Warrior Cat Clans 2 (WCC2 aka Classic) is a roleplay site inspired by the Warrior series by Erin Hunter. Whether you are a fan of the books or new to the Warrior cats world, WCC2 offers a diverse environment with over a decade’s worth of lore for you - and your characters - to explore. Join us today and become a part of our ongoing story!
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Post by achromatic on Oct 19, 2021 16:25:55 GMT -5
Hywel could only give Doefreckle that dopey smile as the other tom purred. Gods, he really did love this cat, all of his humour and warmth and even his bratty attitude. There was just something about him that had drawn him close, and now he found himself unable to let it go. He could only stare adoringly at Doefreckle as he returned the saying. You too. His heart could burst at that.
Doefreckle's teasing made his lips widen into a full grin. "Oh yeah?" he murmured, voice dark and seductive, "are you going to show me what you can do?"
A moon ago, Doe would have been a giddy, blushing mess at that, the same as he was when Hywel made the 'I'm a screamer' joke on their first date. But now, because he was more comfortable with Hywel or more comfortable with himself, or because he was in love, or because he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this tom in front of him, he just grinned back. "You're gonna have to wait," he purred back in a low, quiet voice every bit as dark and intimate and teasing, reaching up to touch his nose to Hywel's. "What would my reputation be if I just folded to the whims of every handsome tom with pretty eyes? Oh, wait." He let out a self-deprecating purr of laughter, mocking himself and Hywel because the both of them knew they did exactly that.
But there was something different about it now - not only being able to share that rather macabre joke with another broken boy who understood, but also the knowledge that it was different now, that he was coming dangerously close to wanting to devote himself only to Hywel and that Hywel was at much the same place. That they were both changing. That Doe, notoriously and unapologetically unfaithful (well no, that wasn't true - he apologised tearfully and then did it again because what was self-hatred if it didn't self-sabotage every time he was creeping close to happiness), the tramp of SummerClan, wanted to be tied down, wanted to settle, wanted to put that all behind him and be faithfully in love. It was all he’d ever wanted really, all he’d ever craved, but he’d always been too afraid, too weak, too terrified to submit himself to the vulnerability of having someone call him their mate. So he’d run from it every time, all the while grieving for it, wishing for it, wanting it with all his heart. But with Hywel, he didn’t want to run. He wanted to be loved by him. He wanted to be caught. He wanted to finally stop being afraid. For him. With him. As frightening as that thought was, the yearning was stronger. They both knew what their reputations were — and the playboys had fallen in love with each other. They were really the only ones the other could have ended up with; who else would understand, would want to settle down with them knowing how freely and crassly they gave themselves away? All Doe felt was a dizzy thankfulness to the vastness of the universe that he’d fallen in love with someone who was every inch his equal, who wouldn’t judge him, who loved him because he was the same.
In that wave of thankfulness, Doe wordlessly drew Hywel down to press his forehead to his. He let out a quiet breath. This was where he wanted to be. This was who he wanted to be with until he died, for a second or a third or a fourth time, or for eternity itself if death never found him, for forever. This was who he wanted to be made happy by, and who he wanted to make happy. This was who he wanted to be tied down by. This was who had made him ready, for the first time in Doefreckle’s life.
Post by achromatic on Oct 20, 2021 17:02:06 GMT -5
If there was anything Hywel was good at, waiting certainly was on that list. Still, he couldn't deny the impatience within his heart that fluttered again and again, reminding him how much he wanted Doefreckle, how excited he was to just see him every day, and yet it was mixed with that fear, that he was putting himself in a position to get hurt. It was impossible to love without the risk of injury. There was a voice inside of him, that told him that Doefreckle was worth that injury, and yet there was a part of him that spoke in the voice of his mother. Guard your heart and your soul, or the sluagh will steal it away.
There was something there, a kinship between the two he couldn't deny. He had never thought of himself as a cat who wanted to stay anywhere. He had accepted his fate, to wander the earth like Cain, scavenging and never reaping, and yet, he had found a reason to stay. For so long, it had only been his own selfishness, his inability to accept death at face value, and now...
Was this what love was supposed to be? A reason to stay? A change of heart? A decision to weather the storms with someone?
If he was to weather the world with another, his sister had been the first, but it was a different love there. He had been protective like a bear and its cub, fueled by a feeling akin to anger, a rage to protect what they tried to take away, but with Doefreckle, it was a warm fire at a hearth, a hot bowl of stew and a laughter of shared experience. He could remember hearing his father say that pain and suffering could feel religious when done right. He disagreed.
Right now, this moment felt religious.
He gave Doefreckle a playful lick on the nose as their foreheads met together. "Stay with me," he whispered.
Reality flooded back in. He couldn't be someone's mate. He never could be - he'd been a fool to think he might be able to. He was him; he was the bachelor, the fling, the nameless lover. He was broken, he was cruel, he was selfish, he was afraid - he'd hurt Hywel over and over, and worse, Hywel would hurt him. He was meant to be alone, meant to cower with all his disgusting yearning until he was lonely in his grave; that was what he deserved, that was his punishment, that was what he'd accepted when he was young - to be hurt, to be so hurt, and to keep lapping it up; to love and love and love, meaning it every single time, and to have it thrown back in his face, have it come to nothing. That was what was supposed to happen to him. He wasn't meant to be happy - he was meant to search for it and always come up dry; that was his story, his arc, his tragedy. He was supposed to be offered a chance, supposed to want to take it, and then sabotage it - that was the routine, the script. So why, then, had he forgotten that? Why had he looked down at this chance and forgotten he wasn't meant to be about to reach out and lean into it and wrap it around himself? Why had he forgotten this was just a theatre skit, a play with a role he was so used to going through the motions of? Why had he let this become real? He was meant to fall in love and ruin it. This was all wrong. This was too close - he wanted this too much.
Stay with me? What did that mean? Now — forever? Here, or with him?
Panic churned up his throat. Doe suddenly disentangled himself from Hywel and backed away, his ears back and his eyes huge, frightened, hunted, vulnerable. "I can't do this," he blurted out breathlessly, eyes darting like a rabbit's. "I'm sorry— I'm sorry."
dm me if you want to listen to me ramble about the interstellar soundtrack
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Post by achromatic on Oct 21, 2021 5:24:01 GMT -5
Hywel didn't know why Doefreckle suddenly was pulling away. Was it him? Had he said something wrong? His baby-blue eyes were wide, full of confusion and questioning. "Wait, why?" he asked, looking completely lost.
Was he so stupid, to truly believe Doefreckle was okay with this? Had this all been a lie, or had the other cat just changed his mind? He couldn't understand what had triggered all of this; he thought they were truly on the same page, finally understanding each other and suddenly, he was pulling away and Hywel was left feeling more confused and alone than he had ever felt before. He didn't understand.
"Doefreckle, please," he asked, "tell me what's wrong?"
There was a part of him that sounded too similar to Rhiannon's voice, vindictive and mocking, that asked him whether he ever truly believed that anyone could love him the way he was. He had ignored that voice for so long, but right now, it felt like it was screaming into his ears, and that there was no way to block that flood of confusion and anger and self-loathing that came with all of it. Was this what he was meant for? To wander the earth forever, and to never reap anything he could sow?
His expression looked pained. He at least deserved an explanation, right?
Doe just shook his head frantically, unable to meet Hywel’s gaze in case he weakened and caved. He could hear the confused pain in his voice and it both tore Doe’s heart apart with guilt and gave him that horrible, tragic hope that Hywel would now be done with him, that he’d have enough and turn away and hate him so that even if Doe fell into grief and came crawling back, like he always did, Hywel would be the one to refuse him. That was the best thing, when someone he wanted had enough of his crap and turned him down, when he finally made them hate him enough that when he finally collapsed into that final punishment - begging for their love - they wouldn’t cave. It would be their decision, not his. That was what he told himself. Really, it was that he’d hurt them so often that he’d left them no other choice. But then he could play the victim, could know it was his fault and give himself that self-disgust, that hatred, that hurt in the only way that satisfied him.
With Hywel, though, it didn’t feel normal. It didn’t feel like that at all. The self-destructive pleasure was gone; the game was over. Now, there was just genuine grief making him feel like he was going to throw up. Now, there was the tom he wanted to be with, wanted to love, and himself not letting it happen. It felt empty - felt grey and bleak and wrong. That fear, that confusion, that inability to understand what was happening, just made him more desperate to get away - because every bone in his body was fixing him in place and screaming at him to stay. For once, he didn’t want to run. And that terrified him more than anything he’d faced in all his life. More than Funk’s teeth; more than the car headlamps; more than death. The sickening realisation that love had become strong enough to stand up to his self-sabotage was the most horrifying thing in the world. He couldn’t cope with it.
“I’m sorry,” was all he said, miserably, painfully, like Hywel was hurting him, like it meant anything, like he wasn’t just repeating the same thing he’d learned to say when he was young because maybe that would stop the beating. Still not looking at Hywel, and with his ears still flat against his head and his whole body looking smaller and more tucked in than it ever did, Doefreckle turned and fled down the steps and around the first corner he found, disappearing from sight. He paid no attention to his limp, to the pain in his paw - he just ran. Ran and hoped Hywel didn’t follow. And when he was a safe enough distance away, close enough to SummerClan that he could smell the sweetness of the meadows, he slumped down beneath an elder bush and gasped out shallow, ruined little sobs. They hurt his chest and his lungs and his throat, but for once the suffering wasn’t pleasurable. He was grieving, truly and completely. Shuffling down onto his side, he lay there in the speckled shadow of the elder bush, bees buzzing around his head, and sobbed into the earth.
