What do you think of that valet?

Wagner paused and thought to himself...

Whom do you mean?

He turned his eyes to Liszt, who in turn gave a warm smile, until this wash of saddened frustration had overcome him, until this dreadful feeling of hopelessness had consumed him. He diverted his gaze to the floor, still maintaining that melancholic smile.

The hero there,

Who hides his gaze

From mine,

And casts down

His eyes

In shame...

And embarrassment.

He took quite a noticing of his dear friend's quirks as of lately, when such a passionate tension had formed between them. Wagner had felt angry- well, not angry, but rather highly upset- that he had developed a heartened and deep love for this wondrous man. This poor gentleman! He had just gotten with the princess, whom he dearly loves, and now he would soon have to deal with this small devil with a beating bosom. What a deadly combination, Wagner thought, To be a devil with a passion.

The German felt bad about this previous argument beforehand that had happened. How he hurt his friend with those venomous words, and how the Hungarian sat there and took it. But, what had gotten to the passionate man was how the softer one had not looked at his crazily-gesturing hand, or turned his eyes away from disgust, but rather how he had looked into his eyes. Those eyes! Those eyes had calmed his storm and had drizzled remorse over the offender's bosom.

From his bed,
He looked up -
Not at the sword,
Not at my hand -
He gazed into my eyes.

Truly, that was a metaphor. Wagner couldn't help but just wonder at how a man like Liszt would put so much effort into even getting a man, such as himself, to not even hate him. The measures that Liszt went through to make sure that this certain Richard didn't have any harsh feelings towards him, even though they barely knew each other. To think that just after hearing one opera, he became fascinated with this man with an unattractive behavior.

Even though this had all sounded so promising, Wagner wouldn't let himself believe that such a prominent man would give up his honor for him... Even if he loved him. And on top of that, he was trapped. He couldn't just leave his wife! What would that do for him? Emotionally? Socially? And even for her own welfare?

The shorter put his fingers to the bridge of his nose, pretending to rub it... Pretending to be tired maybe. But, the tears in his eyes welled. God! They're going to come!

"I-I'm going to get some water," His voice wavered, as he stood to leave. But, just before he could make his leave, a hand grasped his own.

"No," Liszt started, worried, "Sit down. What's wrong?" He asked, as he sat Wagner down. The shorter didn't look at him. "Look at me." He asked of him.

The tearful man shook his head, making the pain and fear rise in Liszt's heart. Had it to do with the argument? What was it? It was most certainly the argument! Liszt worried even more, How could I even let such a thing happen?

The taller, with his palm, cupped his cheek, and turned his face towards him. But, the way that he had done it, especially with his more experienced hand that had clutched his shirt at his heart, had given quite a different message to the smaller. The sensitive one's eyes became surprised and confused. He shakily mimicked the other, shyly putting his hands to cheek and chest.

"Franz?" A tear of his had fallen, his voice trembling.

"Richard?" Liszt was suddenly overcome by this reaction. It couldn't be told exactly which display of emotion had reached his face, but judging from his bewildered and raptured eyes, it had to be something intense.

Sinking on his breast, Wagner softly called out, "Treuloser Holder..."

Immediately Liszt threw everything that came between them away, "Seligster Mann!" He threw his arms around him, ardently embracing him.

And so, in their tight embrace, they lost themselves in this newly found love. This new commitment!

The lover cupped his cheek again, raising his face towards his, and kissed him passionately. He wanted to taste him, he wanted to feel him, he wanted to mean something important to him. He didn't want anything to get in the way of this beautiful moment! Even the slightest thought. Breathlessly, they explored each other, and gave pleasured hums, low groans, and heavy sighs. Gave each other feelings that could only be felt once in a lifetime. They felt each other, they kissed each other, they hid themselves in each other's necks, just hoping that they would become one, even for a night.

It wouldn't be until a year later, after the hero saves his damsel in distress, when they would come to realize that this love would be doomed to be separated, and only be able to reunite in death. To die in the light, and to live in the dark.