Kristjan's love was like a storm, like the thunder and the rain. Wonderful to watch, wonderful to feel, easy to drown in. Dangerous.
Lukas told him this once. Told Kristjan it made him wonder if there was something in the water that made him wish for the monsoon season.
The colder of the two, the blessed one crossed by the arctic boundary and ruled until no warmth was left, had been hesitant to admit he loved being drenched in the pretty words and impassioned actions Kristjan treated him with.
It made him feel like a flower struggling to soak up from the damp earth beneath it, smothered by falling sky and overwatered, overloved. And this struggle made him feel valued.
Kristjan had taken a moment to process the comparison when he was told. Studied Lukas as if waiting for him to admit he was once again making a fool out of the older man.
"Are you happy like this?" Kristjan asked.
"I am," said a voice that did not feel like Lukas'. He bit his lip and folded a leg under him, adjusting how he sat on Kristjan's couch. "I suppose I am."
Oh, and he had been, even five hundred years ago when Kristjan threw him against a wall and told Lukas not to argue back so much. He'd been happy fifty years ago when Kristjan suggested they run away from it all, together-and nearly took him up on the offer. He was so miserably happy drowning in the other man's moods and thoughts and desires that he practically wanted to thank him.
Kristjan stood and walked across the room, over to the old bookshelf he was so particular about preserving. He put a hand on the side of the piece of furniture, then carefully slid it up to the shelf Lukas hated.
"Don't," said Lukas. It sounded like a command. It was a plea.
Kristjan pretended not to hear, tracing the spines of each book until he reached the one he was looking for. It was unmarked and bound in worn, well-loved weather, but either man could have recognized it in an instant.
"Reading off poetry is a cheap shot, isn't it?" asked Kristjan, paging through the book, searching for the words scribed there long ago.
Lukas felt the urge to get up, to grab the book from Kristjan's hands and throw it far away from the two of them, but he remained glued to the spot, still and silent as his love drowned him once more.