Emil's eyes had been aching for a while now, burning with held back tears. He'd struggled up until this moment, against his own weakness, to be a man, if only for the others. The second he'd learned of Aster, earlier today, his eyes began watering. To think, Richter, the first man to give him strength, to show him kindness, had only done it because of Emil's resemblance to his old friend, Aster. Emil could hardly bare it, knowing whatever bond he had with Richter-and the unrequited feelings harbored for the man-were all worthless, tarnished by the redhead's true motives.

He made one last effort to retain his strength by wiping the little wetness away, but once his hands were to his eyes, he ended up burying his face in his palms, and in defeat. Even in this weak, pitiful state, he tried to regain whatever masculinity he had, tried to stop weeping, tried to stop shuddering. Still, he whimpered away like a dog, sunken to the floor of his inn room, unable to even make it to bed before these sobs overtook him.

As sobs faded to hiccups, Emil began to pick himself up, moving to the bed and sitting on the edge. With the salty taste of sadness in his mouth, he removed his boots and buckles, slipping under the covers once comfortable. Emil's gaze moved to the ceiling, and his thoughts moved to Richter. Exhaustion weighed on his body faintly, and his eyes burned all the more from crying, so he closed it eyes, forcing himself to breath evenly for a few minutes.

"Emil,"

The blond recognized that stern, familiar voice immediately, his eyes popping open to see the speaker. Richter, in all his glory, stood at the far end of the room. It seemed he'd entered without a sound, despite the creaky hinge. Entering rooms silently must come along with being such a cool-headed, skilled warrior. Emil realized that he had subconsciously risen to rest the weight of his torso on his elbows, chin pressed to his chest, to get a better view of Richter, and moved to a sitting position to get more comfortable.

"R-Richter?"

Emil had come to hate his voice. His stutter, his high-pitched tone, all of it screamed of timidity, or weakness. Emil wanted to be a man; he had to be a man.

"I know what you've heard about Aster," he paused, and Emil studied his carefully controlled face, took in his smooth voice before he continued. "and I know what you're thinking." He seemed done then, man of few words as usual. His shortness often lead to Emil being left trying to piece together what was left unsaid, and often failing.

"Richter, I-I…" Emil's voice faltered, and he took a moment to try to control it, to be as smooth as Richter. "Richter. I know now that you were only kind to me because of my resemblance to him."

Emil's voice sounded unnatural, to himself. There was some dreamy, unreal feel to it, to the masculinity of it. Richter showed no sign of surprise, though his expression softened at the words. His gaze moved downwards, addressing Emil's left foot, before he spoke again.

"Emil, listen to me. I know that you're feeling betrayed, like everything we've shared up until this point is a lie. You think that I've been thinking of Aster this whole time, not you. That every time we speak, or I do you a kindness, it is all because of your resemblance to Aster, and you think that I'm only picturing him."

Richter was speaking a lot more than usual. He was also a lot brighter than usual, Emil began to notice. Despite the dim lighting, Richter's green eyes were practically glowing, and his deep red hair was glimmering. Even his suit, in this dull room, seemed to exude some sort of bright glow. Then again, Emil always saw Richter as the most beautiful, bright being in the room.

"But Emil," Richter was still speaking, and-When did he get that close? Richter now stood by the bed, his legs practically pressing the side of the mattress as he continued. "Though it may be true that the day we met, I was thinking of Aster, you two are so drastically different, I couldn't possibly associate you with him, or mistake you for him for long." Richter was being startlingly expressive now, his brow furrowed, his deep voice warming with sadness. "And Emil, understand that the you I've come to know is the only person I think of when I look at you."

Emil felt his eyes widening, felt the whole world spin beneath him. The air was thick with tension, with Richter's sadness, and with Emil's apprehensiveness. He stared at Richter, eyes weary, for a time. Behind the man, the walls seemed both black and white. Emil took note of this.

He heard voices, the faintest ghosts of familiarity, in the distance. They did not sound as though they were muffled by the walls, but more like they were muffled by his own perception of sound. He looked around; he saw a phantom blur of black, but could not attach it to the strange things he was hearing. Richter took notice of his frantic survey of the room, placed his hands on the bed, and bent over Emil in concern. He immediately cut through all else in the world, the only intense and clear thing Emil could hear, or see.

"Are you alright?" Emil tried to peg what made Richter so kind tonight, but could only settle on believing he felt guilty for thinking of Aster. He nodded meekly, and Richter's ruffled feathers were immediately smoothed. But, even after assured of Emil's safety, he remained close, leaning over the bed, green eyes glittering in the darkness. Emil's gaze drifted downwards, to the clenched jaw, and frowned at the tension.

He felt as though he were living in a movie as his hands-but not really his hands, as he had no control over them-drifted up to the jaw instinctively. With the battle-worn pads of his fingers, he rubbed the edges of Richter's face in gentle circles. Despite the abnormality of this act, neither of them seemed surprised. In Emil's mind, he supposed that that should've surprised him, but somehow it didn't, somehow all the weirdness seemed absolutely, beautifully, normal. Richter's eyes shut, and Emil felt the manly jaw begin to soften at his touch, mouth slipping open just a tad. Emil took to studying the man's teeth, pearly white and opalescent, of course. At that time, he let his palms rest against the redheads tanned cheeks, no longer massaging, just touching.

Emil, though unable to feel a breeze through the window, or the blankets over his body, could feel Richter with ease. It was like he'd already memorized every bone, poor, and stray whisker over Richter's face.

Richter's rougher, larger hands came up, palms floating over the top of Emil's hands. As this moved to a slow, nearly caressing motion over Emil's arm, something white behind Richter caught Emil's eye. He should've been startled, or frightened by the phantom of a flower, but instead found himself vaguely annoyed by the pretty thing. His gaze snapped back to Richter's as his unusually bare hands slid up Emil's arms, over his shoulder. Emil felt the fabric of his scarf ruffle as the redhead's fingers skipped over it, until he was left mimicking Emil, calloused hands resting on the boy's cheeks.

There was a pause, during which Emil found himself questioning how he'd come to be fully clothed, and why Richter wasn't wearing gloves, but these questions were quickly stuffed away as tan, glowing skin came ever nearer, looming, and Emil's breath caught in his throat at the feeling of Richter's breath over his lips. As Emil and Richter connected, Emil could not keep count of the many fantastical things he saw. His eyes remained open, though Richter's were closed, and though he somehow knew that this was unnatural, it didn't feel it. Over Richter's shoulder, he watched familiar colors swirl, a blob of black, low to the grown, and dancing white flowers higher up. He, again, did not question their presence, as they seemed to belong there, and didn't in any way interfere with or distract him from the moment he was sharing with Richter.

The kiss was short, chaste, and left no taste on Emil's mouth. He could smell Richter, who had somehow climbed on the bed and over him without Emil taking notice. Richter seemed good at moving closer and closer to Emil without the young boy realizing it. He lowered onto his side, an arm looping magically under Emil, and, without any awkwardness, before Emil knew what was happening, then were joined, chest to chest, legs intertwined, mouth to mouth. Despite Richter's tongue caressing his, Emil could not taste him, and his eyes did not slip shut, as the man's had. Emil did not ponder this as the gentlest of nips came over his tongue.

On the ceiling, though the little white flowers seemed to have disappeared, the dark phantom remained with some sort of vigilant loyalty in its air.

Emil realized, staring at the blob, that while he understood, in his head, what Richter was doing, his entire mouth felt numb and heavy. As this realization hit, before he could try to figure it out or explore further, Richter's mouth was drawn away, his tight arms feeling rather like a blanket around Emil.

Emil snuggled into his chest, which felt curiously similar to a pillow, and shut his eyes.

He opened his eyes to find himself alone in bed, tangled in a blanket, clutching his pillow.

The world was now fully in color, but never before had it felt so gray.

Author's Notes:

I hope that the main point of the plot was clear enough, I tried to make it as obvious as I could without poking your eye out.

For those who did not understand, this was my intent: Emil cried, and fell asleep, just like is said. However, When Richter wakes him, he doesn't wake at all, and the entire sequence with Richter is a dream, indicated by the phantoms and whatnot. (I hope it was understood that the reason the kiss lacked passion, taste, and feeling, was that Emil hadn't kissed Richter, or anyone, and thus didn't know what it felt like, making dreaming it accurately not possible.) The phantoms can be interpreted a few ways, but I wrote them to be Marta and Tenebrae. Tenebrae is the only one visible on the ceiling because after Marta has gone to bed, he hovers above Emil, loyally.

I have some other things I could point out, but I don't want to mess up others' interpretations too much. (Perhaps I've said too much already?)

Also, I may continue this, depending on what people say. The second chapter would not be another dream, but instead Emil going and finding Richter, to confront him about Aster. (And maybe some dreams can become a reality?)

Thank goodness EvilSora pointed out my errors. I guess I didn't read it over very well; I'd misspelled Richter's name, more than once!

And, to being forced by Gin Katana, I will happily begin typing up another chapter.