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The sun was brilliant in the deep blue sky, an infinite hue slightly stained by the lines of ruffling cotton. As the wind blew, the clouds shifted and revealed its naked brightness that caught him off guard. To avoid the sun, he glanced down, only to find the man beside him smiling.
“They say summer will last longer than before. Not that I’d complain," said Napoleon. His jade met him. It was a jade he’d never seen before, not from waters or trees or moss. It only appears, perhaps, in gems, and those fabled ocean floors one could see upon sailing towards the ends of the world. So capturing and alluring and he couldn’t look away .
The former emperor looked up to the sky, shining that jade of his even more in ways Wellesley hadn’t even seen in dreams. “It’s good for the flowers,” said he.
Around them were waving petals of red and purple, contrasting indeed to those irises of his, shaken by the wind that also cools his humid skin. Napoleon smiled at those blossoms so easily, so absentmindedly, as if he didn’t realise that his smile could very well be the source of their life’s sustenance.
And he gave it to him so easily too.
Wellesley would immediately cower at it if not for the jade itself keeping him prison.
“You look like you’re thinking of something.”
He guessed he had to respond somehow. He shook his head. “the weather is really nice.”
Napoleon laughed, saying he could do better than that, anything but the weather, but it’s so typical of him. He squeezed his arm, let’s go further over there, the flowers are of a different colour, can you believe it? He stepped forward so Wellesley trod forward too. The feel of grass crunching underneath his boots animated his being, and more, as he saw the wind up messing up Napoleon's dark hair.
It was so unfair. So, so terribly unjust for a man to hold this much power. And to use it so freely, so nonchalantly, so generously to everything around him; it shouldn’t be allowed. It shouldn’t be possible. The gentle grip on his arm was enough to spread unbearable heat to his chest. It was almost too painful to bear.
Even more painful would it be if he couldn’t do anything about it. He decided to be brave, stepping ahead of him and catching Napoleon's other hand, a gesture he so often receives but never initiates. They were standing close now, face to face, hand-linked and a hand on his arm. Napoleon’s smile faltered, but he didn’t look away.
Wellesley could see too much of his jade that it only froze him completely. He tried looking somewhere else, away from that curious stare but ended up on his lips. He saw it turn into a smirk. Napoleon's hand moved from his arm to grasp his other one, pulling them closer, challenging him. He could feel his face burning and his heartbeat below his ears.
He kissed between Napoleon's brow because he was a coward.
The man smiled, and chuckled, and his eyes turned in a way that could change the entire weather over. Wellesley couldn't help but grin himself, both in shyness and contagion, and he closed his eyes to avoid seeing that overwhelming emerald. To shut up that terrible laugh, then, he kissed his lips.
It was supposed to be something gentle, swift, and fleeting from him to alleviate the heat in his centre, but Napoleon pulled him deeper, holding the back of his head and wrapping his arm around him. He could do nothing but follow, pressing them both impossibly closer. All his warmth just spread instead of easing, making them fall even further.
When they finally part, Wellesley buried his face on Napoleon's shoulder, holding him tight. Napoleon laughed again and he could feel it in his whole chest, rumbling through his ribs and beating his heart even faster. He was afraid if he let go it would slowly stop.
But he did, and nothing changed. Now he’s smiling too and Napoleon smiled even more. The sun above the couldn’t get any brighter and the fragrant carried by the wind any sweeter. Napoleon took his hand and led him aimlessly again, just as speechless as he is. He once again could do nothing but follow.