Idhron hummed thoughtfully, examining a murky area in his mind. “Restoring memories can be tricky. It is delicate work, and the margin for error is very thin. Sometimes it is not possible at all. Fortunately, I know your mind very well.”
Eridan made a noncommittal noise. There was something comfortable and familiar about this, about this mentoring tone. It felt right. Everything about having this man touching him so intimately felt inexplicably right.
He put his head on Idhron’s wide shoulder and just listened to his voice as Idhron explained to him the theory behind memory restoration.
He felt… He felt better than he had in forever. Just sitting in this man’s lap, listening to him talk.
“I am ready,” Idhron said at last, his presence going still in Eridan’s mind. “I am going to do it now. It will likely feel somewhat disorienting.”
“All right.”
“Brace yourself,” Idhron said.
It was disorienting. One moment, Eridan didn’t remember, and the next, he did.
He did.
It was strange how everything had clicked into place. The jealousy and bitterness of his age-mates now didn’t seem mindlessly cruel but actually made sense. He had been chosen while they weren’t. The bullying, the cruelty—in the end, it was all worth it, because he wasn’t alone. He had a Master. He had the best Master in the Order.
And his Master cared for him, in his own reserved way, no matter what he actually said. Heck, even when Eridan had killed the Grandmaster of the Order, Castien had covered for him. His Master had come for him. He had taken care of everything, and then taken care of him when Eridan had crawled into his bed later that night: wrapping him in his telepathic presence and slowly healing him in his sleep through their bond, healing him so well that the next morning Eridan barely even thought about the attempted assault or Tethru’s death.
His Master had always taken care of him.
Eridan sighed. He did feel the new sense of calm and comfort under his skin, but he remembered the bad parts, too. Castien’s distance, his unwillingness to allow a full telepathic merge between them. Castien’s insistence that their sexual relationship changed nothing. Castien blocking his memories of his birth name and his lack of remorse over it. Castien’s lack of reaction when Eridan had told him he loved him.
The question was, did the bad outweigh the good?
Eridan opened his eyes and met his Master’s eyes.
Chapter Thirty-One: Master
Castien’s gaze was searching, almost wary.
Eridan looked back at him, hoping… He didn’t know for what. To feel any differently? Unfortunately, just as he had feared, having his throwback hormones blocked didn’t change a thing about his feelings.
He still loved this man: desperately, hopelessly, stupidly, no matter what.
“Eridan?” Castien said, peering into him. “Do you remember me?”
Eridan’s hand curled into a fist. “You’re such a selfish asshole,” he said. It came off more affectionate than he had intended. He chuckled, hating himself for his inability to be properly angry. “One would think you’d be happy without me and my distasteful emotions constantly compromising you, but no, apparently not. What is the matter, Master? Did you get attached?”
Castien didn’t look fazed in the slightest. He continued staring at Eridan with the same intense, greedy look. Then he lifted his hands and cradled Eridan’s face. “You remember me.”
Eridan glared at him.
“You still love me,” Castien stated with the same unnervingly greedy look. “It is fine, Eridan.”
All right, Eridan was definitely angry now. “Fuck you, Master,” he bit out. “Being graciously allowed to love you isn’t enough for me. Get out. I won’t go with you to Hronthar. Since I still have my throwback hormones blocked, I can get over you. I will get over you. Leave. I’m sorry for wasting your precious time and asking you to erase my memories for nothing. As always, you were right: it was a bad idea. It’s better if we just avoid each other from now on—”
Castien kissed him.
Eridan wanted to push him away; he really did. But it felt like he had been dying of thirst and had just been handed a glass of water. A small moan slipped out of his mouth, and he surged forward, kissing back hungrily, unable to quench the thirst inside of him. Their bond flared open, pulsing with missed you, need you, missed you, need you.
When they finally broke apart for some much-needed air, they both were flushed and breathing raggedly.
“You talk too much,” Castien said into his cheek, his hands still cradling Eridan’s face. “You talk too much, and you are excellent at irritating me. I must be insane to actually like it.”
Eridan blinked, unsure he was understanding that correctly. “You missed me?” he said, his voice smaller than he would have liked.
Castien pulled back, his expression a little tight. He remained silent.
Eridan scoffed, turning away. “I need words, Castien. Your ‘I don’t feel emotion’ shit isn’t going to cut it anymore. Talk or leave me alone.” His voice wavered and he hoped Castien didn’t notice that. He had to be firm.