Chapter Text
Without noticing, the days pass quickly. Between taking care of Rose, teaching her to read and do motor exercises, and taking care of the house, he finds he doesn't have time to keep up with what's going on around him. Although he still doesn't know if it's always been this way, or if he's just recently given himself double duty to keep himself fully occupied.
Much to Rose's delight, Chris continues visiting them. They usually go out somewhere—to a restaurant, to get ice cream, a museum—but today they've decided to stay home and find something to do for fun there. Although Ethan was initially unsure about this, he thought it was also good to give Rose a hint that this was still their home.
Because of this, Ethan decided to get up a little earlier than usual that day. For some reason, he had woken up with the motivation and energy he'd been lacking for weeks, and he took the opportunity to do something he hadn't done in a long time in the name of love: cook.
During his marriage to Mia and before, Ethan could accept that he wasn't really used to the kitchen. From a young age, cooking wasn't his strong suit, usually relying on instant soups and fast food to survive during his college years, until he met Mia. She had an innate talent for cooking and whenever she could, she would give Ethan containers of her delicious dishes, and once they were married and living together, she was the only one who cooked.
Ethan learning to cook was a product of his circumstances, really. Spending three years alone not only brought him depression and anxiety, but also an acquired taste for cooking and a few other activities he never thought he would ever do, or at least enjoy. It wasn't just a time when he resumed practicing piano and drawing, but also bought a few recipe books and followed them to the letter, sometimes even exchanging recipes and advice with those friends who didn't leave his side during the toughest time of his life.
So he got out of bed and almost immediately went into the kitchen to start lunch. The dish he'd decided to make was quick and easy, and the best part was that he already had all the ingredients (perhaps subconsciously having bought them in advance for this occasion). Ciorbă de lobodă had been Chris' favorite Romanian dish during their time living in that country.
The first time Ethan had cooked it, he'd had to forcefully remove a very skeptical Mia from the kitchen as he wanted to make something special for Chris' birthday, who was then just Ethan and Mia's babysitter. And although Mia had been rightfully hesitant at first, her compliments upon tasting the soup had inflated Ethan's ego for days. Not to mention what Chris' praise did to him. Perhaps that's why it became Chris' favorite dish, and he asked for it again and again, even more so after they got together.
The next few times he cooked, he also made sure of baking a bread recipe he had seen on a television show, Pâine cu cartofi, a potato bread that gave a wonderful boost to the soup's rich flavor.
Kneading the bread dough is what Rose finds him doing that morning.
"Are you baking a cake?" she asks innocently. Ethan smiles.
"Not today, sweetie. I'm cooking lunch."
Rose looks a little confused, glancing out the window to check the time with the sunlight's help.
"But we haven't had breakfast yet, Daddy."
Ethan laughs this time.
"I know, I'm just a little early today. Sit down so I can give you some cereal."
The little girl cheers excitedly. Ethan almost never lets her eat the cereal they keep in the cupboard, which is really more sugar than cereal, but since he's busier than usual today... Well, having sugar for breakfast once won't hurt Rose.
While she eats, then brushes her teeth, changes clothes, practices her writing a little, and finally reads a story on her own, Ethan cleans the house a bit and makes the Ciorbâ de lobodâ while the bread finishes baking.
By the time everything's ready, Chris is knocking on the door announcing his arrival. Rose is the one who greets him, and as soon as Chris inhales to say hello, he catches a whiff of the delicious aroma filling the house, and Ethan swears his eyes have never gone so white with pleasure. Chris could recognize that smell anywhere!
"Oh my God, I can't believe you cooked it," is the first thing the captain says. Ethan shrugs.
"Well, I was craving it, so..."
"Wait, why? Are you pregnant?" Chris jokes.
Ethan immediately rolls his eyes fondly. It's been a while since he's heard a joke from Chris.
"Will I have a little brother?" Rose asks almost immediately, looking at Chris strangely when he bursts out laughing.
"How do you even know what pregnant means?" He questions amazed and a bit scandalised by the little girl's knowledge.
"She saw your sister's pregnant neighbor when we went there last time." Ethan responds. "Little Rose loves to ask a lot of questions!"
Chris laughs again, and Rose doesn't understand her parents' amusement.
"Are you pregnant? You'll have a baby?" She asks this time directed to Ethan, he's the one that could give answers at this moment.
"No, Rose. Only women can get pregnant. Stop it," he warns in a whisper, pointing at Chris and entering the kitchen. Rose pouting behind him.
"Can I be pregnant?"
Rose's question immediately silences Chris, still smiling, trying not to make a weird face in front of the child.
"Sure, honey. In forty years, at least."
Ethan rolls his eyes fondly again.
Later, when he's set the table and served lunch to his family, he knows it's been worth the effort when Chris lets out a loud "Hmm" at the first spoonful, making Rose laugh.
"This is the most delicious thing I've ever tasted," he assures Ethan, still with his mouth full. "You're amazing."
Ethan blushes a little at the compliment, but doesn't respond, though his smile speaks volumes.
He gets the same reaction when Chris tries the potato bread, and the combination the bread lightly dipped in the soup creates is splendid. Although Rose seems to have taken a greater liking to bread, seeing her leave her plate almost completely clean fills Ethan with satisfaction.
Time passes without him noticing, and by the end of the day, Chris is already saying goodbye to Rose with the same promise to return soon, two Tupperware containers filled with ciorbâ and bread, respectively, in his hands.
This time, Ethan walks him to his car to help pack the food in the trunk.
With Rose safely in the house and a moment to talk privately, Ethan could already see this conversation coming.
"So," Chris begins, trying to be subtle, closing the trunk, "have you thought about your decision lately?"
Ethan sighs, struggling to find the words. "Actually, yes."
Ethan looks at Chris and notices a small hint of hope in his eyes. He almost doesn't want to continue speaking.
His mind fills with the thoughts that haven't left him alone for the past few hours, and it's almost unbearable. Having prepared lunch especially for Chris on that occasion wasn't simply out of a desire to please him.
Suddenly, the damn guilt gnaws at him.
Chris waits patiently for his response, but his expression changes immediately when Ethan begins to slowly shake his head.
"I'm sorry—"
"No," Chris interrupts him the next second. "You can't tell me that, Ethan. Is that why you made this lunch? As a kind of goodbye?" Ethan completely avoids his gaze, having already expected Chris to immediately guess the reason for his actions. Chris isn't going to be outdone. "Ethan, look at me. Please tell me what happened. Do you not love me anymore?"
Ethan frowns.
"Chris, it's not—"
"Then why are you leaving me?!" he asks desperately, unable to avoid raising his voice, but immediately tries to calm down so as not to attract Rose's attention, who was still playing with her dolls inside. "You said you wanted time, right? It hasn't even been a month, Ethan! Why did you suddenly—" Ethan sees him stopping himself, searching in his own brain. "You talked to someone, right? Who was it? Claire, Perlman? They convinced you not to forgive me?"
"Chris, no—it's not like that at all," Ethan says before Chris starts hating his sister and their friend. He tries to keep his little stutter from being noticeable, and thankfully it goes unnoticed by Chris. "It's just—how do I know you've already forgotten him, huh? How do I know that the first chance you get, you're not going to run off with him and abandon me, us? Chris, I love you with all my heart, and being away from you is breaking me completely, but I don't know if I'll ever be able to trust you again, and that terrifies me to no end."
Once he's gotten out what's been on his mind for so many days, he still doesn't know if it was a good idea to say it out loud. But Chris listens, and understands, and that's the important thing. And Chris thinks, and the minutes pass, and he keeps thinking, growing more and more desperate.
"Nothing—nothing can assure you that I don't feel anything for Piers. But just let me show you, please. Let me show you that you're the only one in my heart, Ethan. That no one, ever, will take the place you have here inside—" he touches his chest. "Whether you're with me or not. Just give me time, please—please, give me more time. I'm begging you, my love."
By now, tears have formed in Chris' blue eyes, and Ethan can see the effort he's making to hold them back, but Chris just wants to look strong as he asks for one more chance, even though his red eyes and the slight tremble in his voice betray him.
"I love you," he continues. "I know that after this whole damn thing, I don't deserve any forgiveness, and I know I'm being selfish by asking you to even think about it, but I don't know what else to do. Because I don't want you to leave me," he finally says in a small voice. "I don't want to lose the best thing that's ever happened to me."
And finally, the tears fall.
Ethan stays still, not really knowing what to do, because while his brain tells him it's best to stay put and do nothing until Chris calms down on his own, his heart screams at him to wrap that big idiot in his arms and let him snuggle into his chest; to wipe his tears one by one with kisses and just not let him go.
So, he decides to say damn the consequences.
Chris welcomes him with open arms when he jumps on him. Ethan wraps his arms around Chris' neck and buries his face between his neck and shoulder, breathing deeply in the combination of lotion and Chris' rich natural scent.
They stay like that for a few minutes, not a sound coming from either of them. They try to share in that embrace what they've endured in silence for weeks.
Ethan thinks again about the consequences of what he's about to say. He says it in a whisper, right in Chris' ear.
"Okay, I'll give you more time," and he feels the arms around his waist tighten even more.
***
Ethan really didn't expect to see those consequences the next day.
He's alone, and it's been a long time since he'd been alone in his house, usually always having Rose's sweet company 24/7, and it would have continued to be that way if it weren't for the fact that Mia had been waiting for this big moment for so long and, honestly, Ethan had completely forgotten.
Mia had been given the go-ahead to be alone with Rose after years of being under the supervision of others, and as a result, she'd decided to take Rose to an amusement park on a girls' date, even though some people would be watching from a distance, making sure everything went smoothly without them knowing, just as a precaution. Ethan wasn't really worried; he was the one who'd seen her progress firsthand. He trusted Mia, so he knew Rose was safe in her hands. Still, he'd been very reluctant to let Rose go, simply because he didn't want to be left alone in the house.
He'd tried to ignore his slight anxiety and relax by watching a series, but it was really hard to do.
It had been some days since Ethan had seen him. It wasn't long, and he honestly expected to run into him again at any moment. So when he felt it, felt him, behind him on the couch, he wasn't surprised.
"I know you're there," he said after a couple of minutes of absolute silence, not bothering to look back, although he couldn't deny his skin reacting to his presence with goosebumps.
He heard the sound of the creaking wood until it ended perpendicular to him, so he forced himself to turn to his right side. Piers was already smiling at him.
"Missed you," was the first thing he said.
Ethan gave him an incredulous look. He grabbed the remote to turn off the television and stood up to face him. Perhaps he wasn't being as cautious as he should have been in front of him. Piers could've just done something with his back to him, and Ethan couldn't have defended himself then. Stupid.
"What do you want now?"
Piers takes his time.
"You didn't listen to me, Ethan." Piers stares at the blond's Adam's apple as he swallows. "That's no good."
"The hell you talking about?" he says, even though he knows exactly what Piers is talking about. It terrifies him to know what he's talking about.
"More time? Seriously? And you were so close..."
Ethan's heart skips a beat. "Chris told you?"
Chris had told him he didn't feel love for Piers anymore, not that he didn't keep talking to him. Feeling a bit betrayed, he made a mental note to ask him about it next time he saw him.
But Piers shakes his head. "Didn't have to."
Another thought crosses his mind. He frowns.
"You were spying on us?!" he asks, scandalized, taking a few steps closer to him, trying to be threatening, but he's clearly just a joke in Piers' eyes.
Piers raises his metal hand between them, forcing him to stop. He has everything under control.
"That's not why I came," he says, and steps even closer to Ethan. "Although I'm somewhat disappointed you broke our promise, Ethan," he adds, peering at his shiny blond hair, resisting the urge to run his hand through it. Maybe tug at it a little in the process.
He can sense with amusement the small tremor in the smaller body in front of him, but the blond doesn't break eye contact. Piers can appreciate that.
Ethan shakes his head slightly. "He's still my husband—"
"Stop it," he orders sharply, and Ethan immediately closes his mouth. Piers sees him frown again, probably trying not to hit him right then and there. A little beast, that guy. And yet, Ethan doesn't make a move, knowing what could happen to him if he tries anything.
Piers rolls his eyes, annoyed.
He abruptly turns away from Ethan and heads toward the destination he snuck into that house for in the first place.
Just like last time, at the beginning, the kitchen is completely spotless, which he finds odd given the mess it ended up being in that last visit.
Ethan follows him closely, but Piers doesn't pay him much attention.
Doing his own thing, he looks at the furniture and the floor, remembering with satisfaction Ethan being repeatedly slammed into them. Peeking into a hidden corner on one of the shelves, a small brown stain lets him know Ethan missed some spots.
He's still by his side, just a few steps away. From his place, Piers clearly sees a yellowish mark surrounding part of his neck, and wonders how Chris, standing so close to him, couldn't notice it and ask about it. He wonders if he were to look elsewhere on the thin body, he'd find more marks of that kind. A slight tingling sensation invades his palms.
Ethan shifts uncomfortably under his intense gaze, feeling it travel from head to toe, and Piers forces himself to tear his eyes away from Ethan.
Without a word between them, Piers turns around with a new objective in mind. The dining room is the same story as the kitchen, completely clean and sparkling, with a faint scent of lavender permeating the room. He stands there for a good minute, just watching. Ethan is anxious at his side.
"Serve lunch," he suddenly says in a murmur .
"What?" But Ethan heard him loud and clear; the request alone has him baffled.
Piers doesn't repeat what he said, but instead sits down with fluid movements at the head of the wooden table, the one Chris was seated in. Ethan has crossed his arms, still looking at him with that ugly frown creasing his features.
"I'm not your fucking servant," he grumbles at Piers' boldness.
Piers lets him be an idiot for that moment.
"Give me what you served Chris," he demands, still authoritative, feeling completely at home.
Ethan turns a little pale, thinking that in all that time Chris spent with him and his daughter, there was another eye watching absolutely everything.
"There's none left. Chris took it all home."
Piers raises an eyebrow.
"Do you want me to go to Chris and ask for food?" He questions discordantly. "Since I am there I can try to convince him to leave you and stay with me—"
"There is no more," Ethan interrupts suddenly, making him return to the subject. "I can't serve you food because there's no more."
For a moment, Piers stares at Ethan's challenging eyes, without a response from his seat. The next second, Ethan has 280 pounds on him, taking him from the neck and carrying him out to the kitchen. Ethan tries to get rid of, but from the beginning he knows that it is useless to defend himself. He's thrown with great force towards the stove, his body violently hitting the metal box and immediately feeling the resentment in his ribs.
"Give me the shit you served Chris!" Piers shouts in his ear, still with one hand squeezing Ethan's neck, leaving him stunned for a good time. Little caring if Ethan has to cook from scratch.
Ethan's leaning on the stove, trying to recover from the sudden display of violence. His heart hammering in his chest and legs feeling like jelly, and then he obeys.
"Fine," he growls. "Just let me go."
As soon as Piers sees him slowly walking towards the refrigerator and silently taking some ingredients, it is when he returns to his place in the dining room.
He doesn't know exactly how long Ethan is in the kitchen, nor what he's doing, but he knows he's working on it just by the sound of the dishes being crashed into each other. Nearly two hours later, Ethan's lean, furious body emerges from the kitchen, holding a pot. It smells delicious, and the sight of the soup steaming as Ethan places it on the table makes his stomach almost growl. Ethan returns to the kitchen, then strides back again, a bowl in one hand and a basket of bread in the other. He practically slams both things on the table and, without being asked, grabs the soup ladle and roughly pours several helpings into the bowl, not caring that the hot liquid splashes on the table and on Piers' clothes and his own. He just as gently moves the bowl towards Piers. Piers takes a moment to breathe and try not to react under Ethan's hateful glare.
Piers takes the spoon from the bowl to take a sip of the soup.
"You better not have put anything weird in it."
Ethan rolls his eyes at the accusation. He stays in that same spot, standing a few feet away from Piers, watching him eat the first spoonful. There's no reaction from him, and he wonders, without real interest, if he liked it. When he takes the second and third spoonfuls, and continues eating from there, he gets his answer. He even takes a couple of pieces of bread to go with his meal.
"Get another bowl," he suddenly demands.
Thinking that maybe he wants a second helping, but not in the same dish, like the picky child he's used to dealing with, Ethan goes to the kitchen for another. A minute later, he returns and places the bowl in front of Piers, who instantly takes it and places it in front of the chair to his left.
"Sit down."
Ethan, not trusting Piers and not knowing what he's up to, slowly walks around the table and sits where he was told, carefully. Once there, Piers grabs the ladle from the pot and pours it, almost filling the bowl, with the same delicacy as Ethan's before. The table is quite stained on that side with soup at this point.
"I'm not hungry," he says as Piers resumes his meal. He doesn't answer again, now not even looking at him and concentrating on finishing his meal completely, trying to enjoy it.
Ethan shifts uncomfortably in his seat, waiting a few minutes for Piers to finish, the soup Piers served him forgotten in front of him.
When his bowl is empty, Ethan is about to mockingly ask if he wants more, but the words get stuck in his throat when Piers, suddenly standing up, grabs him by the hair tightly receiving a gasp from Ethan, tilting his head to look him in the eye.
"Eat your fucking soup," he orders venomously through gritted teeth.
Ethan has placed his hands on Piers', trying to loosen his grip on his hair, but he's touching cold metal. As always, he can't get Piers to leave him be.
Ethan continues to stare into his eyes, his pride not allowing him to look away, and his breathing has become labored thanks to the loud pounding of his heart. Piers had frightened him with his sudden grip.
"I'm not hungry," he slowly repeats.
Piers smirks. Ethan shivers.
The surprise visit had gone wrong from the start, although there was nothing good about anything Piers did. And, although he had acted violent towards him from the start, Ethan had done his best not to show Piers what he wanted to receive from his provocations: fear.
However, at this moment, feeling his giant prosthetic pulling at his scalp, it was impossible for him to mentally transport back a few years, with Jack Baker standing in front of him wanting the same thing Piers Nivans was demanding now: to feed him.
"Ethan," he says his name as if scolding a child. Although a child would have burst into tears upon hearing their name spoken so darkly. "Don't play hard to get."
Ethan tries to be strong in front of Piers.
"I. Don't. Wanna," he declares for the last time.
That's the final straw.
Still holding his hands behind his own head, trying to free himself from Piers' hard grip, it's impossible for Ethan to avoid the spoonful of soup that Piers suddenly places on his lips. Ethan keeps his mouth closed, clenching it to keep it out. The liquid trickles from the corners of his lips, running down his chin and ruining his white T-shirt.
When Piers takes the second spoonful, Ethan is ready for it. The instant he sees Piers direct the utensil to his mouth, Ethan swipes, causing Piers to throw it away, staining with soup the wall it hit.
Piers takes one look at the mess, and when he looks back at Ethan, Ethan sees his expression darken.
In the blink of an eye, Piers easily manages to fling Ethan's body, chair and all, backward. Ethan feels the chair split beneath him, and now he has to worry about what excuse he'll give when Chris comes to visit and sees a chair missing from the dining table.
Piers doesn't let his mind wander for long as he climbs on top of him. Ethan is quickly caught when Piers keeps his hands still by putting his knees up onto them.
"Get off of me!"
Piers doesn't listen to him.
He can't let go, Piers' weight hurting his hands so much that he lets out a long yelp. And the moment his mouth stays open, letting out whimpers, Piers, holding Ethan's bowl in his hand, takes the opportunity to pour the hot contents into his mouth. Ethan immediately spits out the soup, splashing it on Piers' clothes.
"Stop squirming!" When Ethan starts to turn his face away to prevent the liquid from falling into his mouth, Piers grips his jaw tightly with his metal hand. "You're going to eat the fucking soup."
Forcing his mouth open by squeezing his cheeks, Piers continues emptying the food. He does it slowly, torturously, enjoying the sight of Ethan having a truly miserable time beneath him, unable to free himself from the grip Piers has on his face and hands.
"Look at the fucking mess you're making," he says in disgust. Ethan just spits out the food, coughing. Then, Piers releases Ethan's jaw to pinch his nose with the tips of his metal fingers. Only then does Ethan manage to swallow the soup after a minute, desperate for air, but he quickly chokes and spits out again. Piers watches his red soft skin gradually turn purple. However, he continues until he's completely emptied the bowl. Only then does he manage to let go.
Ethan keeps coughing, soup running down the sides of his face, out of his nose. His eyes are red, small streams of tears falling from them.
To Ethan's relief, Piers stands up, finally freeing his hands.
Struggling to breathe through his coughing fit, Ethan tries to get up, still in intense pain from his possibly broken hands. He wants to stand up, to stop being vulnerable beneath Piers, unable to believe the situation he's just been through and is still in. And the worst part is, it won't be over until Piers leaves his house. And even so, Ethan won't be able to get rid of him.
Where the hell is Chris when he needs him?
For his part, Piers is also trying to regain his composure, the adrenaline making his heart race in his chest. But it's not over yet. Seeing the pathetic scene Ethan creates on the dining room floor stirs even more anger in him. And seeing him like that, helpless, tears still streaming from his eyes, his bruised hands holding each other... hell.
"Fucking useless."
Without thinking much, he makes his final move. He takes the pot with the remaining soup and, without further ado, dumps it on Ethan's weak body. He lets out a loud gasp, perhaps from not expecting to be drenched with the dish he'd cooked, perhaps from the burns of the still-hot liquid.
Piers looks at Ethan when he's finished, contempt evident on his face. At least that damned defiance is gone from Ethan's eyes; he's too busy looking around in disbelief, touching his soaked blond hair.
Ethan flinches when Piers drops the pot next to him, creating a clatter.
Suddenly, he has Piers crouching beside him. He feels Piers' human hand cup his chin with strange gentleness, causing Ethan to tilt his head slightly, observing his work with satisfaction.
Ethan no longer looks at him. He prefers not to anger the monster in front of him any further.
"Go clean yourself up," he simply orders.
Ethan has stopped thinking. He can't really understand what happened, or why it happened, and he doesn't want to discuss it either. With each encounter, he's learned the outcome of his desire to argue and challenge Piers, and until that moment, he'd wanted nothing more than to make it clear that he could defend himself too. He finally realizes it's useless.
Fucking useless.
Ethan doesn't notice much. He doesn't think about how he got to the bathroom, or how Piers lifted him off the floor, soaking himself in the process. He doesn't want to think about how his clothes were removed, leaving him naked under the shower. Ethan decides to simply let his mind go blank and let his body act on its own.
In the solitude of the shower, tears fall, camouflaged by the pressure of the water that washes away the remnants of the soup he was forced to cook and eat. It didn't matter if he cried alone in the shower or in the dining room with Piers in tow. Either way, Piers had seen him cry enough times, each time provoked by Piers himself.
As he stands motionless, letting the water cleanse his body. He's grateful that Rose isn't there.
And when he leaves the bathroom, he is grateful that Piers is no longer in their home.