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A pair of laughing shadows run through the palace gardens, picking leaves and flowers as they go, breathless and secret under the moonless night.
Julian stumbles to the fountain’s edge, resting his hands on his knees. Asra isn’t far behind.
“Alright,” Julian half-glances up, waving a hand, “I win, we’re done… I told you I… hoo, gods.” Wiping his brow, he smooths a few flyaway auburn curls out of his eyes. “I told you I could run faster-”
Not a second passes before a sunset hurricane of red and orange and pink comes barreling full-body into Julian, knocking him backwards over the edge of the fountain, his boots kicking at the sky. Squirming, he crawls his way to the surface, gasping and sputtering.
Asra sits crosslegged on the marble, smiling sweetly, chin resting in his palm.
“Oops,” Asra coos, “my hands slipped.”
“You wretch ,” Julian smirks, reaching out and grabbing for Asra’s scarf. He dodges, his laughter glittering in the cool night air. Unswayed, Julian gets up on his knees, waddling aggressively through the pool for another swipe.
“Oh, so close! You almost-”
Asra’s teases are no match for Julian’s quick fingers - he catches a good fistful of Asra’s scarf and enacts swift justice. With a less-than-graceful yelp, Asra tumbles into the fountain.
“I believe this is yours,” Julian holds out one of Asra’s shoes when he surfaces, sporting a smug grin. “You lost it.”
In his hand: a dripping, soggy sandal. Asra snatches it back, uses it to smack Julian’s shoulder. They both laugh until it hurts, and their breaths hang humid in the summer heat.
Idly, Asra waves a hand over the pool. A tendril of water rises up and twists through the air, dancing around Julian’s shoulders. Wonder sparkles behind Julian’s eye as he holds up a hand to touch it. His finger flicks back and forth through the glistening ribbons; they bend and ripple back into their original curls, unbothered by his touch.
“No matter how many times you do that,” Julian murmurs, “it never ceases to amaze me… you’ve bewitched me.” He smiles wryly, the steep curves of his cheeks and the underside of his eye sharpening. “How dare you?”
With a devilish smile, Asra snaps his fingers and the water shoots into Julian’s face.
“Hey- ack!” Julian coughs. “That wasn’t an invitation!”
A swing of his hand and an arc of water splashes over Asra’s head, soaking him. Magic be damned, he starts splashing back, and the two of them are spilling the contents of the fountain all over the garden, a cup running over with laughter.
When their arms grow tired, Julian rests his back against the stone and lays there in the water. Asra stares, taking in the way his broad shoulders fold in on each other, the way his hair glimmers when it’s laced with droplets. As Julian’s eye closes, Asra quietly wades through the pool and toward him.
“How many nights do you think we can sneak out here before they catch on?
“Mm,” Julian doesn’t open his eye, “we could just keep doing it and find out.”
“I thought you might say that,” Asra chuckles, “and if you didn’t, I would’ve.”
Julian smiles. He stays at rest, tilting his head back a bit and slinking down further. The wear and exhaustion are plain on his face. Asra’s brow furrows, and his hands move before his words.
“When I dream,” Asra murmurs, gently cupping both sides of Julian’s face, “I don’t often see you there… and I’d like to see you again. But you’ll need to sleep more.”
A little blush. It tickles Asra to see it, tickles him even more when he notices Julian trying to pretend it isn’t there. He opens his eye tiredly.
“Is that something you can do? Have us share dreams?”
“Hmm,” Asra tilts his head, weaving his fingers through Julian’s curls. “It’s not something I ‘do’ so much as something that happens. When you connect with someone - when you share an emotional bond, you share a piece of yourself with them. There’s power in that sort of thing. Very sacred, and very…”
He brushes a lock of hair away from Julian’s face. “... intimate magic. Intimate enough that our psyches share the same feelings and reality for a little while as we sleep.”
“That’s not magic. That’s just your brain playing tricks,” Julian laughs dryly. “Dreams are just whatever happens to you on a given day, all rearranged in some nonsensical order… common knowledge. If you and I run into each other working, it’s only sensible that you would see me in your dreams.”
“But you saw me too, didn’t you?” Asra smiles knowingly. “Don’t you remember what happened in that dream? The one where we last met?”
Julian shifts a bit.
“Er. Why?”
The air stills. Even the crickets seem to hush. Julian watches Asra lean closer, press their foreheads together.
“It was like this,” Asra whispers, “wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Julian replies hoarsely, his voice deserting him. “It was.”
“And then?”
“Then,” Julian breathes, “what?”
“Show me again.”
Slowly, Julian raises his arms, wrapping them around Asra’s shoulders. Pulled closer, Asra hums contentedly. “Do you believe me yet?”
“Almost.”
Julian moves and closes the distance between them. The fountain is cold and wet, their clothes are heavy, but the minute their lips touch, Asra feels warmth spread from his head to his toes. He tangles his fingers in Julian’s hair, and Julian, in kind, squeezes Asra’s back to hold him in place. They slip a little here and there, kissing so desperately and still so very soaked that it’s hard to keep a steady pace.
They both know “steady” isn’t a good word for each other, anyway.
“Mmgh,” Julian’s leg twitches when Asra bites his lower lip. His eye opens and rolls back a little and he holds Asra tighter, tighter in a silent pleading prayer that begs again, again , but Asra pulls away to breathe.
“Ilya,” he stammers, “are you alright?”
“Yes,” he gasps, “yes…”
“You sure? You don’t really look it.”
“Huh?”
Julian’s eye opens and darts wildly, heart racing. He looks for the fountain, the water, the moon, the garden…
… the bar.
Three empty mugs sit in front of him on the splintering wooden counter. Most of the lanterns are out, and Isaac is there, jostling him by the shoulder with familiar, callused hands.
“You gonna get home okay?” Isaac frowns, lifting his hand and picking up the steins. They clink against each other. Julian grimaces, sitting upright. “Haven’t seen you passin’ out on the counter in a while.”
“Sorry,” Julian mumbles, stumbling to his feet. He lazily pushes his stool in, nearly toppling it. “I’ll let you close up shop… don’t worry about it.”
“If you say so. Get some sleep.”
Throwing on his coat, Julian heads for the door without looking back. “Wish I didn’t have to.”
The door slams behind him.