A heart that's full up like a landfill
A job that slowly kills you
Bruises that won't heal...

Hardin rested his head in one palm wearily as he waited in the armchair in the corner, the stereo beside him quietly playing Radiohead, barely audible above the faint noise of the storm outside. He was beginning to wonder if this album had been a wise choice for the night. It fit his mood perfectly, but whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, he couldn't be sure. And this song in particular...

You look so tired and unhappy
Bring down the government
They don't, they don't speak for us...

There were some songs, he'd found, that summed up the feeling of his life completely. Very few, however, described the facts so specifically. It was almost laughable.

He'd had the CD looping almost since he'd returned from the castle the night before, and this was the seventh time through - he'd been counting. It was something to pass the time while he waited. He'd wanted to drink himself near to incoherence, to remove all inhibitions and give him the nerve to say what he needed to say, but he realized soon enough that he had to make sure Sydney knew it was no passing fancy, but his honest decision.

He was completely alone in the dark living room, and had been all night, giving him plenty of time to consider and reconsider. He hadn't bothered turning on a light, or even the television's flickering glow to illuminate anything - his thoughts were dark, and the darkness suited him well. But soon it would not be dark anymore, for it was approaching dawn.

He has to come back sometime.

The album was well underway for the eighth time before the sound of the doorknob rattling broke the constancy of the thunderstorm outside and the music inside. There was a slight thud against the door, then more rattling, then a pause. An instant later, Sydney was simply standing inside the door, lit momentarily by a flash of lightning shining through the sliding glass doors in the kitchen. Upon seeing Hardin waiting in the chair, he gave him an uneven smile that still managed to be perfectly alluring. "...Seems I forgot my keys somewhere."

Not only was he completely soaked, but also completely drunk. Hardin frowned, realizing that this was going to be even more difficult than he'd anticipated. Ordinarily, Sydney could simply read the truth of his thoughts before he even spoke them; now he would have to actually say them out loud. But where to even start...?

Oblivious to the tension, Sydney sauntered across the room to seat himself on Hardin's lap. "'N... you waited up for me again," he murmured, winding his arms around Hardin's neck. "You're such a dear..."

Hardin easily removed himself from Sydney's grasp and pushed him aside as he stood. The mage, now awkwardly sprawled alone in the chair, looked up at him with a sweet, tired smile. "I'm sorry John... you've been awake all night? I'll have to make it up to you, perhaps..."

One claw reached up to run lightly over the fabric of his shirt, and Hardin took a deep breath as he stood back, out of Sydney's reach. They'd not done anything of that sort since the previous weekend's trouble, and Hardin ached for it, but... No. "...No."

Sydney raised an eyebrow at him curiously. "Since when have you ever been able to tell me 'no', John?"

"Since ten seconds ago," Hardin replied firmly, hardening his heart for what he knew he had to do. "And I'll be telling you 'no' a lot more from now on. ...I know about you and Sylvia."

Sydney's brow furrowed as he tried to remember what Hardin was talking about, then suddenly his eyes widened in surprise. Lost for words, he looked up at Hardin in silent shock.

"That's right. How long has it been going on, Sydney? How long?"

Anger warred with shock in the colorless eyes, and finally won out. "Who told you?" Sydney demanded. "Did she tell you?"

Hardin shook his head. "No one told me - I saw the marks on her body. And that decided it, Sydney. ...This is over."

Stunned disbelief replaced the anger. "...You... you can't..."

"Oh, I can, Sydney," Hardin told him grimly. "I've been taking the brunt of your temper and dealing with the results of your indiscretions for years. I've been there whenever you needed me, and even when you did nothing but push me away, just because you might need me after all. I've lived my life for you... And despite what you may think, it wasn't because you manipulated me into remaining with you, or charmed me so that I couldn't help myself - it was because I chose to. Today, I choose not to."

"...John..."

"No more, Sydney!" Hardin barely managed to keep his voice below a shout, and fortunately the rumbling thunder softened the sound; most likely, no one in the bedrooms would overhear. "...I thought we had something, I thought I gave you something that no one else could give you. I... I tried to give you that something. But it seems obvious now, I was deluding myself." He laughed bitterly. "Do you know why I'm so angry right now, Sydney? Because I can't manage to be angry with you, even when you so obviously deserve it! Rather than 'the Dark covering my eyes', your light has blinded me. But you'll never accept what I offer you. You'll never return it."

Sydney's lips were parted slightly, his eyes wide as he stared up at his friend. Long moments passed before he spoke. "I love you."

Hardin's chest suddenly hurt, and very badly. "Perhaps if you said that sober it would mean something."

He began to turn away, but one metal hand gripped his wrist, and he looked down to find Sydney's eyes filled with pain. "...I need you."

"Only as a crutch." It hurt him horribly to say it, but he'd decided on this course of action. "You do whatever pleases you, Sydney, and then you come running to me to make it better, to fix everything... Tonight, you went and got yourself completely drunk, knowing you could come home and fuck me, and when the alcohol hits your stomach like it always does, I'd be there holding your hair and rubbing your back. But this time, Sydney, I'm going to be in our room. Our room - mine as well as yours, no matter how many times you drive me out of it. And you'll be somewhere else."

Sydney's eyes narrowed, giving him a dangerous look even slumped awkwardly in the chair as he was. "You can't do this to me."

"Yes, I can. And I've been up all night, so if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed." Shaking himself free of Sydney's grip, he did exactly as he said, not looking back as he locked the door behind him. This time, it was Sydney who would have to find somewhere else to sleep.

Just as he'd expected, an insistant knock came on the door before he'd even finished undressing for bed. "No," he replied sharply through the door.

"But John...!"

"No!"

The knocking became louder, but he ignored it as he began to climb into bed. Sydney would go away soon, and he could sleep.

As his head hit the pillow, suddenly he felt someone else settle down as well, and turned over to find Sydney lying on his side of the bed, looking straight into his eyes. "John, I won't let you-"

"You'll have to." He'd already forgotten about that teleportation of Sydney's. Without a second thought, he simply took hold of Sydney's arm and dragged him to the door, pushing him outside before he closed and relocked it. When he turned around, Sydney was already standing there again, reaching a hand up to draw him down into a kiss.

"Damn you, go away!" Unlike Sydney, he rarely used his magic since they'd left Valendia, but this time he thought there was enough precedent. Breaking free of the loose embrace, Hardin murmured the words of a spell under his breath. Recognizing them, Sydney's face became indignant, but in his current state he could do nothing as the ward fell in place and Hardin pushed him out of the bedroom again. "We will not talk again tonight," he told the furious mage firmly, holding the door open only a crack. "And don't wake up everyone else in the house by making a fuss, or I'll not be in a mood to listen to anything you have to say tomorrow, either."

Despite his words, Sydney remained at the door, pounding angrily, for a few minutes before the noise finally ceased. Over the sound of the rain, he faintly heard a slight thud, then a scraping sound, as Sydney slumped against the door and slid to the floor. He was not going to scrye, Hardin told himself. No, he would definitely not look. If he looked, he knew he would just want to comfort him, and he refused to do that again.

Out in the back yard, Kain was doing his morning exercises despite the storm, having risen early as always. He'd accidentally come upon the scene in the living room when he'd come back into the kitchen to wring out his sodden shirt and leave it, but neither Hardin or Sydney had seen him as he bore silent witness to their argument.

As he worked at the neverending task of keeping his body fit for battle, he couldn't help but be a bit preoccupied by what he'd seen. "Too little, too late, Sydney," he muttered to himself. "Now perhaps you'll come to understand why I still believe after so long, despite how foolish you've always told me it is..."

Slicking his wet blonde hair back out of his eyes, Kain looked up at the sky. It should have been sunrise by now, but no light could fight its way through the dark, ominous clouds overhead. "Somehow... I have this feeling that something far worse is coming."