Originally published on aff 2007-09-02
No One Mourns for the Wicked
He'd seemed invincible, the way he'd always carried himself and acted as if nothing was ever wrong. But he hadn't been, Fayt knew that now. Albel the Wicked was gone. Fayt wasn't even sure if he was dead. One moment they'd been fighting back to back and the next Fayt was on his back barely a foot away from the opening of a giant hole in the earth. He could remember seeing Albel's sword, the Crimson Scourge, glinting in its descent to the darkness below. He could remember hearing Albel's cursing cry vanish into nothing. He could remember being dragged away from the hole by Cliff as the others created a way out using spells and weaponry, being tossed over Cliff's shoulder because his legs wouldn't carry him, and he could remember his eyes burning with tears. He had been tossed in the back of a cart and Nel's two subordinates – he couldn't remember their names – had kicked the horses into a fierce gallop to get them all out of there.
All of them, that is, except Albel.
Fayt sat still on the bed that smelled faintly of the Wicked. The funeral was in a few hours time. He knew they were only having one for his sake. He knew that no one had gone back to that battleground to look for Albel. They were all too pleased that his caustic self no longer existed and only because Fayt was still here in Kirlsa no one had begun to celebrate this most unfortunate and perfect loss. Everyone seemed to have a mind for Fayt's feelings in the aftermath, but no one knew the real reason why Fayt had chosen to lock himself away in Woltar's mansion among the things that still smelled like Albel. They all assumed he was beating himself up over a loss of a friend that he could've prevented, like he'd beaten himself up over the fact it had been his fault his father had been murdered.
No one knew that ever since they'd acquired Crimson Scourge, Albel had been sharing his bed with Fayt. No one knew that Fayt had whispered words of endearment into the Wicked's ear night after night. No one knew that Fayt and Albel had been in love. No one knew that Fayt willingly spread his legs for Albel and moaned deliciously for the elder man. No one knew.
And now, no one ever would.
Fayt refused to let his heart heal. Of course Albel was hard to get along with at times. He was rude, sarcastic, caustic, and most of all, self-absorbed. But it was all a front to keep people away from him. Fayt had been the only one to see past all that and for his efforts, he was rewarded with Albel's loyalty and his heart. Fayt had coveted those treasures, for he'd given his own loyalty and love to the elder man, and knew those were coveted in return. He knew all he had to do was ask Cliff and the man would melt and form a search party.
But it was too late. The funeral was only two hours away from occurring. Fayt didn't want to attend. Sophia or Maria would make him. Neither of them had enjoyed the way that Albel, well, for lack of better word, hogged Fayt. Sophia could understand Fayt's feelings toward the brunette man, since she'd realized Fayt's affections for her would never evolve past brother-sister feelings. She'd accepted it in good nature and actually supported him. Maria, on the other hand, hadn't been so forgiving. Because of what they were, who they were, Maria had gotten it into her head she and Fayt were supposed to be betrothed, and were supposed to create lots of little Destruction-Alteration babies. Albel had been her competition, had been in her way, and the moment he'd been declared dead she had gone after Fayt.
Because no one mourned the Wicked.
No one except Fayt.
Fayt rose from the bed to move to the window, looking down on the people who would soon be reveling in Albel's demise. They didn't remember that Albel had been part of the team who had helped save their miserable lives, their world, by defeating Luther. They only remembered the man who tortured their loved ones or killed them on the battlefield. Albel Nox wasn't worth mourning. Albel the Wicked wasn't even worth a passing sad thought.
Fayt leaned his forehead against the cool glass and began to cry. It wasn't the first time he'd cried for Albel, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. Albel was gone and Fayt was all alone now. He couldn't stay on Elicoor II now. Not without Albel. He didn't want to go with Maria and Cliff because he knew how both of them felt toward him. He'd go back with Sophia, then, to Earth. Sophia would let him mourn.
Because Fayt was the only one who would mourn the Wicked.
"Fayt, it's time." Nel said from the other side of the door. Fayt trembled. He couldn't go. He couldn't go to this funeral and believe Albel wasn't dead. If he went it would be like saying good-bye and he didn't want to say good-bye. He rubbed his face free of tears and took a deep breath. He really didn't have a choice because Nel would break in here and drag him out anyway. So he went to the door, opened it, and followed the redheaded woman down the stairs toward the graveyard.
No one was there. No one except those who were Fayt's friends, who were only there for Fayt. Because no one mourned the Wicked.
Except Fayt.
The eulogy hadn't even begun when there was a startled gasp. Fayt turned toward that person, finding it to be Maria, who was staring in the direction of the street. His eyes watered again, staring at the beaten, bloody, proud form of Albel Nox the Wicked. He saw Albel scoff at the sight of his tears because he knew the other man hated to see him cry. But this time, Albel would let him.
"Go, Fayt," Sophia said softly.
Fayt broke from the small group, running toward Albel before anyone could stop him. He flung his arms around the Wicked's bare waist, felt Albel's come around his shoulders and pull him tight. He didn't care that the claw was scratching his skin, he didn't care that Albel was dirty, bruised, and bloody, and he didn't care that everyone saw when he pressed his lips to Albel's to prove to himself that this was –real– and Albel was here with him. He didn't care when Albel snarled at Cliff and the others when Fayt began to openly cry with joy, he didn't care that Sophia helped him and Albel get back home to where it was safe. He cried until he couldn't anymore and clung to Albel. And Albel let him.
Because Albel knew there was only one person in the entire universe that would mourn for him if he ever did die.
Because only Fayt mourned for the Wicked.
And for Albel, as he held Fayt tight and let the boy cry, Fayt was the only one who mattered.