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It is an innocuous gesture, Hubert desperately tried to convince himself as he watched a visiting diplomat rest his hand on Ferdinand's arm, trailing it upward to lay on his shoulder, fingers brushing against those long orange locks Hubert knew better than anyone were softer than the highest grade silks, with miserable results, some are just more tactile than others.
Others being myself.
Their relationship was not private nor public. It was known to all within their immediate circle, but they felt there was no need to announce it to the world at large until a wedding was close on the horizon. As such it was perfectly reasonable for this stranger to be unaware he was crossing any sort of line.
Yet still Hubert's blood boiled, ants crawled under his skin, and his brain thudded against his chest like a beating heart. Ferdinand looked...happy, chatting with everyone who fawned over him. Happier than he ever did with Hubert, perhaps.
He attempted to conjure images of his lover smiling at him in his mind, but jealousy clouded every memory like fogged glass. Like a spirit possessed him and took his own actions out of his control, Hubert pushed against the table, chair screeching harshly against the tiling, rising loudly and abruptly, "My apologies, I am feeling faint. If you would excuse me."
His departure may have caused an international incident, but the tears which had not threatened his eyes since his boyhood did not care.
Ferdinand's knock was generally bold and insistent, much like the man himself, but now his hand fell on the aged wood lightly, delicately, like he might break it. Hubert sank deeper into his chair, hoping that if he said nothing, his lover would leave well enough alone.
...when was that ever known to happen?
"Hubert? Are you alright? It is unlike you to take ill so suddenly..."
He detested his hoarse voice, betraying him like a loose lipped spy, "I am fine, do not trouble yourself."
"You do not sound fine," a soft thunk, likely his forehead resting against the door, "Please allow me to come in."
Nothing was said for a moment, Hubert's brain struggling to come up with any reason, any reason at all, to deny the other entry, but his heart was faster and far more honest. Cursed emotions.
"You may enter."
He was turned away from the door, so the soft noise of the lock and the characteristic click of riding boots on hard stone were the only indication he was no longer alone. Ferdinand released a breath through his nose, concern radiating from every pore, from his erratic breathing and the constant quiet shuffle of his movements. Even without seeing him, Hubert knew him better than the back of his own hand.
"Please, love, tell me what that was about. You are not unwell, I know what it looks like when you are sick."
Sighing, Hubert tossed his head back, gazing up at the ceiling, finding nothing much of interest, "What do I give you?"
"Excuse me?"
"I am not suitable."
"For what?"
Ferdinand walked over, resting a hand on the armrest of the chair, gloved pinky brushing against Hubert's, who had to restrain his urge to hook it over the others to seek reassurance that he was not deserving of.
He repeated himself, "What are you not suitable for?"
To be by your side? To bask in the light you give out so generously? To merely exist in your presence? He could not put it more succinctly than, "You."
That hand resting next to his jumped to his face, making him start. Finally, he was forced to do the one thing he wanted least in this moment, meet Ferdinand's gaze, and just was he thought, it slew his resolve.
Eyes wide and wet, his lover looked like Hubert had taken his glove off and slapped him clear across the face, "Have I given you that impression? That you are unworthy of me?"
"That is not it," his voice cracked, it never cracked, not for anyone else, never would for anyone else, "There are just people who objectively more suitable."
In a display of force Hubert knew he would apologize profusely for later, Ferdinand hoisted the other man out of chair with one arm so he was standing, grip on his arm tight and unyielding, "What ever could that possibly mean? Who is more suitable than the man I love?"
"It meant nothing."
"I do not believe that for a moment, von Vestra ," his voice dripped with venom before it congealed into desperation and hurt, "Please, be honest with me."
Backed into a corner like a scared animal, for once the prey rather than predators, the words stuck in Hubert's throat thickly, "I meant," Someone with less blood on their hands? Less willing to do the dark deeds which must be done? "Someone who is not me."
The hand holding him let go, limply falling to Ferdinand's side, hands balling into loose fists, "Do you know how much those words hurt me, my love? To hear that you think that there is anyone besides yourself I would want to be with? Anyone better fit to be by my side?" his eyes had fallen to the floor but now they rose back up to meet the other's once more, "There is no one I want more than you. No one I could want more than you."
"How do you know that?" he asked now not from any firm belief but because he simply wanted the pain, he sought the rejection, to feel justified in feeling how he does. If he was tossed aside than he would no longer be hurting Ferdinand with these doubts.
Of course, the other never ceased to surprise him, "How do you know you love me ?"
He had never been asked an easier question in all his days, because you are wonderful, because you are brilliant, because you are all I am not, "Because you are you."
"And I love you because you are you. If I am to take you at your word, I beg of you to take me at mine," he reached up to run a thumb along Hubert's defined jaw, usually so cold and harsh, but it was always so hot under his touch, "I would not be with you if it did not bring me the greatest joy his world has to offer. No one is better suited to me merely because I wish for no one but you."
Shaking imperceptibly to anyone but the man he was currently with, Hubert covered the hand on his face with his own, "You shame me greatly. That was unbecoming."
"It is not a fault to have emotion. It is what makes us human, Hubert. Our humanity is what we fought so hard for, do not deny it to yourself now," he kissed his nose, feather light but it meant the world, "I, Ferdinand von Aegir, will do my utmost to ensure you will have no reason to fear like this again."
"I shall endeavor to have more confidence in you," a sharp breath, "And myself."
"That is all we can do."
Ferdinand kissed his lips, a tender gesture that Hubert wished never to end. These feelings of doubt had always stayed under the surface in his youth, never his most pressing concern, but in those days he never had anyone to worry over accepting Lady Edelgard, but she simply needed him to be useful . Never before had someone needed Hubert von Vestra the man .
And now that he had that someone, he was never letting him go.•