd never actually anyone about that before, always something he kept to himself but he felt safe telling the other man that secret. Fortunately, it made Pavel feel a bit better.
Continuing, he neverendingly spoke of how he decorated his home. The way he plastered his bedroom with posters of bands, movies, tours and plays that he had never even heard of just to keep the dreary, old walls of his rundown apartment to stop it from looking like no one lived in it. Azrael enjoyed listening to him speak about everything and nothing all at once – he was someone of few words so he was happy to let Pavel's voice fill his house. It made it feel a bit more lived in.
Once the evening rolled around, Azrael watched Pavel's eyelids drooping and his words slurring a little bit during his monologue as his exhaustion finally caught up to him. They sat on opposite sides of the sofa but Pavel's body slumped towards Azrael as if he was going to fall asleep across his lap or rested on his shoulder. Azrael was somewhat terrified by that prospect, so he quickly said, "Pavel, you should go to bed."
"Probably. Come on then." Pavel heaved up from the sofa and beckoned for Azrael to follow him, which he did quietly because he had already agreed to keep the man company until he slept. Unsure, now, whether that had been a good idea, Azrael's heart beat uncomfortably fast. "God, I'm tired."
It was a quick trip to the bedroom and Azrael had already laid out a sleep shirt earlier for Pavel so he wouldn't feel uncomfortable being either in his day clothes or just boxers. Pavel couldn't brush his teeth, which seemed to upset him but there wasn't much he could do about that considering it would have been more unsanitary for him to use Azrael's toothbrush. Azrael considered for a moment whether he should purchase a spare toothbrush for him, but he decided that would be presumptuous. This was already an unexpected turn of events, so it would be more than a little strange if he assumed it was to happen again.
Before Azrael knew it, Pavel had curled up under the duvet, so small in the overly large bed that Azrael had had to buy to accommodate his height and extra appendages, with Azrael sitting next to him, the lamp on with one of the few books he owned in his hands. For some reason, after hearing Pavel raving so passionately about his love of literature, Azrael had been incentivised to try it out himself again. The words swirled on the page, more unintelligible than they usually were as he tried to keep his head on straight.
Azrael's heart clenched as he stole at glance at Pavel's scrunched-up face through the lenses of his glasses and Azrael realised he couldn't actually keep himself from paying attention only to the golden rabbit. Time passed like a snail crawling across the floor but finally, finally, Pavel's breathing became heavy and sleep took him completely.
Almost tempted to stay there and just watch him through the night, Azrael realised that that wasn't a good idea. No, I can't do that. What if he wakes in the night? It would be strange if I was still sitting here. Deftly, he slid off the bed and padded down the hallway, down the stairs and nestled on the sofa so he could spend the long night waiting for the sun to rise and for Pavel to be ready to be escorted home.
Back he would go into that cruel world.