I stood, tall and proud, never one to lower myself to a commoner's level. That wasn't always the case, and once, just once, I bent, and it was a beautiful, yet painful surrender for which my lover gave everything.
James was tall and proud too; he'd never admit he loved me. We just shagged, never loved. The two can never be confused. We blamed it on hormones, on desperation and desire, on the need for control as well as the need for submission.
His wiry arms held me afterward, his deep blue eyes staring into my own, in disbelief. His pale lips, shocked free of circulation, kissed me without thinking the consequences. I kissed him back, forcefully battling his tongue against mine, merely out of instinct. James loved me, and I did not love him back.
I couldn't love him. I wouldn't love him. I came so close, so close to falling in love with him, at least I thought I did. James was the first man I had ever felt anything for, and I destroyed him. I stood tall, despite his screams, and didn't feel anything as I watched him die, hidden under a cloak.
My Lord would've killed me if I had said a single word. He was making an example of James, destroying him to protect my own loyalty to him. "Lucius, you cannot serve two masters," he said to me that night, before entering into the hollow. But for a time, I served both love and hate, both God and Satan, both James and Tom. Now I serve only Tom Marvolo, devil of this Earth, though I miss James, my angel of heaven.