The door slammed shut, voicing their frustration when even they could not. Light streamed in, harsh and white through a window, but neither paid it much attention. The two of them shuffled into the small kitchenette, one opening the cupboards for coffee and the other readying the cappuccino machine that was gleaming golden on the wall.
Neither spoke.
They fetched the mugs from yet another cupboard, made their drinks, doled out sugar and cream as each saw fit and seated themselves at the small island counter. The two of them sat there, each stewing in their own thoughts as their additions were stewing in the untouched coffee in their hands, searching for something to say and finding nothing.
So they said nothing.
The burning of the mug became unbearable in one set of hands, and so was lifted to drink from before being deposited on the counter. That small act signaled the breaking of a dam in the other, and he spoke.
"They're right you know."
His companion looked at him with wide eyes, silently pleading that those words hadn't truly left his lips and were instead only imagined. It wasn't to be.
"Your parents. They're right in thinking that we shouldn't be—
The sharp thunn of a fist slamming against granite broke off his words, and its owner looked at him with desperation.
"Don't." She choked out. "Don't you dare finish that sentence. I can hardly take it from them, I couldn't bear it from you too."
He returned her gaze, first startled, then melancholy, and set his own untouched coffee on the countertops to busy his hands with wiping away the fresh tears forming on his lover's face. Gentle coos and whispers escaped his mouth as he drew the saline away from her eyes and cupped her face. She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing harshly, swiftly transitioning from small trails of tears to streams. The coos faded away, replaced by small shushes and assurances that things would be all right, and the hands that had framed her face found themselves on her back offering tender support.
The streams changed to rivers, changed to sobbing, and hiccupping, and still he never let her go. The chill inherent in his touch elicited no response from the distraught woman in his arms, a small blessing he was undeserving of. The reason for her misery was due to him, as such he was duty bound to aid her through the consequences his actions had wrought. He'd been selfish of course. He hadn't thought of what his actions might spark, certainly hadn't thought that they would lead to this moment, here, with the love of his life weeping in his arms because—
Because he loved her.
Because he loved her—and he couldn't possibly have her.
"I'm sorry." He whispered into her neck. "I'm sorry for—for what I said, for everything. You don't deserve this."
He could feel her shaking her head, trying in vain to stifle her tears. "N-No, no, you're not-you're not getting off that easy."
She broke away from his arms and looked at him, face to face, puffy eyed and red nosed and pale cheeked with streams still glistening on her face and every imperfection she had ever had standing out in plain view and still more beautiful than any other woman he'd ever seen.
"Aegis," she breathed, and his throat hitched, "don't you ever say that we shouldn't be together. That we can't be together."
"...Don't you ever say that we can't make this work." She said, and the tears started anew.
He reached out his arms for her again, but she shrugged him off, and his hands fell limply in front of him. His mind was tossing and turning and churning from all that was before him, so much that he wanted, needed to say, but all that came out was, "But we can't."
She opened her mouth to disprove him again, but the words came pouring out of him at once.
"We can't be together, not like other couples, not like normal couples, can't go out together in the sunshine, can't sit and eat dinner together, can't—" his voice cracked involuntarily, and he found himself wishing that he too could weep as she was.
"Can't settle down, or get married, or have a family...And you could do all of those things with some other man, but you can't with me, because I'm...Because..."
Because he was dead.
"...And you deserve all of those things. I'm-I'm just keeping you from them...Like your parents said..."
She shook her head and held his face in her hands, forcing him to look her in the eye, silently rebuking him for his words.
"It doesn't matter what my parents said. Or what anyone says." She swallowed, and paused a moment to let the words flow back. "Don't listen to them. Don't you ever listen to them, Aegis, because they don't know what they're talking about."
"But we..." He offered weakly.
"We can go out in the wintertime, you said it was the heat that bothered you, not the sun, right? And dinner dates are overrated anyways." she said, giving a faint, forced, laugh. "And we can too get married—the dead are given just as much a standing in court as the living, they have to with all the ghosts running around, and, and I'm sure that even if that weren't the case someone would make an exception—the-the priest, or the judge, or, or King Alteon, or someone."
A hand found its way to her leg, and she gave him a strained smile.
"And as for children...Well, we can always adopt, can't we? There are plenty of displayed children in need of good homes."
He stared at her as long as he was able, and turned his eyes away, no longer able to meet her gaze.
"You're not going to stop until I admit that I'm being foolish aren't you?" He offered.
He couldn't see her smile, but he knew it was there. Her hand met his, and the fingers intertwined slowly.
"No," She said, "I'm not. I chose you, Aegis, out of any other guy in the world, and I love you, with all my heart and soul, you know I do."
She pressed a finger to his cheek and turned the rest of his head to face her. He stared at her, tired and weepy and emotionally drained from the hell they had gone through a few hours previous, but the smile on her face was infectious and he soon found himself returning it.
She pulled him into her arms once more, and buried her head in the crook of his neck, nuzzling the chilled skin. He made no move to stop her, instead drawing her in closer, at least the cold would ease the puffiness her tears had left her with.
"Aegis?" She murmured into his shoulder.
"Yes?"
"Do you remember when we met? I was just a little soul, floating along where I shouldn't have been, and you brought me back."
"...Yes, I remember. I didn't think much of you then. I'd decided to guide you because you were lost, but you grew on me quickly."
She giggled, a small tinkling sound that wrenched its way into his chest and made him hyper-aware of what he would never have known if he hadn't made the choice to speak with that little soul, all those years ago. "And you never left."
"No," He murmured," I didn't."
"Then don't leave now. Don't tell me that we shouldn't be together. Don't try to push me away because you think you aren't good enough."
He glanced down at her, and saw her looking at him imploringly.
"I can't promise—"
"Aegis, please. Tell me you'll stay."
He felt as though his heart were in his throat, and he nodded at her dumbly.
"I'll stay."
NOTE: Would you believe this started as a dialogue prompt on tumblr?