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Arc F1.8 | Chapter 30: It’s Okay to Not Be Normal

Olivier said, his voice softly reprimanding, as Mikhail let himself fall behind a few steps in order to hand his xphern over to Olivier. The hand Porsq had slipped his own into squeezed gently—another reprimand from the man.Porsq, despite the reprimand, had no regrets.

In front of them, a bubble of amusement shifted through Gëon—the man could feel his obstinance, Porsq assumed; probably, the crime lord had been able to feel Porsq pushing upon Mikhail’s mind as well.

Generally, Porsq didn’t use his abilities for anything but the most important of reasons, but this was an important reason! Olivier had wanted the xphern, and what if the guy—Mikhail—hadn’t wanted to give it up!? Apparently, the xphern actually belonged to the other guy, Zavriel, so Mikhail might have put up a fuss. Porsq didn’t think Zavriel would have cared all the much about it being given to Olivier, but he hadn’t wanted to risk it. Zavriel’s mind was weird, was the thing—like a mush of facts and figures, all swirling and leading Porsq to not really know what was going on inside him. He was trustworthy, at least—Porsq could feel that easily, too easily, almost. It were as though this single fact had been fed to him—scooped into his brain and dropped there and left for him to feed on.

Zavriel was trustworthy and powerful. He was also still distracted by the rolling disgust that people would eat food fabricated from the aether’s guts. Porsq had to agree! It was gross! He would still eat food created by Levi until he was able to get food, but ew, ew, ew. Zavriel was disgusted. Porsq was disgusted. Olivier had no idea they were disgusted but he had seemed rather unenthused about eating the food Levi prepared for him after realized that about the food had disgusted both of them.

Levi, who was strange and keeping secrets that Porsq couldn’t place but thought big and important and definitely important to keep, had looked and felt like he wanted to say something—wanted to clarify some fact or misunderstanding or insist it was fine. How did he know it was fine? Something to do with his secrets, Porsq thought, each flutter of intention over the man’s mind like a petal shifting in the wind, caught in the machinations of a sweeping gale it could not escape.

Actually… were the Baalphorians Gëon and Zavriel were clearly older than both of them, but Levi looked like a teenager or someone in their twenties. His mind felt both ancient and like that of a child, freshly granted freedom. Mikhail was a bit harder to place, and Porsq Olivier was a little older than both of them?

They were older than Porsq—obviously—but were they actually Did it matter? The teenager from the floor above them would say it did: what a person wanted to be thought of was what mattered most—expect, did that mean someone who was, like, hundreds of years old and wanted to be considered should be allowed that sort of thing? That seemed… weird? Weird and , which Izurial used as a way to talk about all the things that be inappropriate and might not be, depending on millions of different criteria.

Porsq liked being kissed on the forehead by Olivier, but with someone else, it might be weird or uncomfortable. Olivier was safe; therefore, he could give forehead kisses and hold Porsq’s hand and pull him close. If someone else decided to do the same thing randomly, it wouldn’t be okay. In the same way, if someone who was definitely an old man tried to make people think of them as a boy, it might be okay, but it might also feel not good—and where did the lines of consent end when two people were involved? Izurial had said it was super complicated and that

It was a strange way of looking at it, Porsq thought, but it seemed to bring Izurial some amount of comfort, so he’d never poked at it. He wanted to poke, though—wanted to tug at brains and thoughts and theories and find out what made people think this way or that. Everything was a puzzle, and Porsq liked puzzles—at least, he thought he liked puzzles. He liked the ones Vtraní had slipped him, anyways—little word puzzles for him to occupy his mind, or toys that had twists and turns and took forever to think through.

Porsq said, smiling up at Olivier before tugging his hand away and looping it through the taller man’s elbow. It didn’t quite work, but he knew Olivier was itching to actually look through the xphern Porsq had pushed Mikhail to give him.

Even more, he knew that Olivier wanted to pull up the messages with his silverstrain friend and see how she was doing. Unfortunately, moving and holding hands was making that difficult, especially since the guy didn’t much know how to use a xphern and was still a little wobbly on his feet.

he said, smiling up at the man,

The look Olivier sent him was softly exasperated—filled with so much affection that all Porsq could do was smile wider. Still, he knew he wasn’t in the best condition either, and despite the sudden urge to tug at Mikhail again and make him guide Olivier as well—the guy’s mind was weird, tugging at Porsq to mess with it just a little bit more—Porsq instead politely asked the man to help.

Mikhail, Porsq discovered, followed instructions just as easily when they were verbally given as when he pushed intentions into the man’s mind. He smiled as he offered to help Olivier learn how to use the xphern, adding on that he was no expert either, but he at least had a little experience.

In front of them, Gëon’s head tilted, his eyes catching Porsq’s. Mikhail’s explanation of the most basic details of xphern use fell into the background as the crime lord pushed thoughts and emotions in Porsq. Mostly, the older man was concerned—concerned for Porsq.

A thousand shuddering thoughts worked their way through his mind and body, slipping into him and making it clear that Gëon thought he should be careful, for power corrupts and Porsq had a lot of it packed inside him.

the man seemed to be saying,

A strike of guilt pressed into Porsq as they moved, especially since Mikhail was helping Olivier so easily and Zavriel hadn’t said a single thing and neither really seemed to care much, and maybe, if Porsq had just asked…

Gëon said, cutting off Levi’s babbles about something—Porsq hadn’t been paying attention.

When Porsq’s eyes looked up again, the man was still staring back at him—or was it once again?—several other members of their group glancing between the two of them, and Porsq wanted to cry. Usually, it didn’t matter when or why he used his abilities. They were all captives, so what did it matter if he used his abilities on their captors? It wasn’t like they deserved any kindness from him, and on those occasions when he pushed a little positivity, a little calm, into the minds of other captives?

Well, Izurial had told him that consent for all of them was meaningless! It didn’t matter if he did that, because a yes might only be given because of the circumstance—be given only because the holding cells were so terrible—while a no might be given simply out of a fear born of the reality that Porsq was a weapon. So, he didn’t ask. So, he forced a little calm into other captives sometimes. Rudely, his abilities had never worked on the women hurting Xavier—if they had, he would have had them kill themselves a long time ago. Just forcing them to be nicer to that little boy wouldn’t have been enough: that’s how terrible they were.

Now, though? Now, Porsq was out in the real world, and yeah, the situation still sucked, but that made everything all messy inside his head. When he’d used his abilities before, he’d accepted that it was necessary—Olivier had assured him it was necessary. He’d put people at risk—done this big thing, and—

Olivier called to him, and when had they stopped? When had Olivier knelt down in front of him, everyone watching him with worried eyes? When had he started to cry and feel small and broken, and that was what he was, wasn’t it? Broken? Deformed by everything that had happened to him, and now everyone was going to hate him, be afraid of him, leave him all alone. the man said, leaning forward to scoop Porsq into his arms.

The aether rippled—not Olivier doing something, his body and Censor still being weird and recovering from whatever had happened to him. Maybe it was Levi? Or Mikhail? It didn’t feel like the ripples of a core ability, so it must have been one of them, wrapping the two of them in a skill, so Olivier could more easily haul him up and they could keep moving.

he babbled, burying his nose into the man’s shoulder as the tears spilled out of him.

Olivier said.

Fingers slipped over the back of his neck, scratching his skin and Porsq could almost remember it—remember his mommy’s hands dragging shapes over his back and head, soothing him, loving him, but not loving him enough because she’d left him alone on the streets to die, to be tortured, to be made a monster. Everyone had left him, and he deserved to be left behind because he was terrible and manipulative and didn’t deserve friends or family or anyone.

someone asked—Mikhail, Porsq thought, but everything was so new and big and he’d been stuck inside the holding cells with only a handful of people for so long and it was just so much, too much. Everything was too much.

Olivier replied, pulling Porsq closer, like he still wanted to swallow him up and keep him safe despite how terrible he was.

Mikhail asked, some mixture of confusion and… acceptance mixed into his voice.

Levi cheered… then added on that he still did it when a ripple of echoed out of Mikhail—a look of disbelief, maybe? Porsq wasn’t about to peek out of the safety of Olivier’s neck to look.

A bubble of laughter erupted out of Levi, followed by the feeling Porsq was slowly coming to associate with the mental state the Baalphorians had while signing. First out of Levi—something fluid and difficult to understand, as though even while signing, he was talking around the subject—then an affirmative from Mikhail. Another laugh left Levi’s throat, all sweet energy and love.

Mikhail asked, something settling within him when Levi told him he did, more or less.

Mikhail asked.

Levi noted.

Levi agreed, Gëon throwing out a word that have been a Jinkaiden name, given Levi agreed that was who they were talking about.

Gëon agreed.

Olivier agreed, his fingers continuing to scratch into Porsq’s skin, his breathing slow and even against Porsq’s chest.

Gëon noted, their little shadow mumbling that the situation seemed to be about as bad as it could be, their voice seeming far away and muffled.

The words and voices of those around him faded in and out, Porsq’s eyes fluttering against Olivier’s neck, the man pulling him closer, and he didn’t deserve this amount of care and kindness. He had done something bad, and he understood what everyone was trying to do: make it normal. It wasn’t normal—he wasn’t normal.

Olivier whispered, his dry lips pressing to Porsq’s forehead as the others spoke about something he couldn’t discern in the background,

Another burst of tears exploded out of Porsq, and he wasn’t sure he believed Olivier—believed that the man would stay with him, never hate him, leave him, wish him dead—but he wanted to.

Porsq wanted to believe him so, so very much.