A Deadly Proposition [IKAROS AND ACHERON]

May 14th
After sunset
Heavy rain
@Ikaros

That weekend the rain never really stopped. It pattered hard against the faded letters of a sign reading “greasy Jim’s”, water running down the grimy windows, obscuring the few patrons inside. Acheron had passed it many times before, he suspected that the diner had been there for longer than Erast had even existed. His eyes lingered on the darkened world outside, tracing the trails of water down the glass, his own face was faintly reflected back to him. He needed a haircut. And a good night's sleep. A shower would also do wonders. But really, for now he was just thankful to be out of the rain. Chin resting the palm of his hand, popped up on the table, he glanced at Ikaros seated opposite him. Acheron had been right – he was handsome in the light as well. For a moment, His dark eyes met Ikaros' piercing gaze, taking in the pure power of his spirit. It made sense for the man to be self-assured, his presence alone demanded respect and attention. Acheron was pretty insignificant next to him. How had he gotten lucky enough that their paths should cross? It still felt unreal that he should deserve this opportunity. This attention Ikaros had been showing him the past couple of weeks. Realizing he was staring, he blushed and averted his gaze down, pressing his finger down on some of the sugar granulates littering the table.

There was  an 80s ballad playing on a jukebox, blending together with the rain drumming against the window. “What's that song called again?”

The diner smelled of old frying oil, along with stale coffee and something artificially fresh that didn’t quite mask the chlorine of the cleaning product that was used to wash the floor. The door dinged as a man entered the deserted diner. “I think I’ve heard it before. We didn’t really have Ilomarian music when I was growing up. Mostly just Ydsian stuff, which is strange, since I grew up in Udril and–”

Short skirt and long fingered delicate hands. She was wearing a new perfume last night. What would it hurt? As long as his wife didn’t know – “Oh,” Acheron paused, eyes darting towards the man whose memory stuck to him like gum under his shoe. He trailed off as the man walked past their booth, then shook his head as if shaking off the sticky residue of a spirit that did not belong to him. Meeting Ikaros’ gaze again, he blushed sheepishly, cringing. “Sorry.”

He sat back, crossing his arms over his chest, glancing at the sour looking waitress. Would their food be done soon? He was hungry. He looked at Ikaros, tilting his head. “What were we talking about again?”

One wouldn’t consider Greasy Jim’s, the old diner in gritty Erast, charming. Not if they had experienced dining establishments elsewhere that adhered to actual food safety regulations. Which most people in Erast hadn’t. Ikaros supposed there could be something charming about a place to meet, even in this pitiable part of the world. Even in this shabby diner with broken-tiled floors and saggy cushions on the booth couches.

Ikaros sat across Acheron, leaning back against the cracked upholstery, one arm resting on the back rest. His eyes rested too, on the man in front of him. After ordering, the conversation had turned to natural silence between them. Ikaros took note of this - Acheron hadn’t allowed that to happen before. Looking out the window, seemingly in his own thoughts, he was letting down his guards. Ikaros wasn’t going to interrupt him in whatever he might be considering when gazing at the rain pouring down in the night outside.

When Acheron turned his head towards him, Ikaros didn’t speak, but tugged at his smile, a comforting warmth in his expression. Acheron blush was more pronounced under the pale overhead lighting. Ikaros had to restrain  a broader smile at the sight of it.

What was the song called? The vibrant rhythm and synthesizer melody played in the background. Some lyrics about celebrating love and carefree optimism.

Ikaros cocked his head slightly as if listening closely. “I’m not sure actually,” he then said, his tone relaxed and velvety.

He could probably remember the name of the song if he gave it another thought. But he remembered the song a little too well, a memory he didn’t feel like diving deeper into. Instead, he kept his focus on Acheron, who had already moved on from his question. Ikaros had come to learn that Acheron was quite the talker. He wasn’t going to interrupt him in this either and simply sat, listening to him, nodding, while the door behind him opened, the light above it flickering as a man entered.

That faint change in Acheron’s eyes. For a second, they seemed to turn glassy. Ikaros’ own eyes widened and he couldn’t help but adjust his seating, straightening his back slightly. Acheron came back with an ‘oh’ and eyes darting towards the newly entered man as he passed their booth. Ikaros looked over his shoulder, eyeing the man too, before turning to meet Acheron’s gaze.

“You just felt his Spirit, didn’t you?” he asked, as if he hadn’t heard Acheron’s own question. His smile grew and he leaned back in the seat again, in awe. “What a fascinating power. Tell me, how does-”

He then shook his head and raised his hand to show a change of subject, finally answering Acheron’s question.

“You were telling me about the music you listened to in Udril,” he said, his hand dropping back down on the table, “Please, continue.”

“You just felt his Spirit, didn’t you?” Ikaros smiled widely and Acheron blinked in surprise.

Fascinating. Ikaros called his powers fascinating. Acheron averted his gaze, cheeks heating. There was butterflies in his stomach. It was all so new. All this attention. Acheron didn't want it to stop, but he didn't know what to do with it.

Ikaros stopped himself mid-question, raising a hand. Biting his lip, Acheron glanced at it. For a moment, he imagined holding it, to braid his fingers together with his. What a ridiculous thought that was.

Then Ikaros dropped the topic, urging Acheron to continue his rambling. It was a bit embarrassing how he kept going on about nonsense like that. At the very least, Ikaros didn’t seem to mind it. Though he seemed more interested in his powers than he did his rants.

“I don’t know, it probably wasn’t important,” he said sheepishly, fiddling with the edges of his sleeves.

He crossed his arms again, leaning back in his seat, cushion squeaking underneath him. He eyed the man getting seated. Was it fascinating that Acheron already knew his reason for being here? That even from a distance, he could detect his guilt, the excitement? Acheron had never thought about it that way. Invasive? Yes, definitely. Never fascinating. The way Ikaros talked to him, described him. Fascinating, spectacular, powerful. Fascinating was a first – certainly not what most people thought about people like him. But Ikaros did. That what Acheron could do was fascinating. That what Acheron was was fascinating. Acheron liked that. Being fascinating.

“He’s cheating on his wife,” he then finally said. He met Ikaros’ gaze again, tilting his head slightly, brows furrowed. “That’s pretty bad, right?”