Work Text:
The others had all excused themselves after lunch a short while ago, scattering to go about their own pressing business or social calls; nearly two weeks recovering abed after returning from The First had made the Scions understandably restless, and today Krile had finally given them leave. O’hmisha though had elected to retire to his room for the afternoon, to organize some tangled thoughts and enjoy some long-coveted silence. But when Alphinaud had offered to keep him company, he couldn’t bring himself to deny him.
So here he sat, cross legged at the low reading table in his room, half-listening as the elezen across from him blathered on about some complex Eulmoran politics O’hmisha couldn’t have wrapped his head around even if he were paying attention. Nor could he pay attention if he wanted to, he thought–not in the face of that bright enthusiasm and the keen smile he kept directing toward him.
“–Wouldn’t you say, O’misha?”
O’hmisha blinked. Alphinaud was asking him a question, but he hadn’t heard the lead up. He nodded perfunctorily, which seemed to be enough as Alphinaud nodded and returned to his own reading at last, leaving O’hmisha to ponder in silence.
He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand it, this aching desire to know, the burning what-ifs…The notion wasn’t sudden or unexpected by any means. Rather, it was something he’d been considering for a handful of months now–a stray thought, a nagging whisper in the back of his mind that had grown louder each time the elezen had addressed him since shortly after reuniting on The First until he could ignore it no longer.
Gods help him, but it seemed that curiosity would finally get the better of him today.
“Ah, Alphinaud. If you’d like…” O’hmisha trailed off as the elezen glanced up at him through a curtain of snowy white bangs, mouth parted in silent question. He cleared his throat, tongue darting out to wet his lips before pressing on quickly, “That is, I’ve been thinking that you could start calling me by my name. If you’d like to, I mean.”
“In what manner?” Alphinaud sat up further, cocking his head and eyeing him with a cautious optimism, as though he may have misunderstood. As if there were any other way to construe his words…
“In the same manner Shtola and I call each other,” O’hmisha needlessly clarified with as casual a shrug as he could manage, “Informally.”
“I see…” Alphinaud said hesitantly, “Did something happen to bring this on so suddenly?”
Oh, you mean besides finally having you safely back against all odds after nearly losing you and the others to an unprecedented case of soul stagnation? No, nothing in particular.
“Well, we’ve been through many an ordeal over the years–and you are my best friend besides, as you so often remind me… I just feel we’ve grown to understand one another, that’s all.” O’hmisha waved his hand dismissively, bowing his head and pretending to continue his reading. “It only makes sense is all I’m saying,” he muttered, “Do or don’t, it’s not that important.”
It was, though. And they both knew it, if the earnest look he saw on Alphinaud’s face as he peaked up thought his bangs was any indication. Excluding family, he could count on a single hand the people he let call him by name alone. Despite cutting ties with a good deal of his past, this had proven to be the lone exception; the too-familiar sound of his name on the tongue of strangers and acquaintances never failed to make him uncomfortable.
“I…” Alphinaud began after a moment, going quiet and furrowing his brow as he began to think overlong about something.
O'hmisha waited in tense silence, trying his best to look occupied and unconcerned while keeping his usual tells under control. He was doing rather a good job of it too, he thought, until the elezen quietly closed his own book and straightened where he sat with a strange sense of formality, resulting in two nervous flicks of his ear. He forced himself to keep his head down though, turning a page for good measure.
“I am honored, truly,” Alphinaud stated a touch too seriously. If he meant to sound calm and composed, O'hmisha could just make out the elezen's finger through his lashes, silently tapping against the cover of his book. “‘Tis a privilege–one I would not take lightly–but also I…do not wish to overstep.”
“If I'm offering, then you aren't overstepping,” he feigned exasperation, turning another page too soon. Alphinaud didn’t say anything, just hummed his acknowledgement.
He should retract the offer, he thought, before they broke some unspoken rule, crossed an invisible line. Truth be told, he shouldn't have offered in the first place–he was already toeing a line on his own without deluding himself with frivolous informalities. What difference did it make in the end, really? If Alphinaud kept on calling him as he always had? It made him no less a friend, and they would simply continue on as before. He looked up, meaning to put an end to it, but the words died on his lips as his eyes met joyful, brilliant blue.
O’hmisha didn’t think he could find the words again if he tried, and if there was any doubt, Alphinaud's soft voice made sure of it, “Thank you, Misha.”
His breath caught, surprised by his own name despite fully expecting it. Truthfully, it was less about the sound and more about the way he had said it–in a tone O’hmisha was sure he had never heard before. Back amongst the tribe, his name had always been incidental, like naming a place or a thing, or else something unpleasant or disrespectful, a curse spat from his mother’s mouth. From the few he’d granted permission besides–Tataru, Shtola, Ifan, and Lyse–he got the familial sense of caring older siblings, the same warm feeling he used to get from his own.
This though…The way Alphinaud said his name, with such careful reverence and deep seated affection, featherlight as though something might break if he spoke too carelessly, lips curling into a bright smile around the syllables as though it was the most satisfying word he had ever spoken, with a casual formality so uniquely him O’hmisha couldn’t think of a word to call it…Yes, this was altogether different. This made his heart skip with unbidden glee. This made his face burn with embarrassment at the fact that he wanted to hear it again and again and again…This was dangerous.
“On second thought–” O’hmisha wheezed, choking on a mouthful of air when he realized he’d forgotten to breathe. Alphinaud began to stand without hesitation, meaning to round the table and help, but he waved him off, gesturing for him to sit back down while he finished his short coughing fit. “Lover,” he finally managed, flush with genuine embarrassment now, “I’m sorry, I just…On second thought, it might be best if you didn’t…”
“Have I…done something wrong?” Alphinaud asked, worried. “I know I can’t match a miqo’te’s pronunciation with the H to start, so if I’ve said it wrong, then–”
“No, no, nothing like that,” O’hmisha assured him. Quite the opposite. “Rather, I just hear it so infrequently, and from you it sounds so…” Perfect. “It’s just strange is all. Jarring. I’m not used to it.”
“The last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable,” Alphinaud nodded, trying and failing to hide his dejection, “I won’t do so again.”
“No!” O’hmisha replied a bit too quickly. Reigning in his volume, he went on, “It isn’t…unwelcome, per se, so you needn’t stop completely. Just…do so sparingly. For now, at least. Ah, and please not in front of the others.” It would be difficult enough without the added self-consciousness. Selfishly though, he thought it might be nice to keep this to himself for as long as he could, some trifling moments of contentment all his own…
“Ah, of course!” Alphinaud perked up immediately, favoring him with a soft, knowing smile, “I shall reserve the informalities for our time alone, as it were.”
O’hmisha narrowed his eyes but said nothing. Gods help him, the elezen would make sure he lived to regret this, he was sure. A long, strange silence stretched as they stared pointedly at one another. O’hmisha was about to excuse himself back to his reading when Alphinaud spoke up at last.
“So you know, this kindness means a great deal to me,” he said quietly, earnestly, averting his gaze to the other side of the room as a hint of pink stained the tips of both ears, “Thank you again, Misha.”
O’hmisha simply nodded, unwilling to trust his own voice, and bowed low over his book to hide the sheepish grin he could no longer fight back.