Contemplation of Marriage
It was illegal of them to marry.
It was impossible for them to kiss in public.
And yet, nothing could change the feelings he had for the poor thing, losing his parents at too young an age and then to almost die at the hands of his enemies. Such a poor runt lost in his litter.
But it wasn't as if this was pity. No, nothing like that; it was more of a longing: a longing to touch, to hold, to caress gently into the night.
He ran his slim fingers across his full lips, shivering over the sensation it gave him. He stared straight ahead and only gave an occasional glance at the body sitting at a ninety degree to him every so often. But to look exactly at him, he could feel a red hot blush rush over his pale face.
Instead he leaned on the table, one hand cradling his head and the other tapping the wooden top. He resisted the urge to smile as every tap perked up the ears of the boy.
So cute, he thought to himself as he tapped again. Oh so innocent. Perfect marriage material, but oh so sad the boy would never understand what marriage was. He was too disinterested and young to see what could happen between two lovers.
It was enough; he couldn't take it. He reached out a hand slowly as if not to scare off the boy and rested it on his head. He felt the softness of his black hair and interlaced his fingers between it. Surprisingly, the boy only purred against his touch and nudged closer to the edge of the chair.
Ah, true happiness. A love waste not, want not. He smiled again, stroking his hand back and forth, and tussled the dark hair in a bird nest mess.
It was sad though, marriage only being acceptable between two people, a man and a woman. Surely if he could show the beauty and strength of his love towards his amour, then the definition of marriage would be changed forever. Such a revolution.
But still, the secrecy and forbiddenness of what they had was oh so sweet. The hidden tryst in the middle of the night, crawling into bed with each other, holding each other as if slowly melting away. The feel of the boy's soft and small body next to his could last a lifetime, no matter how short that life was.
And yet, it all had to come to an end eventually. The break of dawn, the rising of the sun and of the people, the slide out of bed, and poof, there leaves the warm, the body, the love. Bitter, if you ask him.
Love, he thought to himself, is such a fickle thing. Never satisfied with what it has; it takes and never gives, at least to people like him.
He stopped his hand, staring down at the quivering yellow eyes, so beautifully wide and ready to take in sights of the world. Sights of the outside world, a world so far away and incomprehensible to the inside of these damned walls.
It's nothing special, he said to the boy in his mind. There's no love there. No marriage. No me. Why go out when you have me here? Hm?, he thought, resuming his petting. You could stay with me forever, can't you?
Ah, but alas, love always has different plans. It would break them apart at their most strongest and crudely sew them together at their most weakest. He would run away from his touch, and then come crawling back for more. A heated argument gave way to lonely and cold beds, yet a small glance in the hallway could send the boy tucking his tail between his legs, leading to only one empty bed for the night. Love always tears away two lovers.
But, oh, marriage does not.
He stopped his hand again, smiling once more. Moving his hand, instead, to lift up the boy's chin, he made their eyes meet.
Hey, let's get married,
"Eren."
"Huh? You say something, Lance Corporal?" The fifteen-year-old brat sat up from his relaxed position on the couch, setting down the newspaper that had smudged ink all over his fingers.
The lance corporal only returned his hand to the top of the cat's head and continued petting with a smile.
"No, nothing."
The cat purred.
"Nothing at all."
Meow.