A Darkness With No Name // Book 1: The Warriors of Light

9: The Truth about War

Song for this chapter: Oh, What A Life, American Authors. They are THE BEST THING THAT'S HAPPENED TO ME LITERALLY OMG

Edward looked up at himself in the bathroom mirror from where he was leaning over the sink. His black hair hung greasily over his eyes, his cheeks bristling with unshaven hair, and his red, sleep-deprived eyes framed by amazingly puffy black bags. He looked unusually stunning, if he did say so himself. He shook his head, trying to clear his brain, and suddenly remembered why he felt like literal shit. The meeting with Sara was today. He let his hand fall forward, where it hit the mirror with a bang. He decided that wallowing in self-pity didn't suit him, so he walked into the shower, still wearing his favourite pair of stripy pyjamas, and turned it on.

From outside the door, Ian heard a loud “Shit!”, and peeked open the door of Ed's apartment just in time to see a pair of stripy pyjama bottoms and top flying over the shower curtain. He giggled to himself, and decided to make his presence known before Edward Murray walked out of that shower in all his naked glory.

“ED! Can I come in?”

Edward paused half-way through soaping one of his gangly legs, and mulled it over. “Sure,” came the ever-sardonic voice of the professor, slightly muffled by the sound of running water. “No peeking,” he added. “Your boyfriend might not take kindly to that.”

Ian tried to control the red flush rising up from what felt like the pits of his feet, but he was unsuccessful. “I wasn't planning on peeking, Ed.”

“Oh, I'm sure you were.”

“If you say so.”

“I sooooo do say so.”

Ian rolled his eyes to the wall, and sat down on one of the snazzy armchairs littering the small living space. He'd come to tell Edward the latest news on the events happening later that day, only because Lucas refused to look at Edward after he proclaimed that he was trying to steal his boyfriend. Ian found this all hilarious, much to Lucas' chagrin. The sound of the shower being turned off made Ian turn his head around, startled, and he immediately wished that he hadn't, when he saw Ed stepping out, with only a towel loosely covering him, slung dangerously low around his hips. Ian slapped his hands over his eyes and started shouting, “You DID THIS ON PURPOSE YOU SON OF A--”

“Did not,” Ed said with a pouty frown.

“Did too!”

“Did not.”

“Oh whatever.”

Edward smirked, and pulled on some clothes. “It's safe to look, little one.”

“And how do I know that you're not lying?”

“I never lie.”

Ian choked loudly, and Ed shouted over the noise, “It's true!”

“Should I trust you?”

Edward moved silently towards Ian and clasped his wrists, jerking them away from his face so fast that Ian's eyes opened involuntarily, hazel meeting blue and narrowing dangerously in the process. “Believe me.”

Ian could smell the shampoo he'd just used, and his damp hair hung all over the place. As he looked in his eyes, it dawned on him that those eyes looked much, much older than forty. Edward blinked and stepped back suddenly, and Ian saw that he was wearing an unusually sombre grey suit, tailored so that it fit him like a glove. The only remnant of the normal Edward was the poison-green tie he was wearing over a cream shirt. He turned round and walked to the mirror, picking a comb and sliding it carelessly through his hair. He looked at Ian through the mirror, and some of the tension of the moment broke when his eyes creased into a smile. “Boy, I'm not going to eat you. On second thoughts,” he added thoughtfully, “you'd be quite tasty.”