Korik kept his back turned to Varen as he busied himself at the kitchen counter, taking longer with the pot of tea than he really needed to. He could feel tension emanating from the elf, which only made him feel more on edge—and it didn’t help that his kitchen was so small that Varen was only a few feet away from him.
But when he couldn’t delay any more, Korik set the tea kettle and two cups on the table, then sat down heavily across from Varen. He poured a cup, and, after a beat of hesitation, pushed it toward Varen.
“Thank you,” Varen said lightly, taking the offered cup. He held it, but didn’t bring it to his lips. “And... Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
Korik poured himself a cup as well, and shrugged. “It must be important.”
Varen bit his lip, then nodded. “It is. I wanted to see you very much.”
“Why?” Korik asked. The sooner this was done, the sooner he could get Varen out of his house—although part of him was curious, even eager, to know why Varen was here. He wouldn’t let himself hope it was anything good, but maybe...
Varen was silent for a long time, looking down in his cup of tea for so long that Korik thought maybe he had entirely reconsidered whatever he meant to say in the first place. But then, finally, Varen glanced back up at him—he looked scared, an expression Korik had rarely seen on him before. When he spoke, though, his voice didn’t waver.
“I owe you an apology,” Varen said. “Several apologies, in fact. But first I wanted to start by... By apologizing for misleading you about the nature of our... physical relationship.”
It felt like Korik had been struck by electricity. Of all the things he thought Varen might say, this was low on the list.
“I know I was the one who framed things as casual. Physical only. To stay warm in the cold,” Varen continued. “But I... I wanted more than that. Much more. And I’m sorry I wasn’t up front with you about how I... How I felt.”
Much more. Somehow that felt like even more of a shock than everything leading up to it. Varen had wanted more—had wanted things to be more than just physical—which meant Korik had beenright. He hadn’t been imagining the looks and touches and soft words. It had all been real.
Yet that made Varen’s behavior leading up to Solitude sting all the more.
As if reading his mind, Varen finally looked away from Korik, bowing his head with his brows furrowed.
“I felt a true emotional connection with you,” Varen said, this time barely above a whisper. “And I was terrified. I had never felt that way before. It’s no excuse, but I was afraid to be... vulnerable like that with you.”
“I...” Korik started, only to trail off. His mind was racing, trying to make sense of it all, trying to organize his thoughts into something coherent. “You—You hurt me.”
Varen winced, a look of shame crossing his face. “I know. I know it’s my first instinct to be cruel when I’m afraid. I don’t mean to be, but... I’m sorry. I’m sorry I pushed you away.”
“I had never been so vulnerable with anyone, ever,” Korik continued, his voice rasping. He could barely focus on what Varen was saying to him now, the words leaving him all in a rush. They had danced around their feelings with each other for so long—now it felt as though he were finally releasing a breath that he’d been holding for weeks. “I don’t have family. Or friends. But you—I let you in. And you slapped me in the face with the trust I gave you.”
Varen remained with his head bowed, looking miserably down at his tea. “I did. I wish I hadn’t. But I know I did. And I don’t want to—to be like this anymore. I hate hurting the people I care about. I hated pushing you away.”
Korik wiped at his eyes, realizing they had filled with tears. Before he could speak again, Varen was placing his tea back on the table and leaving his chair. For a moment, Korik was panicked that he would leave again. Instead, the elf got on his knees in front of Korik and placed both hands on the orc’s knees, looking up at him in a gesture of supplication.
His hazel eyes were glassy, full of equal parts grief and determination.
“I’m sorry, Korik. I’m sorry for how I treated you, truly, and I beg your forgiveness,” he said. “You are... You are the most fascinating, incredible person I’ve ever met—elf or orc, or otherwise. I’ve never felt this way for anyone in all my years. If there is anything I can do to make this up to you, I will.”
Korik’s heart was hammering in his chest. Varen had apologized in the moment, back in Solitude, but—not like this. This was different. This time, it felt real, like Varen had sat with his remorse and actively chose this, rather than just trying to backtrack the way he had been before. Like when the elven king had offered him anything he asked as compensation, Korik couldn’t think of anything, exactly, that Varen could do to make it up to him; but the conviction in his voice left Korik with no doubt that if he named any task or service now, Varen would do it without question.
Was it enough? There was still that sense of betrayal that Korik felt when he thought back to that moment—when Varen had so easily dismissed everything that had happened between them. But was that enough to keep Varen at arm’s length forever? He had never felt this way about someone, either; if Varen felt the same for him, was he truly prepared to walk away from whatever that meant? From whatever they could become?
“I...” Korik started, feeling faint. Was this really happening?
He placed one hand over Varen’s—the elf clutched his hand in return. His hands were cold, but the way he squeezed back was somehow hopeful. He felt solid and real. When Varen’s eyes met his, he didn’t flinch away this time. The ache of his presence had already started to dull.
With time, Korik thought, all wounds would heal over. Even if it left a scar, the wound still healed.
“I accept your apology,” Korik finished. “And... I also wanted more from our... situation. So for that, at least, we share some blame.”
For a moment, Varen didn’t respond. But then a smile broke across his features—eyes still watery, cheeks still flushed—and he squeezed Korik’s hand even tighter. He made no move to stand, but instead leaned forward, pressing his forehead to their clasped hands.
“Thank you,” the elf said, his voice muffled. “Your forgiveness means more to me than I can say. Thank you, Korik.”
Korik didn’t know what to say. So instead, with his other hand, he reached over and lightly patted Varen’s head, running his fingers along the elf’s smooth, soft hair.
