He had never been in love, had never really thought about it; Basch's life had been full enough even without romantic entanglements. He'd had lovers, friends, but nothing more, and he had never felt an absence, never felt as though an empty space pierced his life.
It had not changed when he'd met Balthier.
Though they had shared their words, their bodies, there had been no lightning strike as the novels would have one believe. They had needed no pretence beyond their mutual respect and a shared desire for something familiar within the extraordinary. The intimacy had only strengthened their friendship, until a quirk of an eyebrow spoke as much as Balthier's quicksilver tongue or Basch's dry earnestness.
It was not until Balthier was no longer with them that Basch realized how much a part of himself Balthier had become; it was as a hole left by a lost tooth, and Basch was helpless but to worry it.
Was it love? Fraternity? Convenience? Though Basch did not know, he hoped greatly for Balthier's return - if only so that he could figure it out.