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“You’re leaving?”
Kliff can’t say he wasn’t expecting this, but he’s unprepared to face it all the same. There is a quiver, a crack in Alm’s voice; the way Alm had uttered those two words was enough for Kliff to know that he was probably on the verge of tears. Something in him breaks, a piece of shattered glass lodged in his throat, and he swallows.
Part of him wants to ignore Alm, adjust his bags, and lead his horse out the castle gates by the reins. Leave without a word. He’s already halfway there. It’ll hurt less that way, won’t it?
He turns to face his friend anyway, and he’s unsure whether doing so was an act of courage or cowardice.
Immediately, Kliff regrets it. Even in the early morning darkness, he can see the desperation and confusion in Alm’s evergreen eyes, gazing at Kliff in search of answers. He’s right about the tears.
Alm looks nothing like how he was at the celebratory ball last night. He was radiant, all smiles as he made it a point to greet everyone who’d fought by his side during the war, including members from Celica’s pilgrimage. Now he looks exhausted, just as restless as he’d been in the days leading up to the battle at Rigel castle – bags under his eyes, mussed hair, a cloak haphazardly slung over his shoulders (in his haste, mostly likely), and knuckles that were almost white from clutching the letter in his hand. The letter Kliff had slipped under Alm’s bedroom door, mere moments before he began final preparations for his departure.
You shouldn’t be here. I’d have been gone by the time you’re supposed to wake up.
“I’m sorry.”
The chill of springtime air makes Kliff shudder underneath his coat. At least, that’s his excuse for why he’s suddenly shaking all over. One hand tightens its grip on the reins of his horse. Is that all he can muster?
The silence between them is oppressive. Alm, in spite of it all, closes the distance, his strides both hesitant yet sure at the same time.
“The others,” Alm says, voice still wavering slightly. “Did you tell them? Do they know?”
Every word from his mouth feels like a stab in the heart. Kliff winces, averting his gaze. “Lukas caught me taking some provisions yesterday. Faye, she– she just knew. Had a hunch. Pulled me aside last night to try to talk me out of it, but let me go eventually. And… I left Tobin and Gray letters, too.”
The admission hardly alleviates his guilt. When he finally finds the resolve to look at Alm again, he doesn’t quite realize he’s already begun to cry, too. The growing tightness in the back of his throat when he attempts to speak is what signals him. Ashamed, he brings his fingers to his cheeks to wipe away the tears. He’s never once cried in front of anyone, not since he was a child; he made damned sure no one in the army ever saw him like this.
Except Alm. Alm, the one exception, the only person whom Kliff would willingly lower the seemingly impenetrable walls he’d built around himself over the years for.
It’s bittersweet. He hates himself for it, but the whirlwind of emotions that had been stirring in his gut ever since he thought of leaving finally makes him crack. They made him more fragile, more vulnerable than he’d ever want to admit, and since then he’s needed a release more than anything. So he lets himself cry as he feels arms circle him, strong yet familiar and comforting. Home.
“You don’t have to go,” Alm whispers, against his hair.
Kliff almost smiles at that. He wants me to stay , he thinks, returning the embrace. He wants me to be with him.
In that moment, he remembers the day his life changed, the opportunity he was offered in the form of Lukas’ arrival at Ram. He recalls how Alm looked at him, smiling, white teeth against sun-kissed skin, arm outstretched, inviting. Will you come with me? he’d asked. Back then, Kliff had simply shrugged nonchalantly, said sure, why not, he wanted to get out of this dinky village and explore the world anyway, and this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to do just that. All he had to do was not get killed. Easy. What he left unsaid was how much he was willing to follow Alm to the ends of the earth if he’d asked. Whether you wanted to march across the continent to reach Rigel or the gates of hell. It doesn’t matter. I will follow you, even into death.
But then Kliff opens his eyes and feels reality come crashing back down on him again. The glint of Alm’s golden wedding band snaps him out of his reverie. He pulls away, as if he were the one wearing the ring himself and was acutely aware of the weight of the cool-cut metal around his finger.
He was a fool to ever think, even just for a second, that he had a viable shot at a happily ever after. He should have come to terms with this long ago, never let his confession slip past his lips, and kept Alm at a distance, instead of allowing himself to be swept away by kind words and secure embraces and reassuring kisses.
Their romance was temporary. Truth be told, Kliff was never Alm’s, and he never will be.
“I’m sorry,” Kliff repeats, surer this time. “I– I want to see the world. Always have. You know this.” That, and I don’t want to find out how quickly it would take for me to be consumed by pure, unadulterated jealousy. I’m only human.
What he’d just said was the gist of his letter. But Alm isn’t an idiot. At this point, despite Kliff’s tendency to keep to himself and push others away, Kliff knows that Alm can read him – at the very least, he’s able to tell when he leaves truths unspoken. The thoughts settle in the quiet, heavy seconds between them.
It’s obvious enough, anyway. Alm frowns. For a moment, the only sound Kliff can hear is the rustling of paper as a breeze blows past them.
“Kliff,” Alm begins, holding Kliff by his shoulders this time. “Nevermind what I said earlier, then. I won’t stop you from leaving if satiating your wanderlust is what you really need. I just– you know you can tell me anything, right? If you aren’t coming back… I don’t want you to leave and feel regret over something you weren’t able to say.”
Ah. Kliff doesn’t know whether his heart is melting or shattering. It aches with longing, that much he’s sure of. There’s an ‘I love you’ caged in his ribs, ballooning in his chest, reaching the tip of his tongue. It comes out as an airy laugh, choked and pathetic. He hasn’t stopped crying. Neither of them have.
“I’ll miss you,” is what Kliff settles for, but knows Alm hears the underlying meaning, buried and tangled up in knots as it had constantly been with him.
Perhaps in another lifetime, Kliff would have slipped away unnoticed, be gone without a trace, and allowed himself to be forgotten in the annals of history, remembered only for his magic. In another lifetime, maybe he would have stayed in Valentia by Alm’s side, ruling and overseeing the continent as kings. In yet another, he’d have convinced Alm to forgo his royal obligations and run away with him – abandon their old lives and cross oceans, cities, deserts, to explore lands uncharted. Together.
Kliff sniffs and wipes away another tear, swatting those childish fantasies away. Months ago he almost believed things would work out and fall into place, after the war. He’d been drunk on the feeling of teenage lust and Ram wine then, on the eve of his sixteenth birthday, bare body pressed flush against Alm’s in a shared bedroll when the Deliverance was camped out by the Zofian border. In the afterglow, they had exchanged ‘I love you’s in each other’s arms, between kisses. It had been easier to say it back then, with the threat of impending death looming over the army as they carried on with their campaign.
That was forever ago, though. The following week, she appeared before Alm as an apparition, and the look on his face as he opened his arms for her was something Kliff would never forget. The lingering touches and fond looks thrown in Kliff’s way were nothing compared to this harsh reality – ever since they met, Alm’s heart has always belonged to Celica, and it was clear as day that the feeling was mutual. The two of them were born for each other; the brands on their skin were more than sufficient indications that they were meant to do far greater things in life. Kliff had tried to push back the truth for as long as he could, too cowardly to accept it in its entirety sooner.
“I love you.”
Alm’s voice cuts through the air like a blade, as if he was able to read Kliff’s mind. Startled, Kliff lifts his head. In the moonlight, he can see the flecks of gold in Alm’s unwavering eyes, never one to hold back on his emotions. He’s smiling now, even though there’s a quiver in his lip as the corners of his mouth tilt upwards.
Tentatively, Kliff reaches up to stroke Alm’s cheek. Alm hooks his arms around his waist, pulling them closer together. Kliff can’t help but smile back, smaller than Alm’s yet just as nervous. It was a smile, nonetheless.
“I’ll miss you too,” Alm says, craning his neck downwards so their foreheads can touch. Their lips were only centimeters apart, close enough for Kliff to feel puffs of breath against his mouth. If he tilts his chin upwards, he could catch them in a kiss, one last before he’d leave for good.
They’re both aware of the situation, however. Neither of them make a move. It’s enough for Kliff to know that Alm understands, and that Kliff never really needed to explain himself. Inaction spoke volumes.
Alm had so much love to give – too much even, perhaps. And him dividing his affections was a concept Kliff couldn’t bring himself to be completely okay with.
Kliff tucks his head in the crook of Alm’s neck instead. Alm cradles him, stroking his hair as his tears wet the fabric of Alm’s cloak. He’ll miss this, the solace he finds in Alm’s compassion. “You’ll be an amazing king,” he mutters.
A pause. “I don’t know if I’m ready to be king,” Alm admits.
Of course. The role Alm played in this world was much, much bigger than what the both of them could’ve ever imagined. He’d voiced similar concerns on their way back to Zofia castle from Rigel after the battle with Duma – about how quickly he’s being thrust into this position, how he was expected to carry the weight of Valentia’s future in the form of Rudolf’s crown on his head, when he was never given ample time to mourn his fallen family, when he still hardly knew anything about the world. Who can blame him for complaining?
Kliff exhales. He asks him the question that he had been itching to bring up ever since the revelation. Even though he had an idea of what his answer would be, he needed to hear it straight from Alm’s mouth.
“Do you want to be king, Alm?”
Kliff can hear Alm’s heart beating against his chest. The thought of running away together crosses Kliff’s mind again, if only for a second. He should have dismissed this completely by now – it’s what he should’ve done in the first place, to avoid getting hurt – but no matter how many times he’s told himself it was never going to happen, there was always a part of him held onto it, a sliver of hope for an ending to his love story that worked in his favor. Maybe some of Alm’s optimism had rubbed off on him.
Maybe, just maybe, he'll say no.
“It’s what the people of Valentia need,” Alm responds. “But, honestly? I just want to be myself.”
It’s such an earnest answer, one that screams Alm in every way possible. Practical but also candid in a way Kliff had never been. It’s almost comical, really, how his reply encapsulates almost everything Kliff admires about him.
With that, Kliff lets go of the last of the metaphorical strings anchoring him to the possibility of a future with Alm. He’s surprised to find a sort of peace settling in his chest, rather than a sinking feeling. He sighs, deciding that this is what catharsis feels like.
“And you know that’s what I want for you, too,” Alm continues. “Go wherever your feet take you, if you really feel the need to get away. It’s always been your dream to travel, hasn’t it?”
For once, he’s glad that things didn’t go according to plan. He doesn’t know how he’d be able to handle it if this conversation didn’t happen, if Alm didn’t catch him sneaking out and it was too late for him to turn back.
If Kliff’s magic allowed him to freeze the hands of time, he’d want to stay in this moment for as long as he could, locked in an embrace with his best friend. But Alm is right. Distancing himself from Valentia would do him good in more ways than one, he thinks, and he’s more than content in knowing that Alm acknowledges it as well.
“Yeah. Yeah.” The crying’s stopped for now, and Kliff pulls away slightly. “The ship to Archanea leaves at daybreak. I better get going.”
Alm helps Kliff mount his horse. Learning how to ride a horse was necessary during his time with the Deliverance, and although he never really rode one into battle, he knew enough to be able to journey to Zofia harbor alone.
They walk up to the castle’s exit. Kliff thinks Alm is about to instruct the guards stationed there to open up the gates, but his eyes suddenly widen in a way Kliff knows he’d just gotten an idea. “Wait here,” he says, and runs off in the direction of the stables.
In no less than five minutes, and Alm comes back carrying a lamp and riding a horse of his own. “Let me see you off at the harbor.”
Kliff doesn’t object. They ride in relative, comfortable silence, snippets of conversation easy and lighter than expected on their way to Zofia harbor. Kliff sneaks glances at Alm once, twice, thrice, etching the sight of his handsome face and sincere smile onto his memory. He’ll make an excellent ruler, Kliff thinks, for the hundredth time. They’ve come a long way from being the frivolous, street-sturdy kids they once were.
They arrive at the harbor just at the break of dawn, and Alm squeezes Kliff’s shoulders one last time, before the captain called for passengers. Both of them had started to tear up again.
“Don’t get sappy on me. I’m not dying. I’ll write,” Kliff promises, his usual snark weaving its way into his speech despite the fact that he was crying, too. “Whenever I’m able to. Even if you can’t reply to me because I’ll be travelling – I’ll let you know. About everything.”
Alm grins through the tears, the same toothy one Kliff grew to fall in love with all those years ago. “Okay. Yeah. I’d like that a lot.”
Kliff digs into his satchel and takes out a book – his favorite, one his merchant father had brought home from his travels, the one he shared with his friends when he was an excitable child, the one with maps of lands he’s only ever dreamed of visiting, the one with illustrations of mountains and seas and forests and everything in between. He holds it out for Alm to take.
“I won’t be needing this anymore. I’ll finally get to see all these places myself.”
Alm nods, accepts it, and tucks Kliff’s farewell letter into its pages. There isn’t much to say now.
They exchange goodbyes. Kliff takes one last look at Alm, beaming and radiant as ever in the soft light of sunrise, before he turns to board the ship, and finally lets go.