Work Text:
Erik, my love,
I’ll be returning to Kilclief – and, of course, Janus – on Friday. The thought keeps striking me: finally, you won’t be an ocean away. I found myself longing for the sights and sounds of our island mere hours after leaving it, and I miss you terribly. I look at the ring on my finger and I can’t help but think it would look much better in the early-morning sunlight opposite yours, you across the table from me, your hands worrying mine.
I miss that stillness. There is nothing but noise and chaos here. Grief hangs heavy in the air, and I am glad for your words to distract me.
I hope you’re well. I’ll be with you again soon.
Charles
Erik took his time deciphering Charles’ letter, ink runny with raindrops from his haste to open it as he crossed the island. He raked his eyes across the words over and over, treating the parchment clasped between forefinger and thumb as a delicate thing.
Friday, Charles had said. Three days from now.
Slowly, Erik’s gaze shifted to beyond the window, watching the distant picture of the sea’s latest storm rippling on the surface of the water. He hadn’t felt this alone in quite some time, though the promise of Charles’ return soothed the ache in his chest. They hadn’t been apart for this long since the war; and even then, there hadn’t been much yet between them.
Three days, thought Erik, balanced precariously on the fence of too soon and not soon enough.
-
Charles was, unavoidably, absentminded.
Especially now, there was nothing left here for him to come back to. Any shred of understanding or sympathy his mother might’ve held onto in false hope that he could change, or that this was just a phase, had vanished with her passing.
Charles took his leave quietly, during a somber family breakfast and memorial. No one would miss him aside from the little ones, always pestering him for stories from Janus, always asking when Erik would come to visit. Charles could never find the heart to tell them how unlikely it was he would ever return, much less bring Erik along. He’d merely smile and say, “One day.”
“You’re going out to Janus already?” Tom asked, meeting Charles on the pier in Kilclief. Playing concern as amusement, he shook his head. “At least come over for lunch. You look like you could use a good meal and some rest, Charles.”
But Charles could only think of Erik, and how desperately he longed to be back on Janus, where all was quiet. The sounds of Kilclief, though slight and soft, were overwhelming. He managed some half-strung apology and the next thing he knew he was back on the open sea, Janus in the near distance.
-
Erik wasn’t sure how long they stood there, on the dock in each other’s arms, swaying gently side to side like the waves lapping up on shore. In the evening blue, Erik could only just make out Charles’ face and frame, but it was familiar like an old history. He brought with him a lovely nostalgia; fleeting summer days and the sound of the sea.
“I missed you,” Charles murmured.
Erik smiled, soft and warm. “I missed you, too.”
“I didn’t inherit anything, naturally,” Charles began, once they were settled comfortably in the cottage. Erik nearly voiced his surprise; he hadn’t thought Charles would want to talk about it so soon. “Not that there’d be much to inherit in the first place.” He laughed. “Some silverware, maybe.”
Erik sighed. “Silverware would’ve been nice.”
“I don’t think I’ll go back there,” Charles added, after a long moment. A slow, shaky breath escaped him, and Erik’s hands instinctively found his, holding on tight. “There’s nothing left for me, now.” He looked at Erik, and as always there was that initial shock at how brightly blue his eyes were; brighter than the sky on even the clearest day. “My life is here. With you.”