Brilliant stars danced in the blanket of darkness. Rain soaked the outside world and cold winds shook the land, but their sounds were muffled inside the coziness of a bedroom. The elf listened to the pattering of the continuous rain while, without thought, his fingers played with strands of velvety hair. She snuggled against him, and many times he buried his face into her hair in response. How time seemed to pass ever since that day.
"I'll find a reason in this world. Meanwhile, you have to do only one thing," she told him on a cloudy night.
"And that would be?"
Those small hands grabbed his, and when Ezarel realized what she planned, he tried to shake off the grip. But already his fingers were forced to wrap around her soft neck.
"If I, in the search for an answer, become a devil...Surely, you can wring the life out then?"
That lonely expression grinned. But there was no choice to reject. After all, it happened because of a choice. Between obligations and personal feelings, the elf chose the former. His hands, in the end, were tainted with her extinguished hopes; the rain could not wash away those stains. So, he watched for the dreadful day that silly promise described. Every obstacle she faced. Moments of pain and bliss. There were fits. Smiles. Laughter. Arguments. Apologies. The elf observed them all. And soon enough, as he spent more time with that girl of stupid surprises, the more he wanted to stay close. Not to watch, but to...To what? Maybe, if he continued to stay by her, he could answer that question.
"Say, do you hate me?"
He flipped another page of the tome while the woman sat on top of the desk. Keroshane trusted her with the keys to the library, so the two occupied the space well into the night. Her fingers tapped the wood; another page turned.
"Why ask that all of a sudden?"
"You agreed to that silly thing. Well, lately you've been agreeing to a lot of my silly requests. Without asking for anything in return."
"Isn't watching your antics more than enough?"
"I suppose so. You certainly aren't wrong."
"Of course."
"Ah, don't forget the first question," she said.
He stopped skimming. "...You're a pain. Every moment, every second, every minute. In addition to my duty, I must babysit a pitiful human girl. I have so much to do, so much to deal with, so much to keep in mind. Perhaps it would have been, no, it will have been better if you didn't step into that circle of mushrooms on that day."
The girl stiffened as he stood and closed the book. She flinched when Ezarel leaned close to her ear. Meanwhile, his gaze focused on a random piece of furniture.
"But not once did I ever think to hate you. Despite all of that. Even now, I couldn't bear to do such a thing."
For some seconds, there was only the sound of their breathing. And while neither spoke, the elf thought back on those words. Where had these feelings come from?
"I-Is that so...To be honest, I'm h-happy. Really...Hahah..."
When he tried to look at her expression, the woman's hair hid her face; however, her breathing quivered.
"Um...Can I...a-ask for something right now?
"You're oddly...All right, what does the girl want?"
There was a whisper. Two little words. After a moment passed, another word escaped her shaky breath. The elf then walked around the desk; each step caused the wooden floor to creak. He stood in front of the woman. And ever so slowly, Ezarel embraced that trembling figure. It was a loose grip; she could push him away and run if she wanted. There was no effort to return the hug, but rather choked sobs. Wailing, even. He wondered if someone heard and headed toward the library. What would happen then? His attention returned to her when gross sobbing turned into sniffling.
"What about me?"
"...Huh? I...don't follow," the woman said.
"Do you hate me?"
She rubbed her eyes. Ah, when was the last time she wore such a hurtful expression? Nonetheless, her somewhat coherent response put him at ease. And when Ezarel returned to his room, that moment of weakness plagued his mind for hours. Since then, the elf got used to the status of a "cry pillow" for her. Yet more questions manifested. Certainly, for such a cliché scenario, a solution existed.
That ephemeral warmth Ezarel wanted to remember. It was the answer he decided. His heart beat almost as loud as the thunder outside; her soft breathing echoed through the room. Anxiety, nostalgia, disbelief– what sort of emotions haunted the mind? The woman stirred in his embrace. Time stopped for a moment. Just a moment. Those eyes blinked, and their gazes met. Seconds started to move again. When did he hold his breath for anything?
"Can't sleep...?" Her groggy voice ensnared his focus. Ah, even in that tone, Ezarel would listen until the end.
"An understatement, really," he said.
A soft chuckle followed. His hand moved to caress her cheek, and she leaned toward his affection again. Always. The woman grasped his wrist while his thumb trembled against skin.
"Hm...What sort of thoughts are you having?"
"Troublesome ones. Go back to sleep."
The grip around his hand tensed. "Won't you be honest with me?"
Silence. She caught the sound of a trembling breath. His chest tightened as past fears resurfaced. Could words express them? It was then her position shifted. Words of protest failed to leave his throat when he was hugged. But Ezarel relaxed and his fingers combed through her hair. Slow enough to not pull.
"Ah, are you worried about me leaving? Dying? Disappearing before your very eyes?"
She waited for a response. Then she rested her head against his chest.
"Wouldn't that be a good thing? Less resources to waste."
"You...have a grotesque way of thinking," the elf said.
"But that hasn't stopped the both of us, hm?"
The elf sighed. "Surprisingly."
"Don't look so sad and lonely. That's my job...And...don't worry about such things. If it makes you feel better, I'll say it as many times as you want."