Crimson Bonds [MxM]

12

Till the sunshine

It's midnight, and Peter trudges through the bustling streets toward the pub where Aiman and Saifa work. In his hand, he clutches an energy potion—a vibrant green concoction that looks vaguely unsettling that Anouk has brewed for him earlier in the morning. As he walks, he attempts to shake off his exhaustion and convince himself that his primary reason for heading to the pub is to see Aiman, not just Saifa.

It's a futile effort, Peter realises. If Saifa hadn't specifically invited him tonight, he'd have preferred collapsing into his bed. He's seen Saifa multiple times this week—at the coffee shop, on campus, and even at the store. Despite this, the prospect of watching Saifa perform fills him with an eager anticipation. He tells himself it's because Saifa's performances are mesmerising—he transforms into something extraordinary on stage, captivating and almost otherworldly.

As Peter nears the pub, he notes how the journey has been quicker than he remembers. He throws his empty bottle into the bin outside the building, then takes a deep breath before stepping inside. The pub is alive with energy, a cacophony of music, chatter, and laughter. People are packed in, dancing and drinking, and the noise nearly overwhelms him. The sight of Saifa on stage, his guitar slung over his shoulder, is a beacon in the chaotic scene. The High Fae's presence is luminous, his smile so dazzling that Peter almost has to squint.

He takes another deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the crowded environment. His heart races as he moves towards the bar, where Aiman is busy serving a swarm of patrons. The Werewolf's face lights up with recognition, but he's quickly pulled back into the whirlwind of his duties.

Peter scans the room for a seat. With all the bar stools occupied, he opts for a table in the far corner, where the crowd is thinner. As he settles in, he places his bag and coat on the empty chair beside him. The music and Saifa's voice mix together, soothing his frayed nerves as he watches the Fae perform.

Lost in the performance, Peter doesn't notice the approaching figure of Aiman until he speaks. "He's good, right?" Aiman's voice is warm as he takes a seat beside Peter.

Peter blinks, momentarily distracted from Saifa's captivating performance. "Yeah," he agrees, taking a sip of the beer Aiman has slid towards him.

"Anouk mentioned you broke up with Theoden," he says with a kind smile, "Congrats on that. That was long overdue."

Peter chuckles, though his smile fades a bit. "You try breaking up with Anouk. It's not as easy as it sounds."

Aiman's expression shifts to one of thoughtful concern. "I can't even imagine," he admits quietly, his gaze dropping to his water bottle.

Peter's sympathy deepens. "There you go. That's why it took me so long."

Aiman nods, then shifts the conversation. "You know, about Mockinjay..."

Peter's interest piques, and he turns to Aiman. "What about him?"

But Aiman shakes his head, a hesitant smile on his lips. "Forget I said anything." He glances back at Saifa, then stands. "He's almost done for the night. I have to get back to work. My break's over."

Peter watches Aiman leave, contemplating his words. He knows he's not out there, at the pub, after his long shift just because Saifa asked. He's there because he wanted to see him. It's strange, almost alien, that he's this willing to be around people, especially when he usually prefers solitude, just to see Saifa.

Why did Saifa's simple invitation make him feel so compelled?

Peter is jolted from his thoughts by a sudden surge of noise and movement. A commotion near the stage draws his attention. He squints through the crowd, noticing a couple of rowdy patrons arguing, their voices rising above the music. A few people are getting involved, and the atmosphere becomes tense. Saifa's performance falters momentarily as he glances over, his smile fading as he takes in the disturbance.

Peter's heart skips a beat. He wants to do something about the commotion. Ignoring his own fatigue, he stands and navigates through the crowd toward the commotion. As he approaches, he sees that the situation is escalating—pushing, shouting, and the crowd's agitation is palpable.

"Hey, hey!" Peter shouts, trying to get the attention of the rowdies. "This isn't the place for that!"

The arguing patrons, their faces flushed with alcohol and aggression, turn their anger toward him. Peter's heart pounds, but he stands his ground. As a Fire Tiefling, he is born with a natural strength and elemental powers of fire. While he usually keeps his abilities under tight control to avoid frightening or antagonising others, he knows that stopping the escalating situation —and protecting Saifa, although Peter is fairly certain the High Fae doesn't need his protection —might require him to act differently tonight.

Despite his initial hesitation, Peter feels the heat of his frustration and concern welling up inside him. His fingers twitch with the urge to channel his fire, a power he often suppresses out of fear of being judged or misunderstood. But seeing Saifa's calm, authoritative demeanour amidst the chaos gives him a surge of resolve. If using his powers means protecting someone important to him and ensuring that justice prevails, he will do it.

He steels himself, ready to step up if necessary. The patrons' hostility is clear, but Peter's inner fire burns with a determination to stand up for what's right—even if it means confronting the very prejudice he typically avoids showing.

Saifa's voice cuts through the din, calm and authoritative. "Everything's okay. Let's all just take a step back." As he approaches the scene, his High Fae lineage becomes evident. His presence commands an almost instinctive respect, a quiet authority that settles over the crowd. Even in the chaos, there's a glow around him—subtle but undeniable—hinting at the barely concealed power that accompanies his status. The air seems to shift around him, charged with an ethereal energy that makes the rowdy patrons pause. The crowd begins to disperse, their earlier aggression melting away under Saifa's unwavering gaze. The argument fizzles out, the tension dissipating as quickly as it had built.

Once the situation is under control, Saifa catches Peter's eye and gives him a grateful smile. Peter's heart races—not from the adrenaline of the altercation, but from the way Saifa looks at him, so genuinely appreciative.

Afterward, Saifa finishes his set, his earlier intensity softened into a genuine, heartfelt performance. Peter returns to his table, feeling a mix of relief and bewilderment. The incident had thrown him off balance, but it also deepened his feelings.