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?”

Ikaros watched as Acheron fiddled with the sleeves of his sweater, anticipating the already worn fabric to become even more frayed under his anxious fingers. It probably wasn’t important, he said, and he was right. Ikaros just tugged at the corner of his mouth, waiting for him to figure out the rest himself.

He’s cheating on his wife, Acheron then said, meeting Ikaros’ gaze again, and Ikaros met his with renewed curiosity.

“Is he now?” he asked, his voice almost a purr, before glancing over his shoulder. The man had placed himself up at the counter on one of the creaky barstools. Though Ikaros couldn't make out his order, he had a hunch it would be as greasy as the name of the diner.

He turned his eyes back at Acheron as the man asked him if it was bad, the man cheating. Such a poor fellow. He had no clue about the rights and wrongs about this world. How could he have when no one had been there to teach him?  

“It’s very bad, yes,” Ikaros replied, just as the server arrived with their food. Cheeseburger, fries and a strawberry milkshake for Acheron, fries and a vanilla milkshake for Ikaros. Ikaros thanked the server, sending her a charming smile on her way.

“But no need to worry about it,” he said to Acheron as soon as she had left. He casually picked at his fries while talking. “His punishment is inevitable.”

He smiled reassuringly before grabbing a fry and popping it into his mouth. The saltiness of the fry clashed with the bitter taste in his mouth.

Is he now?
A tingle ran down his spine at the tone of Ikaros voice. As he glanced backwards towards the man, Acheron’s eyes traced his sharp, handsome features.  When their eyes met again, Acheron regretted his question. Of course it was bad, which Ikaros confirmed. Something about Ikaros made Acheron very stupid, he thought as the waitress approached their table. Or maybe more correctly, Acheron had just always been very stupid. It was just more noticeable in contrast to Ikaros. The food was placed on the table and his stomach twisted with hunger.

He lifted the top bun off his burger, removing the onions as Ikaros spoke again. His eyes darted up to the man casually picking at his fries.

His punishment is inevitable.
For a moment, Acheron paused. Was Ikaros joking? Nothing in his spirit indicated that he was, if anything, it seemed the words were meant to be reassuring. And he was smiling, casual and calm as ever, maybe Acheron was in the wrong for finding his choice of words somewhat odd. What did he know anyways? Probably just a figure of speech. He averted his gaze down to his burger, removing the last onion before putting the top bun back into place.

Acheron took a napkin, wiping his fingers before lifting the burger. Being the only one eating a proper meal out of the two of them was  awkward, but his hunger won over his embarrassment as he bit into the first warm meal he had had in a good long while.  And for a second, he let himself savor it, closing his eyes. Even if the bun was soggy from the tomatoes and the meat bordered on dry, it was tasty and it was filling and that was the only thing that really mattered. He had to hold himself back from not simply gorging the whole thing down at once, instead he paced himself as he took a second bite, opening his eyes and looking at Ikaros. His cheeks heated and he swallowed.

“Sometimes I can’t really help it,” he said, because making conversation was better than being watched eating in silence. “The, uh, you know." He paused again, keeping his voice low incase anyone would overhear him. He wasn't used to openly speaking about his powers like this. "Some spirits are, I don’t know… sticky? If that makes sense?” It probably didn’t. Acheron lifted his napkin, wiping the corner of his mouth. “It feels… well. Strange, I guess.” He shrugged, taking another bite of his burger as he realized he was answering a question that Ikaros had not asked out loud. “Just to answer, uhm… what you wanted to ask before,” he elaborated, covering his mouth with the back of his hand when he realized he was talking with his mouth full. “Sorry.”

Ikaros observed Acheron taking the first bite of his burger. It didn’t look appetizing but Acheron made it look so by his savoring of it. His teeth dug into the soggy bun and his eyes closed with pleasure as he chewed and swallowed. The appreciation of something so bland was impressive. Ikaros could make use of such appreciativeness.

He didn’t touch his own fries anymore but didn’t push them away. Instead they steamed in front of him while his hands folded in his lap. The smile remained resting on his lips, even as Acheron spoke of something seemingly out of context. Ikaros cocked his head in stylish confusion as the man in front of him. He talked as if replying to a question that hadn’t been asked. It almost seemed as if…

Ikaros realized it just as Acheron explained it himself. He had heard the question, Ikaros had stopped himself from asking.

For the first time since arrival, Ikaros’ smile faltered. His face turned stiff while Acheron apologized. Then, he raised his hand to cut him off. “It’s okay,” he said, though it didn’t seem okay. More so like an annoyed parent who knew it wasn’t their child’s fault that it had spilt its milk.

He inhaled before leaning forward and taking a sip of his vanilla milkshake through the straw. It wasn’t sweet, more so flavorless. As pale in flavor as in its color. When he leaned back again, his smile had returned.

“That’s the thing with powerful abilities,” he said with renewed poise, “They have to be used.”

The words hung between them amongst the stale, oily air. Then, Ikaros took his hand up from his lap and went back to picking his fries, casually.

“So, sticky, you say?” he asked, his eyes on Acheron with a mix of calmness and intruqie, “Is there a pattern as to which Spirits are…” he gestured slightly with his hand, “stickier than others?”. His hand rested back in his lap, his eyes resting on Acheron. With the purr in his voice, he asked: "Am I sticky too?"

Acheron’s stomach dropped at the same time as Ikaros’ smile fell from his face. He opened his mouth, about to explain himself, immediately closing it again when Ikaros raised his hand. "It's okay,” he said, his face stiff, the air standing still. Acheron’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched Ikaros drink  his milkshake.

He definitely didn’t like that, Acheron thought, biting his tongue, wishing  he could take the words back. Ikaros had seemed fascinated by his powers. But it seemed he was less thrilled when the same powers were pointed towards himself. There was silence between them as Acheron berated himself. Stupid.

When Ikaros leaned back up, he was smiling again and the moment evaporated. Acheron let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. As Ikaros started speaking of powerful abilities, Acheron gingerly took another bite of his burger. He didn’t feel hungry anymore, but he didn’t want the food to go to waste.

“They have to be used.” His words seemed heavy , the air still oppressive. Humid. Probably from the rain outside. Acheron chewed as he watched the other man picking at his fries. He was careful not to intrude on his spirit again.

Then, Ikaros’ attention was back on Acheron, those gorgeous eyes watching him so intently, as if Acheron was the only person in the world. "Am I sticky too?" he purred and Acheron nearly choked on his burger, his cheeks turning scarlet.

He swallowed his food, covering his mouth. “I, uh–” he started, averting his gaze. Fuck, he was acting like an idiot, he couldn’t even speak right when Ikaros was around. He put down his half-eaten burger to wipe his hands and mouth to win himself time to get a hold of himself. “You, uhm,” he started, looking up again. “Not really. Your spirit, is, uh… it’s big? Noticeable.” Heavy, too. “Some people are always… surrounded by things. Like emotions and whatever. That’s the sticky stuff. You aren’t easy to read like that.”

In fact, this was the first time Acheron had seen that barrier of calm break down even a little bit. It was intriguing. Also a bit intimidating. He had never met anyone who wasn't a nachon who was as in control over their spirit as Ikaros was. And Ikaros had to be powerful, too. He could feel the energy radiate from his presence.

Acheron’s skin was a pale shade, haggardly so. Under the diner’s flickering fluorescent light, he could almost appear translucent. Due to this, the change was as clear as day - his cheeks rapidly gathering color, turning into a vivid red. He stuttered out his words, and Ikaros leaned back and watched him as he stumbled a way to his flustered state. His smile grew, well pleased with his response - with his stuttering as well as his words. Big. Noticeable. Complimentary words, and he was sure Acheron meant them like that as well.

He gave him nothing more than a satisfied  tug upwards on the corner of his mouth. Then, he inhaled, indicating the upcoming change of subject.

“So,” he said, then lowering his gaze, catching Acheron’s eyes with a gleam in his eyes, “Ache.” The name rolled off his tongue effortlessly, intimately. He had never called him by his full name. “When we first met, I told you about Melikertes. About our interest in you.” He let the words travel through the steam of his fries, reaching Acheron at the other table. “About having to prove oneself.”

He took another fry, chewing the soft and oversalted piece of food with no hurry. Then, after swallowing it, he met Acheron’s eyes again. “Are you ready to prove yourself?”

Ikaros was smiling as Acheron stuttered his way through his explanation, his cheeks growing hotter, shoulders rising uncomfortably. As he finished speaking, he squirmed in his seat, biting his tongue to avoid embarrassing himself further, staring down at his half eaten burger. It seemed like hours had passed before Ikaros spoke again. He changed the subject, barely even acknowledging anything Acheron had just said.

Acheron looked up and their eyes met, his name on Ikaros’ tongue. It didn’t sound ugly when Ikaros was the one saying it, with that velvety-soft voice of his. He brought up Melikertes and Acheron’s heart immediately started pounding in his chest – was this it? Did they want him to move in? And then his breath came to a stop in his throat at what Ikaros said next.

Having to prove oneself.

He remembered. Proving himself. He still didn’t like the sound of that. Acheron couldn’t prove much more than his inability to act like a regular person and a talent for embarrassing himself. Another eternity passed, the words lingering in the air as Ikaros ate his fries. Acheron watched him, at the edge of his seat as he waited for him to speak again.

Are you ready to prove yourself?

Acheron blinked, tilting his head. Ikaros didn’t elaborate, instead he held eye contact and even this felt like way too much. Was he ready? What did Ikaros want him to do? He couldn’t lose this opportunity and he couldn’t let Ikaros down. This was his only way to get off the street. He didn’t really have a choice, did he?

After a moment, he finally nodded unsurely. “In what way?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.