Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12388203/chapters/29459757

Title: “Rule number sixteen”

Summary: Confessions are made, and we reach our final rule.

Relationship: UF Papyrus/US Papyrus

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, confessions

Warnings: self-deprecating thoughts, anxiety, mention of drugging, unhealthy coping mechanisms

Another emotional roller coaster (especially for Fell Papy, poor baby)

Word Count: 6,811 (I’ve given up on cutting down words)

---

“Heya Boss? Can I come in?”

“Whether or not you do is
entirely up to you, Red,” Fell said, without looking up from his book. Red
released a weary sigh as he strolled over, and despite his preoccupation, Fell
noticed the troubled expression on his face.

“Bro, do you, uh… mind if I sit?”

Fell’s gaze briefly flickered to
his brother. It wasn’t often that Red dropped the title he normally used for
Fell, and the deviation unsettled him slightly. Still, he gave no indication of
his concern, giving a cursory wave of his hand. “I don’t see why not.” He
turned back to his book, tapping his pencil on the page as he scanned the
sudoku grid. While he’d completed most of these puzzles many times, doing them
again helped settle him.

Red sat down, the bed shifting
slightly under his weight, and frowned at Fell over the top of the page. It
wasn’t difficult to guess what he must be thinking. Likely the same thing he’d
been thinking all week. Fell hadn’t missed the anxious glances Red had given
him when he thought he wasn’t looking, or the fact that he’d checked Fell’s
stats at least twenty times since last week’s incident. Fell had been doing his
best to ignore it, locking his bedroom door and studying his advanced puzzle
making books, or sorting his figurines into the new battle formations he’d been
learning about. He’d been trying to convince Undyne to extend his training
time, but his request had been met with little more than poorly veiled concern
from the fish monster. Fell wondered if Red had been talking to her.

He only realised he’d briefly
dissociated when Red gave his shoulder a gentle shove. “C’mon, Boss, scooch
over.” Fell blinked at his brother for a moment, before obliging, Red shuffling
along the bed to lie beside him. They lay in silence for a few moments, Fell’s
mind ticking anxiously as he waited for his brother to breach the dreaded topic
that he knew had been warring on Red’s mind the entire week. “So… Swap came by
earlier. Again.”

Oh. Not exactly what Fell had
been expecting, but still a conversation he’d rather avoid. He sighed, putting
his book down. “Did he?” His tone conveyed disinterest, but in truth, the news
sent a silent ache through his soul.

“Yup. Wanted to see ya.”

“And?”

“And I sent ‘im away,” Red said,
with a shrug. “Told ‘im ya didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Hm.” It was times like these
that Fell really appreciated his brother. Red was accustomed to Fell’s moodiness,
and knew when to give him his space. Still, a small part of Fell sometimes
wished his brother wasn’t so good at taking hints. But he knew he only had
himself to blame for Red’s wariness when it came to his ‘bad days’ (or weeks).

“I’ve been feelin’ better,” Red
said, glancing at Fell, who was still staring deliberately away from him.
“Think I might be ready to head back to work tomorrow.”

“Hmm.” Fell gave his brother a
quick, cursory glance—a check he always did out of habit to make sure his
brother wasn’t lying for the sake of appearing more durable than he was. He was
relieved to see that this time, Red was telling the truth. His bones had lost
the yellowish tinge they’d adopted after he’d been drugged, and his eye-lights
were brighter. Fell gave a stiff nod, turning away to pick up his book once
again. “Well. Good. I dare say allowing you to laze around the house was not my
first preference, but it appears to have improved your health. No more
headaches?”

“Nope. Back to bein’ a regular
old bonehead.”

Fell rolled his eye-lights. “And
the nausea?”

“Gone.”

“Exhaustion?”

“Heh, well you know me, Boss. ‘m
always bone-tired, but—ouch!”

“Hmm, you appear to have regained
the ability to feel pain too, which is a good sign,” Fell said, as Red rubbed
the back of his skull, scowling.

“Anyone ever told ya that yer
kind of a dick, Boss?”

Fell remained nonchalant,
returning to his sudoku. “Constantly. I’ve grown accustomed to it. It’s easy to
tune out.”

Red grumbled something inaudible,
which Fell ignored, opting to focus on his puzzle instead. He could feel Red’s
eyes on him as he scanned the page, his brother choosing to remain silent for
the moment as he scrutinised him. With a sigh, Fell turned to face the wall,
his back to Red so that he could concentrate on the numbers in front of him.
This particular puzzle was one he hadn’t done before—and he was finding it
especially challenging.

He scowled at the sound of a cap
being popped, catching sight of Red taking a large gulp of mustard out of the
corner of his socket. With a lingering sigh, he said, “Brother. I assume your
temporary illness has not erased the rules about eating in my room from your
mind.”

Red made a non-committal noise in
response, and continued to drink the foul yellow condiment. “Eh, figured it’d
give me somethin’ to do—since yer not talkin’ to me.”

“I am talking to you, brother,”
Fell said dryly, obstinately refusing to turn around. “This is what talking
sounds like.”

Red chuckled, but continued to
defy Fell, taking another sip of mustard. “Heh. Yer funny, Boss.” Fell allowed
the seconds to tick by, trying to tune out the sound of Red’s incessant
gulping. He frowned at the page in front of him, pencil tapping on the corner
of the book as he attempted to solve the puzzle before him. But somehow, Red’s drinking
only seemed to grow louder as time went on, until Fell was ready to snap his
pencil in two.

Spinning around, he growled,
“What exactly is it that you want, Red?”

Red languidly allowed his gaze to
travel to his brother’s face, seeming unperturbed, his brow bone raised. “Dunno
whatcha talkin’ about, Boss. ‘m just lyin’ here with my mustard.”

Fell could tell that his brother
was trying to get under his skin—metaphorically—and he pinched his nasal bridge
between to fingers with a frustrated sigh. “Brother. If you wish to consume
that vile substance then by all means, do so—outside of my room.”

After a moment’s pause,
eye-lights fixed on Fell, Red gave a shrug, shifting off the bed. “If ya say
so, Boss—don’t let me get in yer way.” He glanced at the page Fell was holding,
before reaching out a finger to tap on one of the grids. “Yer missin’ a three
in yer second column there, Boss.” Fell frowned at the page, ready to snap at
Red not to interfere—until he realised he was correct. Scowling, he erased his
scribbles, and Red gave an easy grin, before sidling over to the door. “Well.
See ya later then, Boss.”

Fell watched with uncertainty as
Red reached for the doorknob, a lump seeming to form in his chest. Just as he
was about to leave, Fell called out. “Red, wait.” Red turned, brow bone raised.

“Somethin’ eatin’ ya, Boss?”

Fell quickly shook his head,
glancing at the carpet, trying to swallow against the lump, which seemed to have
risen to his throat. “I—no, I just…” His mind frantically scrambled for a
topic, and he hurriedly cleared his throat, looking up at his brother. “What
did, uh—what did Swap want?”

Red’s expression was unreadable
as he observed Fell, mustard bottle between his teeth. After what felt like an
eternity, he shrugged. “Just wanted to check in, make sure ya were alright.”

Fell nodded, looking away quickly
lest his expression give something away. “Oh.” He wasn’t sure whether to feel
thrilled that Swap cared enough to have come by—or disappointed that he hadn’t
pushed Red harder to let him inside. The lump seemed to grow heavier, and Fell
only realised his grip on the book had tightened when his clawed fingers
created small tears in the page. Stiffly, he placed it on the nightstand,
leaning back against his headboard. “What did you tell him?” he asked, quietly.

Once again, Red’s gaze seemed to
bear more weight than he was letting on, his deep scarlet eye-lights piercing
through Fell as if he could see right into his mind. The silence seemed to
linger for a moment too long before Red finally gave an indifferent wave of his
hand. “Told ‘im ya were good. Just like always, right Boss?”

Fell forced himself to meet his
brother’s gaze, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Red had that look in his
eye—the look he got when he knew that there were cracks in Fell’s walls. The
walls that he was normally so good at keeping rigid and sturdy, blocking out
everything he didn’t wish to confront. And Fell knew Red was right. He could feel
himself shaking slightly, the lump in his chest and throat seeming to constrict
around his soul. He could feel the tears prickling the back of his eye sockets,
and he bit down harshly to stop them.

Fell seldom experienced this
feeling. This utter vulnerability that seemed to leave him in shreds. Shreds
that were very difficult to knit back together. He flinched at the feeling of
Red’s hand on his arm, looking up to find his brother gazing down at him
patiently. The look in his eyes strayed nowhere near pity, for which Fell was
grateful. He hated being pitied. “Y’know Boss…” Red began, sitting back down on
the bed beside Fell. “Yer allowed to be happy.”

This seemed to strike something
within Fell, because the next breath he took sounded shaky and strained—even to
his own ears. He stared directly ahead, trying to stop the quivering of his
hands. Haltingly, he shook his head, a wry smile making its way onto his
features. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Red.”

Red sighed, his frown deepening.
“Boss, listen…” He shifted closer, and Fell could feel his gaze boring into
him. “I understand—believe me, I do. Growin’ up in this shithole—it’ll mess
with ya. Especially you, Boss. Ya care so much about things—no matter what it
is; trainin’ to be a guardsman, yer puzzles, cookin’, takin’ care of yer lazy
big bro—it all matters to ya, a lot. And I know what this place does to that
passion…” Out of the corner of his eye socket, Fell could see how troubled Red
looked now, picking at his gold tooth. It was something Fell would normally
scold him for, but even such a simple act seemed undoable at this point, a cold
ache in his chest. His knuckles tightened into a fist, and he closed his eyes
slowly to try and alleviate some of the tension in his bones.

“It twists it,” Red went on,
voice taking on a grave tone. “It turns it into somethin’ dark. It channels it
all towards one thing… survival.” Red was silent again, taking a gulp of
mustard.

Fell sighed, shaking his head. “I
know where you’re going with this, brother. And I’ve heard it before—hell, I’m
sure you’ve heard it before too. You
think we are the way we are because we have
to be. To survive. I get it. You think I’m—”

Red gave a dry laugh, shaking his
head, and Fell finally glanced up. Red was grinning, but it was nowhere near
genuine, the soberness of the expression betrayed by the way the corners of his
mouth twisted downward. “C’mon, Boss, it’s me. I’ve seen ya at yer worst. I
know not everythin’ ye’ve done has been fer the right reasons—same goes fer me,
but… but that’s not my point.” Red’s grin faded, turning into something pained.
“This world… it takes things like love and compassion—and it crushes ‘em.
Forces ya to hide ‘em under layers and layers of anger and hostility.”

Fell grit his teeth against the
almost overwhelming impulse to snap. “Thank you, Red. For pointing out the
obvious. I’m an asshole. I get it.”

“Boss—yer not listenin’ to me.
I’m tellin’ ya that yer the opposite. Yer
kind, and yer good—ya just keep it hidden. ‘Cause this shithole makes it seem
like a bad thing.”

Fell swallowed, squeezing his
eyes shut. Swap’s voice rang through his head, as clear as if he were standing
right there. ‘You’re a good person,
Fell.’ He could feel tears threatening to fall, and he bit them back,
scowling. “Damn it, Red. Why are you even telling me this? What does it
matter?”

“Because, Boss,” Red was sounding
less and less collected, his voice shaking slightly, “because I need ya to know
that bein’ a good person ain’t a bad thing. Bein’ kind and carin’ about shit doesn’t make ya weak. Love—the real kind, not the
bullshit number that ya seem to think defines ya—it ain’t a weakness, Boss.
It’s a strength. Don’t keep it buried. You can let yourself be happy—even if
it’s just for a day, an hour—a damn minute,
Boss. Please.”

Fell stared directly ahead,
unsure if he’d be able to hold it together if he looked at his brother. His
fists were clutched around the covers of his bed, and he could feel himself quivering.
A heaviness seemed to weigh on his soul—a sick, churning feeling that only
seemed to grow worse the longer he remained silent. The thoughts he’d been
trying so hard to repress this past week all seemed to be resurfacing,
threatening to breach the surface and shatter every ounce of his composure.

He almost flinched when Red spoke
again, his voice low and exhausted. “I get that it’s hard fer ya, Boss. I know
what it’s like. I understand that it’s hard to deal with—”

“No, you don’t.” Fell’s voice had
dropped to a growl, and he almost couldn’t believe the words had come out of
his own mouth. He finally looked up, pushing down the pain in his chest, and
pinning his brother with a firm stare. “You don’t
know what it’s like, Red. None of you do. None of you have LOVE—none of you
will ever understand.” Fell could
feel the LV inside his soul now, twisting it like a searing cold fire.

Red shook his head, and Fell
could see the defeated look in his eyes. It sent a twinge of guilt through him,
quashing some of the frigid anger his LV had induced. “Yer right, Boss. I—I’m
sorry…” The guilty feeling grew, and Fell turned away again, hiding the angry
tears pooling in his eye sockets.

“No—no, don’t be,” he
half-choked, his words seeming stuck in his throat. “I’m sorry, Red, I—”

“Hey—hey, it’s alright.” Red
carefully placed a hand on Fell’s shoulder, moving slowly in a way Fell was
certain was deliberate. “How ‘bout we head downstairs, grab somethin’ to eat?
That sound good?” Fell could only nod, not trusting himself to speak. Red
offered him a half-smile as he strode towards the door, and Fell slowly climbed
off the bed, following his brother to the stairs.

His soul was still pulsing with
undirected magic, his entire body seeming to buzz nervously with it. He could
feel the magic involuntarily flowing outward from his soul, channelling into
his fingertips, as if anticipating a fight. Fell clenched his fists, trying to
quash it with every ounce of control he had. Closing his eyes, he took three
deep breaths, counting backwards from ten before he opened them again. He only realised
he’d come to a stop at the top of the stairs, when Red’s voice broke through
his reverie. “You okay, Boss?” Red was watching him from the foot of the steps,
chewing on the tip of his bottle of mustard. His eyes darted away from Fell for
a moment, lingering on something in the living room, and that guilty prickle
reignited in Fell’s chest.

He nodded quickly, following Red
down the stairs. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice tight. Red offered him a weak
smile, and Fell forced himself to look away. He hated seeing Red worried,
especially when he was the source of that worry. Fell glanced around the living
room when he reached the bottom of the stairs, and immediately froze.

Swap was sitting on sofa. The
moment Fell entered the room, he looked up, immediately rising from his seat.
“Fell—”

“What. Is he doing here?” Fell hissed through his teeth. Red grinned
sheepishly, picking at his gold tooth as he glanced between Swap and Fell.

“Sorry Boss,” he mumbled. “You
Papyrus assholes are stubborn. Couldn’t get ‘im to leave.”

Fell barely glanced at Red, his
gaze fixed on Swap. Inside, his soul was fluttering—whether it was with
excitement or anxiety, Fell couldn’t quite discern. Swap was shifting uncomfortably,
his hands shoved in his pockets, and his gaze somehow unwavering as he watched
Fell uneasily. “What are you doing here?” Fell asked, his tone harsh. “I don’t
want you here.”

Fell’s words made Swap visibly
flinch, but he shook his head. “Fell, I just wanted to see you—to make sure
you’re—”

“I don’t want you here,” Fell
reiterated, his voice lowered to a growl. Swap grimaced, his gaze never leaving
Fell’s face. Fell scowled and turned away to stare at the carpet, the
blistering flames of his LV seeming to reignite.

For a few charged moments,
silence rang between them, Fell doggedly avoiding Swap’s gaze. He could feel
those golden eye-lights on him. But unlike Red’s, which had been full of hard
scrutiny, Swap’s were soft, tender—almost warm. They weren’t piercing, or
calculating. They were safe. They made Fell feel…

Fell blinked, realising he was
staring directly at Swap, who looked somber as he regarded him. Muttering a
silent curse, he returned to glaring at the carpet, this time trying to wipe
Swap from his mind completely. He heard Red give an awkward cough. “Well… I’m
gonna head to Grillby’s. You two, uh, have fun.” Red glanced at Fell, a small
frown on his features. “Try not to kill ‘im, Boss,” he whispered, leaning in.
Fell grumbled a half-hearted response, eyes still lowered in contempt for the
other two skeletons in the room.

Red glanced between them one last
time, before sighing and taking a long gulp of mustard. Shooting Swap a
deliberate look, he headed out into the snow, door closing and locking behind
him. Fell could feel the sudden spike in tension the moment his brother left,
both he and Swap seeming hesitant to break the silence. He dared a quick glance
at the other skeleton, and found his eyes still firmly pinned on him. “What
exactly is it you want?” he asked, voice thick with frustration.

“I… Fell you’ve been dodging my
calls all week, I just—”

“You just what?” Fell asked, brow
bone raised derisively. “You were getting horny and lonely? You missed having
someone to fuck?” Fell scoffed, rolling his eye-lights with a sneer. “Please.
You’re an attractive guy, Swap. I’m sure you can find someone else’s dick to
suck.”

Fell almost felt guilty upon
seeing the hurt in Swap’s eyes as he frowned, shaking his head slowly. “No. No,
that’s not it at all, I just… I wanted to know if you were okay. I… know what
happened at the bar last week,” he admitted, quietly. “I know Red was drugged,
and—well it’s not hard to guess who was responsible.”

Swap paused, observing Fell
apprehensively, who gave a dreary sigh, folding his arms. “And? Do I look hurt
to you, idiot? I’m fine.”

“You know that’s not what I
meant, asshole,” Swap murmured, voice hushed to a whisper.

Fell swallowed, feeling
uncomfortable. Doing his best not to show it, he gave Swap an audacious smirk.
“You want to know if I killed that monster, don’t you?”

“Did you?” Swap asked, quietly.

Fell was silent, his smirk
fading. It pained him to see the way Swap’s face seemed to fall slightly, his
eye-lights dimming. “It doesn’t matter,” Fell grumbled, marching past Swap
toward the kitchen. He scowled to himself as Swap hurried after him, seeming
undeterred by Fell’s less than subtle attempts to shake him off. He made his
way to the kettle, and began boiling a mug of water.

“Fell…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,”
Fell groused, irritably. He added a couple of spoonfuls of instant coffee to
his mug, and began stirring it rigorously, determined to caffeinate himself
before continuing this conversation.

“Fell, I… I need to know.”

Fell spun suddenly, pinning Swap
with his glare. Swap startled slightly, taking a step back as Fell invaded his
personal space, pressing him against the kitchen table. He no longer cared about
the hostility he was exuding, or how afraid Swap looked, eyes going wide as
Fell glowered at him. “Why do you want to know?” he snapped. “Why are you
trying to pick this apart? You know that I’m a killer. I’ve killed before—”
Fell gave a dry, humourless laugh that made Swap cringe away “—hell, I’ll
probably kill again. Why do you care about one monster? And such a piece of
shit at that.”

Swap still seemed to be trying to
lean away from Fell, though somehow, his eyes never left Fell’s face, still
projecting that unreasonable amount of warmth. Fell was doing everything in his
power to ignore the faint sense of comfort that gaze seemed to pass through
him, trying to remaining stoical and cold. “It was a Tale monster, Fell,” Swap
said at last, his voice very small. “That… doesn’t sit right with me…”

This time, Fell really did laugh,
almost in disbelief. Reluctantly, he forced himself to meet Swap’s gaze, his
own stare almost malicious in comparison to that of the other skeleton. Swap looked
uneasy, his hands shaking slightly where they were clutched onto the table.
Fell shook his head, his own cold laughter still seeming to ring in his ears.
“It doesn’t sit right with you? Are
you kidding me? Who do you think I am, Swap?”

Swap was silent for a moment,
frowning at Fell with more concern than fear—not quite what Fell was going for.
“Look, Fell, I didn’t mean—”

“You think my life is some big
tragedy?” Fell interrupted, holding Swap with a cold glare. “That I’m just a
poor, unfortunate soul who’s been forced into a bad situation? That I only kill
people because I have to—to protect
my brother or myself? That the only reason my LOVE sits at thirteen is because I’m a helpless victim who’s been forced to
adhere to a system I hate? Is that what you think?”

Swap quickly shook his head,
trying to shift away, but Fell refused to let him go, determined to drive his
point home. He pinned Swap against the table, leaning close to growl, “Well
guess what? I’m not. I’m a killer. And I always will be.”

Swap was still for a moment, gaze
unwaveringly locked on Fell’s face, almost frustratingly so. But Fell could see
the beginnings of fear etching onto his features, a sliver of doubt beneath the
uncanny warmth in his eyes. Still, he shook his head, swallowing heavily. “B-but,
you’re not. You only do it because you—”

“Because I have to?” Fell asked,
deadpan. “Because I have no other choice? There’s always a choice, Swap.
Always. And yes, sometimes that choice is difficult, but you can be sure I always
find a million ways to justify it.”

“But that’s the point, Fell. You have to justify it to yourself.” Swap
almost sounded exasperated now, much to Fell’s discontent. The gentler skeleton
had a fierce look in his eyes, pulling himself up so that he and Fell were
level. “You don’t do it because you want to—you do it because you have to.”

“Oh, do I?” Fell scoffed, shaking
his head. “You really don’t understand at all, do you? Do you really think I
gained thirteen LOVE purely from self-defence? Do you really think I killed all those monsters because I had to?” Fell shook his head, allowing a
cold smile to creep onto his face. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I did
it because I wanted to?” Fell noticed
the way Swap tried to stop himself from flinching, but the ever so slight step
back gave him away. He allowed his smile to widen, folding his arms. “Look at
you—you’re terrified. And you should be. You should stay away from me.”

Swap closed his eyes for a
moment, taking a deep breath. Fell could see the fear in his face, the slight
uncertainty beneath the stubborn determination. It pained him to see Swap like
this—nervous and unsettled—it almost made Fell yearn for his usual laid-back
attitude. But he knew—at least, he kept telling himself—that this was a good thing. That if Swap was afraid, he
would stay away from Fell. And as much as it pained him, Fell knew Swap was
better off without him. Better off without someone with Fell’s affinity to
violence and hostility. Better off without someone who was such a burden.

Slowly however, Swap’s composure
seemed to return, and he opened his eyes, fixing Fell with a hard stare. “No,”
he said, voice level. “I know what you’re trying to do, brat.” Fell flinched slightly – more at the familiarity of the
nickname than the scathing of Swap’s tone. “You’re trying to push me away—it’s
not going to work. I know you’re just trying to scare me. And yeah, you’re a
scary fucking asshole, but… I know you won’t hurt me.”

Fell’s smirk faded into a frown,
and he held Swap’s gaze, refusing to be the first to budge. But Swap was
looking at him with something more than just obstinance, his intentions deeper
than simply defying Fell. It was that softness, that warmth that somehow seemed
to calm Fell’s soul, making him feel both vulnerable and safe at the same time.
He seemed to care.

Gritting his teeth until it hurt,
Fell turned away, returning to his coffee. “I can’t force you to listen to me.
Do whatever you like. I don’t care.” Remaining silent, and ignoring Swap, he
stirred the contents of his mug, before taking a long sip without waiting for
it to cool down. He gave no indication of how it scorched his throat, or how
bitter it tasted, barely registering anything but the feeling of Swap’s eyes on
him. He kept his back turned, hoping that if he waited long enough, the other
skeleton would just leave. He jumped slightly at the feeling of a hand on his
shoulder, turning to see Swap standing far too close for his liking. Now it was
his turn to back away. “Why are you still here, asshole?” he asked, hearing how
tired he sounded.

“Fell…” Swap slowly reached for
Fell’s hand, which he yanked away, narrowing his eye sockets. Swap paused for a
moment, before continuing. “Please, tell me what happened after you left the
other night. I can’t—I can’t stop thinking about it, wondering if—”

“I don’t care what you think,”
Fell bit out, taking a long sip of his coffee. “If you have a problem with who
I am, then keep it to yourself.”

Swap shook his head, looking frustrated.
“That’s my problem—it isn’t who you
are. As much as you like to pretend it is, you’re not that person. You aren’t
your LV. You’re more than that, Fell.”

Fell grimaced, muttering
something inaudible as he shook his head. “Then why does it matter whether or
not I killed that monster? If I’m so above my actions—what does the murder of one
piece of shit matter?”

Swap observed him for a moment,
expression taut with worry. Fell never thought he’d miss the lazy smirk on
Swap’s face, but right now, he’d give anything to wipe that doubt from Swap’s
features—that hesitant, shaky cautiousness that had no place on the face of
someone who was normally so at ease. “Fell, do you remember what happened…
before you left?” Swap asked, quietly.

Fell sighed, downing the last of
his coffee and placing the mug in the sink beside him. “We fucked.”

Fell ignored the way his soul
warmed slightly when the corners of Swap’s mouth turned up. “You know it was
more than that, asshole.”

“Was it? I don’t recall.” Even
Fell could hear how unconvincing he sounded. In truth, his… intimacy with Swap
had been on his mind just as much as the incident with the Astigmatism had.
Under different circumstances, Fell might have been elated by the fact that he
and Swap had finally broken one of their cardinal rules—finally done away with
the ridiculous pretence that their arrangement didn’t mean anything. But given
the situation, he found himself instead trying very hard not to lose his mind
over the broken rule. The rules had been one thing he’d still had to cling
onto—a lifeline of sorts, something to establish some order into the chaos
battling in his mind.

He flinched as Swap’s fingers
brushed against his own, and as he looked up, he could feel his walls crumbling
around him. “Fell…” Swap was standing so close, Fell could smell the scent of
him—the scent that brought him back to that night, Swap wrapped so tightly in
his arms, when everything had been—

No, no, no—he couldn’t let himself think about that. He couldn’t… “Fell,
if… if that night meant anything—please, tell
me what happened.”

Fell was quivering, his hand
shaking where it was clasped in Swap’s. He tried to look away, but Swap cupped
his face gently with the palm of his hand, turning him so that their eyes met.
Fell could feel the prickling tears returning, the lump reforming in his
throat, his stability quickly dwindling. “Rule number fourteen,” he managed to
choke. “No personal questions.”

Swap smiled, a quiet laugh
escaping him as he shook his head, refusing to let Fell look away. And there
was so much damn warmth in his eyes.
So much empathy and compassion. Fell almost felt sick, his soul churning in
confusion at the relentless waves of emotion crashing over him. “Rule number
fifteen—since we’re just throwing them around now—” Swap shook his head with a
small smile “—no more keeping things to yourself. Fell…” Swap leaned forward,
pressing their foreheads together, and whispering, “let me help you. I can…”

Fell pushed him away abruptly,
Swap staggering slightly. “Don’t,” Fell
hissed, the word fuelled with venom. “I don’t want your fucking help. I don’t need it.”

Swap watched him for a moment,
something sad seeping into his expression. But it was the small smirk that
crept onto his face that seemed to break something within Fell. “I thought I
told you not to push me away, brat.
Heh.”

Fell was still for a moment, his
soul lurching at the comfort the pun seemed to bring. It spread a wrenching
warmth through him, and he clutched the kitchen counter, failing to steady his
breath as the tears began to fall. “I—I didn’t do it, okay!” he cried, voice
cracking.

Swap blinked for a moment,
frowning. “Didn’t do what?”

Fell shook his head, failing to
fight the tears trailing slowly from his eye sockets. “I didn’t—I didn’t kill
that monster. I… I couldn’t do it.” Fell choked slightly as he gasped, burying
his face in one of his shaking hands, trying to hide his tears. “I couldn’t…
I—”

Fell could picture that night now—the
way the seconds had seemed to elapse in slow motion, his entire mind and soul
consumed by confusing waves of instability and doubt—brought on by both his LOVE,
and his feelings for Swap. The excruciating battle between two overwhelming impulses;
the way his magic had shattered before him, unable to deliver that final blow.
The utter shame that had followed…

“Fell…” Swap’s hand was on his
arm, hesitant, but comforting. “Why…?”

“Because,” Fell gasped, still
clutching onto the counter, as if it might steady his emotions. “Because I—I
couldn’t go on—knowing what you’d think of me—how you’d see me if I did it… I couldn’t…” He looked up at Swap, releasing
another heavy sob at the pure empathy in Swap’s expression. “All—all I could
think about was… the look on your face if I’d… You—you would’ve hated me! You
would’ve—”

Fell broke off with a gasp as
Swap wrapped his arms around him, holding him steady as he tried to stifle his
sobs. “It’s okay, Fell,” Swap soothed, running a gentle hand down his spine.
Fell could hear the relief in Swap’s tone, and his breath hitched, the tears
starting to flow steadily. “I could never hate you, you idiot. Never.”

“It’s—it’s not,” Fell breathed.
“It’s not okay. I may as well have—the fact that you even thought there was a possibility that I might have done it—”

“But you didn’t,” Swap insisted, drawing away to hold Fell’s gaze. “You
didn’t do it, Fell. I knew you didn’t do it. I—I knew…” Swap released a shaky
breath of relief, seeming unable to stop the smile stretching across his face.

But Fell was still shaking his
head, his breaths unsteady. “Then—then why were you so persistent? Why did you
keep asking—if you knew, then why—”

“Because I needed you to say it,
Fell—because you needed to say it.
You needed to admit that you’re… that you’re more than just some dumb fucking
number.”

“I—I’m not, Swap—it’s not just
a—a number,” Fell sobbed, clutching his skull in his hands as he tried
fruitlessly to stop the tears. “I’m not—I’m still a killer. I could’ve done it.
I wanted to do it. I—”

“Then why didn’t you?” Swap
asked, regarding Fell with sincerity.

Fell was stunned. He felt
frozen—in mind and in body. He was shaking uncontrollably; unbalanced,
confused, overwhelmed. This was all too much. His mind couldn’t process what
was happening—how Swap had somehow managed to tear down his walls, leaving him
feeling weak and exposed—and somehow comfortable and protected at the same
time. Even as Swap gently pried his hands away from his face, holding them
steady, Fell shook his head, soul withering in his chest. “I—can’t,” he choked.
“Don’t Swap—please, don’t make me say it, I can’t—I can’t say it.”

Swap smiled, the expression faint
but earnest, and nodded calmly. “It’s alright, it’s okay—you don’t have to. I…
I’ll say it.” Fell bit back against the sobs wracking his chest, letting Swap
cup the back of his neck, tilting his head upward. Swap’s eyes were gentle, the
softness of his gaze allowing a small prickle of calm settle in Fell’s soul.
“Do you remember how our arrangement started?” Swap asked. “It was right here,
in this kitchen.” He laughed, quietly, shaking his head. “Hey Fell—two horny
idiots walk into a kitchen—”

“Swap, I—if you start now, I
swear, I’ll—”

Swap chuckled, shaking his head.
“Sorry. Force of habit.” He glanced around for a moment, something akin to fondness
in his eyes. “We kissed here—right here. For the first time. Do you remember?”
Fell could only nod, still struggling to hold back his tears, although now it
wasn’t so much out of pain as it was confusion—an overwhelming amount of warm
satisfaction mingling with the small part of him that was still too afraid to lay
himself bare. “Hm.” Swap looked at Fell, and it suddenly occurred to him how
close they were standing. He could feel Swap’s breaths on his face, the sweet
smell of him in the atmosphere. But Swap glanced away, looking thoughtful. “I
have a new rule,” he said, quietly.

Fell sighed, rolling his eyes.
“Swap. Enough with the d-damn rules.” His voice still shook slightly with his
lingering sobs, but there was an element of humour in it, and he struggled to
keep the small smile off his face.

Swap grinned, still appearing
contemplative as he looked up at Fell with a shake of his head. “It’s actually
an old rule—the first one I came up with.”

Fell frowned. “The first rule
was—”

“I didn’t tell you this one,”
Swap said. “It was… kind of just something I kept for myself—to stop me from
taking things too far.” He gave a soft laugh, shaking his head. “I was such an
idiot. You know, I… I sort of proposed the whole stupid arrangement thing
because I thought it might help me get you out of my system.” Swap glanced at
Fell, shrugging. “Didn’t work.”

Fell swallowed, heat flowing
through his bones and pooling in his mouth. Swap’s proximity was stirring his
magic—and in a far more pleasant way than he’d been experiencing this past
week. He could still feel the tears drying on his cheekbones, and he reached up
to wipe them away. Swap inched ever so slightly closer, one of his hands
looping around Fell’s back, the other drawing Fell’s hand away from his cheek.
For a brief moment, Fell tensed, his mind reeling. But as Swap began to speak
again, his soft voice seemed to soothe the rigidity of Fell’s bones, relaxing
him.

“I… came up with this rule. It
was…” Swap shook his head, chuckling to himself as if there was some inside
joke Fell was missing. “You know, it’s kind of pointless making a rule you’ve
already broken.” Swap’s gaze darted to Fell’s mouth, hovering there for a
moment. Fell caught a brief glimpse of his tongue, flickering at the corner of
his teeth. “But I suppose I may as well tell you, since… since I’m so fucking
tired of keeping it to myself.”

Fell’s soul thrummed in his
chest, his own tongue already having formed in his mouth. He could feel the
heat of Swap’s magic, radiating from his body, which was pressed up against his
own. Swap’s hand was still around his waist, and he could feel his fingers
deftly tracing over his iliac crest, sending shivers down his spine. “Swap…” he
breathed.

Swap cupped his jaw, meeting his
gaze with a fierceness that suddenly seemed so out of place in contrast to his
soft touches on Fell’s bones. His eye-lights were burning with heated golden
magic, and Fell could feel his ragged breaths against his face. “Rule number
sixteen, Fell,” Swap whispered, his tone almost desperate, “don’t fall in
love.”

Fell had no composure left, no
control—and no desire to restrain himself any longer. He pressed forward,
crushing their mouths together in an earnest kiss. He immediately felt Swap’s
magic meeting his own, and allowed himself to revel in its sweetness, letting Swap
explore every inch of him; hands trailing down his spine, stroking gently over
his jaw, tongue intertwining with Fell’s own magic. It felt like a weight had
been lifted from his soul, which was burning brightly in his chest.

He grasped onto Swap’s hoodie,
pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. He couldn’t get enough—he couldn’t hold
back any longer. It was as if every emotion he’d been trying to supress had
suddenly been released, channelling into the kiss. He wrapped his arms around
the back of Swap’s neck, trying to urge him forward, pull him closer—he needed more. It was euphoria. It was utter
bliss, and Fell didn’t want it to end.

But as it was with all good
things, the kiss did end. Swap broke away, gasping. His eye-lights were wild
with ecstatic magic, the gold burning deeply as he stared at Fell, panting
slightly. Fell’s hands were still clutched desperately around the back of
Swap’s neck, and every shred of magic in his body was screaming at him that
this was right. This was perfect.

Eventually, Swap seemed to gather
enough composure to give a small, shaky laugh. He tried to draw away, but Fell
held him firmly, wanting nothing more than for this moment to last forever.
“So, uh…” Swap began, hand twisting almost unconsciously in Fell’s shirt, “you
on board with the new rule?”

A smile spread across Fell’s
face, and he laughed, shaking his head. “Swap—what’s the point of a rule that
we’ve both already broken?”

Swap’s smile grew slightly, the
corner of his mouth tugging up. “Both…?” he asked hesitantly, eyes searching
Fell’s face.

Fell nodded, pressing their teeth
together again, the kiss soft and tender, spreading a deep satisfaction through
his soul. “Both,” he whispered as they broke away, resting his head on Swap’s
shoulder. “I love you.”