Wuthering Promises (BL)

✦ O4

— ✦ Warnings: No notable content warning for this chapter.

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Longing. A deep, visceral desire pulls at the pit of the man’s stomach and leaves Rowan’s heart aching as he burns in the agony of knowing that what he wants is just a single phrase out of reach. It pulls him closer, his fingers just barely grazing it before it suddenly pushes him away. He’s stuck in a mirthless, tiresome dance that goes back to the start each time the end draws near—all because he is too much of a coward to say what he needs to say.

He deludes himself into thinking it’s a rational choice. A matter of patience, waiting for the right time. But deep down, he knows it. It is not out of respect or consideration that his hand wavers before reaching out, that his voice fails before he can muster the words, or that he pulls away before his lips get close. He is nothing more than a coward.

And it is still fear that makes him take his hand off his waist, that makes him sit still, and that keeps his lips tightly shut while his head screams at him to act. He bounces his knee impatiently, his face expressionless and his mind wandering as the captain interrogates the crew on the last events—his voice a mere background noise against the violent throes of his thoughts.

“... So it’s not too damaged?” The man’s voice lowers, his hand leaning against the table for support, unstable after so vehemently refusing Rowan’s help.
Amelia grimaced, her bottom lip twitching as her eyes averted towards the floor. “No… but it’s not exactly in ideal shape for…”

She stalled for a moment, leaving a loud, uncomfortable silence on the bridge as the crew waited for her to finish speaking. The measured, hesitant tone of her words could only mean one thing—something no one wanted to admit.

“Can only manage to make one more hyperspeed trip…” Rowan interjected, voice soft and low. He leaned over the table, eyes unfocused as he carefully thought of his words. “After that, we can’t be too sure of how much energy we’ll have for life support systems. We can only leave safely if we find another energy source on the planet, which would be…”

“The lithium deposits on the reports and… The thing that pulled us here.” (Y/n) winced, his arm almost giving out as he used the other hand to hold the side of his chest.

In the short fragment of a second, Rowan got up from his seat. His arms instinctively reached out to hold the other man up, keeping him stable and trying—against his better judgement—to lead him to sit down on one of the chairs. His grip wavered as he was forcefully pushed away; his heart shuddering and cold uneasiness bubbling up in his throat as he, for the first time in his life, refused to relent to the captain's assertive gaze.

The erratic and thunderous screaming inside his heart grew louder as they continued to stare each other down. It was silent, painfully so, as neither of them conceded, and the tension started spreading to the crew.

The black-haired man swallowed; regret slowly started to build up, but something deeper forced him to remain there; he wouldn't—he shouldn't—let (Y/n) out of his grasp. How pathetic, he thought bitterly. To think the only time I find the strength to act is when there’s a chance that we’ll…

“Rowan.”

His breath shuddered, the faint sound of his name enough to break him out of his thoughts. Mellow, patient, and so gentle that he can’t help but give in. It was never to power that he submitted, but to the tenderness that made him fall to his knees and smothered him in guilt. He grimaced, squinting his eyes as if afflicted by physical pain before mustering a single word out of his lips. “...Please.”