Denen's Got His Beergoggles On (Sama'el)

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen wanted to weep. Anything to rid himself of the wrenching in his chest. The coldness that crept through his heart and rushed through his extremities. He had always hoped...His blue eyes darkened, locked on that strange, bulky shape before him. It wouldn't do to cry about this. Not in front of Sam. He would wait until he was alone, when he was sure that there was no one there to witness, and mourn. His thin frame trembled violently. Maybe if he just pretended to be normal...Surely, even the lie would be easier than this. But then, Sam touched him, and Denen was compelled to cover his face with both hands in order to muffle the sob that sought to break free of his lips. First loves are strong, and when unrequited, devastating. The past few weeks had been brutal on the young healer, and now, faced with rejection, he was crushed. Hot tears filled his eyes and overwhelmed him, but he pulled a fur up across his face to silence them. His back hunched slightly, and his cheeks flushed. How was he to ever find anything in the world like Sama'el had with Dymphna? No one wanted him. He was a friend to everyone, but not a lover. The thought struck him to perhaps take a wife, to try to fake normalcy, but how could he do such a thing? He couldn't even pretend to be himself! And what was more, he had absolutely nothing to offer. He was just a half-assed healer with no money, no fame, and no family. He thought of the kiss he'd given Sam, of how foolish he had been to let his friend know how he felt. His body curled in on itself, arms coming up to cover his head, and he bit down on his inner lip, hard enough to make it bleed. He couldn't cry. Not here. What a fool he was, to think that someone like Sam could ever want someone like him. He brushed his tears aside furiously. So many things meant nothing now. Little things that he had thought might be hints, or hopes. He regretted saying anything now. To Dymphna. To Eldon. To Sama'el himself. If he had just kept it to himself, things wouldn't have been awkward like this. He knew he would have to put on a brave face and pretend to be all right. He'd been doing it for most of his life now. He would have to pretend again. He went still, hugging the furs tightly around him, and pretended to be asleep.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"I love you, Denen," he said quietly, but Denen couldn't hear him, and love was such a fickle word, anyway. It didn't mean the same thing coming out of Sama'el's mouth that it did in the young healer's heart, but it was true all the same, and Sama'el ached inside for the pain he had caused, all unmeaning. Hurting his friend was the last thing he wanted to do, but he was trapped between a rock and a hard place. He felt the urge to drain the remains of Denen's jug, kiss him, hold him so tight that any movement would cause friction enough to start a fire between them. Denen's body was slim enough to seem a woman's in the dark like this, his handfuls of rump much like something Sama'el would like to hold. He could build Denen's fantasy out of air and fire and ale. Had he not learned enough with one night in Merris' presence to make Denen happy? Torn, he remained awake, frozen in place.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen pressed a fist into his stomach. He felt ill now. Painfully so. His knees pulled up close to his chest, and he hunched his body toward them. He supposed that he ought to be grateful. Better that his hopes be cut short now than in the future, when spring and summer allowed for such things to flourish and thrive. He thought of the Kelvic that had been his first kiss, and he wondered if such things were the only sort of love he would be able to have. Denen knew that his friends loved him. He knew that they had been more like family than his own ever had. But were there not many kinds of love? He wanted to know the sort of love that was experienced between a husband and wife. It wasn't just about the sexual part, though. No. There was so much more to it than that. He wanted the fulfillment that came from being cherished in such a manner. He wanted nothing more than to know what it was to savor sweet kisses in the quiet of the night. He sat up slowly, and his thin body hunched slightly. A shaking hand rose to his face, and with his shivering body exposed to the night, he wept. It was a quiet sound, one that he tried to hush with all of his might, but the gesture showed itself in how his shoulders trembled, and how his frame was etched with tension. It came in choked breaths and shaking sighs. His tears soaked his palms and fingers, but he did his best to hide them. He tried to push the fur aside, but it was tangled around his feet, making the extraction difficult.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el watched the external manifestations of Denen's internal struggle, but he said nothing more and remained still. The healer knew he could stay and share the warmth of the tent and the furs with Sama'el, but if he needed to go away in order to process the pain and loss of Reth, of whatever dreams he had of receiving the right type of love from Sama'el, and the abuse of his father, then it would be a bad thing indeed for Sama'el to interfere. Denen knew that Sama'el was always there for him. So it would go.

[Denen Sunsinger]

He finally managed to free his feet, and he stumbled up, staggering a bit. He had risen too quickly, and he swooned, dropping back down to his knees. But he was free of the furs, and he crawled toward the entry of the tent. Once there, he dragged himself upright again, and stumbled, drunken and distraught, into the chilled night. He managed to stagger a few feet away, and there crumpled. Hunched in the frosting grass, his body heaved, and he retched up the contents of his stomach. He shivered violently and curled into a ball, rocking back and forth. Back and forth. It took drunkenness to see truth. The ugly, painful truth. End

[Mycroft]

- Denen Brokensong -
"Maybe what I ache for isn't what they want for me."

Experience:
Singing: +2
Drinking: +3

Lores:
Being Drunk and Saying Too Much
Being Drunk and Adorable
Little Spoon
Silent Struggle
Sama'el's Body Heat

- Sama'el -
"You are stuck with the rest of us who love you."

Experience:
Leadership: +1
Drinking: +1

Lores:
Cold Hands!
Tending to a Drunk Denen
Big Spoon
Spectator to Denen's Torment
Maybe With a Little Ale…? No.

Notes: Every time I grade one of Denen's threads, I love him a little more. "He was a jug, he thought. Awkward and unnatural." That is one of the most powerful and touching things I have ever read. Unrequited romance is my absolute favorite thing to both read and RP, and I thank you both for doing it BEAUTIFULLY. I really envy being either of you in this story, but I'm glad I have been able to follow it since Eldon's injuries. My heart was pounding by the second page, and I really wanted to cry for Denen.

And god, "I love you, Denen." It just… oh man I really am going to come to tears if I keep writing this. *sniff* I love you guys. I am your biggest fan.