Archive of Our Own ^beta

Kaelix Debonair wasn’t used to silence.
He filled every room he entered, with laughter, teasing, and the kind of voice that made even the dullest day brighter. But now, with his throat aching and his words reduced to whispers that never came, the apartment felt too still.

His phone buzzed: a message from Zeal.

Zeal: I’m outside. Don’t move.

Kaelix barely had time to blink before the door opened and Zeal stepped in, carrying a paper bag and a tired smile that made something in Kaelix’s chest loosen.

“Hey,” Zeal said softly, closing the door with his foot. “You didn’t answer your texts, so I figured I’d just show up.”

Kaelix rolled his eyes, picking up his phone to type.

> You didn’t have to.

Zeal leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “You say that like you don’t know me.”

Kaelix huffed out a breath, half a laugh, half an attempt not to smile. Zeal grinned, setting down the bag and pulling out containers of soup, sliced fruit, and a bottle of honey.

“I brought things you can actually eat,” he said. “And before you argue, I’m staying. Someone has to make sure you don’t forget to take care of yourself.”

Kaelix typed again, thumbs quick.

> I’m not helpless, you know.

Zeal chuckled. “You are when you’re quiet. It’s unnerving.”

Kaelix shot him a mock glare, but his eyes softened. He sank into a chair, watching Zeal move around the kitchen, sleeves pushed up, hair falling into his eyes, his movements easy and familiar. It wasn’t the first time Zeal had been here, but it felt different tonight. Slower. Quieter.

When Zeal set a bowl of soup in front of him, Kaelix mouthed a small thank you.
Zeal only smiled. “You don’t have to talk for me to hear you.”

Something about that made Kaelix’s pulse skip. He sipped carefully, warmth spreading through him with every spoonful. Zeal sat across from him, chin resting on his hand, eyes tracing the light that caught Kaelix’s hair.

After dinner, they moved to the couch. Kaelix curled up under a blanket, his phone on his lap, while Zeal flicked through random videos to fill the silence. At some point, Kaelix’s hand brushed Zeal’s, just barely. He didn’t pull away.

Zeal glanced at him, voice low. “You really should rest your voice. But… I kind of like it like this.”

Kaelix raised a brow. Like what? he typed.

Zeal smiled, a little shy this time. “Quiet. You’re softer when you don’t have to perform.”

Kaelix didn’t reply right away. His throat still ached, but not as much as the ache in his chest, the one that came from wanting to say something real. Slowly, he reached over and tapped Zeal’s wrist, making him look up. Then, on his phone screen, a message appeared:

> You make it easier to breathe. Even when I can’t speak.

Zeal exhaled, a small, unsteady laugh leaving his lips. He leaned closer, brushing a strand of hair from Kaelix’s face. “You don’t know what that does to me.”

Kaelix’s breath caught. Zeal’s hand lingered at his cheek, thumb tracing lightly along his jaw. The room was so quiet that Kaelix could hear his own heartbeat.

Neither of them said another word. Zeal leaned in, not quite a kiss, but close enough that Kaelix could feel the warmth of his breath, the steady calm of his presence.

Kaelix tilted his head, closing the distance just slightly, just enough that silence wasn’t empty anymore.

When they finally pulled apart, Zeal’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to talk,” he murmured. “I already know.”

Kaelix smiled, small, tired, and utterly at peace, before resting his head against Zeal’s shoulder.

Outside, the city murmured softly, but here, there was only quiet. Warm, living quiet, the kind that said everything words couldn’t.