hung up in the ivory {teva/cal}

[gamemaker kelsier]

C  A  L  C  I  F  E  R

I don't like to think of him in pain.

I don't like to think of him, clutching at his side, a knife in him, cold and silver, glinting in the moonlight. My eyes itch at the thought of him like that, scared and alone. I have felt that way before, in the darkest nights and gone weeks wearing thick scarves to hide the bruises in the shape of hand prints on my neck. Lovers become weary with age, become hateful at youth and at their yearning for it. I have seen it all, felt it all. I have known that anger, that jealousy so closely that bearing it has become nearly unbearable, especially now. He knows what I am, what I do. How do I bear what I am, when the bareness of it lays barren and stark between us? How do I live with the knowledge that he has almost died all of these times.

My fingers slip down, tracing another scar carefully. His skin is hot, slick beneath my touch. We're so foolish. All of us are foolish. We run around like little ants in the mud, carrying too much for any normal man to bear, but doing it anyway, ignoring the cracking and breaking of our spines out of desperation. My finger runs back and forth over the scar, lightly but methodically, as if I am trying to erase it from his skin. I don't want Teva to be sad anymore. He's gone through enough. It's too much.

"You've got so many scars," I say, voice soft, melancholy but methodical. I've had a point to this, it may have seemed like I was trying to divert the conversation. I was, a little. I wanted to help him take his mind off of it but I also wanted to help him understand something. "Each one of them is a marker for all of the times that you might have died," I begin. My fingers move on again to a smaller, pink and twisted scar, as if someone stuck a knife in him and turned it. It must have really hurt. My hands shake and I bite my lip. I never knew how much he had really been through. I wish I could have been there for him, instead of being oblivious. "Just imagine what might have happened," I say, voice catching slightly, "If no one had put a knife in your hand and taught you how to fight."

you could be dead.

I don't finish that sentence. I don't want to admit that. A world without three of the triplets is wrong, it would be as if someone cut down all the trees and told us to live with the lack of oxygen. I wouldn't be able to survive that barren wasteland. I blink slowly and look up at him, eyes searching out his.

[Python]

Teva "Trigger" Seraphim

Cal tracing his scars over and over again wasn’t diminishing his fever. His hands still felt like ice grazing fire, but because these were Cal’s hands he had to be fucking stupid and inappropriate about it, and suffered the blood pooling into his cheeks to make his temperature worsen. He was still a pretty good liar, though, and maintained a stoic expression – or as stoic as he could get, with his stomach bubbling and twisting itself into knots. In a moment of weakness he would let a grimace slip in, because it felt like death was kicking him in the stomach and laughing about it. Fucking heroin. Worst part was he still wouldn’t mind taking it again. He would like to drift away from his empty house and forget about how fucking horrifying it was that Tate was missing, that Teddy was in the hands of ruthless authorities, and that Cal was getting violated almost every night of his life.

Teva blinked in awe. So there had been a method to the madness after all. This all tied back to what he had mentioned earlier, and Cal was on his side. He knew it wasn’t Teva’s fault. He knew that Teddy had every right to carry a weapon and learn how to defend himself. Was that so hard to understand? Tate didn’t seem to grasp it at the time. He wanted to baby Teddy, but in their world that just wasn’t a possibility anymore. He needed to face up to the facts.

”I know,” he said, voice uplifted by gratitude. He could kiss Cal right now. Not really, but fuck’s sake, the kid was smart. Admirably smart. ”I wanted that for Teddy because he deserved it. I know it wasn’t my fucking fault he did this, it was his fault. Tate doesn’t get it,” he said. He felt himself descending back into a bitter anger. Tate just wanted to place all the blame on one person, didn’t he? That was his defense mechanism, blaming and running away like a bitch. He hated that. He hated it because it was a petty thing for a gang leader to do, and it worried him. Their occupation wasn’t safe and secure. Tate could be dead in a ditch right now, and he could have no fucking clue. He could be bleeding out somewhere while Teva was fading from a high and sharing a bed with Cal. Teddy could be dead, too. He didn’t know anything.

Part of him was relieved, though. Just minutes ago he had been completely alone, locked away in his room to suffer the consequences of everybody else’s actions. Now Cal was here, and he understood. He was actually on his side. Teva could share things with him, and that was new. He never told Cal his secrets – hell, he never got the opportunity to tell anyone his secrets. It was a nice change. He had always trusted Cal, after all, and now he was absolutely sure that he could continue to do so.

It was the only relief he had.

[gamemaker kelsier]

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I've always been good at looking straight at people. The honesty that you can create by maintaining eye contact has always been what's kept me grounded. Over the past couple of years, that honesty has disintegrated for me, I was able to look the triplets straight in the eyes with every lie I told, I didn't even flinch. I could have gone on doing so too. I don't know what made me crack last time, quite possibly it was a cocktail of things. I always thought I was a pretty good liar but last time Teva must have said something, done something to crack my resolve. Maybe I was just upset. It's not everyday you learn that you're the son of a gang member and that your best friends are killers.

Teva's eyes are fevered and with every moment I look at him, something within me sinks lower and lower. The needle is proof enough that he got high but part of me was hoping that it wasn't his. The needle on his bedside table in his room in his house. I can be a bit stubborn. I'll never judge him for the choices he makes but I wish I'd gotten here sooner, I wish I could have been here to stop him. I don't want him to think he has to get high instead of sharing his problems and lessening the load. Still, I'm not anyone that can judge him for it. When I swallow before I speak, it tastes bitter in my mouth, "Tate is just afraid. He took it out on you because he hates being afraid."

Sometimes I think I know nothing about the triplets, like the other night when Teva told me that they were in a gang. Other times I think I know just about everything there is to know about them at this point. Tate running off is odd but also to be expected in a situation like this. He's emotional even though he pretends he isn't. He always has been, ever since we were little. I remember one time, in year eight, Tate caught this kid saying mean things to me and after telling off the other kid, Tate started crying. It caught me off guard the first time. To me, Tate had always been stiff and strong. I'd forgotten that he could get so upset.

Tate was strong though, "He'll get over it," I say, echoing my thoughts.

I turn my hands around and press the back of them against his chest. The sudden heat against my cool hands surprises me. I think he's almost gotten worse than when I first came in. Worry shakes up my expression and for the briefest of moments I am afraid. I don't want him to see this fear, I don't want to make him feel worse than he already does.

I am afraid though. I'm scared for Tate, lost somewhere, possibly in danger. I'm scared for Teva, I don't like seeing my strong friend suddenly so vulnerable. I'm scared for Teddy too. He's just a kid, the triplets made sure that he stayed one longer than any of us could. Still, for Teva to take the blame is ridiculous. "Teddy is fifteen," I say softly, "He makes his own decisions."

I did at that age.

[Python]

Teva "Trigger" Seraphim

Fear is not an excuse.

That was a rule the gang lived by. Fear was not an excuse to fuck up, and it was not a hindrance. The only thing fear should do is exist. You’re allowed to feel it, but you’re not allowed to fall under its influence. One must treat it like it’s a headache and suppress it, work through it. Fucking ignore it. Get the job done. The moment you hesitate, you get shot or fatally stabbed. You lose a partner or two. You lose a deal or an opportunity, and gangs never like missed opportunities. Teva could feel fear just like any other human being, but impulsivity was like a blanket to snuff out the fire. It never bothered him, not on the job. At home it was a different story, but at least he wasn’t fucking running away.

He could no longer feel the pinch from where he inserted the needle into his vein. Fear wasn’t an excuse to abuse drugs either, but fear wasn’t what motivated him to buy poison. He just wanted an hour – maybe two – of fucking relief, because in the past week life had spiraled into a deep shit hole that he couldn’t crawl out of. He wouldn’t disturb anyone by doing it. He was home alone. Nobody around him would suffer for it. The only person who would have to deal with the consequences of the heroin was himself, and that was okay.

It was not okay to abandon the family.

He stared at Cal blankly, swallowing the urge to make any further comments about his oh so responsible brother. Maybe he would get over it, maybe he wouldn’t. Tate usually did move past the bad things, but this was Teddy who was suffering, this was a whole new level of stress for all of them. Tate might not even come back and have the chance to “get over it.” If he was stupid enough to run away then he was reckless enough to get himself into unnecessary danger.

Teva audibly sighed. Fifteen was an age to start making one’s own decisions, but what a fucking terrible one. ”That decision might just get him killed,” he said, ”I don't even know what they're gonna do to him. All I can do is wait.” Who even knew where the white coat took him? He could still be in the District locked away somewhere, or dead. Or he could’ve been shipped off to the Capitol to be Avoxed, or tortured for gang information if they put two and two together. Those assholes would never tell the Seraphims what happened to their little brother. They didn’t care.

”And Tate needs to stop fucking running away like a whiny prick,” he hissed, wincing at the kink in his stomach that followed. His symptoms still weren’t fading. His fever felt like it was peaking, and his stomach was disgruntled at the lack of substance it had to regurgitate. Good thing too, he didn’t want to have to sprint to the fucking bathroom with Cal all snug next to him. It was surprising that Cal had even managed to find comfort in this. Teva was probably sweating like fucking crazy, and slowly curling in on himself like a sad puppy. He must’ve looked pathetic.

[gamemaker kelsier]

C  A  L  C  I  F  E  R

I don't know what it is about Teva Seraphim that makes me want to promise him the world. Maybe it's just that I like it better when he's smiling. I like it better when he's the strong one and I'm the one that goes to him for help. I don't know why this is. I've always been able to stand on m own, get by on my own. I've never really needed anyone but mom. It's good having the Seraphims though, they're my best friends. Them being like this is so fundamentally wrong that the world must be spinning off track in retaliation. So I promise him, voice firm, "Teddy will come home. Alive."

We both know that I can't know that for sure but at the same time, it is what I know. It's what I have to know, pulled up from the deepest part of myself because it's unbearable to think of it in any other way. Teddy's not just a friend but a little brother too. I can't think of his body cold somewhere, on a metal shelf. I don't want to think of Tate either, being an idiot somewhere, ending up dead in a ditch.

I can't help wondering how I got to this point; where everyone that know is either dead or dying.

"I'll find Tate, I'll kick his ass back home," I say, voice stronger than I feel. I'm good at that, appearing strong, cool, collected. I'm bad at the other half of it, of actually feeling it. I've never really been strong in my life. I'm just excellent at lying to myself, at pretending. I'm so full of promises these days, I don't know where to put them all. I'll do it though. I'll find Tate for Teva and I know Teddy wouldn't want them fighting over him either. Teddy's always been too damned good for all of us.

I move a hand up to his cheek, pressing the back of it against his fevered skin. He's achingly warm, like he's been left out in the sun too long. It's the middle of winter and I'm bone cold, as per usual. He's so vulnerable right now in so many ways and for the briefest of moments, my heart splits and it aches so dangerously that the next breath out of my lungs comes sharp and painful.

We keep a stock of pills and remedies at the club for patrons that have indulged themselves too much. One of the girls showed me how to make the tea we offer a couple of months ago after this heroin addict decided that I was his favourite. I was tired of his puke on me so I learned how to make the tea. "Hey," I say, trying not to let the worry leak out in my voice, "I have a remedy to settle your stomach. I'll make it for you if you like?"

[Python]

Teva "Trigger" Seraphim

He sounded so sure of it. What were the chances that Teddy could return? Slim to none, yet Cal could utter it with such confidence. Teva couldn’t tell if his thoughts matched the words. He could easily be lying to his face, reassuring him to encourage comfort. There was no such thing as “comfort” right now, save for Cal’s radiating presence. Nothing would sway him into believing that Teddy would simply return alive and that was that. There was always a catch. Perhaps he would return to them in a box, or never return at all and instead be alive in the Capitol without a tongue. There was no way to know for sure. There was just waiting, waiting, and more waiting, with a dose of suffering in-between. He couldn’t believe that Teddy would be okay. He wanted to tell Cal too, to remind him that he couldn’t be so optimistic and ignore the circumstances.

He didn’t. He felt like too much of a train wreck to make matters worse. He probably looked like a train wreck too, like he had been plowed over by a stampede in the hot sun. But he managed to smile through the pain at Cal’s comment. ”Go for it,” he muttered. Tate deserved a good ass-kicking from Cal. Tate wouldn’t fight back anyway, they were best friends. They always went soft on Cal, Teva especially. He was almost positive nobody had noticed. To the outside eye, he blended in with his twin brothers. He was camouflaged by lies. It was too strong of a barrier to break now, as much as his conscience begged him to. But he couldn’t – the rest of him refused. It knew of the risks and consequences and weighed them on a scale. Was it worth opening his big mouth?

A hand like ice pressed against his fevered cheek. It was harsh but soothing, and he wished he could douse himself in ice water. Anything was better than boiling like a volcano. He didn’t know any remedies for this heroin illness, and couldn’t imagine what Cal had in mind other than actual medications, but there was no better alternative. A fever was shitty, but he could handle it on its own. The nausea he could live without. It was distracting him from everything, even the cold hand brushing his cheek. Cal’s hand. That was kind of fucking important, although it shouldn’t have been. Two years and it shouldn’t have been.

Teva exhaled a quivering breath to clear his thoughts, and nodded. ”You don’t have to,” he said, and quickly realized that he was being too stubborn for his own good. He should shut up and take whatever he could fucking get. ”But thanks.”

While he fixed that up, Teva figured he could find a way to battle the fever. Sleep wasn’t an option until the nausea subsided, but maybe he could dull it somehow, or at least rid himself of the sweat. ”I think I'll shower.”

[gamemaker kelsier]

C  A  L  C  I  F  E  R

I roll off of the bed in response, lightly landing on my hands and knees. Doing something about Teva feels better than just lying there. I want to make him feel better, it's worrying to see him like this. I've been in the same spot a couple of times. Well, not like he is. Just wasted and curled around a toilet, trying not to let my mom hear me be so sick. She thought I had the flu because she's never believed that her perfect little Cal could do anything less but be respectable. If she only knew.

I leave him to his shower and swipe a pair of his pajama pants up from off of the floor on my way out. the dress pants I'm wearing are far too stiff and uncomfortable for this time of day. I make a mental note to actually bring my own pair over. Teva's pants are a bit too long and they're wider in the hips. They tend to fall a bit too low.

Still, I use Teddy's empty room to change. His bed is neatly made in true Teddy fashion but there's some sort of card game set up still on the floor, only half-played. Dumb kid.

When I get downstairs I fling open the correct cupboard doors and start getting out the tea blends that Tate keeps for healing his brother's many hurts. There's at least seven blends alone for Teddy because of his heart. What sort of guy with nearly twenty tea blends just for his brothers walks out on them? I don't want to think of that right now. I'll think about that tomorrow.

I find the needed herbs and lean against the counter to wait for the water to boil.

[Python]

Teva "Trigger" Seraphim

He sat up too quickly and his head spun. Groaning in response, he wiped more sweat from his brow and sighed. The room felt entirely too stuffy right now. A shower was exactly what he needed. He sluggishly crawled out of bed and searched the floor for his favorite pajama pants. Gone, evidently, for fuck's sake. He sighed and opened one of his drawers to snatch another pair instead.

His muscles turned rigid under the cold water. It was harsh enough to keep him distracted from the fever, and left him shivering within a minute. He gradually turned the water to a warmer temperature until he was comfortable. There was no such thing as washing one's worries away, but at least he could feel a little refreshed after this. And maybe whatever Cal fixed up for him downstairs would remedy his nausea. All he wanted was to stop feeling the temptation to vomit, and snuggle with Cal. Was that too much to fucking ask?

Then again, it was his fault for buying that goddamn heroin. He still wouldn't mind another dose, but he had to remember the consequences.

The mirror was all fogged up. He took his time drying himself off - including his mop of hair - and slipping into his pajama pants. Cal was probably finished downstairs, so he tossed his towel and clothes into the hamper in his room - almost missing completely - and sauntered down the steps.

[gamemaker kelsier]

C  A  L  C  I  F  E  R

When the water boils I pour it into the mug I have prepared, a metal ball full of loose leaf sunk down at the bottom. I sniff the fumes to deign whether or not Teva will even drink the tea. It smells surprisingly good, like sunlight and honey. Either way, I'm certain he'll drink it simply because I put the effort in to make it for him. I let the tea steep and listen to the sound of running water coming from above. As I wait, I help myself to a piece of bread and some jam from a jar in the fridge. It's cranberry. A lot of food items in this place have to do with cranberry I've noticed.

I only make it through half a slice before I realize that I'm not really all that hungry. I can't even taste what I'm eating, I'm chewing mechanically. I don't know the last time I've eaten but there's far too much to worry about right now. I have no appetite. With a sigh, I slide the other half of the bread into the fridge to eat later, never one to waste food when it's such a precious commodity.

Two seconds later I've slid it out and I'm sitting on the counter chewing on it again, feeling vaguely pissed off and the tiniest bit confused.

It also puts me in the perfect spot to appreciate still-shirtless-Teva-with-hair-wet-from-shower coming down the stairs. Sometimes I wish I wasn't so goddamned gay.

"Feel any better?" I ask after swallowing my last mouthful of bread.

[Python]

Teva "Trigger" Seraphim

"Feel any better?"

Teva paused and blinked because what the fuck, he wasn't wearing that before. "Are those my pants?" he asked, the question having slid over his damp hair like it didn't even matter. When had Cal slipped into his favorite pajama pants? He must not have been paying any damn attention to anything, but now it had his full attention.

Fuck. Cal wearing his pants should not be hot in any way.

"Uh yeah, I feel a little better," he finally answered. The fever was still present and persistent, but at least he wasn't sweating. He hoped it would die down by the time he slipped back into bed, hopefully with Cal still there with him. "What did you make?" He approached the counter and eyed the mug he had set aside. Mugs were usually for hot chocolate and tea. Had he brewed tea for him? Tea was usually for Teddy and his bad heart, but he supposed he wouldn't mind a sip if it helped.

[gamemaker kelsier]

C  A  L  C  I  F  E  R

I look down at myself. My dress pants and shirt are left discarded on the floor of Teva's room. I'm still wearing socks, only because I would freeze to death without socks. Even now I'm colder than I would like to be. I pour more water into a mug of green tea on the counter beside me and contemplate the leaves for a moment as they steep. "Yes, they are," I answer absentmindedly as I stir the loose leaf about with a spoon, "I didn't bring my own."

I watch as he sips the tea I've made and it occurs to me that if I'm wrong, he's about to feel a lot worse. However, just as Teva would probably drink anything I made, I'd never let him drink anything I was uncertain of.

"It's tea," I say, taking a sip from my own mug. I burn my tongue a bit and make a face, placing it back down on the counter to cool. "It's good for your stomach."

[Python]

Teva "Trigger" Seraphim

The mug was warmer than his feverish blood when he picked it up between his palms. He stared at the liquid cautiously and intently. He trusted Cal to brew something that wouldn't make him worse, and how could it, anyway? It was just tea, like he said. It was good for his stomach.

It didn't occur to him to let it cool for a few minutes, so he burned the inside of his lip. He grimaced and licked his lips, because fucking ouch, but it he could taste the flavor on his tongue and he decided that it definitely didn't taste like shit. He always thought he would hate tea. "Not bad," he said, still probing his lip with his tongue. It still burned like a bitch.

The rest of him burned like a bitch too, and Cal sitting shirtless in his pajama pants - which didn't even fucking fit him all the way - was not making him feel any less warm. It was tempting to ogle his bare torso, but that was too gay and obvious and fuck, he couldn't get away with anything. He chose instead to focus on Cal's socks, blowing on his tea to cool it the fuck down.