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Asra was fading.
The soft pastel colors of every dawn brought dread to his fragile heart, the tension of all his stress and fears stacking upon itself like a house of cards. He felt that if the gentle breeze of the early summer morning became just a little bit stronger, it would blow him away and scatter every piece of him so he couldn’t be fixed.
The pumpkin bread he ate for breakfast tasted like ash, and the lapsang souchong tea he brewed was flat and lifeless. As hard as it was to force himself to eat, it was even harder to keep it down. He had stopped throwing up his meals several weeks ago, ever since he learned that the lump in his throat was permanent. Its origin wasn’t something that he could avoid, like a specific food. It was just another symptom of his prolonged heartbreak, with his empty chest and endless night terrors.
He felt like he was dying alongside his apprentice, yet no amount of bargaining or pleading could switch their places. All of his relentless research and journeys only stole more time from the both of them, so he stayed home.
Home . An empty word for a lifeless building. His home was located up the staircase and down the hallway, weak with fever and entirely too forgiving for Asra’s failures. His home had his heart, for all the good it did, but the pain constricting his chest almost convinced Asra that his phantom heart was breaking, heartstring by heartstring, unsalvageable...
Asra released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, feeling the air rattle in his chest with the force of a stifled sob. Rays of sunlight peered through the window, the promise of a warm afternoon beckoning him.
As if in a trance, he stood and crossed the small kitchen to close the curtains, the dimmed light of the room matching the fog that had invaded his mind the moment he saw the red in his apprentice’s eyes.
The room reeked of sickness, but Asra barely noticed the thickness of the smell when his eyes landed on the form tucked into their bed. The room was in near darkness since the apprentice had become light-sensitive in the past few days, but he would have been able to find them even he was blind.
if His footsteps were silent as he approached them, hesitant to wake them if they were still sleeping. Upon sensing his presence, Faust popped her head up from beneath the covers, her head tilted inquisitively. Asra should be downstairs, operating the shop so he could afford to buy medicine and the ingredients for the more exotic methods of healing.
Then again, he was never able to think clearly when it came to the apprentice. He had risked life and limb for them, for any chance to see the light in their eyes, and closing the shop for the fourth time that week was the last thing Asra cared for.
In fact, every single worry and thought in his mind fled far from his consciousness when the blankets shifted and the apprentice’s face peered out from underneath. Even in their state of fragile sickness, they were stunning. Asra could still see the flicker of fire in their eyes, an ember thriving within the ashes of the red sclera.
They said his name, the word a rasp in their dry throat, and Asra found himself moving to curl up next to them on the bed. He buried his face in the crook of their neck, acutely aware of the wrongness in the way their skin was scorched with fever and the way the sickness overpowered the scent of them. This close, he could hear the wheeze in their chest as they breathed, shallow and irregular.
How could such an ailing body contain one of the brightest souls? They had magic in their blood and light in their eyes, but their hands shook violently when they clasped around Asra’s. He squeezed their hands and pretended that their weak attempt to reciprocate didn’t break his heart further. The room was quiet beside the sound of both of them breathing; Asra’s steady and paced breathing was a stark contrast to the soft and uneven breathing of his apprentice.
“Asra?”
When they broke the silence, it startled him. He shifted his position so he could focus on their face, memorizing every precious feature. Even if their cheeks were sunken from weight loss and their skin was ashen, he wanted to remember what it was like to see them in the way he would not be able to again: alive.
They didn’t wait for him to respond. They knew he would always listen to them.
“Have you ever...” They hesitated, and Asra squeezed their hands in encouragement. Surely, they must have known that every word they said was something he cherished. “Have you ever thought about a better life?”
All the air in his lungs suspended at the unexpected question. He thought about all the times he traveled far away, beyond their reach despite them never wandering from his thoughts. He thought about the way his chest had fluttered when he had seen them nine years ago, the most beautiful thing in a crowd with a princess among them. He thought about how nothing could satisfy his desire for them, his addiction to every single aspect of them.
“You gave me my best life,” Asra finally said. He nearly choked on the words, the rawness in his aching, absent heart. He would never change a thing in his life if it meant that the apprentice would be missing from it. His orphaned childhood, the ritual at the masquerade, his struggle with their memory loss, the way the smell of the plague penetrated his lungs. Every terrible memory was worth the weight of their smile one hundred times over.
The apprentice’s breath hitched with emotion, and they shifted just enough to rest their head next to Asra’s, comforted by his mere presence. They both succumbed to their own memories, wrapped up in the shroud of a past far beyond their grasp.
“Have you ever thought about another life?” The apprentice’s voice was a whisper, and Asra wasn’t sure if it was from exhaustion or wishful thinking.
Still, Asra whispered back, “A life together.”
They were silent, and Asra waited a long moment before turning his head to see their reaction. They were watching him, their eyes duller than Asra remember them to be just a few moments ago. He didn’t know how long they had been lying together, not when the windows were covered and the light of day was blocked out. Then again, the sand of time had always been suspended when he was around them, as the seconds melted away into the invaluable sight of them.
“In another life,” the other half of his soul said, and Asra struggled not to cry.
Why not this one? The thought was scorched in his mind, refusing to be banished from his every waking moment. In a perfect life, they would never be separated, like magnets pulling from different poles. Always attracted to each other, resistant to forces that dared to pull them apart. Together, they were two halves forming a whole. Without them, Asra would be half-dead, without a heart and without hope.
No words could properly express that, so Asra settled for holding them close, tucking their head into the crook of his neck so he could feel their faint breathing against his collarbone. He closed his eyes, summoning his fondest daydreams, the memories of their once bright smiles and glowing, healthy expressions prevalent in all of them. He dreamed of one of their first masquerades, when they danced together until the soles of their feet ached to the bone and their ribs hurt from laughing. They looked radiant as they danced to a slow waltz on the crowded dance floor, their surroundings melting away as Asra’s eyes refused to leave their face, intent on committing every detail to memory.
It was if he had known, even then, that memories would be all he had left. That didn’t soften the sting of anguish buzzing in his chest, the only sensation he could register when he realized that the soft breath against his skin had faltered.
He tried to say their name, but his voice failed him. He couldn’t bear the thought of opening his eyes to see that the light was finally extinguished from theirs. He didn’t want to see their face for the last time, not when it was sickly and empty .
“In another life,” he mouthed to himself. He would see them in another life, and it would be then that he would look into their bright eyes and feel whole again.
In another life, a wandering magician sells a mask to a beautiful stranger from a nearby magic shop, and their smile makes his chest lighter than the clouds.