shadowglitter | PSL || poe/odin

PSL || poe/odin

WAY TO REJECT ME YOU FLIGHTY AIRBORN PIECE OF SHIT! WAY TO FUCK EVERYTHING UP FOR ME AND MY HEART, FOREVER AND EVER, ALWAYS UNTIL FOREVER

HEY YO YOU TOLD ME TO WRITE A LIST SO GUESS WHAT!!!!!! IT'S TIME FOR US TO GET FUNKY AS FUUUUUUCKKKKKKKK

god i am not going to bother formatting this

TO DO LIST:
1. SEXTING FROM BOOT CAMP ringverse AU
2. prince/concubine AU - owain's the prince, poe's a concubine to the king, paranoia and political assassination ensues, etc etc etc etc etc
3. vampire hooker AU?? owain gonna get his gothic goth goth dick wet in that spooky vampire butt
4. HAHA BOOM WE'RE DOING IT I LINKED THE POST DOWN THERE
5. enemies of war AU - owain's a good guy on the bad guy side who almost loses his life trying to save poe even though he's an enemy soldier, poes like What, Shit, Damn, gay shit ensues
6. HNENENGH
7. ANGELS AND DEMONSSSSSSsss
8. 20s AU///?? YES. YES ALRIGHT
9. WW1 AU WHATS Up
10. ?? there was something that was supposed to go here from the kink meme
11. samurai champloo AU what up. chon'sin. Shit
12. bBODYSWAPPpappapp

long-term AU posts:

⚔⛉☆ PLEDGED

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's an ugly feeling, the jealousy that lances through him at the mere mention of the boyfriend. It's an ugly feeling, and one that he hates in himself, and yet can't quite manage to put aside. A hot lance of fire through his chest that immediately dulls the smile that had been on his lips and pulls his brows together. He hates feeling like that, hates feeling like a fucking hypocrite.

But he always does.

"... Don't think it would have much effect on them, no. They don't even like to be reminded that I'm an imPort, when they don't have to be."

A beat.

He can be the better man. He can. He can put aside the jealousy and be a good friend and not hate someone he barely knows for daring to love someone that he does.

"... How, uh, is he? By they way."

It's never hard to tell who Poe means by 'He'.

It's been a year, since Poe and Finn became what they are. A year is too long to hide someone's identity, and it's only natural that Owain found out, eventually. He broke under the weight of it all - the jealousy that surged now that there was a face to the man who took Poe away from him - and he ruined a lot of good things in his life through the fallout.

Poe didn't see the breakdown. He must have known it happened, between the worry Owain caused his friends and his complete and total disappearance that lasted for almost a full month. He doesn't think he's ever actually said Finn's name to Poe, though - it's always been he or that guy or him, a reflection of how Poe talks about Owain's.

Owain always just figured the reason his boyfriend's name gets so carefully skirted around by Poe is because - well, Owain started it. It's just another step they take in this dance of distance, holding each other at arm's length and avoiding too much of what's real so they can find a way to stay friends.

"He's really good." Owain grins, and it's honest, despite the flair up of guilt that again gets crushed so easily when he sees Poe look at him, dulled smile or otherwise. He loves his boyfriend, in a way. Not the way that he loves Poe, but he loves him enough to smile at the thought of him. "We're thinking of going away for a while, maybe... hit the mountains and see the snow. Can you believe that he's never seen snow before?"

He laughs, quietly. He should be thinking of his boyfriend, when he pictures the trip they might take - but he's wondering how much snow Poe has seen in his life, he's wondering what it would be like to show him how to ski, he's wondering how warm the cabin they could tuck themselves away in might be.

The smile just makes it worse, but Poe isn't looking directly at him, so at least he only hears it rather than sees it.

Force, but he's a fucking hypocrite.

"I never saw any until I was in my twenties, so I believe it." It's what happens when you grow up on a jungle planet. He knows he should be talking about him instead, continuing with polite questions. He doesn't actually hate the guy.

He just hates what he is.

"... How long would you be gone?" He tries to ask the question casually, he does. But there's a lump in his throat that isn't easy to speak around, and the disappeared smile makes it hard to pretend that this is anything but a question about them. About how many times Poe would be sitting in the part by himself until Owain came home.

"Yeah?" I'll go with you, instead, if you ask. "What was it like, the first time you saw it? I've seen snow since I was a little kid, so... I don't really remember being without it."

He shuts his eyes and listens to the sound of nature, breathing in through his nose, and then out. The warmth of Poe as he leans back against his arm, the fact that he's here - if Owain hadn't had a year to learn how to shut himself down, to dull the voice in his head that always screams tell him you're in love with him and beg him to change his mind whenever they're together, he never would have been able to just sit here like this.

He understands, on one level, why Poe thinks there are some things better left unsaid. It goes against every instinct in his body that tells him that that's wrong, that life should be dangerous and honest and charged into with every breath and every word a person has, but - he gets it, now. He'll let himself be grounded, by Poe, if being grounded means they can share a bench in a park and just talk. He'll set aside those wings.

"Probably a few weeks? I don't know..." He's not looking at Poe. He can't see his face. He does, however, sound resigned, almost like he doesn't want to go. "It's up to him, really. He came up with the idea, so... I'm just following orders."

"To be honest, Hoth isn't the kind of place you can enjoy the snow. It's so cold there that if you get caught outside for more than half an hour in dark, you're dead. That's it. So it wasn't exactly... romantic."

Even if the legends about Hoth had been.

Poe's expression only darkens, as Odin continues, and he tries very hard to bite back the words on his tongue. Tried to find ones that were safer.

"If you don't want to go, don't go." And yet, they came out quicker and darker than he meant it, and he instantly regretted it. "I just mean-- you don't have to go. If you'd rather stay home."

He bites his tongue. He is usually far, far better at keeping this in check, and it's annoying enough that he sits up straighter, pulling all his wait to the front of the bench and resting his elbows on his knees, breaking all points of contact between them.

He's confused, more than anything, by Poe's tone of voice. The idea that Poe could still love him on any level is so far out of his mind that he doesn't even have room to hope - he just watches Poe jerk forward and feels his chest tighten with worry.

It's only when he sees the way that Poe brings his arms in on himself and sits a little straighter that he thinks of - of himself, of how he used to be, when it was just him and there was no boyfriend, there was just Finn and there was just Poe. He doesn't - he doesn't think this means anything, because it can't, but he very instinctively thinks that he's done something wrong, and he thought he was past that by now. He thought he was done with ruining Poe's life.

"... Okay, then."

Fuck, his heart hurts. He's back at that Christmas party, crying silently into Poe's shoulder, telling him he'll still be there and he'll always be there even if Poe has somebody else. He's back in the mountains, with Poe, in the snow and the light, sharing a blanket in their cabin and holding hands and talking, everyone else forgotten.

"Okay, then." He's firmer, now. Trying to say something, even if he doesn't know what that something is. He folds his arms over his chest, tries to sound casual, fails.

"I won't go."

What the ever loving fuck is wrong with him, today? He rubs a hard hand over his face, as if trying to wake up. Dameron, you fucking asshole, don't go ruining a year's worth of work to get to a place where you and Owain can be okay just because you're having a hissy fit about the fact that you might have to go a few weeks without sitting in a fucking park.

"No, that's not --" He rubbed his face hard again. "Sorry. Ignore me. I'm just being a prick."

A year's worth of work is already gone. Owain's heart is fucking palpitating, even though he's not sure what this is - there's a fear that he's fucked up, a fear that he's done something wrong that he doesn't understand, but there's a tiny sparkle of something just out of reach that he can't quite identify, too. He shifts closer to Poe.

"Why are you--"

They've held hands, since sitting in this park, far more than once. Nothing special, maybe, to Poe, but special to him. He's not quite sure if Poe will let him do that, right now, so he gently rests his hand just next to Poe's, reaching out with his pinky to lightly brush against it. Asking, maybe, for permission.

"Did I, uh," He swallows, and while there aren't tears prickling behind his eyes just yet, he can feel the heat of something sad aching in his lungs. "I don't know what I've made you-- mad? I think I've-- I'm really sorry." He swallows again. "I've been trying-- I thought I was doing okay, at not making you mad, or sad-- anymore."

Edited 2018-01-12 00:49 (UTC)

"You haven't done anything wrong."

He hasn't. Not a single damn fucking thing, as far as Poe is concerned.

No, instead, it's Poe, cracking for no fucking reason other than the fact that the perfect little lie he set up for himself - that he could just meet Owain in the park and live a cutesy little half life that he never admitted to - is crumbling in front of him.

He shouldn't be so angry, at the idea of losing it. For something that would probably only be a couple of weeks. He should have been able to just - let it go, and laugh, and wish him well, and be the friend he'd been trying to be, and yet--

He didn't take Owain's hand.

He was too busy just - putting his face into both of his own.

He'd promised himself, a year ago, to be honest. He'd promised himself. He'd been as honest with Owain as he could manage, and with Finn. And here he was, having built up months worth of a lie, and managed to fool himself most of all.

Fuck, but he was a moron.

"You haven't done anything wrong, Owain." He said it again, even if it's kind of muffled since his face is still in his hands.

The facade he'd been holding up for so long was dismantling rapidly.

"Fuck, I am so fucking stupid--"

He pulls his hand back, slow, feeling like it's been physically burned by Poe's rejection. He folds his arms over his stomach and hides his hands within them at his sides, clenching his jaw and watching Poe lose his shit over something Owain can't possibly try and put words to. He mentally starts raking back through the conversation in his head, trying to find where he fucked up, what he did wrong, and he can't-- he can't find anything, he thought he was good, he's been bad for so long and he thought he was fucking good, finally, and Poe just--

"I'm really sorry," he mumbles, and there's a wince to it, with Owain flinching away from Poe like he's scared he's gonna get hit. He looks off to the side, putting both feet on the ground and bouncing his leg even more nervously than before, staring at the flowers and the water of the pond lapping up against the shore.

"I don't know what this-- I don't know what I've done," he starts, looking back, cautiously shrinking into himself, making himself small. "But you're-- Poe, you're not stupid. You're the smartest person I know."

He pauses.

"Or. Okay. You're not the smartest person I know," he says, and there's a laugh, careful as it is. "You're-- a lot of things. A lot of something-ests, to me. But probably not the smartest. I'm pretty smart, though, even though I don't act like it, so maybe if you-- maybe if you talk to me, I can help you figure out... how to fix... whatever's happening? I don't..."

He shouldn't reach out. He knows he shouldn't. But he does, and he rests one hand on Poe's shoulder, just for a moment, until he's curling his fingers in his sleeve and gently tugging him, trying to get him to lean back. On him, hopefully, if he'll allow it.

"Just - I hate seeing you like this. You're my best friend," he says, sincerely. "I don't-- I can't stand it. When you're sad."

He catches the flinch, and it sends an impossibly sharp pang of self hatred right down his spine. Even at his angriest, he would never hit Owain. Ever. For any reason. And the idea of Owain being afraid of him just makes him furious with himself in a way that he can't release.

He tries to just listen, tries to beat back the jealousy and the self hatred and the curling, burning need to do something, but the more Owain speaks the more it just reinforces.

The touch on his shoulder makes him tense, instantly. Doesn't even realise it's almost a mirrored flinch from Owain's. Not because he's scared of being hit - but because he's scared of exploding himself.

He needs to say something to defuse the situation, to pull back, but Poe has never been good at defusing. He's the fuse.

He stands up suddenly, pulling back several feet and turning around immediately to face Owain on the bench.

"No. Owain - I'm not your best friend. Your best friend wouldn't have a petty fucking freak out about the fact that you want to go away for a few weeks with the guy that you're actually seeing. And he wouldn't be-- just-- fucking--" He gestured, helplessly.

... Oh.

He gets it, suddenly. The way he pulls back from Owain, disgusted. The way he stands up and leaves and just looks at him. It sends his whole body into shock, like someone's thrown him into the coldest, darkest part of the ocean. He laughs, again, but it's weak this time, the kind of self-deprecating thing that hurts to hear but always comes out of him so easily.

"Okay."

For a moment, it's all he's willing to say. He gets it. He fucking gets it. Poe must know more about Owain's reaction to finding out Finn's name than he thought he did. Your best friend wouldn't have a pretty fucking freak out-- like all the ones he's had, over the past twelve months? All the holes he's punched through walls, whenever he's imagined Finn and Poe together. All the barbed comments he would make without realizing that that's what he was doing. All the crying, the screaming, the way he's made his lungs ache as he's clutched a pillow over his face and just sobbed like a fucking baby. All he's done since Christmas is hurt, and even with another guy in his life, Owain's so covered in thorns he can barely ever even make it through the day. Just one petty freak out after the next.

And Poe's tired of it.

Owain doesn't know what straw he must have set to finally break the camel's back, but if this is Poe's way of telling him he's sick of this, of having to walk on egg shells and pretend to be interested in Owain's boring, boring life - well, it's been a long time coming, and it shouldn't surprise him as much as it does. He thought they were close, but he's an inherently unlikeable person, and he feels like he's treated Poe like shit ever since he turned him down. He looks up to the sky and feels that grief burning up in his throat again, and his voice comes raspy and hoarse when he finds it.

"I - ah - I don't want to go away with him..."

It's out before he can stop it, and he's distant and dead-eyed and so lacking in the light he used to have. He drops his neck and watches, again, the water lap at the walls of the pond. The sound of a bird chirping in the trees is cutting through his head like wire, because he just wants everything to be fucking quiet, for once. Everything, but nothing more than him.

"It's still just you. For me." Poe's done with him, he's done with him, there's no point in keeping shit unsaid, he's always fucking hated keeping shit unsaid. "I wish I had something-- to justify... why I'm with him, or why I'm bringing up such old, old fucking history that you've long since buried, right now, but-- I don't. I'm just kind of..."

He looks back at Poe.

"I just sort of... do things... these days." He tries to smile, but he can't. "Food doesn't really taste good anymore. I can't listen to the music I used to like, because it's just sound. He makes me feel - alive, a little bit - but only in doses. He likes me... and I like him... and he actually wants to be with me. So... we're together. Probably for the long haul, because he's my life, right now, but my life isn't - it's not anything. It's just a life. Days of waiting to sleep. Days of wasting away the hours until I can get away. To the park. With you. For a window into a life you don't want, but that I can pretend you do, for a moment."

He can't look at Poe anymore. Probably can't ever again, now that he's chipping away at the foundation of their distance that he worked so hard to build.

"I'm sorry for making you angry. I know you said I didn't do anything. But. I did. I have done-- a lot of bad things. To us. As friends." He sounds bitter, more than anything, and it's aimed inwards. "I really have tried to keep this shit to myself, dude."

Edited 2018-01-12 02:26 (UTC)

Poe stands there, barely able to hold still, the fuse lit and the fire burning and he just wants to get in his god damn x-wing and blow something up because he shouldn't be so upset about this. And the more that Owain speaks, the more upset he gets, because Owain's taking every word and turning it in on himself and he can't stand it. He can't stand doing this to Owain.

"You're not. Listening." The words are tight, his eyes hot, the impotent anger making every cord of muscle in his neck taut, his hands balled to fists at his sides.

"You haven't-- Owain, I have spent the whole fucking last year lying to you, and lying to myself, and pretending that I'm fine with everything and that I've moved on and that I'm okay with anyone being anywhere god damn near you when it can't be me--"

His fists tighten hard enough that he feels the sharp bite of his nails in his palms. He forces himself to release them, but then uses his hands to gesture widely.

"Look at how you talk about yourself, Owain! I destroyed your entire life and I'm still destroying it and I don't care because if it means I can spend thirty seconds with you and make it thirty less seconds with him then making you feel like shit is apparently worth it!"

He flinches, again, at being told he's not listening, and hides his eyes behind his fists. He concentrates on his breathing, to stop from saying something stupid, or being stupid, because that's all he ever fucking does and he thought he didn't anymore but that obviously isn't-- fuck. He doesn't know what he's doing wrong. Again. He tries to shut the rest of the world out so he can just concentrate on what's happening, and - it doesn't work, exactly, because he's still just thinking of this and of Poe and of that noisy fucking bird, but - at the very least, the man who loves him and is probably right at this moment packing up their shit to head to the mountains, is the furthest thing from his mind.

His brain completely fucking stops, when Poe says he's lying to him, and again, he's racing in an instant through literally every interaction they've had over the past year to figure out what the fuck he's talking about. He can't, with how upset he is, and any other time, he'd crush down the flare up of feelings before they can burn too brightly, but-- but then Poe's talking about how he's destroyed his life, and despite everything, that's what Owain focuses on.

"You haven't destroyed my-- fuck!"

He slams his fists down on the bench, hissing when he hits one hand the wrong way and smacks his knuckle too hard. He rubs it with his other hand and gets to his feet, closing the distance on Poe. If he were just confused, he'd be able to get through this, but he's scared, he thought he and Poe were okay and now they're not and none of this is making any sense--

"I'm gonna punch you in the fucking face!" He's crying, and he angrily wipes the tears away on the heel of his palm. "Are you ready?! Give me consent to punch you in the fucking face!"

Usually, when someone yells that they are going to punch you, while crying, the thing to do would be to either yell back (the bad option) or back away (the good option). Poe has never been good with options. Poe has never really been good with thinking. And it's painfully obvious that he can't say a god damn word that will make any damn sense.

He doesn't think.

Owain stands up and closes the distance and Poe is right there to match it.

He doesn't even let Owain finish the sentence that he's yelling, cutting him off mid-word as he grabs him with both hands, gripping his face tightly as he surged into him and without a word or breath he crashed his lips into Owain's, kissing him hard enough to bruise.

Owain's half way through punch y-- when Poe's lips are on his, and he-- breaks.

There's been so, so much weight on his shoulders, the past twelve months. All he's done is struggle, every day getting harder and getting worse, every second away from Poe dragging out longer and longer, like someone's holding him by the wrists and pulling him along a floor lined with sandpaper. All of it - all of it - sweeps from him in an instant, and he should be making this moment beautiful, making it count, but he just sobs once into Poe's lips and feels his arms shake. He's scared to respond, because he doesn't know what's allowed or what his is, but he finds Poe's sides and twists his fingers in his shirt so he can't go away.

He doesn't respond, other than that. And he's the one to break the kiss.

He looks at the ground, raising his fingertips to his lips and feeling the warmth and the trace of Poe lingering on him, and he struggles to find the expression he's supposed to make. He still just looks dumbstruck, more than anything. He feels his insides twist, and then-- and then--

And he punches Poe in the fucking face.

Well, sort of. It's light. A slow and gentle tap against the chin with absolutely no energy in it, just a tiny brush of soft and careful knuckles that hits lighter than the gust of wind that's sweeping through the leaves above them. Calling it a punch is generous. It's more of a helpless, needy little touch of skin on skin, one that quickly transforms into Owain stretching his fingers out and resting them on Poe's cheek. He meets his eyes, finally.

"I was gonna do that," he mumbles. "I just wanted to yell at you for being stupid before I did."

The anger had doused almost immediately, with Owain's fingers twisting into his shirt. He was still amped up - still full of an energy that he didn't know what to do with - and half of him was waiting for that punch. So his hand came up immediately, but didn't actually catch at Owain's wrist until after he had already connected.

He deserved a lot harder.

With the anger gone, the guilt is growing, the tide rising and gripping at his ankles and then the waves are already in his chest. It twists his face.

"... Yeah, well. You can yell now." He replied, his fingers just barely grasping Owain's wrist next to his face.

"I don't--"

He doesn't want to yell. He lowers his head, resting his forehead on top of Poe's, breathing in the scent of his hair and wondering, with a brief pang of fear, if Finn uses the same shampoo. He eases away.

"You haven't ruined my life." This, at least, he needs to be clear about, before addressing anything else. "You have been-- you have always, always, only ever been-- the best part of my life. The best part of me. I don't know why you never believe me, when I say things like that. Is it-- is it, like, because you've hurt me? Because-- because yeah, I hate that. I hate that it played out that way, but it's not-- defining, I don't just see you as the guy who hurt me, I just--"

He's frustrated, again, more with himself than with Poe. He relies on words so, so much more than Poe does, but he struggles with them, and he never knows how to make what he's trying to say sound real. He brings his other hand to Poe's other cheek and tilts him upwards, leaning down to kiss him softly on the bridge of his nose before pulling back. He doesn't know what he's doing, or what this means-- just that he had to do it.

"I am only ever really happy when I'm with you. Even before - F-Finn - that was true. That's always only ever been true. And I know that that's hard. For you. The pressure. Of having that power over me. But it's-- how things are? If you weren't-- even when we were just friends, before I first fell in love with you, I was just excited to be with you. Not even-- not even for the sex, really, but because you always laughed with me and made me feel good about myself and you were just there, it's--"

He shakes his head, trailing off. It takes a moment for him to collect himself.

"Just-- you're not Poe, the man who hurt me. You're Poe, the man I love. The hurt is secondary. So is... everything else in my life. Everyone. And it will always-- always-- be like that."

The height thing isn't something he thinks about, a lot. But Owain leaning down to kiss him gently between the eyes makes it obviously, suddenly. Poe doesn't fight it - at all - just stands there with the guilt welling up and lapping at his throat and he remembers, now, how close to drowning he felt those first few weeks until he learned to put it aside.

But two minutes tore down every wall he had.

"Happy really isn't how you seem when you see me, Owain." But it's more tired, than anything. "You might be able to ignore the hurt, but I can't."

He finally lets go of Owain's wrist, turning his head to the side and looking off toward the pond. Stupid traitor pond. You were supposed to help him stay calm.

"I can't stand it."

"Yeah, well. You should see how bad I get when I'm away from you, then," he says, voice cracking towards the end. "Whenever I wake up next to him, there's a second where I get - confused, because he's not you. And then... I get out of bed... but the only reason I ever do is because I think, "maybe I'll be able to see Poe for real, at some point, if I get out of the house"... and when I don't... it's not... I don't sleep. Because I think, you must have been with Finn all day, you must have been living the life that you chose, that you want more, while I'm just-- wasting somebody else's so I have somebody warm next to me, and I don't--"

He cuts himself off, knowing, even on the most surface level, that he's just saying things that will make Poe feel worse. He lets his hands fall away, when Poe lets go of his wrist.

He draws on the strength of his father.

"We have two options, Poe." Owain says, and even though he's terrified, his voice is steady. He wraps his arms around Poe's waist, something he thought he'd never, ever be able to do again, and he's startled to find himself still shaking.

"The first-- I could go. Move on. For good. Never leave my city, never find you on the network. It'll-- I'll still hurt. But you won't have to... see it. Anymore. You'll be able to ignore it. If I'm gone."

He's not wrong. Every word hurts worse, blades sliding between his ribs. And the sudden weight of guilt when he realises he hadn't actually thought of Finn for the last few minutes, but now he can't think of anything else. He'd promised. He'd promised--

He swallows. And then when he speaks, his voice is rough, gravel grinding.

"And the second?"

"Or I make you do something really fucking stupid." He puts his hands back on Poe's cheeks, one thumb gently feeling the softness of his lips, the calloused skin of a tiny scar. "If you kiss me like that, I will never - never - be able to let you go again."

His voice is steadier. Louder, again, drowning out the stillness of the pond as he forces himself to be strong through this. This is the last, last, last, very last ounce of willpower he has, and he's using it to give this choice to Poe instead of making it himself. He's seconds away from closing the distance between them again, from pressing their lips together again and kissing him until he cries even harder than he was a moment ago.

Running away with him to the mountains.

"You don't even--" He catches himself sounding like he's begging, which he is, but he can't, he can't make Poe make this decision because he begged for it. He takes a moment. "You don't have to say anything. Nod, or-- or kiss me, and we'll run away. Tomorrow. Tonight. Now. Just us. We'll figure the rest out as it comes."

It isn't really a choice.

It might have been, a year ago, before he knew the levels of self deception he would go to, to be here.

He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he wouldn't be able to leave Odin alone. That even if he rejected him, again, fully, swore they'd never speak again- in a month, or less, he'd be back in this position, with the same choice that wasn't a choice. Pretending he could govern his own heart.

There was no way to win, here. No matter what he did, he was hurting someone he loved.

For a moment there was silence, just a slow, shakey breath between them, Poe almost utterly still. And then- a slight hesitancy - before Poe was leaning in and breaching the gap. The kiss was far gentler, this time. Almost sorrowful. But then he was raising his hands to cup Owain's face, pressing closer as he deepened the kiss.

It was the only real choice there was.

Every other choice was this one, over and over again, until he chose the right one.

For a moment, he does what he thinks might be the right thing to do.

He lets Poe kiss him, and again, he does nothing. He gives him time to back out of this, even after making a decision, if that's what this is. A chance to head home and see Finn and say I almost did something very fucking cruel to you and I'm sorry. Owain would have pushed him to go, six months ago. To work out what he wants and find him and talk to him without making this any more complicated than it already was.

But a year is a long time for a wound to fester. The arrow that killed his father struck faster than that. Magnus had the right idea, about a quick death, but how the fuck are you supposed to drown a love like Owain's when it's so unerringly immortal?

He gives Poe all of three seconds to back out before he's deepening the kiss, gasping in a way that isn't particularly attracting or loving but it's desperate like he's surfacing from waters he's been drowning in for too long. He tangles his fingers in Poe's hair and he's still just shaking as he presses his tongue in deeper, tasting and claiming and taking away every part of Poe he can. He almost loses his balance, when he rocks on his feet and shuts his eyes and leans into this, and he waits until his lungs are constricting and all but on fire before he pulls away. Just for a second, just to breathe, and then he's back.

It lasts for too long, and when he pulls back, finally, there's a ghost of a laugh behind his eyes. But no smile.

"Poe--" He sways, a little, and he rests his forehead against Poe's, just nervously moving his hands over his cheeks and his neck and his throat and his shoulders like he wants to touch Poe but he doesn't know how to, anymore. "Poe, this-- I'm not fucking around on this anymore, okay? This can't-- I won't let this be a mistake you try to take back in a day, I'm not-- I can't not have you anymore, I can't not have you--"

"You were never a mistake, Owain." His own hands fall, just a little, until they are clasped on either side of Owain's throat. Poe looks, unfortunately, miserable. He feels miserable. He can't help it. He knows he's doing the same thing, again, that he's going to hurt Finn even worse than he first hurt Owain because he had promised.

But he means it. Owain had never been a mistake. His mistakes had all been on how he dealt with Owain. How he hurt him, again and again. (And now about to do it to Finn, too.)

His chest was so tight it felt that it might tear itself apart as it continued to constrict.

"Ever. I've made-- I've made a lot of fucking mistakes, Owain, but not you." He swallowed, thickly, his thumbs tight against the man's jaw. "I've spent - I've spent an entire year, pretending that I'm okay with not having you--"

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