Cold. The air is seeping in through cracks in the brick of the walls, and gusting in through the holes everywhere. The young man makes the perilous journey up the looming, spiral stairs, breathing only to find a way to the surface, for a chance of survival.
"I can't seem to get to the surface no matter how far I climb," he thinks to himself, his thoughts waltzing in spheres. "If I don't hurry, I'll be buried inside this tower…" There are no other voices, no eerie noises of creeping insects or the unpleasant scampering of rats in the underground of London. Simply his own deepening breaths and hopeless thoughts as rubble descends from the tower.
Trapped. "I can't believe it…" he sucks in air and avoids a stone tumbling towards his arm. "I'm going to die alone after all. Just as Father once predicted…" There, he accepts failure. Does God or Satan not have the decency to swallow him up into Hell, purgatory, anything other than this labyrinth of rubbage. He feels as though his body is sinking and assimilating into the rugged stone beneath him as he lowers himself to sit and waits for the end all alone in a sacred bubble.
How correct Alexis had been that the unloved child Cain was to die with only himself as company. It is a miracle he has made it this far with a lack of motivation. What remains at the top? Maybe a world in which his beloved sister has been harmed. Maybe a world where his country blames him for these events. It is much better, then, to perish now and be free of these fates.
Footsteps. Shallow and almost unnoticeable with the crashing tumults surrounding. He knows not whether to lift his head as tears shimmer on his eyelids, but instantly his stomach unsettles when he sees what lies in front of him.
Oh dear Lord that something in the void of heaven or space was gracious enough to send the only soul in the world Cain needed. The only man among countless friends, relatives, and servants Cain had ever taken as his own.
One. Just this one man, plain at first glance, but upon further inspection, grasping a bleeding, atrophying arm. How beautiful his oceanic eyes are as they lock with Cain's, saying they both knew these next few minutes would be the last they would ever spend on earth. "How did you find me? I'm not wearing the earring…" A stone slips out of the standing man's hand and shatters as the building continues to cave in.
"In the same way I told you of so long ago." His sweet voice is so fluid but reserved like unadulterated tea pouring into a completely white teacup. "I would assimilate myself with your essence. Then, I would follow the wind onto the trails, and into the shady glades. That air always had a feeling of sadness, as if you were crying, which would make me quicken my steps. You see?" he asks with a light grin gracing over his lips. "And then there you were…"
Magic. Pure magic that Riff has found him now in his time of dying. "But never mind that now." He hands an obsidian crucifix on a beaded necklace to Cain. It is almost a rosary he clutches in a final effort to ascend to Heaven. But, then, the two would be separated eternally. And with so much blood spilt, how could God ignore the sins committed and those about to be. "I am here, Lord Cain."
That is all Cain needs to hear before his body bursts into some unknown energy storage. He rises and sprints into the arms of his adored in seconds, and once held, loses all vigor left in his exhausted frame. To die at this very moment is a blessing, but not his desire. Not yet. Cain's fists clutch the fabric of Riff's jacket as his pushes his face into his manservant's chest and breathes in his clean scent.
Lips. Seated on Cain's silky black hair, try to bestow their kisses onto his scalp one final time. "Riff?" Cain says looking shakily up at his best friend. There is no answer, but an understanding silence. It is not right. Not in this moment, not after this betrayal and reunion to feel such unholy passions. "Riff…" Cain whispers. "I don't want to die like this," he breathlessly lets go of Riff. Riff steps a few paces away.
"Forgive me, my lord, it was not in my place." A blush spreads across his cheeks and he looks away from his master. "I just…" Cain looks up at him with sparkling golden eyes, and Riff says no more. Though they have both been through the pains of being controlled by another, though they have both murdered, though they have both lingered far too long on one another's naked skin, they are different. Cain is a noble, heir to an earldom. And Cain is a child.
Child. How can this child be so captured by a man eleven years his elder? How can a servant of his master's household have such inappropriate affection—no not affection—much deeper and sacred. Such crimson lust for the unspoken skin of his master. How could this opulence of emotion and beauty be viewed as immoral when in these fatal hours, all that is left is devotion. "No, Riff…" Cain's fingers fold in between his servant's. "I don't want to die a virgin to your kiss." Riff raised his glance once more and met the eyes of this boy.
But he's not a boy anymore. He's a man. He's defeated what has haunted him so many years, something most old men on their deathbeds cannot boast, and he has accomplished it in seventeen years. So, then, however dismal it is it's also fitting that now his life is over. And how obligatory it is to receive his end encased in his love's arms.
Seventeen. Seventeen and life has just begun and life is ending in minutes. Riff blinks uncertainly before his face begins to advance toward Cain's. A magnetic force has always linked them together, the dove and the blackbird. So delicately Riff hold's Cain's cheeks as a large piece of rock lands on his foot. He does not wince, because he can't even feel with Cain's lips on his.
Since Riff saw Cain in the garden, alone, vulnerable, crying, he swore to always tend to whatever his employer needed. It always brought him pleasure, but it is a different sort of pleasure than what he feels as Cain's tongue captures his, when he can no longer tell who belongs to whom. He cannot notice the glass shattering above him as Cain's small hands, which have successfully unbuttoned all of his front attire, now grasp eagerly to his rose-scarred chest.
Wings. Wings of glass pierce through Riff's flesh as he collapses, Cain underneath him. Still able to squirm around as falling shards hit Riff's neck and skull, he latches onto Riff with his palms, groping the bare of his decaying arm. The flesh is melting right off of his beloved deadly doll, and nothing can stop Riff from being pummeled by rocks and glass in the tower. "Riff," Cain whispers, and his blue eyes wearily peer down at Cain's. "You're hurt." He smiles to settle his young master. "Y-you're dying…" Cain holds him tighter.
"Am I hurting you?" Riff whispers. Cain closes his eyes trying to prevent tears from leaking out.
"Of course not." No answer, just shaky lips on Cain's forehead. "Riff?" Cain's voice falters. The collapse echoes still throughout the corridor. No answer. "If I move, can you hold me?"
"Yes, my lord." So Cain shifts as slowly and gently as he can to face the same direction as Riff. His servant is now pressing down upon his back, but Cain is more comfortable with Riff's skeleton holding his body. "Remember," Riff says, "this is how I first held you when I saw you crying… all those years ago?" Cain smiles and kisses one of Riff's fingers, now reduced to bone and marrow. He is being smothered by Riff's gorgeous love. It is the only way he can imagine his death, with the immeasurable weight of his own heart crushing him. "Cain?"
Cain. His head lifts up. In all his life, he had never heard that word singularly from the soft lips and throat of his Riff.
"I love you," Riff barely whispers into his ear, allowing his head to then to rest on Cain's shoulder. Cain closes his eyes and smiles his famous, noble grin, which can come off to an outsider as arrogance, but is meant by the lord simply as pleasure in hearing the words he has longed to hear for years from the mouth he has only blindly dreamt would say them. He can die surrounded by this warm, heavy love in an empty, demolished tower with a corpse clutching his body.
Bodies. Two bodies. Two corpses in the night sky. Fossilized in ruins and never, ever alone.