Author's note: Hi all, I'm back for another chapter. Thank you everyone for reading and following this story. Star honey, thanks so much for reviewing! I'm very glad you're still doing well – really, how have you been? It's been such a long time! Special thanks to Aynslesa and Ale-chan, who have been supporting me through all these times; you two have been a great encouragement for me to continue this story. I'll say it again that I won't abandon this story; it will end in another 2 chapters. Yes, we are near the end. I had to go and read the whole story again from the beginning before starting on this chapter, and suddenly it hit me that, hey, it started out as a light-hearted, fluffy piece, right; so why on earth did it become the manual for suicide it is now?! I mean, after I finished writing the chapter, I even thought of naming it 'How to go mad in 7 days', but then that'd just be in bad taste. Well, anyway, it's been a lot of fun writing this story, that is for sure. Please be warned that THERE ARE MATURE CONTENTS IN THIS CHAPTER (although they suck because I just can't write sex). Enjoy.

The Latin phrase used in this chapter came from Psalm 4:8. Any mentions of Christianity do not necessarily reflect my personal views.

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Chapter 13: Farewell

Dégel was woken by a light knock on his door. As he opened his eyes, morning light streamed from the opened windows, temporarily blinding him from its brightness. He shook his head, feeling as though something incredibly heavy had been lifted from his mind.

A maid entered the room with a tray of breakfast. She watched him with wary eyes, and despite her effort at appearing calm, Dégel could see the way the tray shook as she approached his bed, as though she was approaching an untamed animal. He could not help but laugh silently at that. Perhaps she was right. He was undone. Yet in spite of his expectations, the thought did not dampen his mood. On the contrary, he could feel his spirit lifting; it was a most liberating feeling, he had to admit to himself. Perhaps he had been freed from morality's iron constraint by the very brain fever that had brought the onset of his mental breakdown. Dégel pondered the thought, before dismissing it as un-noteworthy. For what did it matter what it was he had been liberated from – for all Dégel cared he may have very well been rescued from the chains of his very sanity, for who could be more free than the madman?

'Young master, sir, you have an appointment with Signore Manigoldo Feliciano today. He is currently waiting for you in the red drawing room.'

The maid's voice brought him out of his trance, and the quiver in it put Dégel in an even better mood. He made it known with a smile. At the sight, the girl took an involuntary step back, a look of utter terror upon her countenance. With her legs shaking beneath her voluminous dress, it was as though she wanted desperately to run away, yet was nailed to spot by an invisible force, he noted. The thought pleased Dégel.

'Leave the tray on the small table, and you have permission to leave.' His voice was cold, but that was merely Dégel being himself. He saw no cause to be alarmed over his behaviour. The maid, on the other hand, did not appear to agree, for she obeyed faster than he would have thought possible and scurried out of the room as a mouse from a cat's sight. Her actions amused Dégel, yet at the same time left a bitter taste on the tip of his tongue. Somewhere deep inside, he knew it hurt, but could not bring himself to care about the degeneration within his very psyche.

Dégel brushed the trivial feeling aside. He had more important things to consider, such as the confidential information in Dégel's utmost interest Manigoldo Feliciano had promised him. The man had been behaving in a most bewildering manner, he mused. Never could he have imagined such a man to schedule appointments with Dégel on his own initiative, using promises of seemingly illusory information to tempt him into acquiescence. He held no illusion about this man's opinion of him; Signore Feliciano was a man who was unafraid to make his dislikes very well known and Dégel had been an eye-witness to the man's brutal candour. However, over and above how bemused he was by the man's behaviour, Dégel was even more taken aback by his own reaction to the man's words. A normal Dégel never would have responded to such vague guarantees from a character he neither knew nor trusted, yet he found himself hanging onto each syllable from the man's lips as though they would somehow determine his fate; it was a ridiculous notion, Dégel knew, and still he had been agreeing without thinking each time Manigoldo sought a meeting. The man had a strange sense of humour that Dégel certainly refused to approve of, yet this time there was something different about his jests; they were dark and deliberately tailored to wound, as though showing Dégel just how much he was resented and at the same time hinting at something that Dégel wished he understood. In his serious air, disputing Manigoldo Feliciano appeared a far-removed option. Perhaps that was how he had advanced in the ranks of the military, Dégel noted. On the other hand, this time, even his painfully honed instincts were urging him to listen to every word the man had to say. His instincts were telling him his very life depended on that man's words, and that, Dégel could not bring himself to accept. Then again, there had been a sense of imminent danger plaguing him despite the brief respite he had the previous night in Kardia's presence. It weighed upon his chest, making it so very difficult to breathe, and though it had become a perpetual condition for Dégel in the past week, he could never become accustomed to the feeling of being damned. At the same time, Dégel welcomed the feeling. He was starting to understand how Kardia must have been feeling all the time, and he wanted more pain; if not in joy, they would share in suffering. Dégel almost laughed at the morbid thought. It was not as though he could change his condition, anyhow, for the only thing Dégel could do now was to endure through the pain till the day he could have Kardia with him again, alive and well. He had vowed that that day would come very soon, when he would abduct the man from this world that seemed so determined to stand against them both.

When he eventually turned to his breakfast, Dégel had already lost what little appetite he had, so he merely took his coffee before dressing to meet Manigoldo again. The servant he had assigned to follow the other man should have reported back, and still he had not heard from him in the last several days. Perhaps it was time Dégel himself procured the information directly from the man after the draining mind games they had been playing. Besides, he thought with pleasure, the sooner he resolved this issue with the other man, the sooner he could take Kardia and leave for good. The mere indication of being able to at last be with Kardia brought a smile to his lips, and his feet became that much lighter. Dégel went down to confront Manigoldo Feliciano in a significantly better mood than when he woke up.

The first thing that greeted his eyes as he opened the oak door to the drawing room was the unconscious man lying in the middle of the room, bloody and beaten. It was the very servant Dégel had sent to tail Manigoldo in order to obtain information, only with much less dignity than he had sent him away with. It was an abortive attempt, he knew, yet Manigoldo Feliciano never failed to surprise him with his ingenious ways. With a raised eyebrow, Dégel turned to look at the man sitting on his desk before the bay window.

'Well?'

Manigoldo was acting as though he could not be bothered to pay attention. He leaned on one arm, reclining with a leg propped on the table, mindless of his boot on the clean wood. He appeared to be following something far away on the outside; perhaps it was the wings of a bird, or a lone cloud drifting by – no one but the man himself would know what he was watching so intently in that moment. There was a contemplative look upon his countenance that made his dark eyes darker, and with the corners of his mouth pulled down into a deep frown, the man was the perfect study in pondering. The sky was bright today, Dégel noted, and the way brilliant light washed over that man somehow reminded him of Kardia. They shared the same looks, the same contemplation, the same fierceness that almost blazed crimson in the white – or was it the light that paled before them both? The thought pulled at a string in his heart. Dégel's chuckle at the absurdity of the comparison came out as a puff of air, light as the brush of a rose petal, yet it was what finally caught the attention of the man on his desk.

'Good day to you too, Monsieur.' The mock came, as expected of the man, and Dégel chuckled again. Perhaps he also should have expected that his servant would be discovered; that would have done him good in the future, he mused.

'My deepest apologies. I could think of no other way to learn what it is that you have to say to me, such that a direct man like yourself would have to keep it secret till the opportunity ripens, as you mentioned.'

'And you would think sending your servant to tail me would obtain you this information?' There was a tinge of insult in Manigoldo's voice. The man was of course justified in his indignation, Dégel thought, yet somehow the knowledge that he had wounded his pride merely by setting a spy on him greatly amused Dégel. He did not notice his smile widening even more until the stretch on his facial muscles became unbearably uncomfortable.

'You seem amused.' The statement was dark. With a precision so sharp it cut through the heavy atmosphere between them as a hot knife through butter, the man jumped down from his perch. He circled the desk, eyes never leaving Dégel's, and when he reached the chair behind it, a growl tore itself from his throat. His knuckles white as he gripped the back of the chair, Manigoldo smashed it through the bay window in a magnificent display of rage. Hundreds of shards of glass shot in every direction in a rain of glitter, before the crash resounded like distant thunder on that clear day. Another growl accompanied the echo, and the man swivelled back to Dégel, eyes blazing as the fires of hell and a murderous look upon his countenance. 'You are mad, that's what's wrong with you. Have you lost so much of your reason as to not be able to distinguish between who to be wary of and who not? How base, nobleman, to employ the very method your despicable brother did when he preyed upon the very life of your lover!'

The last word was spat out in venom. Yet despite the vehemence and hatred it embodied, Dégel normally would never have responded to such a simplistic show of emotion. Indeed, he had trained his mind exactly because he wished never again to respond to it. This time, though, something was different, because deep within him somewhere, a cord was struck as the very incident he had wished to forget was brought up in naked humiliation. It was as though there was an almost audible twang of something snapping within him, before Dégel lunged for the man. There was no time to think, and no time to consider the consequences of his actions. A red veil fell before his eyes, blinding him to everything but smouldering contempt and hatred, until all that Dégel could hear, see, and feel, was a blistering fury that threatened to tear his psyche into shreds.

Their fists collided with their targets almost at the same time, and in that split second before pain registered, Dégel suddenly found himself flung back through the air. He landed on his feet, but there was already the metallic tang of blood in his mouth as his lip split from the punch. The smell made him nauseous, but the pain woke him up to what exactly it was that he was doing. Startled, Dégel focused again on Manigoldo instead of preparing for another strike as he had been doing in that brief pause. The man stood firmly on his spot, unshakable as a god in his temple. The scathing look upon his face gave way to satisfaction as he eyed the blood on Dégel's mouth, before the man, too, met Dégel's with his own defiant gaze again, unfathomable thoughts shining through as though tempting Dégel to attack him again. It was a look Dégel knew too well from Kardia's own expressions, yet this time, there was so much more malevolence in it that he was rendered speechless. It was like Kardia himself was blaming him with that accusing glare.

Dégel's head throbbed from a sudden headache that nearly made him keel over. It was not from the physical injury he received, that much he was certain; yet whence it came from, Dégel knew not. In that instant, it was as though Manigoldo had not hit him with his fist but with a sledgehammer. The pain was crippling; it threatened to rend his head apart and drill into his skull with shrieks that deafened him for a moment. Dégel staggered where he stood, a hand on his head and the other clamped tightly over his mouth to muffle the half-scream that ripped itself from his throat. He could feel his eyes bugging from the pain as the world swayed dangerously about him in blurring masses of colours. His consciousness faded and returned in flickering flashes, before bile rose in his throat, threatening to choke him. In his darkening vision, he could see the other man taking a tentative step towards himself, and the anger temporarily subdued by his headache abruptly returned with a vengeance.

'Don't you dare come near me, partisan!' His cry resonated through the grating noises in his ears as coming from a place far away. It sounded hoarse and it sounded inhuman, like a howl from a wounded animal afraid of being touched. Dégel ignored it. 'What would you know about our situation? Does your brother, whom you love more than your own life, attempt to murder your lover, whom you would abandon everything for? Does your brother, whom you would kill for, insist that you abandon your lover, whom you would live only for, on pain of losing both of them as well as your own sanity and everything that ever mattered in the world? Well, I thought not, for you have an illustrious brother who shines as the sun and more caring than even family by blood. What right have you got to preach to me about methodologies and such niceties? Have you yourself not been baiting me with news that you would not reveal and play with my nerves, exploiting my weakness in that expert way only a cunning man could? Par dieux, if you would not part me this knowledge, pray leave me alone with my thoughts and my suffering! I could have taken him with me presently!'

Words poured from his mouth, and Dégel spoke without knowing he was speaking. Perhaps he had been shouting. He was uncertain of everything now, breaths coming from his mouth in urgent puffs as he panted. Sweat ran down his face in rivulets, and still he refused to fall. Rather, he stood tethering on the spot, bloodshot eyes trained on the blurring and reappearing silhouette before him. There was a deep resentment running in his blood, such that he could even feel it crawling underneath his skin, scratching at him until he would release everything, leaving nothing but an emptiness that gouged hungrily into his soul for more to burn. Then, for just a very short moment, his eyes cleared. Dégel raised his head and caught a look from the man before him. It made him want to laugh. And Dégel did laugh. He laughed long and hard, shaking from the absurd hilarity until his whole body hurt and his ears were ringing with his own laughter, until there were tears gathering at the corners of his eyes and what little strength he had left threatened to flee him altogether. Pity. The man was pitying him. Dégel could not quite comprehend what it was about him that was worth the pity of this uncompromising man. Whatever it was, it must have been bad. Somewhere in the back of his head, a sinister voice whispered things about how he probably had known the answer all along and was merely refusing to recognise it like the fool he was, before that, too, was drowned out by the raucous laughter that seemed no longer to be coming from Dégel himself.

'You are wrong.' Dégel paused in his mirth to listen to what the man had to say. 'Perhaps I cannot fully comprehend your situation, Dégel Leblanc, but I, too, have seen what you have not seen, and have tasted – still tasting – suffering you have not suffered.' Manigoldo was grimacing now, before the customary indomitable gleam returned to his eyes. 'So tell me not that I know nothing, wretched fool; you, too, have no right to speak about that which you know not. Then again, I suppose you are justified in your reasoning, considering your circumstances. Soon, very soon, I shall send words. Do not question me again, for our interests coincide in this matter, I can assure you. Surely you can understand this even as you take leave of most of your senses?'

'Take leave of my senses?' Dégel almost scoffed, before another proverbial jerk in his brain brought an involuntary wince to his expression. 'Pray speak not nonsense. When have I taken leave of my senses? Worry not for me, signore, I would rather you direct your sympathy and care towards your brother whom you love. Your concern would best serve placed with the right person.'

Another silence fell between them, during which Dégel straightened, his brows drawn tight together as his vision blanked out from his efforts. Before him was a darkness that stretched into what appeared to be infinity, but his ears, having been temporarily cleared of the white noise, caught the sounds of footsteps approaching him and then passing him in perfected nonchalance. Dégel strained to look, but his back was rigid, and his vision refused to clear. He felt like fainting while still standing to his full height. Before the door clicked shut, Dégel fancied these words were thrown carelessly over a broad shoulder in his general direction: 'If you are interested, monsieur, Kardia shall visit again today. Only remember, I shall soon send words; you must answer then, for both our sakes.'

The mention of the name was the last strike, and Dégel fell sideway with a sigh of relief. Kardia, he thought, Kardia was visiting him today. He cradled his head in his hands as his body twisted in on itself, willing the pain to go away. The crimson walls of the room seemed to resonate with the name, Kardia, Kardia, Kardia, Kardia, until it was all that was echoing within his tired mind. Dégel was exhausted, emotionally and physically; all he wanted to do then was to curl up and sleep until Kardia would come to wake him up. How ludicrous, the lone thought somehow made it through the haze; he would need to be well to greet Kardia. It would not do for him to trouble the man with this triviality when Kardia himself was enduring his own much more serious illness. How unsightly, how pathetic; Dégel knew he would die before he would let that one man see this ugly side of him. Thus resolving, he crawled to his feet with strength borrowed he knew not where from, very much intending on regaining a semblance of composure. Perhaps he should even look for a fitting gift before they leave this land for good – the next day would be Christmas Eve, after all. Dégel was startled as his headache subsided; it indeed would be Christmas. He pursed his lips and stumbled towards the door, the haze fading by the seconds and the chanting of that one name in his ears becoming increasingly louder. Kardia, Kardia, Kardia, Kardia, Kardia… The servant lying on the floor of his drawing room was already forgotten as he pushed past the quivering maid waiting to serve outside the door.

Somehow, after that the day had passed by in an instant. Dégel could not quite recall what he had been doing for the whole day; there was a light-headedness that clouded his senses from everything else. From time to time, he was excited for no reason, his heartbeats speeding and his cheeks flushing a terrible shade of scarlet. Kardia, he would tell himself, before hurrying to complete whatever task that he had been doing. The sporadic spells of elation were the only thing keeping him grounded in those short stretches of consciousness. Dégel suspected they were also the only thing keeping his headache at bay and his strength from deserting him altogether; not that there was much left in the first place. Other times, though, brief flashes of worried faces appeared and disappeared before his eyes, before he took a walk that lifted him away from the material world, or at least it felt genuinely as though he had visited upon a different dimension. Beside the absolute blank that his mind drew up as he attempted to remember what he had been doing, the lights, sounds, and smells were foreign to him; they were all oddly wavering and vague in the same way he conceived nothingness.

One moment, he was surrounded by a paradise-like scenery in which everything was white and faded behind a veil, and it was quiet and peaceful as nothing he had felt recently. Dégel blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, the scenery had vanished into thin smoke. He was pleasantly surprised to find, standing before him, tall and dark and glowing in the late afternoon sun, was none other than his Kardia. Immediately, his senses returned in a rush so violent it was almost a physical blow, and everything that had paused in time suddenly became animated the instant life flowed back into them as though there had never been any interruption. Dégel realised that he was somehow outside, and the sky had turned from clear blue to a blend of crimson and orange. Behind him were the woods where his childhood memories lay, whereas in front of him only the plain covered under glistening snow stretched towards the horizon. In the distance, he could hear the callings of migrating geese, and before him the crunches of boots on snow freshened the chilly winter air even more into something crisp and tangible he could nearly taste.

Dégel reached out a tentative hand, and his fingertips touched icy skin, more real than anything that had transpired that day. He drew his hand back for a second, hesitant, before flinging himself against the other man, all caution forgotten in favour of the search for missing comfort and completion.

'Dégel.'

His own name was breathed in his ear like life injected again into his blood. There were arms around him, crushing him against that familiar body he knew better than his own, and Dégel, in turn, tightened his hold on the man with all the strength he had. Hands burying into the thick mane of hair, Dégel could feel Kardia's warmth seeping through the layers of clothes, through his skin and flesh and bones, into his very marrow, his core, and suddenly heat pricked at his eyes, irrational and absolutely understandable in the same heartbeat.

'Kardia.' He almost sobbed into the mane of hair. Dégel relaxed in the embrace, and knew he was finally complete. Chapped lips moved over his ear, murmuring sweet nothings in tandem with the hand rubbing comforting circles on his back, and Dégel smiled, letting the tight embrace warm him up and chase away the phantoms of his thoughts. Kardia. His Kardia.

They stood swaying on the spot to a melody-less waltz, and Dégel was reminded of that pale autumn morning all over again, when easy affection smoothed into an eternity of longing at last. It was a forever that was too short, but it was enough, because far from that chaste morning when their feelings were still a bashful sort of denial, they were unafraid here, now, as their twin bodies parted that hair's breadth for their lips to meet. They kissed, and parted, and came together again, and again, until they lost count of the number of kisses they had exchanged. It was another sort of dance, one sweet and languid as though they had all the time in the world. And they did, because no one would bother them on this edge of the earth, Dégel thought, before leaning in again. A kiss was a conversation, and their dialogues could continue till the end of time before they would run out of things to say to each other. A peck on the lips was a simple 'I miss you'. Hesitant parting was an aching 'Don't leave, stay if only for another minute'. Lips moving over each other, slotting together as they belonged together, was a sensual 'Never let go; you belong with me'. Mouth opening just that slightest inch, allowing a tongue to snake inside, was an invitation 'Take more, take everything, and give me your everything in this kiss'. A stroke over teeth and cheeks before entwining with another tongue in that bewitching exchange of flavours, was a passionate 'My heart, my love, my life, my soul'. Dégel moaned into the kiss, the sound rumbling between their bodies. His heart, his love, his life, his soul.

When they parted at last, Kardia pulled back a little more to touch his forehead to Dégel's, fingers lacing behind his back to cage him between his arms. Dark eyes peered into his, and Dégel blushed a brilliant shade like that faraway day when they first talked.

'What happened to your face?' Kardia finally asked, eyes briefly moving to rest on the corner of Dégel's mouth where a bruise was forming. 'Did it hurt when we kissed?'

'A minor scuffle; nothing you need to be concerned over. Besides, think you this little inconvenience could keep me from kissing you, my dear?' Dégel smiled a smile that reached his eyes, before lacing his fingers behind Kardia's back in a similar gesture. 'I could ask the same question of you, though. Were you involved in another fight?'

'Oh, this?' Kardia nuzzled his own bruised cheek against Dégel's, before chuckling. 'I had a friendly discussion with that mongrel Manigoldo, that's all. You could say it's a tradition between us.'

Dégel frowned at the mention of the name. He did not want to be reminded of the unpleasant things associated with the other man, not after the long day he had had, and especially now that Kardia was with him.

'Come, do not frown, 'tis too lovely a day for that. Why are you out here? Your skin feels as ice.' Kardia chuckled again, gentle and warm, eyes never leaving his. He pulled Dégel close again, before lifting a hand to cradle the side of his face. 'See? You are freezing.'

The gesture calmed Dégel from his never-ending pondering as he leaned into the hand with a sigh. Kardia's hand was warm, and on his skin, it burned like fire. It made him feel alive. Behind Kardia, the setting sun cast a halo upon his dark head, such that the man shone as a saint before him, his hair gilt golden and his figure larger than life. Dégel sighed again. A saint who brought life to his dead world. How very fitting. He kept his silence to watch the scene unfolding before his eyes, afraid even to miss something should he blink. His gaze trailed from the glowing crown of hair to the trace of concern in those bright eyes, to his nose, his cheekbones, his mouth, his jaw line, down to the curls framing his face in an unruly curtain, to broad shoulders and finally the arm around him. Everything about the man was holy, and no priest or monk in the world could convince Dégel otherwise, of that he was certain. Slowly, he looked up to lock gaze with Kardia again, before carefully turning to whisper a prayer into the palm holding his face. 'singulariter in spe constituisti me.' The wind took the words to carry them far, far away, so that no soul would know of what transpired in his mind in that instant. It was just another secret he had entrusted to the wind.

'What is it?' Kardia's voice was soft as he leant his forehead against Dégel's again, as if afraid to break the moment. His thumb lazily traced circles over the chill of his cheekbone, which quickly heated up under the ministration until warmth spread to the whole of his being. There was tenderness underlying each of Kardia's actions, and if he could, Dégel would have melted under such care until nothing was left of him but happiness.

'Nothing,' Dégel leant forward, letting the man taste the smile on his lips. 'It was nothing at all. Will you stay for dinner?'

For a split second, almost inconspicuously, something dark passed through the gentle glow in his eyes, before the hand holding his face pulled him just that tad closer for another kiss, the merest pressure between their lips. The 'yes' was breathed onto his mouth, and Dégel fancied his heart leapt in joy within his chest. The fleeting strangeness he had just witnessed in his lover was pushed to the back of his mind as he grasped onto the hand holding his face and pulled Kardia towards the mansion. He had time, so for now he would simply be happy in the man's presence.

Their dinner that evening passed in a surprisingly ordinary manner. They talked about the little things that did not matter but which at the same time meant the world, just as they had done in those long months of silent courtship at their white washed café. Kardia told him about that time when his younger sister had tried to run away from the orphanage, about the places that his Father and brothers had been to, faraway places with perpetual thunderstorms or the emerald sea or the snow-peaked blue mountains, about the bar fights full of laughter he had had when he was younger, about the grieving marble statues and the great halls of Vatican, and a thousand other things that Dégel never knew but cherished nonetheless. Dégel, for his part, settled for listening to the man's words and occasionally chimed in with his opinion, a sense of tenderness running beneath his consciousness to soothe all the pain and suffering away as cool water on a burn. His headaches long forgotten, Dégel watched Kardia making grand gestures with his hands as he spoke of the magnificent Sunday masses at the Basilica di San Pietro, silently wondering since when had he forgotten the way Kardia always spoke when he was excited. His eyes lit up now, as they did then, and a healthy shade of colour would creep onto his tan cheeks, adding to his boyish charms when his speech was interrupted by peals of exhilarating chortles. The man was more alive than anything he had ever seen, unafraid to show his passion and earnest in every one of his endeavours. The sight of a happy Kardia immersed in his talk was an endearing one, which Dégel never realised he had missed until then; he vowed to himself to savour it, this time, and the next, and the next, until the end of the forever they would have at each other's side. At some point, the conversation died down a little as they ate, but the silence was comfortable as they basked in each other's presence, appreciating the simple pleasures of life. Dégel himself would steal little glances at the other man, feeling like those early afternoons at the café all over again, when he had been too shy to even initiate a conversation. Sweet times, those, he thought fondly. It brought a genuine smile to his lips.

'What are you thinking about?' From across the table, Kardia, too, was watching him. There was a smile dancing within his dark eyes as one corner of his mouth lifted higher than the other in a lopsided grin. It was Kardia's trademark look, and Dégel remembered that he missed nothing more than the usual mischievous air on his lover. It was one of the things that set him apart from the mediocre crowd, after all. Gentle, fierce, wise, playful, Kardia was a harmony of contraries, and surrounded by the glowing candlelight, the man was more beautiful than any treasure in the world.

'It would be too trite were I to say I was thinking of you, so let us make believe I was lost in those golden afternoons a lifetime ago. They have a soft spot in my heart, you know, the kind people usually reserve for particularly fond memories.'

'That time, eh.' A wistful look entered the mix of emotions, before an eyebrow cocked up in that buoyant manner befitting of the man. 'I certainly can recall it well. It all started with De l'esprit des lois, of all things!In hindsight, I must have been desperate for a topic. And you, Monsieur, didn't help. You were so quiet that I was almost certain you would have spurned my advances. Well, not that it was unreasonable to expect such a thing, but that dawdling was indeed cowardly on my part. Now that I think about it, I probably should have been ashamed of myself for failing to make small talks with you that day I first saw you again despite what my heart had been imploring me to do. We must have looked like idiots incapable of making meaningful conversations!'

'Ah, always jesting, my dear Kardia. Yet I would beg to differ. Would you have changed anything were we allowed to do it all over again?'

There was a pause during which Kardia put a hand to his chin, appearing to think for a moment, before he caught Dégel in that unshakable gaze of his, conviction palpable in words uttered with something that resembled reverence. 'No, I would not. There has never been any time when I was happier than when I spent those short spells with you every day. You are my motivation to rise each day when I open my eyes; all the kings and all the wise men could never attain the salvation I did just by watching you there from across the table. I truly am blessed.'

The answer struck him as a physical blow, sending shivers of heat through his body, up and down his spine, spreading into every fiber of his soul, before eventually slipping into his core to banish whatever fear he had been harbouring yet was unaware of. It made him unbearably weak, a lump forming at the back of his throat that he had to force down with difficulty, but at the same time it gave him strength, such that he knew he was ready in that moment to face whatever it was that the rest of the world would throw at them, and he would crush it with everything he had. It was their ritual or confessions and promises, to pile layers upon layers of bindings to keep the two of them together, if not in this life, then perhaps the next, and the next. Dégel could have sworn he was swooning in that moment, breath stolen and rational thoughts dimmed by blinding elation, and it seemed silly because after all the things that they had confessed to and promised, why this insignificant admission, here, now? Then again, perhaps there was no need to know. The feeling was mutual, and in the end, was that not all that mattered?

'I should say the same and much more, but then again, that would be too sentimental for your taste.' His eyes were warm, and the words came easily, naturally, despite the trembling on his insides that refused to die down. 'Will you not come to my room after this?'

His boldness in expressing his wishes was the only thing differentiating this encounter from the mellow previous ones, when the relationship between them was still chaste and thus much sweeter, as the brush of a feather, yet lacking in the ardour only old lovers who had tasted it could master. Right then, it was latter that Dégel wanted, to feel and see and taste the promise Kardia would make over and over again, with his hands and skin and body, instead of merely listening to words that touched his soul but which failed to assure the rest of him that he was, indeed, being deeply and madly loved by that one man. Kardia was passion incarnate, and the only true way to ascertain the man's feeling for himself was through losing control and drowning in each other's body. Dégel knew this, and Kardia knew this. There was no trace of uncertainty in the man's eyes as he nodded his assent, low embers of something that sent fluttering down Dégel's stomach starting to spark to life within his gaze.

They finished their dinner over idle talks, but the sense of expectation and urgency lingered. This was what Kardia had mentioned the other day, Dégel mused, sweet patience and sweeter still torture. It was crawling within his arms and legs, begging to be put to use, and repeatedly denied by sheer force of will alone. Dégel knew this more than most, that the higher the obstacle, the worthier the reward. It was thus that he endured through the evening, bearing the weight of Kardia's stare on him, and in turn he, too, conveyed his repressed longing through the looks that he shot the man's way. The peace had been shattered, and there was no way of retrieving it again, not that night, not until they had obtained what they both so desperately coveted. It was almost a sort of game that they were playing, or maybe a competition in self-restraint. Or maybe not. Self-restraint, they had been practising since the first day they had met without even being aware of it. This, this sharp awareness of pure need and want, pushed the game to a whole new depth, bordering on being painful but not quite.

'This… thing, we have been doing, seems quite masochistic.' Kardia took the words from his mouth in his usual mercilessly direct way. In wry amusement, Dégel merely blinked slowly in response, unwilling to admit that he, too, was entertaining the very thought Kardia voiced. 'And utterly useless, may I add. Come, now, we are neither monks, nor do we practice asceticism. What need do we have of this farce that we both know only serves to torture us for no good cause, a senseless self-imposed punishment not unlike that of the infamous Tantalus? Come, I am finished with this dinner.'

It was more of an order than an invitation, which Dégel gladly obliged. He stood from the table to lead the way to his room, distinctly aware of the gaze burning into the back of his head only one man had ever been capable of. Want me, yearn for my touch, look only at me, Dégel thought with satisfaction as he pushed the heavy door open. No sooner had they entered the room was Dégel pushed against the door. Movements filled with haste, Kardia kissed him as if his life depended on it, desperate and rough like how Dégel himself was feeling. His arms on both sides trapping Dégel in between, Kardia was a possessive man, indeed, Dégel noted, but the thought, too, was quickly banished when his body was crushed against the hard surface and the kiss deepened to the point when he could not breathe freely. There were hands, he could not remember whose, frantically removing his coat, and then there were hands on his body, trailing patterns over his skin that tingled like a thousand needle pricks. Pleasure, absolute pleasure overwhelmed him, such that Dégel fancied he was feeling pain even as he grinded against his lover's body. His legs were failing for lack of air, but he kept clinging to the man depriving him of it like a foolish addict his drug. The tongue in his mouth swept that broad stroke again, so Dégel could but whimper before biting down hard, tasting blood and that distinct heady scent of ecstasy in a stark contrast against the smooth brightness that was Kardia. The action made Kardia growl.

'Bed.'

It was a simple command, and Dégel was pulled to his feet, his hand taken in a grip that would not let go. He looked at their joint hands, dazed for a moment, before laughing in exuberance as he followed suit. He would follow Kardia to the end of the earth, if he would not let go of Dégel's hand.

They moved as though they did not have the whole night before them for their enjoyment, patience long forgotten or simply discarded as futile in the smouldering heat. Slick bodies slid over each other, mouths covering every inch of skin in a rediscovery of claimed territory, and the desolation of the room was filled to the brim with soft pants and other sounds of pleasure. The urge to become even closer, to join, to merge, was a raw force of nature neither could resist, nor did they wish to resist. And so Kardia placed a lean thigh on his shoulder, a predatory smile on his lips, and trailed a wet line with his tongue before biting down and sucked on the sensitive skin near Dégel's groin, relishing in the violent shudders that resulted.

'Ow.' For a split second, it hurt, before the sensation ran straight to his lower stomach in a burn so delicious Dégel could not help but blush even brighter. He chanced a glance down only to see Kardia licking and kissing at the wound, as if to make it better, yet at the same time completely unapologetic, if the satisfied gleam in his dark eyes was any indication. 'Are you trying to mark me? That will bruise for a long while.'

'And if I am?' The smirk directed his way was full of challenge as the man moved up so that he was looming directly over Dégel, his hair spilling down about them in a fall so dark it shielded them from the rest of the world. 'Tell me, what would you do if I was indeed marking my rightful territory, hm?'

'Well,' The opportunity was too good to pass, so Dégel responded with a smirk of his own and reached to pull the man down by his neck, 'I would be very happy.'

The raging lust in Kardia's eyes softened at that, and he obliged without further protest, bending down again in a drawn out kiss overflowing with touches of sweat and blood and the sun. This time, their conversation tasted like 'Rightfully yours for this life and the next' in its glorious revelation of their bare souls. Dégel's free hand was caught against the pillow, fingers held tight against a feverish palm, before they slotted into place against Kardia's own fingers like pieces of a long-lost puzzle. They squeezed, and the emptiness within his grasp was filled at last.

At some point, when Kardia's breathing became too harsh during their love-making, but the man would refuse to slow down or pause like the stubborn person he was, Dégel would stop him by cradling his head against his own heaving chest. He would push his fingers into the mane of hair and stroke until Kardia had calmed himself enough to breathe, ignoring the protests of his own body and the almost unbearable writhing for release in the pit of his stomach. Kardia. His endearing, frustrating, wonderful, beloved Kardia, he would think, vague fears rekindling even as he pressed the man firmly against himself, brooking no argument on the man's part. He would take no risk if it meant this man in his arms could live even a day longer.

'Why not let me on top and move for a while?' He asked not for the first time; 'Why be so obstinate about such a thing?'

A brief laugh vibrating against his chest answered him, before Kardia lifted his head to peer at him with something akin to hurt in his eyes.

'I am not too sure myself; it's a sort of compulsion for me to complete this one act for the both of us. You shouldn't have to move, you know, especially when you feel awkward doing it – I know you do, there is no need to deny. It's hilarious that I can't even accord you this satisfaction you'd easily receive from any partner other than me. Perhaps I should have let you lead from the start?'

The alarm brought about by Kardia's troubled look ebbed away with the words. How very like, and unlike, Kardia to care about the little things even when they could be together as they were, in the perfect manner that they were. There was no man or woman, in this life or the next, whom he would yearn for as he had yearned for this man. The gods should have to envy them, of that Dégel was certain.

'What nonsense you speak, love.' Resuming his petting with one hand, Dégel trailed the other down Kardia's bronzed body, revelling in the feel of muscles and bones beneath his fingers, lower and lower until he reached the intimate space where their twin bodies connected, as they should be. 'If I want to move myself despite being uncomfortable with it, it only means that I value your health that much more than concealing my own weakness. And what use is it to compare yourself with others? I shall get to know no other lover than you, of that you should be certain. What more satisfaction could I gain, when we are already connected as one like this, and could humanly come no closer? It is drawn out; what of it? Your desire, my desire, think you they would lessen just because we take a pause?'

At first, there was surprise in the way Kardia's eyes widened, before the look melted into content. There was also something entirely different from the rest of the mix of emotions on display, one which Dégel later classified as guilt, yet right then he could not for the life of him identify, for his own breath was caught in his throat at the abrupt hitch forward by the slightest of movement on Kardia's part. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Instead, air was forced from his lungs when a spark was lit behind his eyelids and a shudder wracked his body in a new wave of bliss. Unconsciously, he shifted in search of the sensation again, and was rewarded when another jolt shot up his spine, reducing him to a mass of trembling pleasure. Somewhere in his head, though, he must have realised what was happening, and so flexed his muscles in a blatant show of even greater temptation, pleased to hear a hiss against his neck. There were eyes on him again, the smouldering look devouring him in its depth as no other person could manage. A hand ran up the length of his torso in a caress so heated it threatened to reduce Dégel to ash, calluses a perfect contrast with his smooth skin, up and up, to his neck, his face, the rough pad of a thumb tracing his lips, his cheek, the corner of his eye, followed by chapped lips murmuring vows in a forgotten language. The kiss was slow and languorous, all urgency gone, the flavours deepening into unbearable need like aged wine on which they drank themselves into oblivion. With sleek and whole movements, powerful and allowing no room for debate, Kardia laid his forehead against Dégel's, never forgetting to wear that wry smile that brought an ache to his chest.

'Very well, then. Let us savour this encounter to the very last drop. By the time I'm finished with you, my dear Dégel, you will be regretting ever uttering the phrase "drawn out", I promise.'

Dégel had to smile at that. There was nothing better than a willing and playful Kardia, who was also thoroughly bent on delivering him paradise on earth; and if Kardia was not, well, Dégel would have to be the willing and playful one for the both of them – as long as Kardia was with him, all was well. The thought was soon shoved to the back of his mind as Kardia moved again, deep and loving in an unmistakable proof of his undying desire for Dégel, and the night stretched out in euphoria so warm it lingered like a toasty blanket till unconsciousness claimed him.

In the aftermath, as he lay half-awake pressed against his lover, bodies still linked together in the most intimate manner and mouth lazily tracing patterns over golden pectorals, Dégel idly entertained the idea of simply boarding a carriage and eloping with Kardia the very next day. His thoughts were foggy behind a veil of exhausted bliss, subtly aware of the pull of darkness beyond, yet obstinately clinging to the surface for reasons he himself was unaware of. Perhaps a day more would not hurt; Kardia needed to spend Christmas with his family, after all. He would miss the town with its quaint charms, the sun-drenched flower stand, and most of all he would miss the little café where precious memories of his happiest moments lay buried. Unknowingly, even as his mind wandered, his hands started to trail lower again, teasing in their butterfly touches. It was almost as though they had a mind of their own despite the lethargic protests his rational mind proffered, for they danced in that intricate, deliberate taunt against muscles that jumped beneath their touches in response.

'You have a bad habit of provoking me immediately after we are done. Every. Single. Time. At least when you are still conscious.' His hands were finally caught in a firm grip just before they reached their joint hips. 'And presently you're not even fully awake!'

'Yes?' Was his drowsy answer.

Kardia sighed, an affectionate touch to the pretended frustration. His breath tickled Dégel's nose, and in his daze he merely ducked his head to nuzzle against Kardia's chin, unable to stifle the tired chuckle that escaped. His action seemed to greatly entertained Kardia, for his laughter was hearty as puffs of air caressed the top of Dégel's head, sending pleasant tingles to aid to his drowsiness. Eventually, the laughter died down into another fond sigh just as he was starting to drift off. Gently, carefully, Kardia pulled Dégel's hands away from between their bodies to wound them around his own waist, before turning deliberately to squish Dégel against the mattress, making sure to prevent any further impertinence, if still possible, from a very incoherent Dégel.

'Sleep. You need it.'

The command was like a rumbling purr that lulled him further into the land of dreams, and the assuring weight on him was not helping, either. It was too difficult not to surrender to rest, when both his mentality and physical body pled with him just to let himself fall over to the other side, where loving darkness was ready to envelop him in peace. And yet, Dégel resisted. There was still something he must do. Mustering every ounce of strength left in his body, he tightened his hold on his lover before leaning up for a goodnight kiss.

'Stay with me.'

The frightful plea was breathed as a prayer, before his eyes slid shut despite himself. In an instant, everything spun and shook and sank into that beyond, shielding Dégel from the glint of devastating agony in his lover's eyes at the words. There was perhaps also a particular wetness to those dark eyes that saw beyond time and the future, but only their owner would ever know the truth to it. For the moment, a tiny tremor shook his indomitable frame, before the man regained control over himself with what seemed like pure effort of will. He stared at his sleeping lover, jaws moving as he gnashed his teeth in utter restraint. In a heart-wrenchingly careful manner, he bent down for another kiss, fully and tenderly, his brows drawn tight in anguish, lips moving as though to commit every taste, every texture, every contour and imperfection into memory. Perhaps there had also been regret hidden somewhere within the message, along with a thousand confessions of love that the recipient would never know, unconscious as he was. In the end, though, even if everything vanished into thin air, the only thing that remained was a sorrowful longing that would not be erased no matter what.

As the velvety night waned, there was a man lying wide away, clinging to his lover as he would a lifeline and awaiting bleak dawn with farewell thick on his lips.