There are a lot of things Eureka wants from Sal. Most of which they don't know how to ask him for, or if they even should. Breaking up seemed like the logical choice: what future do they have together if they can't even touch?
Eureka looks at the cut on his lip. Each day spent with Sal made it harder not to kill themself on those lips. Even now they toy with the idea of a big, dramatic suicide to ring in the new year. How long can they kiss him before their brain shuts down? Would Sal forgive them for ruining his New Years?
Sal's hand twitches, moving to pick up the cup before he can even think about it. What the fuck, no. He's in his self-respect era now. No more doing things just because Eureka asks for it. No more thinking insane thoughts just because Eureka looks at him a little too long.
Instead, he grabs the mini-bottle of Jeppson's Malört, showing it to Eureka, and pointedly pours the entire thing in before he holds the cup out to them. "Bon apple-tit," Sal declares.
Eureka smiles wryly as Sal makes a bad combination worse, just for them. They gingerly take the cup from his hand, looking him in the eye as they take a sip of his punishment for them.
Eureka can't help but flinch when the concoction reaches their tongue. The taste of pencil shavings overpower the juices and sodas he's added to the cup. Not the worst taste they've ever had in their mouth, but still wholly unenjoyable.
And (still) they swallow it, taking a moment to consider it like a fine wine.
“Woody notes sing above fruity essences in a deafening chorus,” they conclude, offering the cup back to him. “An authentic taste of the liquid run-off from the dumpsters of Chicago's own bars.”
"I got thrown into a Chicago dumpster once," Sal muses, and takes a healthy gulp of the trash cocktail. "Woof. Shit." There's no force in the world that can make Malört palatable, but Sal is almost smiling as he looks at Eureka, knowing they have the same taste in their mouths.
He spent so much of this past week thinking about what he'd say to Eureka, but all Sal says now is the very first thought he had when he saw them here: "You look nice."
"Should taste nostalgic, then," Eureka jokes, then suddenly lets out a sharp laugh as Sal catches them off guard with the size of his gulp. 'Woof. Shit.' is right. They grin broadly at him, but it shrinks to something more polite and restrained. They're trying to be respectful— maybe not good, but... Sal is one of only two exes they care about treating kindly.
Dying on him in a dramatic declaration of love and regret is tempting, but Sal deserves better than Eureka's histrionics.
They cock their head toward him, fondly studying the new injuries on his face. The more roughed up he looks, the more attractive he is. It makes their heart do funny things and Audrey shudders in response to the change. Eureka claps a hand over her to get her to stop and, for once, seems a bit embarrassed. This is out of their comfort zone.
"I—" they start, then cut themself off to re-think what to say. Eureka looks away for a moment, down at Audrey squirming beneath their palm. They press down harder. "... I was hoping you'd be here. You were gone a while."
"Yeah," Sal says, also looking at Audrey. Staring at Eureka's chest too long risks teasing, and some stubborn part of him keeps looking for another few seconds, before turning away to sip the dumpster juice again. "Was figuring out where I'd go if I left here."
This sounds heavier than he means it to, more like a confession than a casual aside. Embarrassing to admit he was thinking of quitting just because Eureka dumped him, but hell. He was never the type to stick around. He had this idea that he could be someone different at Enodia, and he tried, didn't he? No one can say he didn't try to be better.
"It's not, like, anything," he adds. "Just an idea."
Eureka likes Sal's attention, even when he's staring directly at their weak spot. They ease their grip on Audrey and are about to tease him for his second swig of swill, but his admission catches them off guard.
It's not a surprise, but it's a worry made a reality. They can't blame him, though. Eureka's a runner, too— it's what got them into this mess in the first place.
But Enodia has been good for Sal. It's offered him stability and a roof over his head and resources that would otherwise be inaccessible to him. Even if he transferred to another IRIS station, he'd be leaving his friends behind.
Eureka is more suited to leave. They'd been toying with the idea of returning to Boston, anyway. Back to their old lab and questionable experiments.
They boldly steal the cup right out of Sal's hand and take a disgustingly large swig as they turn to face the bar, their back to the party. Nobody needs to see the hurt on their face, and they don't want to harsh the vibe of Crysta's party.
They're practiced at navigating each other's spaces now, but it still makes Sal's heart skip a beat whenever Eureka moves close enough to make contact. He lets go of the cup easily, watching them drink, their lips touching the cup right near where his did.
"If you want." He shakes his head with a rueful smile at his attempt at indifference. "I mean, yeah. Yeah." The big balcony would offer a scenic view for this conversation—god knows Eureka loves an aesthetic setting—but it's less likely to be private. Sal heads for the actual exit instead, out the door and going around the corner from where the smokers would linger. He trusts Eureka to follow.
It's late enough in the December evening to be chilly out, which Sal feels but isn't affected by. He turns back to Eureka. "Is this too cold?" He picks at his suit jacket, like he means to take it off to offer it.
The cold air pierces straight through Eureka’s thin dress. They clench their teeth, inwardly scolding themself for not grabbing their coat on the way out. Audrey’s vines wrap around their arms in a makeshift shrug and Eureka hugs themself for warmth, Sal’s drink held protectively against their chest. It’ll help a bit for a short while: the oil inside her vines provides some heat as long as Eureka makes the conscious effort to circulate it through their own body.
They follow behind Sal, studying his gait and posture for signs of additional injuries. It does little to distract from the cold. When he comes to a stop and turns to check on them, Eureka’s already looking like a pathetic and withering little creature. Winter is not their season and, once again, they’ve put both of them in a bind by not thinking things through.
Eureka looks up at Sal and lets out a whine as they nod and shuffle closer to him. They turn around, expecting Sal to take care of them.
Sal removes his jacket without hesitation, but has to take a deep breath before he moves close and drapes it over Eureka's shoulders, not making any physical contact at all. With anyone else, he might've smoothed the fabric down their arms or carefully fished out their hair from under the collar of his jacket, but that's impossible. He bows his head for a second, catching a whiff of their perfume (isn't this...?), before stepping back to a safe distance.
"What'd you wanna talk about?" Away from the eyes from the party, Sal's face is open, his voice quiet. He doesn't move like he's injured, but of course he wouldn't. Without his jacket on, it's easier to spot the shadow of bandages wrapped around his torso, and more bruising on his clavicle, through the open collar of his shirt.
Eureka keeps their back to him for now. It's easier to open up when they deny themself the ability to analyze every microexpression Sal makes in response to them. Vulnerability is a difficult feat on its own, but the risk of rejection that comes with that is downright terrifying. Sal has accepted every awful part of themself they've shown to him, but revealing the more human sides have been the hardest. There's nothing for Sal to gain from treating them gently anymore, yet he's still careful in the way he drapes his jacket over their shoulders to shield them from the cold. This is one of the many reasons why Eureka has grown to love him, and why they can't give him up even if their future seems an unpredictable blur.
They pinch the jacket closed from the inside, greedy for Sal's body heat, and lift it to meet their nose so they can breathe his warm scent. It puts them at ease. Sal smells like comfort and protection and the promise of a good death. Eureka has always been emboldened by the theory that their powers might grant them immortality, but they've found more and more that death would be a fair trade off for the bliss of falling asleep in Sal's arms.
How can they feel so joyous while yearning to die? Eureka feels their nose prickling. A tell-tale sign of tears to come.
"I'm in love with you, and I don't know what to do about it," they confess, voice still shaking despite their best efforts to control it. "I don't— I don't know how to handle these feelings, Sal. I thought breaking up was the answer, but now it just feels like the world is ending."
For a moment, all Sal does is stare at the back of Eureka's head. Whatever he'd expected them to say, it wasn't this, not when Eureka fights against showing vulnerability every time they're together. It's not something he expected to change. He understands needing a tough shell to survive. He's liked every part of Eureka that they've been willing to share with him, and how they like listening to what he shares in turn. Sal's always known on some level that he's just a dumb guy with a crush, and this isn't some big romantic forever love.
He hadn't let himself hope for more.
"Hey..." Sal reaches for Eureka, and falters. He's not sure what he's supposed to say or do here. He's not sure if anyone he's dated ever loved him like this, or even what this is. "You're... You don't gotta do anything about that. Whatever you want, it's..." He rakes a hand through his hair, suddenly afraid he's fucking this up. He wishes he could just put his arms around Eureka and hold them until they stop shivering, but words are all he's allowed to use here. "I'm here. I'm yours. World hasn't ended yet."
Sal’s words are reassuring to Eureka, who feels relieved to have his permission for inaction. They don’t gotta do anything about that. Living in the moment without a plan is risky… but maybe it's do-able.
Eureka turns slightly, looking back over their shoulder at him. Welled tears spill over, streaking down their cheeks, as they eye him possessively. “You’re mine?”
Sal looks at them, and there's a real agony in not being able to brush his thumbs over Eureka's cheeks to wipe the tears away, or pull them against him and let them ruin his shirt with their mascara. But all that is bearable, so long as Eureka just looks at him. His body was made to endure worst torments than this.
He takes a step closer, still leaving a small, safe gap between them. "Hasn't that been kinda obvious all along?" His smile is sheepish, only slightly marred by his split lip.
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enodia_ic2023-12-29 08:04 pm
DRY BAR: Sal & Eureka (tw: suicide but in a yearning way?)
Eureka looks at the cut on his lip. Each day spent with Sal made it harder not to kill themself on those lips. Even now they toy with the idea of a big, dramatic suicide to ring in the new year. How long can they kiss him before their brain shuts down? Would Sal forgive them for ruining his New Years?
“A drink. Let me have a sip of yours.”
DRY BAR: Sal & Eureka
Instead, he grabs the mini-bottle of Jeppson's Malört, showing it to Eureka, and pointedly pours the entire thing in before he holds the cup out to them. "Bon apple-tit," Sal declares.
DRY BAR: Sal & Eureka
Eureka can't help but flinch when the concoction reaches their tongue. The taste of pencil shavings overpower the juices and sodas he's added to the cup. Not the worst taste they've ever had in their mouth, but still wholly unenjoyable.
And (still) they swallow it, taking a moment to consider it like a fine wine.
“Woody notes sing above fruity essences in a deafening chorus,” they conclude, offering the cup back to him. “An authentic taste of the liquid run-off from the dumpsters of Chicago's own bars.”
DRY BAR: Sal & Eureka
He spent so much of this past week thinking about what he'd say to Eureka, but all Sal says now is the very first thought he had when he saw them here: "You look nice."
DRY BAR: Sal & Eureka
Dying on him in a dramatic declaration of love and regret is tempting, but Sal deserves better than Eureka's histrionics.
They cock their head toward him, fondly studying the new injuries on his face. The more roughed up he looks, the more attractive he is. It makes their heart do funny things and Audrey shudders in response to the change. Eureka claps a hand over her to get her to stop and, for once, seems a bit embarrassed. This is out of their comfort zone.
"I—" they start, then cut themself off to re-think what to say. Eureka looks away for a moment, down at Audrey squirming beneath their palm. They press down harder. "... I was hoping you'd be here. You were gone a while."
DRY BAR: Sal & Eureka
This sounds heavier than he means it to, more like a confession than a casual aside. Embarrassing to admit he was thinking of quitting just because Eureka dumped him, but hell. He was never the type to stick around. He had this idea that he could be someone different at Enodia, and he tried, didn't he? No one can say he didn't try to be better.
"It's not, like, anything," he adds. "Just an idea."
DRY BAR: Sal & Eureka
It's not a surprise, but it's a worry made a reality. They can't blame him, though. Eureka's a runner, too— it's what got them into this mess in the first place.
But Enodia has been good for Sal. It's offered him stability and a roof over his head and resources that would otherwise be inaccessible to him. Even if he transferred to another IRIS station, he'd be leaving his friends behind.
Eureka is more suited to leave. They'd been toying with the idea of returning to Boston, anyway. Back to their old lab and questionable experiments.
They boldly steal the cup right out of Sal's hand and take a disgustingly large swig as they turn to face the bar, their back to the party. Nobody needs to see the hurt on their face, and they don't want to harsh the vibe of Crysta's party.
"Can we go outside to talk?"
DRY BAR: Sal & Eureka
"If you want." He shakes his head with a rueful smile at his attempt at indifference. "I mean, yeah. Yeah." The big balcony would offer a scenic view for this conversation—god knows Eureka loves an aesthetic setting—but it's less likely to be private. Sal heads for the actual exit instead, out the door and going around the corner from where the smokers would linger. He trusts Eureka to follow.
It's late enough in the December evening to be chilly out, which Sal feels but isn't affected by. He turns back to Eureka. "Is this too cold?" He picks at his suit jacket, like he means to take it off to offer it.
DRY BAR: Sal & Eureka
They follow behind Sal, studying his gait and posture for signs of additional injuries. It does little to distract from the cold. When he comes to a stop and turns to check on them, Eureka’s already looking like a pathetic and withering little creature. Winter is not their season and, once again, they’ve put both of them in a bind by not thinking things through.
Eureka looks up at Sal and lets out a whine as they nod and shuffle closer to him. They turn around, expecting Sal to take care of them.
DRY BAR: Sal & Eureka
"What'd you wanna talk about?" Away from the eyes from the party, Sal's face is open, his voice quiet. He doesn't move like he's injured, but of course he wouldn't. Without his jacket on, it's easier to spot the shadow of bandages wrapped around his torso, and more bruising on his clavicle, through the open collar of his shirt.
DRY BAR: Sal & Eureka
They pinch the jacket closed from the inside, greedy for Sal's body heat, and lift it to meet their nose so they can breathe his warm scent. It puts them at ease. Sal smells like comfort and protection and the promise of a good death. Eureka has always been emboldened by the theory that their powers might grant them immortality, but they've found more and more that death would be a fair trade off for the bliss of falling asleep in Sal's arms.
How can they feel so joyous while yearning to die? Eureka feels their nose prickling. A tell-tale sign of tears to come.
"I'm in love with you, and I don't know what to do about it," they confess, voice still shaking despite their best efforts to control it. "I don't— I don't know how to handle these feelings, Sal. I thought breaking up was the answer, but now it just feels like the world is ending."
DRY BAR: Sal & Eureka
He hadn't let himself hope for more.
"Hey..." Sal reaches for Eureka, and falters. He's not sure what he's supposed to say or do here. He's not sure if anyone he's dated ever loved him like this, or even what this is. "You're... You don't gotta do anything about that. Whatever you want, it's..." He rakes a hand through his hair, suddenly afraid he's fucking this up. He wishes he could just put his arms around Eureka and hold them until they stop shivering, but words are all he's allowed to use here. "I'm here. I'm yours. World hasn't ended yet."
DRY BAR: Sal & Eureka
Eureka turns slightly, looking back over their shoulder at him. Welled tears spill over, streaking down their cheeks, as they eye him possessively. “You’re mine?”
DRY BAR: Sal & Eureka
He takes a step closer, still leaving a small, safe gap between them. "Hasn't that been kinda obvious all along?" His smile is sheepish, only slightly marred by his split lip.