Soul got into the car and buckled his seatbelt. Anywhere was better than here. Even the horrible house with its overwhelming miasma of disappointment, even the scarlet room and all the expectations that went with it. Sylvia had won so why not just give her everything that she wanted? Why should he drag out the pain when it was going to happen either way? Soul knew now that nothing in his life had ever been what he thought it was. He had held onto his childhood somewhere inside himself assuring himself that all the craziness had started when he met Scott. Learning about the twins had ruined that vision to some extent, but finding out that not even his mother was real was the final straw. Nothing he had ever done, no one he had ever been close to just liked him for who he was. No one had ever stayed and he had always been alone.
The ride home was silent. Soul imagined this is what going to be sentenced for murder would feel like- an inescapable slow trek to nowhere. He knew Sylvia would be waiting. He knew they would all be punished. He just didn't know how. And somehow that was even worse.
*
The house was dark when they arrived and the sun was just setting. It was about dinnertime but food was the last thing on any of their minds. The huge doors were open when they pulled up and Sylvia was sitting on the staircase. She was smiling the same smile as when Soul had first arrived. It was as terrifying as it was fake. Soul didn't care, he walked past her without a word, and she let him go. He almost imagined he felt a brush to his spirit and wished her well. There was no need for her to make him feel awful; to take away his hope- it was already gone.
Scott arrived to the scarlet room shortly after Soul; he seemed fine if subdued. There was a hint of a red mark on his cheek. He sat beside Soul and wrapped his arms around him. Soul didn't move, he didn't move as Scott undressed him. He didn't move when Scott left to shower and get ready for bed. And even when Scott pulled him up and tucked him under the covers he didn't resist. Scott slept, his breath falling on Soul's face is soft minty puffs, and Soul lay awake the whole night wondering if there was any way to gather any dignity, any agency. And when the birds began warning that dawn was near he had one small idea. Not hope, but an idea. If it was going to end he could be the one to end it. He would not be manipulated any more. If his destiny were going to be this unyielding he would walk into it on his own power.
*
Scott woke slowly to the feeling of being touched, softly, slowly and all over his body. It was one of his dreams, his favorite, most embarrassing dreams. He didn't want to open his eyes because then it would end. It always ended, but he also couldn't keep his eyes closed, on the off chance- Scott opened his eyes and they met the deepest pools he had seen. Soul was looking up at him kneeling between his thighs. It was his dream come true- almost.
Soul didn't look like he should. He was beautiful but his eyes were almost empty- deep still, but like a dead sea, there was no life in them, and there were deep bruises under them. His touch was gentle, almost loving but Scott sighed. Opening his eyes had ruined it again. As much as he wanted this he couldn't. He couldn't have Soul hate him and if he went through with this he knew something out be irreparably changed, and not in a good way. Any progress they had made would be gone and Scott would be alone again. He held Soul's face in his hands and gently tugged him upward. He wrapped Soul in his arms and pressed Soul's face into his shoulder. At first Soul was still rigid, but he melted soon enough and from the slightly shuddering breaths and wetness on his shoulder Scott knew that Soul was crying. Scott tried to keep his own tears from falling but he couldn't. Once again he was unable to comfort his man. Once again he was not able to solve the problems Soul was dealing with, once again he was a failure.
Scott held Soul for hours while he cried and then when he slept. Neither of them had much of an appetite. Scott had begun to hope that everything would be okay but he couldn't see it being okay now. He rubbed Soul's back and tried to think of anything that would make Soul feel better, to make him feel the same way Scott felt about him.
*
Soul dreamt of the end of everything. He dreamt of his own death, and it was comforting, beautiful. No one could hurt him there; there was only one problem. In all the scenarios he imagined there was always Scott, devastated. Soul dreamt of the picture he had drawn, of Scott crying over his dead body, and even through the picture had meant nothing to him just a few days ago, it now haunted him and ruined all his fantasies.
Soul woke slowly but when he woke he had another idea. If he could show Scott how he felt Scott would understand. If Scott could feel the desolation he felt, the loss of everything he had ever thought he had known, he would know why Soul had to end it. He would know why he needed to have one last act, his only truly autonomous act. Soul knew that Scott would never finish the bond if he thought Soul didn't want it. But Soul had a plan for that as well. He would just have to fake it- and with all his recent practice Soul was sure he could do it. He could ignore the house, Sylvia, all of it, and just focus on Scott, and once it was over, he wouldn't have to pretend or hide anymore he would have what he had always really wanted- complete understanding and then quiet, peace.
When Soul finally opened his eyes the first thing he saw was Scott. And Scott looked almost as bad as Soul felt, his skin looked dull and his eyes were rimmed with red, he had to have spent a lot of the time Soul spent sleeping, crying. Soul tried to smile at him, but even with his plan firmly in place it didn't quite come out. Giving up and figuring it was unrealistic for him to feel better after one good cry Soul wrapped his arms around Scott and tried to offer the comfort Scott always wanted to offer him. Scott didn't respond for a moment but then hugged back, and for a moment it was like they were the only two people in the world.
Soul and Scott showered separately but spent the next hours attached at the hip. They didn't go anywhere without each other, even if they hardly spoke. Sylvia stayed out of the way, Soul guessed it was because she figured nothing she could think up would compare to the punishment he had brought upon himself, and if she couldn't detect any happy emotions what was there for her to take away?
The next days passed similarly, almost in silence, and with few interactions with anyone other than Scott. It was almost as if the house had been abandoned. All the new guests seemed to have vanished and the siblings were only seen in passing and only around meal times. They looked subdued, or determined but Soul paid them little attention. He had only one goal at the moment and it only required his own powers of deception. He had to convince Scott that he was feeling better, and that he wanted to finish the bond. He didn't mention it at all the first day, but began answering Scott's queries to how he was feeling with variations of loneliness. And as time went on Soul realized it wasn't a lie at all, he was lonely, he did want to feel a connection with someone he did want at least one person to really understand him, to stay with him. He found that the more he spoke to Scott he began to believe his own words. Maybe everything really would be better with the bond in place; maybe all of Sylvia's plotting would mean less to him. And logically it made sense, Scott had survived her and Soul was only a promise of a future. Soul did most of his talking when they were alone and in bed, right before sleeping with all the lights off and with the lurid color of the room hidden Soul found it was embarrassingly easy to spill his feeling and insecurities. Scott was a wonderful listener and crying himself to sleep ensured that he slept without dreams.