SingtoKrist fanfic

And the Other Stars

cr. archiveofourown

I sat against the headboard of Singto's bed and forced my attention to the book I was holding. I could hear him talking in the kitchen, his voice just low enough I would have to strain my ears to make out the words. I studiously didn't. I kept my eyes trained on the page open in front of me, even though I wasn't quite registering what was written on it. His hubby knew about us. I didn't know how to feel about that. I should have been relieved, it was one person less to hide from, but I couldn't quite muster up the emotion. For the very first time in my life, I wished I actually knew him. I had avoided learning about him for so long, sure it would hurt less if he remained little more than a snippet of my imagination. All I had of his were fragments from conversations with my parents and the odd mention of him in Singto's letters. What a lovely boy, such a dedicated father. He's been promoted head doctor, we are all thrilled. New says I should take a few days off work because I look too stressed out. 

What was happening at the other end of the line? Was he screaming at Singto? Was he crying? Was he calm, or at least pretending to be calm? Was he saying it was wonderful news, to know that he had lost him for good, just as I did twenty years ago?

I realised, with a tad of surprise, that I was actually feeling guilty. It was unexpected insofar as I always thought that, when it came to Singto, I could be completely selfish and still feel like I deserved to have him. I believed we were meant for each other, I still do, and that granted me a degree of entitlement I felt for nothing else. When it came to Singto, I took whatever I could, whatever was given to me, whatever I could grab. Whatever I had to pry from someone else's hands, apparently.

That might be too self-centred. I did nothing to get Singto back, I did nothing to make him leave him. He lost him before I found him again. Before he found me again. And yet I was feeling guilty. No matter how much I could rationalise my role in all this, no matter how easily I could absolve myself, I knew what he was going through. I knew the pain of losing someone you thought you loved, the sadness at seeing empty spaces where their things used to be, where they used to be. I had first experienced that with Singto, of course, but he'd not been the only one to leave me. It hurt differently every time, but it hurt nonetheless. So I felt guilty, because my happiness was bound to cause his pain. My happiness only existed because of his pain. I hoped, prayed even, that he had as much a part in the divorce as Singto. That it didn't all fall on his shoulders, that they both grew apart and decided that it was time to go their separate ways. Would that exempt me from feeling guilty? Would that redeem me? Would that redeem Singto? 

He stepped into the room then, looking weary. He closed the door and stripped down to his underwear perfunctorily, coming to sit next to me on the bed. He was silent for a long time, lost in thought. I dreaded the worst. I hoped for the best. 

I let him be for as long as I could stand the silence, my hands turning pages my eyes were not really seeing.

"Are you alright?" I asked when it became apparent that he was not going to talk any time soon.

My voice seemed to shake him out of his thoughts. He let out a sigh and relaxed a bit against the headboard, turning to look at me. He reached for my book and closed it, setting it aside on the bed table.

"Yeah. I'm just processing everything that's happened in the past three days."

"They certainly were eventful." 

Singto pulled me closer and I rested my head on his shoulder.

"You could say that," he muttered, placing a kiss on the top of my head. 

"Krist," I could feel the hesitation in his voice. "New would like to meet you."

I sat up at that, looking at him with wide eyes. "What?" Why would he want that? How could he ever think that would be a good idea? How could I look his in the eyes and hold his gaze?

"He-- asked me to introduce you. He's curious, He's always been curious about you. To be fair, he heard a lot about you at the beginning."

"But, Singto. He's -- I mean, you just got divorced. How can he be OK with meeting me?"

Singto pulled me closer again and I went willingly. His body against mine was a strong line of heat, his hand on my waist a familiar touch that held me together. I felt him sigh with his whole body, a sigh of exhaustion, and perhaps a sigh of surrender.

"The divorce was his idea." I almost sat up again at that but Singto held me flush against his side. His fingertips were digging into my skin and I understood he was holding on to me for support. I gave his hand a squeeze and I pushed at him a bit, shuffling until I was lying down. He followed me and I wrapped my body around him, placing my ear on his heart. 

"Why?" I asked, my voice low, speaking into his skin. 

"It's-- there isn't one single reason, I think, it's been a lot of small things that added up until everything came tumbling down. But I guess you could sum it up by saying that we were both tired to tolerate each other. New was just the one brave enough to admit it. He used to be my best friend, you know. For real. Matching bracelets and all that. And when I came back to the States feeling like I had got my chance at real love and had tossed it out of the window, he was there to pick up the pieces. And I thought I might as well marry my best friend if I couldn't marry my true love." His true love. He said it so casually, factual truth, nothing more than stating the obvious. But it settled in me like a warm spot, glowing and soothing. Will wonders ever cease? I didn't think so.

"We made it work for a long time, you know. New wanted to have children, and I wanted too, and when Fiat was born I thought I was born again myself. And I thought that was it, that was my life and I loved it, and I couldn't wait to settle into it. Then came Sings, and I was still so sure, so sure. And New was just phenomenal. He's always had a sort of intensity to him, like he knew more than you, more than anyone else in the room, and was therefore perfectly in control of the situation. It's what makes him a great nurse. He very rarely gets angry, he says most things aren't worth the effort. Deal with the present issue, then move on to the next one. I always admired him for that, until it started nagging me. I wanted him to react to things, to me. And he would, of course, but not the way I wanted. Not with passion, not with defiance. We got to a point where I wasn't much more than yet another nuisance to be dealt with. And he dealt with me with razor-sharp precision. I guess after so many years together, we started losing focus on the things we liked about each other until all we could see what irked us. The past couple of years haven't been particularly pleasant for anyone involved. I would provoke him almost without thinking, he would dismiss me with indifference. And in the end, I guess he just realised it wasn't worth the hustle anymore. The kids were old enough to understand. And we were still young enough that it felt more like getting a second chance at life rather than stepping into a bitter existence of loneliness and regrets. You know, the fun thing is, I still love him. I still do, because he had the courage to set himself free, and myself with him. And because of that, he has made us possible."

It had been his idea, he had wanted the divorce first. Relief came in waves with that knowledge. What did that make me? Was I too selfish, being happy for that? For Singto not having to take all the blame for a failed marriage and a broken family? For the pain of the separation being alleviated by the awareness that better days would come for them both? Because the pain had been there, of course. You don't step away from a lifetime together without regrets, and the relief of sudden freedom doesn't quite erase them. 

"Am I a bad person for feeling relieved? Grateful, even, that it wasn't only your fault, that you didn't divorce him because of me?"

Singto shifted under me, turning to face me. 

"No, I think that only makes you human. But Krist, you have to believe me when I say that I didn't get divorced because of you. New and I needed to break up before we actually started hating each other, and he was wise enough to make me understand that. It was the right thing to do, and it would have been even if I hadn't got you back." He placed his hand on my cheek, lifting my face so that he could look me in the eyes. "But nothing has made me happier than actually having you back, you know that, right?"

"Even if you still love him?" I had to ask. I knew what he'd meant when he said that, but I still had to make sure, I still needed to hear it from him.

"Finding you once more is what allowed me to truly love him again. And you must know that I am talking about a very different kind of love. You must know that what we have I cannot have with anyone else."

I nodded. L'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle. Love that moves the sun and the other stars.

I stroked his cheek, mirroring his gesture, getting lost in his deep, blue eyes. I let my hand trace his lineaments, reverently. I followed its path with my lips, kissing his cheek, his forehead, his nose, his mouth. I hadn't meant to get carried away, not with Singto's son most probably not yet asleep in the room next door, but once my mouth met his, I couldn't quite bring myself to stop. Our kiss grew frantic, demanding. I pushed Singto on his back and climbed on top of him, our mouths crashing together once more, impatient to be reunited. His hands pulled at my hips until our bodies ground together just right and I moaned softly into his mouth, rolling my hips, unable to keep still, chasing that friction again and again. 

"Shhh," Singto whispered against my mouth, his hands sliding into my pants to cup my ass. I swallowed another moan as he kissed surged to kiss my neck, my chest, then back up again, mouthing at my chin, licking my earlobe. 

"I want you inside me so badly, Krist." He said it right into my ear. "But I wouldn't be able to keep quiet." Devil. He knew what that would do to me. The mere thought of it gave me shivers. 

I could feel Singto's smug grin against my skin as he wrapped his hand against my dick. I would get back at him, I vowed as I came undone under his hands, as he smothered the tiniest noises that escaped my mouth with sweltering kisses, as I reached for his dick and found a rhythm that matched his.

We were breathing into each other's mouths, panting with pleasure, kissing with tongues and teeth clashing. The room was eerily quiet, the silence broken only by our heavy breaths and the sheets rustling. It was heady, having to struggle to keep our voices in check, to keep enough control to not give away what we were doing. It magnified the sensations, it focused our actions, our touches. When I came, I had to bite down into Singto's shoulder to muffle my groan. I felt him stiffen as he followed, spilling all over my hand with the softest moan. I regretted not seeing his face, so lost in pleasure, struggling to keep it all in, keep it all silent. But there would be many more occasions, I thought as we collapsed on the bed, trying to catch our breaths, distractedly cleaning our hands on paper tissues before we threw them on the floor. 

I felt, for a moment, completely at peace with the universe. Things looked much less complicated on this side of an orgasm.

"I'll meet him, as long as you're with me," I said it before I could change my mind.

Singto looked at me, his eyes searching. "Are you sure?"

I nodded. I actually was. If he felt like he was ready to meet me, how could I refuse that? How could I refuse anything to the man whose courage gave me Singto back, gave me myself back?

I scooted closer to Singto and he wrapped me in his arms. "Thank you," he said.

I placed a kiss on his chest, the closest part I could reach without moving, and let myself slowly fall asleep.

I could worry about all this tomorrow.