Rain doused the dirt and the world around. The air now moist and chilled. Night had settled in and had brought this ever raging storm.
Within a common garden box atop a building of Florence sits our figure in question. It was far to late to rely on anyone for some temporary housing. Besides that he wouldn't want to, not like this. The chill of the day had sank in as well as the days activities, it had made him weak. Both physically and mentally. Every human had their day of dreariness, that self pitting cloud, those supposedly pointless sobs. It was continuous ware and heavy stresses that caused them, and this night was his to share the sky's thoughts.
Left feeling hollow and alone as icy rain slipped past the heavy cloth drapes of the box due to the harsh wind. Heaven's it was cold, so cold it was hard to decide weather or not to focus on shivering to stay warm or… The point of the matter was that the situation he was in was miserable and he was loathing it.
Huddled tight into no particular corner, his cape wrapped tightly about his figure. It provided little warmth, even more so as it was slowly stained with the droplets from above. Worse yet this box like many others leaked and creaked and was about to fall apart, so there was that too. The tears welling up in his burning eyes would soon join the rest of the moisture collecting on the article at this rate.
Thought's didn't race, they simply drifted evenly in a declining manner. Dwelling on so much, so bothered was he but taking solace in knowing there was always another in the same state. Being alone was truly a fictional thing, but all to real at the same instance.
Time had began to pass through his mind, remembering all the things, everything, that lead to where he sat now. Under this miserable garden box, under this miserable sky, in this miserable world.
No, no. This world was not miserable.
There were many good things, none stood out currently though. Well, one did. One very pleasant thought.
One past all the thought's of lies and deceitfulness. Past the ever flaring broken image of everything that was once everything he meant and taught to believe. Of all the battles that have and will come. All the wound's he had suffered. At this he reached a bared hand from beneath it's semi warmed cover, touching the right side of his lips. Feeling the groove of the long scar, it's matted texture that all scars gained at healing.
It stirred more thoughts, memories, broken memories it all felt so serial. Sadness left once more, and the hollowness returned.
No, it never left, it was always there. For he was hallow, everyone was, simply because emotions are a temporary thing. An idea. Drifting in and out as one felt, so what was it to be filled? Was it to be in love? But that again could be a temporary emotion. It also meant trust, something never to do in this brutal profession. To do this one had not to be human, but he was and was feeling every bit of it.
Past all of this sat the one thing that made a small bit of warmth return. A warmth that at times burned so hot it could bring down anything, the sky it's self. But when that one thing was there, he wasn't burned by this joy's intensity.
He couldn't help but wonder what it was that caused this about this one thing. What it was about it that helped healed the pain, helped cope with the burden of even breath some days that all had to bear, went so far as the very thought of truths seemed fictional. All because of this one thing. It was a wonder to the vast wondrous universe surly. No, he wasn't burned by this joy near this one thing, near this nothing dared touch him.
But broken, hollow and alone was all he felt here and now. He couldn't feel, there was a void to everything that was his being. It left one feeling, absence to reality.
Am I really real?
It was a brief thought, an occasional depression provoked thought. It was then he felt quickly chilled moister glide down to the tip of his nose. Dropping down to the fabric beneath, causing a shiver to rush his once still figure. Far from still and past a quake, sobs soon overtook him. Wanting ever so much to be accompanied by that singular thing that brought such happiness. It wasn't far, but it was unavailable for the time being. At other times it had wiped away tears much like these now, imagining opening his tightly shut eyes to see said thing as he had done so many times. But alas it was merely a want, a fantasy at best with what he was working with.
Curling even further into himself trying to calm the violent breaths leaving him, but it held no aid. From that point on all he could do was try and rest, despite all that was working against him. Time and the world didn't still for anyone. Left there to cling to himself through all the drenched cloth that adorned his figure, weeping like any human might, trying to desperately to contain some heat.
Was it a fantasy? Could it not happen again?
Elsewhere stood a figure placed sweetly beside a window. Gazing upon the sheer ferocity of the storm that took over the city. Flinching at the sound and sight of cracking lightning partnered with thunder. Holding much pity for any poor soul that was caught out in this.
Though this is exactly what robbed him of sleep. Did that mean in a sense he was trapped in it as well? Musing the thought it trailed, it wasn't the storm that had him so anxious. It was a nagging thought previous, it called to him constantly. Wanting to go out and look upon his roof, and see if that familiar man lay upon it. In this?
On multiple occasions he had ventured to his shop's top surface from a night's rest to find a dearest friend resting there. Later finding out that he had shown up there not much earlier, arriving in the midst of the night. Fearful of bothering the man within the home of sorts he simply slept on top of the building. At the time it made no sense, and dwelling on it, it still didn't. He had only gone up there because he had this exact feeling.
Shuddering as the storm took on a far heavier assault against the world bellow. If that man was really up there, oh how he held much pity for him. Not because he would be unwell and cold but because he was idiotic enough to lay on the roof in this sort of weather.
An illness of sorts had settled in his stomach, wishing that no harm had come upon that familiar face in his memory. Hoping he could caress it once more and find it that it had not changed. That it was the same face that he adored so.
Slipping on his boots and a proper coat the man dared venture outside. Shutting the heavy wooden door behind him to spy out into the dirt streets that were dark with moisture and filled with still growing puddles. With a squint of his eyes it became obvious just how dark it was, as if someone blew out the candle in a faintly lit room. Knowing it was due to the clouds blocking out the beautiful moonlight. Tempted to head back in and grab a lantern but with the wind and the pouring rain it wouldn't last out the door under the alcove even.
With a lack of grace he took cartful steps out with defenses to the onslaught of droplets. Making it the barrier of his courtyard and having neatly placed a ladder there for such an occasion he headed up to the top.
Peeking over the roof tiles there was nothing more than water slaughter. Cocking a brow as to how his feelings had deceived him, for every other time the search was fruitful. Thinking that maybe the man had wised up and found some sort of shelter he spied about. Nothing stood out as something one could take cover in until his eyes landed upon a garden box. Perhaps..?
Lacking stealth he slid back down to the ground, readjusted the ladder as it had been before he disrupted it and headed inside. Slipping up to the upper floor and out one of the windows to the roof and the ones around that. Once again take guard to the world around. Trying to find the garden box is this hazed dark. Quickly as to not get too wet he pranced over to the rickety structure. Giving little effort to move away the heavy material to peer inside seeing as the wind seem to do that for him. Eyes darting around in the dark box nothing stood until he looked down. Right below his poking in head was the man he was searching for. With a relived smile he reached down to alert the man, if not already aware, of his presence. Only to find that his clothes were soaked thru and as cold as the rain surrounding them.
"Ezio, how long have you been sitting up here?" His question only honored with a shiver more violent then the ones since his arrival. Seeing as it was then that he noticed them.
"Leonardo?" The single word question was drawn out and slow as if the chill had sunk into the letters themselves.
Carefully Leo climbed into the box out of the direct onslaught of weather. Experiencing the horrible aura that filled the small confines, sitting down before his current assassin companion. With what little skin was exposed he could see that the color of cold had slipped into it. Bringing commonly art tasking hands up to those paled icy cheeks. Feeling chilled droplets against the flesh, they held to much shape to have been the rain getting under the man's hood.
Soon a saddened smile played his features as he pressed up to the eyes he could not see to wipe away the hot tears. Wanting to embrace the cold shaking figure but, now was not the time. Letting the man press his chilled face into his warm palms for a moment longer before pulling away.
"There is no reason to be up here any longer, I'm awake and want you to come in." Leonardo stated what he felt was necessary to the obviously worn man. Wondering if he even had a firm grip on reality looking the way he did.
It took a bit of light hearted chiding, pulling and patience but Leo pulled the stiff assassin from the trembling garden box. Even more so to get the man to follow him over to the open window of the workshop. It was obvious that it wasn't that he didn't want to follow Leonardo, but that it was hard to. It had the artist thinking about the other's body language. Why he was moving the way he was, why he seemed so timid. But when they made eye contact the assassin seemed to move with a little more ease.
Slowly the pair made it inside the warm workshop, the artist working to shut the window against the rageing storm behind it while the assassin made it down to the dying fire within it's hearth. Soon it was brought back to life and soaked attire hung and replaced with thin dry articles. Despite this, the soft light filling the room, the sharp but elegant shadows cast, the warmth that filled to ever corner, the very life that filled the room did not bring rejuvenation to the weary figure.
Settled in front of this sight of delight Leonardo was placed within the armchair's familiar caress, the assassin facing the light, seated on the floor between his legs. Silently the blond artist brushed out the knotted, wet and nearly black hair that the other possessed. He had come to realize that the usual fiery boy was set aside and replaced with a relief valve of sorts. That's what this odd gloom was hanging from the other.
Setting aside the brush and running a hand along the young man's jaw to coax Ezio's gaze to meet his own. A small but meaningful smile flaring up to see the deep dead look upon the young man soften some upon their eye contact. Once more caressing the other's cheek, pleased to feel him press into the offered palm. Better yet warmth had begun to return to the once icy like flesh.
"Come, we should rest." Leonardo stated as he carefully stood and maneuvered away. Gesturing for the younger man to follow. "Don't fret, I will keep you warm." The statement sounding almost playful, receiving little to no physical response but he could see the moment of delight and almost bashfulness within the other.
It wasn't long before the two of them were clung close within the confines of a blanket around their figures. It wasn't awkward, not in the slightest. Next to no words were shared but thoughts relayed. Terrible chaotic thoughts were put out there through small gestures and eye contact. All that caused panic and anxiety, pain even was soon soothed away with how they were now. Comfortable in the other's arms, sharing heat, life, and joy. Burning delight in the most innocent of ways.
Leonardo mused momentary about the figure that he was currently intertwined with. This had happened on occasion before but it always ended the same. They would lay as such through the remained of night but when he awoke there would be little left but a note of many thanks addressed to him from the long disappeared assassin.
Will I see you when I open my eyes?
Along side the pained thoughts were equally as mixed ones from the other. Wondering more about what it was about this thing that brought so much comfort. So much delight, heat and longed affection. No matter how he ended up broken and beaten that this one thing pulled him right through. A thought from previous rants arose, but with a far more positive twist.
Am I really real? Is this really real?
With a perfect silence and reassurance that the assassin was long asleep, Leonardo pressed a soft kiss to Ezio's forehead. Saddened some but satisfied with himself the artist tried to find rest, it's embrace already with him. Though the words chanted once more.
Will I see you when I open my eyes? Will I?
The raging storm had not proven a problem to the now resting figures. Nothing seemed to break past the barriers of the calm that had been made by the two's company. Harsh rains, silence in the soft air. Obnoxious thundering ignored with the slightest of noises shared between them. Even high pitched shrieks by the lightening were nearly forgotten amongst the concentration of their embrace. There was no storm. No pounding against the windows. Now occasional leaks about the building. An absence of reality all around.
All too quickly the night had gone and the sun had rose behind the dissipating storm clouds. In a groggy sort of way Leo shifted and covered his eyes to avoid the brightening light. Though shock soon over took him, sitting upright with a sudden bolt of energy he spied around. Looking for any sort of note that would grace a table top as after late night's actives as it had been before. There was no note though, which brought much displeasure and relief all at once.
It was then that he noticed why there was no note. There wasn't one because the one who had yet to write the note was still beside him. Quiet, and sleeping yet. Taking his opportunity and indulging into his own feelings, leaning down once more to press kisses to the sleeping form's face. Never could he do this with the other man aware. Yes they were close, closer than most men with one another but that was due to how Leonardo was. He was an affectionate man, wishing to receive as well as give at this moment.
With near regret the artist slipped away, amazingly without waking the ever alert assassin, and found his day's wear. Going about his business quietly one floor below. It was another hour's pass into the late morning before the artist had to venture up to his bed chamber once more. Determined to find another tunic, seeing as the one he wore now was thoroughly soaked amongst the front with paint. Mishaps were terrible little things. But then again that was probably why they were called 'mishaps'.
As soon as the new, soft, white, and clean linen graced his figure Leonardo heard a shift from behind him. Twisting to see the assassin facing him from beneath the blankets yet. Briefly he wondered if the younger man was awake yet, but his eyes were still closed. Figuring that the other was simply shifting he began to walk out of the room but stopped at the sound of soft words.
"I can't help but wonder what it is that you do. Always helping to heal the pain and even all thoughts of the truth. The universe should wonder about you Leonardo. I know the world does." Ezio's words trailed as he sat up to make eye contact with the surprised man at the doorway. "And somehow, when I'm with you, I never get burned."
Stunned into place Leo simply stared at the other. He knew exactly what it was that the man spoke of. That burn of delight, of joy, of love. Quietly he made his way over to the now blushing assassin, sitting on the bed's edge. With a bit of hesitation and timid eye contact their lips met. That familiar burn rushing about and what felt like around them. Excitement a constant, it was a reciprocated feeling. An unexpected thing.
Flames did not dwindle, at times did flicker but never lessened. Lasting what felt like ages which in a sense it had. It lasted and burned just as brightly for years, and years to come. Now the pair sat upon a familiar rooftop with time having passed, but they still embraced. Admiring the sun settled into the horizon, casting warm light across the landscape. Quickly it's light being smothered, eaten away by the world.
"The clock may tick thru night shattered skies to come, where every star is broken, even all ties to all else. But the one thing remaining in whole is you." The assassin softly spoke into the artist's ear in their intimate moment. Only to be faced once more and their lips sealed.
The fire did flare high, burning hot and long, never suffocating it's self. It always had, but never did they burn. If they did, at least it would be together.
