Clouds hung low overhead, pale gray and heavy, like at any moment they would burst. There was a soft chill in the air. The white noise of the city seemed especially present, as if the city was trying harder than usual to disguise the strange goings-on at its center in the hubbub.

A sheen of magic coated the walls of the courtyard, wavering slightly over the door to the apartment building, like a bubble about to be popped. The courtyard was quiet, and the street outside was devoid of passing strangers. Judal sat on his knees, the prince beside him, in front of the empty plot of soil where the Silver Lady had briefly lived.

Hakuryuu's hair was not pulled back today. He let it spill over his shoulders and around his face, silken strands brushing his cheeks every time he breathed. Judal wanted to push it back behind his pointed ears and watch it fall defiantly back around his handsome face. If it was as soft and as fine as it looked, he wanted to curl a lock around his finger and tug softly, just to tease the prince. Anything to bring his brilliant blue eyes back into focus.

Only hours had passed, and yet it felt as though he'd been staring into nothing, lost inside himself, for days now. Not so far away that Judal could not reach him if he tried, but far enough that the distance was obvious, the silence palpable. Judal wondered what he was thinking, or if he was thinking at all.

The night had been impossibly long, and the day did not feel as if it were moving at all. Time didn't seem to exist, not since the sun had risen that morning and pale light had echoed down from behind the clouds. Maybe it was the sky overhead, the patternless shifting of the gray clouds a hypnotic stream that offered no inconsistency. It made for an appropriately off-putting feeling to the day.

Hakuryuu had collected the corpse from the street sometime during the night. It had been waiting for them in the courtyard when they descended the apartment steps, rigid, cold, and mangled. Judal had stared at it a while, thoughtful more than anything, some part of him waiting for it to turn to dust in the morning light, or burst into shards of light like some video game enemy. It did neither. It laid there, an empty vessel of flesh, and continued to decay.

They buried it. Or, Hakuryuu did. A bowl had been nudged into Judal's hands, distracting him as the courtyard came to life. He was sure Hakuryuu had spoken, asking him to collect young shoots and rotted fruit from around the courtyard, but he couldn't remember his lips moving. By the time his mouth opened to respond, Hakuryuu had already stepped away.

Branches and roots dug into the empty soil, carving a hole in the earth. Judal meandered about amidst the swaying plants, plucking buds and fallen fruit as Hakuryuu had asked. His eyes drifted back to the empty plot again and again, though he knew this task was meant to distract him. The grave was formed before long.

Judal watched with morbid fascination as vines and arm-like tree branches hoisted the body into the air, before lowering it down towards its shallow grave. It wasn't going to fit, not as it was, the plot simply wouldn't allow for it.

And so the flora snapped its limbs and twisted its torso, each ugly contortion forcing the corpse into a smaller and smaller space. Joints popped, bones pushed up against disfigured skin, fluids oozed from its wounds. Once it fit, it hadn't looked like much of anything anymore, and Judal's ears rung with the sound of breaking bones.

Roots from neighboring trees dug into the sallow flesh, while shovels of leaf and bough dumped soil back into the grave. The creature's skin was already stretched so taut over its contorted body that it began to split open where the roots punctured it, revealing sticky mauve coating decaying muscle. Judal had stood, unable to look away, as the deformed carcass disappeared beneath the dirt.

The prince had crouched there through it all, feeding his magic into the earth. He had listened to the snap of bones and tearing flesh without flinching, eyes never straying as he buried his kill.

Judal moved closer, but even once he was at Hakuryuu's side, he still felt leagues away. And so there he sat, contemplating the softness of his hair and the sharpness of his cheekbones, wondering how to reach him, or if he should even try.

Judal drew in a breath and tore his eyes from the fae for a moment to look down at the bowl in his lap. He'd filled it with the odds and ends of flora Hakuryuu had wanted, rotten fruits and berries, leaves and little sprigs that had fallen from trees and bushes. They would all grow anew under the prince's careful fingers; perhaps, that was the first step. To remind Hakuryuu that most often, he chose to make things grow.

He set the bowl on the prince's knee, and watched as this seemed to bring light back to the fae's distant eyes. The prince looked down, reaching for the bowl on his thigh compulsively, and then glanced up. His eyes met Judal's, still distant, still storms of ice Judal didn't know how to traverse, but focused on him nonetheless. They held each other's gaze a moment, and then Hakuryuu smiled. Briefly, but it still sent relief flooding through Judal's chest.

The feeling of relief filled him while he watched Hakuryuu set to work. His hands were methodical, plucking through the plant debris as if he had picked it himself and knew where each bit he wanted was. Divots were dug into the dirt with his fingers, bits of rotten fruit and seeds pressed down into them before they were filled. Sometimes a clipping was nestled in with the saccharine pulp, the dirt packed loosely around their stems. If he had wanted, Hakuryuu could have flicked his wrist and grown an orchard, but the busywork seemed to be grounding him, and Judal was glad for that.

With nothing to occupy him, he went back to staring at the prince. It was a familiar pastime, and not one Hakuryuu had ever dissuaded him from. At first all his staring had been curiosity- because who wouldn't find him fascinating to look at? -now, though, it was almost a habit.

Judal's eyes traced the curve of his pointed ear, the same as they had the first night he'd seen him. He followed the jagged edges of his scar, mapped the profile of his face, and let his eyes flick over his soft pink mouth. Hakuryuu was as beautiful as he had been the first time he'd seen him, perhaps even moreso now than before.

He had been beautiful when he killed too, and maybe that was why Judal was having trouble finding words.

It had been obvious from the moment he'd stepped outside the night before that whatever was transpiring wasn't something he was meant to see. Hakuryuu had left quietly, and the air in the courtyard had been eerily still. If Judal had trusted his better judgment, he would have gone back upstairs and waited for Hakuryuu to return. But disregarding his better judgment had become a bad habit around the prince, it had given his curiosity free rein.

The fight had been all but over by the time he was standing in the gateway. His mind had told him he was watching a slaughter, that he should feel sick and want to look away, but his eyes saw something more like a performance. Hakuryuu had twisted and spun like a dancer on stage; the blood spilled was violet petals, and his blade was a fluttering ribbon of silver. And when all of it had stopped, and everything was still but for the prince's breathing, Judal had known that by seeing this he had crossed some kind of line.

The distant look in Hakuryuu's eyes was only bearable now because it wasn't the emptiness from the night before. If the feeling of that look hadn't been so visceral, Judal would think he had imagined it. He'd blinked and it had been gone, but it had been there. Something impossibly cold and endlessly dark. For a moment, it had swallowed Hakuryuu whole, and whatever was left behind was a stranger. It had made Judal's chest tighten painfully, until warmth bled back into Hakuryuu's eyes.

Then there had been the blood. The last time purple had blossomed over the prince's skin he'd been in pain, and seeing it then sent his first thoughts to his wellbeing. Yet he was standing there the victor, and it had occurred to Judal that the blood spilled should make him feel something like fear. Only fear, of all things, was nowhere to be found. Where Judal went looking for it he found the unfamiliar face of pride instead, curled catlike in his chest.

Judal didn't know what to make of pride, so he had focused on concern.

It had been hours, and he'd had plenty of time to dwell on the events of the night before. Pride still prowled around the edges of his thoughts like a haughty feline. He was proud of Hakuryuu for what he had done, this was undeniable. His kill, his victory, made something in Judal's chest purr.

"I am sorry, Judal."

He blinked, drawn back to the present by the sound of Hakuryuu's voice, and found himself still gazing at the prince beside him.

"What for?"

"For this, for everything that follows behind me." Hakuryuu answered, brow furrowing as he rested his palms flat on the soil. "I've put you in danger and involved you in something that has nothing to do with you."

Magic poured from his palms and into the earth. It made lights dance in his pale irises, which Judal had to work hard not to be utterly transfixed by.

"I took you in of my own free will." he pointed out. "It's not like it was difficult to tell trouble was going to follow you."

"Even so… I've brought death to your doorstep."

Green shoots began to emerge from the earth. They flourished and unfurled, blooming into crisp emerald bushes covered in thorns. Nettle-like bulbs grew around their bases, and the ivy behind the planter grew thicker, hanging loosely from the wall. It was off-putting, compared to the rest of the courtyard, perhaps conspicuously so.

"That side of me…" Hakuryuu said, his voice quiet. "I didn't want you to see me like that."

Judal opened his mouth to reply, and before he could, something clicked in his mind. His eyes grew wide.

Judal wasn't sure why he hadn't thought of it until now. This distant attitude had confused him since he'd stepped out of his bedroom that morning. Hakuryuu had lived centuries, so surely he had had to kill before, the killing itself didn't seem like it should be bothering him.

And it wasn't. The body they had buried meant nothing to Hakuryuu, and the life he'd taken had already been brushed from his conscience. Yet in his own way, the prince was frightened. Scared of what Judal thought of him, of what he would think of him from now on. He thought that seeing him take a life would change how Judal viewed him.

In that context, Judal couldn't blame him for being distant. It made sense to think that someone like him, who for all Hakuryuu knew had lived a life free of carnage until now, would be skittish from then on. And yet, all Judal could think of was how, after everything, Hakuryuu had leaned into his touch like it was the only thing grounding him to the earth. The feeling of his open mouth pressing to his palm.

Judal wondered if Hakuryuu was aware that nothing, no one, had ever been like him. Before him, Judal's life had been devoid of outings filled with laughter and linked hands. No one had waited for him at home and greeted him when he walked through the door. Meals were for one, eaten in silence to the companionship of the television, and the courtyard was lifeless and uninviting.

It wasn't like he'd had no one at all, to be fair. There had been friends in his classes, a couple people he saw outside of school when they bothered to invite him out. Some nights he went to free concerts or wandered the city in the dark, admiring the lively nightlife. But there had been no one like Hakuryuu. No one who made his heart do acrobatics in his chest, or his tongue twist into ungainly knots. Judal didn't think there would ever be anyone like Hakuryuu again, either.

"Hakuryuu…"

His tongue burned under the weight of Hakuryuu's full name, waiting to be spoken. The prince looked up at him, lovely blue eyes warmer than they'd been since the previous morning. In that moment, Judal was prepared to spend all three of his requests on just one, split second. He swallowed the urge, the prince's full name, and leaned over to kiss Hakuryuu's parted lips.

Hakuryuu was warm and smooth under his mouth. When their lips connected, it felt as though a thousand carbonated bubbles sparkled against Judal's skin. Magic, he assumed, and then he stopped thinking at all for the few, blissful seconds he stole. If he could make them last years, he very well might have, but that wouldn't occur to him until he'd already pulled away. The kiss was chaste, and ended after just a few moments of contact.

Judal pulled back, sucking in a breath. He didn't get very far, and the breath didn't make it to his lungs, because before it could Hakuryuu had stolen it straight from his mouth. Warm, calloused palms cupped Judal's cheeks as the prince pulled him back into another kiss. And another. And another. And another.

It was dizzying; he found himself pressed back, supporting himself with his hands on the concrete to keep steady. Hakuryuu kissed him fervently, mouth molding perfectly against his own. Judal could feel decades of experience behind his lips, almost taste the self-restraint that kept the prince from devouring him right away. It felt as though Hakuryuu had been waiting for this, and now he had it he wanted to take everything all at once.

Judal gasped between their mouths, suddenly aware of how desperately he needed to breathe. Hakuryuu's lips caught his bottom lip, fingers digging into his thick hair.

"All I could think about," Hakuryuu breathed. "Was you. You being hurt, being killed. I could see it tearing out your throat, hear you gasping for breath—"

Another kiss was pressed against Judal's panting lips, open mouthed and almost desperate. He leaned up into it, pushing the prince back far enough he could lift his hands to his face. He combed his hair back, behind his ears just like he'd been wanting to, as Hakuryuu's palms slid down to his shoulders.

"Stop thinking about it." he gasped, once Hakuryuu gave him room to speak. "It's over, right? Nothing hurt me."

"There will be others."

"Don't think about them either."

Judal hooked his arms around the prince's neck, forcing them closer together. Something hot was building in his chest. It felt selfish and needy, like he'd roused some kind of hungry animal that lived in his ribs.

"Think about me."

Hakuryuu obeyed, his mouth finding Judal's once more and silencing them both. The freshly covered grave lay forgotten, but the longer they kissed, the more the thorn bushes began to blossom with crimson flowers.

Notes:

To those who celebrate it; Happy Valentine's Day! A day early, yes, and I'm sorry I don't have anything planned for the day of to give all my lovely readers, but I think this is appropriately romantic anyway.

I just want to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has been following up to this point, everyone who has supported me in getting this story out there, and especially everyone who has left me reviews. You guys make every chapter worth the struggle of the deadline, and thanks to you I'm always excited to publish the next piece of this story.

Let me reassure all of you that if this sounds like closing credit thanks, it's not. Like I said a few chapters back, we're heading towards the end of the first arc, so don't worry. Serendipity isn't going anywhere any time soon.