What the eternality hides

The night sky. The infinite night sky. Countless stars shine so brightly and uniquely that it's simply impossible not to steal at least a brief glance upward. Not to wonder how long they've lived, how much they've already seen? How many people have they seen? So does Stiles. He can't help but look up, can't help but ask himself how much he resembles them. He looks at the dark canvas dotted with light and feels something close to hollowness—familiar already, but still unwelcome. It swells every time the forever-teen allows himself to revisit his unbelievably long past; it aches with a dull feeling, spreading through his chest and squeezing his heavily beating heart. He can't get used to it completely. Stiles swallows a lump, raises a hand to rub his left sternum. Way too roughly. A light breeze licks his cheeks, prompting him to lower his eyelids. "I'm here." The very familiar, low voice says; it always tells him the same phrase when the teen feels like that. Its owner can sense him, can hear his thoughts. And then, he's gently pulled into a light embrace. The rough bark of the tree behind him offers space for a solid body, the body he knows very well. Stiles presses into the lovely warmth, lets out a shuddering breath seemingly from his core, and grips the arm around his waist that holds him tightly and surely. They stay silent for a few heartbeats. Somewhere in the depths of the forest, a bird makes a loud noise. The blades of the grass and the crowns of tall trees rustle softly all around him and his non-changing companion, as if somehow communicating among themselves in this kind of murmur. For some reason, it calms him, making the raging storm inside settle down and lie down beneath his heart until the next time. He feels extremely grateful for the support every time like this. "I know," he replies, deciding to open his slightly watery eyes and lift his gaze to the one who has been around him for so long that Stiles couldn't even tell how long it has been if someone asked him. He meets the dark, deep eyes—hooded and attentive—watching him with a faint hint of concern. It touches his very soul, makes his heart stutter for a split second, causing him to blink rapidly. He wants to reassure his mate, to melt away all possible worries from those precious dark eyes. "I just..." Looking over the kindred face, all the features of which look just like his own and have never changed since he met him for the first time, Stiles nuzzles into the hard and solid chest and takes a deep breath—and decides to talk. "I'm forgetting my past more often," the teen confesses, and the arm around him tightens, pressing him even closer into the embrace. It encourages him to continue his stream. "I can't recall many events from my life, even the most significant. But I understand this; all of us forget something from our lives. But..." he unwillingly trails off, shutting his eyes tightly, unable to help but feel his lower lip start trembling. "I can't remember my friends. I already don't remember their names. And I—I can't remember my dad." The teen can't do anything about the way his voice cracks by the end, and he has to hold down his tearing sob. It's been way too long since they all passed away. He's seen them grow old, seen their families grow old, been at their funerals, put flowers onto their graves. The teen was with his dad when he was dying, talked to him, told him the most important words, and gave him the last forever hug before his heart stopped. He still remembers this: the feeling of the great loss; he has lost the dearest human in his life. But the thing is, he's starting to forget their faces, their smiles, their names... All of this is getting erased from his mind. It scares him—he's afraid of forgetting everything completely and irrevocably. Void—his forever mate now—went through all of the deaths with him. He was his pillar and support and still is; he's been trying to give all the love he possibly can and be around as often as the circumstances have allowed them since they gave each other the mate bites. And it's fair enough, because the demon is the one who has taken Stiles' plain human, short life and given him the opportunity to be together for infinity. Stiles knew what he signed up for, but it doesn't change the fact that he still can feel emotions and feelings, pain and grief. It's in his nature, after all. And no endless life could take that away. He can only learn how to live with it. Although, the teen thinks, it won't be a big deal: he will forget most of it anyway. The only thing he will never, ever forget is Void and everything that was and still is connected with him. He's convinced of that more and more, because Stiles remembers every minuscule detail from their shared past and even from Void's past. It's as if it's burned into his mind, like a scar that always reminds him of itself. It happens not just to him but also to the demon himself—he's forgetting his previous life as well, but he remembers everything around them, around Stiles. That's why when one of them can't place this or that event, the other always helps to recollect it. But Void says that it's okay, that there's nothing extraordinary about it, that it's normal for immortal beings. Still, it doesn't always reassure. "Sometimes I hate our eternal lives," the forever-teen whispers so quietly that no one else would hear him. But he knows the demon hears him clearly. And as his head is fanned by a warm breath, Stiles knows he's right. "What can I do to ease your pain?" Though the demon's voice sounds steady and calm, Stiles can feel his inner torment and helpless wish to do something to comfort his mate. It cuts deep because Stiles knows that he is the cause of this hateful uselessness—inability to drain the teen's pain as he would do with physical wounds. Because he can't just cope with this inevitable part of his life, thereby making his fox demon restless inside, for which the teen feels guilt. But Stiles neglects the fact that Void can feel his feelings, too. Before the teen can spiral further, the demon gently grips Stiles' chin and makes him look up to meet his dark, bottomless gaze. "Don't, little one. Don't feel this way because of how I feel about the situation." Stiles exhales as the thumb brushes his cheekbone, wiping a stray tear away he hasn't noticed has escaped. The teen still can't understand how Void has lived knowing that death only happens to someone else, that memories can disappear within a lifetime. Stiles can get used to the new world, the new time, the new centuries—it's interesting and fascinating. He's used to seeing how old things die and how new things are born. He's used to being in different places, to not getting close to other people because they won't stick around, and losing them will hurt as much as every loss before. He's used to having Void around, who's been with him all this time, so he doesn't really need anyone else. "Just be with me," Stiles answers. But what the teen will probably never get used to is losing memories of the people closest to him. He gave himself a promise he'd remember them all, always keep them in his heart—and now it gnaws at him, because he hasn't kept his own promise to himself. He forgets them. The demon shifts against him, resting his back against the wide trunk, slightly bending his legs up, and pulling Stiles onto his knees, face to face. He wraps his hands around the teen, placing his one palm onto his lower back and other between shoulder-blades and stroking him up and down through the layers. This kind of caress is meant to soothe him, and it does so without fail, giving him the warmth he needs; it's as if it tells him he's not alone, that he doesn't have to handle things by himself, that he has someone who can share his concerns. Maybe it's ridiculous, since they've been together so, so long for him to truly understand it, but this kind of small reminder always melts away any doubts or fears he might have. "You know I will always be with you," Void murmurs, never looking away from the teen, as though drinking in his sight. Then he adds, "My only sun," with a low and very thrilling note in his tone that Stiles can't help the blushing. It still evokes embarrassment. A pleasant one. No matter how much he's tried to get used to it, it's too much—but it's a nice feeling nonetheless. Stiles decides to hide his rosy cheeks by nuzzling with his nose at Void's cheek; the demon only chuckles softly. They fall into silence for a few long moments; neither of them feels any tension, just savoring the beautiful shared moment in the middle of the forest. Together. However, the second the teen leans back and settles more comfortably on the fox demon's lap, throwing his arms around Void's neck and intertwining his fingers with the short strands of hair, Void pulls him, pressing against him more firmly. When Stiles looks at him more closely, the demon's gaze is already on him, and it's so soft (or maybe it never stopped being soft) that Stiles wonders for the umpteenth time how he manages to keep both his dark, chilling, frightening side and his gentle, affectionate, fond side—which he shows only to Stiles. "As long as I remember your dad, your family, and some part of your life before me, I will tell you when you feel like you're forgetting something," the demon tells him with certainty, making a promise that Stiles knows for sure Void is going to keep. Because they both know it's not hard to give each other the word and keep it. But right now Void's words are so close and heartwarming that the forever-teen can't help himself; he quickly dives to leave a lingering kiss on Void's cheek, showing everything he has in his furiously beating heart. After all, Void understands him: they feel each other's emotions through their strong connection. "And I promise you," Stiles starts whispering and moves his head to trace the demon's cheek, briefly along the cheekbone until the tip of his nose meets the pointed tip of Void's—until they feel each other's warm breath on their lips, "as long as I remember something from your past, I will tell you when you feel like you're forgetting something." And it doesn't matter that he knows some things through their bond and from Void himself. The forever-teen wants to express his gratitude, to say that his demon can count on him too. It's important for him. Void smiles; Stiles feels it in the gentle stretch of his lips against his own. Despite the night's freshness, the demon and the teen are warm—both inside and outside of them. They are the only warmth for each other. "Good, little fox. I'm glad to know it." And the demon closes the distance between them, capturing Stiles' lips in a long, chaste kiss. He licks the teen's bottom lip occasionally, biting lightly and sliding his lips so slowly that Stiles shifts out of his mind and, his focus pinned involuntarily to the kiss, to the sensation of it, to the closeness of his mate. When the teen pulls away to finally gasp for air, he watches as Void's eyes flutter open and sees the silver shimmering at the edge of the dark irises—the truest embodiment of the night sky above them both. After a heartbeat, it fades, and Void blinks, flapping his thick, black, fluffy eyelashes—which catches all of Stiles' attention. Void smirks. Stiles blushes. The demon always affects the teen this way. "Don't be so smug," he grumbles a little, rolling his eyes as Void snorts and grins outright. "You're incorrigible." "Well, you're out of luck, darling," Void teases, narrowing his eyes. Then he leans his head back, which makes his neck elegantly arch. "But I always thought that's the way you like me. Am I wrong, little fox?" "Oh, shut up." They smile. Void has a possibility to make Stiles let go of his bad, sad, or painful thoughts, prompting him to look away from them and glance at something good, joyful, and nice. He's his pain relief, his beloved person (if he can put it that way, considering that he's actually a demon, a spirit of chaos), and the best thing that has ever happened to him in his impossibly long life. The teen isn't sure, but he's noticed that the fox demon seems more settled around him. Like... he can affect him in some kind of calming way. Stiles thinks, secretly, it's because of their special connection, their shared difficult and happy moments, their mutual, endless affection for each other. And Void quite often asks for some caresses, some touches, or some little pecks, even if he doesn't say it out loud. The demon acts in such a specific way that Stiles immediately understands what it is. He might sit beside the teen, burying his face into the crook between Stiles' neck and shoulder, hug him from behind and nuzzle the back of the teen's head, or look like he feels somewhat out of place. So Stiles has to push away whatever he's doing in favor of wrapping himself around the demon, pulling him closer, and peppering him with short kisses, or getting Void's attention to comfort him. Until the fox demon dozes off or just lets Stiles return to his business, or his bad mood thaws out and he can at least smile. It's as if these touches ground Void somehow, helping him to calm some of his vigilant side. But that's okay—Stiles does love this particular trait about the demon. He loves to hug, kiss, or just lightly touch his demon. And right now, too, the forever-teen leans in, burying into his demon's throat and deeply, happily breathing in the heady scent of his amazing mate. And he can't help but think it probably won't change a thing if they forget their past one day. Both of them can help each other to manage whatever comes their way. And that's the most important thing: despite losing memories or anything else, they have each other. And even if everything will be forgotten, will be wiped from their shared mind, or erased from their shared memories, Stiles and Void will never forget each other. They will still be together. And everything else doesn't matter.