You must already know I'm a fan of the modern age! It's better in every way. Plenty of the same flaws, but plenty are also fixed, or otherwise made better. I definitely prefer it!
I do know. [With one final effort to scramble up onto a branch, Dorian makes it up beside Judas. He settles down beside Judas.] And yet. [He slips his fingers between the folds of Judas's robes. Gently, he tugs on the fabric.]
What, my clothes? We always wear these in the house and in Heaven. And they're better for doing things outside. I like suits, though. And obviously I wouldn't walk around like this in the city.
[He tugs the far end around himself, tangling his fingers in the warmth of the fabric. He leans his head against Judas's shoulder, which requires some slumping, and closes his eyes.]
I disagree with Matthew 26:24. Happy birthday, traitor.
[He startles. Not because of the head on his shoulder, that is actually pretty nice.] ...I don't know about that. If not that, I should have at least died earlier. But...thanks. [He leans his head back against Dorian's.]
I do. [Dorian thinks of sunrises, and he sighs and grips Judas's hand a little tighter.] Don't worry. Can't get any worse as long as we don't believe it has gotten better.
For me too. [he thinks about jumping—not to die, just to make sure they get the meat before some wild animal does. But he is comfortable here, with his hand in Judas's, wrapped in ancient cloth and resting on long-dead bones. He doesn't feel like moving.]
[It's good he doesn't. Right now, Judas would be terribly disappointed. Although he wouldn't, or couldn't, voice it.] ...Really? I'm glad. I...really want to be able to help.
[He tenses, biting his lip. 'It would be better if you had never been born', words from the mouth of the Son of God. And yet, now Judas is being thanked for it. He doesn't know how to take that. For a long while he's silent, staring down at their hands as his head shifts downwards.]
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[He smiles a little, pulling it from his belt to drape half over Dorian's shoulder.]
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[He tugs the far end around himself, tangling his fingers in the warmth of the fabric. He leans his head against Judas's shoulder, which requires some slumping, and closes his eyes.]
I disagree with Matthew 26:24. Happy birthday, traitor.
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[Another small smile finds its way in and with it, Judas kisses Dorian's forehead. And then he goes back to resting his head on top of Dorian's own.]
Thanks. For not trying to force me.
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[It's said lightly, but with the thought of Dorian's own suicidal tendencies in mind. Seeing that, he suddenly knows how others feel about him.]
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[He squeezes Dorian's hand.]
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...Thank you.