Me, Not Them
Lys is still haunted by that abuse, he's just been shoving it down for his entire life.
Lys woke up a broken man, panicked as he was trapped in something’s arms. He tried to get out of the grip as gently as he could, desperately trying not to wake whoever it was. When the grip around his waist shifted he froze, holding back every fearful reaction his body strove towards except the tears.
“René?” Solomon murmured, not wishing to wake him if he was still asleep.
“I’m sorry I fell asleep, I know I’m not allowed in the bed,” Lys began, waiting for the arm around him to move, to free him so he could correct his mistake before the beating came. Decades old wounds ached like the lashes were still raw and bleeding.
“René,” the wizard said, pulling Lys closer by his shoulder to force him to turn. He realized his mistake when he felt Lys shrink against him, shielding his organs but only for being unable to shield his head.
“It’s me; it’s Solomon, not them. I’ve got you; you’re safe,” Solomon said, moving his arm to free Lys if he felt the need to flee. Lys moved back from him just enough to see him worried in the darkness, hesitant and uncertain.
“Solomon?” the human’s voice was soft, broken with fear.
“It’s just you and me here. We’re both safe, everything’s alright. You’re not with them,” the wizard said. Lys moved back into his arms, pressing himself tight against Solomon’s chest and hiding there in the darkness.
“Just us, not them?” Lys whispered with the faintest edge of hope.
“Just us,” Solomon reassured him. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” the human murmured. After a few dozen minutes, Solomon knew he’d gone back to sleep when the tension had finally run out of him, and joined him in the pleasant unawareness of it.