Rating: PG-13
Theme: # 34 Fission / Fusion (Part 1)
The coffee was almost spilling out of the shallow cup, the way he was swirling it. Whoever served coffee in teacups, anyway? He decided that this café was far too full of itself, to charge so much for so little. He gave his drink one last swirl, and the brown liquid splashed over the rim, onto his hand, pooling in the saucer. He just stared at it rolling off and staining his hand, stared like he'd been staring at the cup for the last five minutes, before abruptly reaching for a lacey napkin. The coffee was only still warm, having cooled sometime during the conversation when he had forgotten it.
Now he picked at the dainty piece of cloth in his hands. "So what you're saying," he started, not looking up, "is that you're breaking up with me."
Their small table was perched on the sidewalk outside the café. The man seated across it sighed loudly, rubbing his square chin. "And I was trying so hard not to put it that way."
"But that's what you mean. A couple can't suddenly devolve to 'just friends' without a break-up." His voice was soft, almost as if he didn't believe what his own body was saying.
"C'mon, Roy, we were friends before we started sleeping together, and we're still friends now, and there's no reason why we can't be friends in the future."
Roy shot a glare across the table, something weakly defiant although slightly hurt and confused. "There's no reason we can't be sleeping together in the future, either." He was staring back at the napkin before he even finished speaking.
There was no immediate response, and Roy knew that something deeper and more personal was coming. He looked up almost involuntarily, subconsciously needing to see his lover's face. Those golden eyes were softly sad, the lines of his mouth apologetic. "As much as I've loved being with you all this time, I've started to see that it's not how it can be forever. I'm sure some part of you understands that."
Some part of him did, but he decided to ignore the opinions of that part as much as possible. He tossed the napkin unhappily onto the table and stared out at the street. "But friends will go on forever?"
"Yes! Haven't you been listening at all?" Hughes leaned back, nearly knocking over the chair that was too delicate for his long frame. "I'm not saying I hate you and never want to see you again, I just think it's a good time for us to move on to different things."
Roy's brow furrowed. He reached blindly for his absurd cup of coffee and lifted it into the air before setting it back down. "What kind of different things are you thinking of that require us to be friends and nothing more?" A hard knot tightened in his heart, a fear of knowledge he already had but dreaded to hear spoken.
The chair creaked as the other man sat forward, hunching over with his elbows resting loosely on his knees, and looked out to watch the pedestrians pass by only feet away. "We're rising quickly through the ranks, we can't stay unnoticed for long."
"Since when do you care about what other people think about us? Weren't you the one to convince me that I shouldn't be ashamed for loving you?" Weren't you the one that chose this frilly café and the table out on the avenue for all the world to hear this conversation if it wanted? followed in his mind, but he kept it to himself. He was irritated, but he figured irritating Maes in return wasn't the best way to keep him.
Hughes ducked his head for a moment before continuing. "I mean, soon the higher-ups will take an interest in one of us, or we'll earn names for ourselves, and people will start prying into our lives. I'm worried about our careers as well as our reputations. The military doesn't want to show off exemplary officers and have to admit that they're defective—"
"You don't honestly think that about us!" That was going too far, to demean the both of them with the world's irrationality—
"Of course not!" Hughes snapped back. "But that doesn't stop the world from thinking that about us. You know as well as I that we're members of a minority. A taboo, improper, secret minority."
An awkward pause. Neither looked at the other, instead gazing out over the oblivious street. "I don't completely buy that reason, but I trust you have others." Roy's hand found its way back to the cup, and he began to worry the tiny handle with his thumb.
"Just one other that makes any difference." He paused. "Roy, you know that…." He stopped altogether.
"What?" Roy asked, feeling that knot pull breathlessly tight. He pulled his gaze back from the street, to see Hughes with his head down, seemingly staring at the ground far below his knees.
"You know that I've always wanted a family." It was said at a normal volume, but still, it was so soft Roy had trouble hearing it. The sounds of the street tumbled over their silence as Hughes looked away, then up, eyes seeking out Roy's.
He couldn't deny that look. With a shaky hand, Roy fumbled for the coffee, downing it to wet his suddenly dry mouth. It was tasteless. "Alright," he said hoarsely. He cleared his throat, started again. "Alright. If you don't want me—"
"Roy."
He shook his head to keep him from saying more. "If you don't want me, I can't make you stay. If you want to try friends…." Hands clenched on the table, he rose unsteadily. Down, he was staring down into the cup again. With effort, he lifted his head, bringing himself face to face with the angles and lines that was a worried Maes Hughes. Quickly, silently, he swept his eyes over that face, memorizing it as if for the last time. Then, with no regrets, he leaned in for a feather-light brush of lips on lips.
Good bye, it said. I'm so sorry, it said.