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Lovecraft smelled like death, like drowning, icy water seeping into lungs, crumbling remains of a civilization forgotten by time itself. His fingers were cold, somehow both unnaturally flexible and too stiff to be human. As they run through Edgar’s hair, he can’t help but wonder how Lovecraft must feel watching the world flicker by from moment to moment, eternities passing by like seconds.
What was it like, to be so infinitely old? Edgar was an instant, his life as fleeting to Lovecraft as that of a gnat was to a man. Time itself was nothing to Lovecraft, humanity a stumbling toddler making petty demands to something ancient and powerful beyond comprehension. And there was Edgar, body pressed against the beast in something resembling love.
What else could he do, though? Life, like a river, flows to its final destination, its course unalterable and uncontrollable, the living simply along for the ride. And where it led him was to this moment, here in the arms of a monster he’d loved since the day they met. He couldn’t say this wasn’t where he wanted to be, but it likewise wasn’t where he had expected to be.
Lovecraft might love him. Lovecraft might leave him. Both were true, unshakably so. Neither could be denied. But Edgar would try, for the seconds he had, to make himself worthy of Lovecraft’s time and effort. And, in the end, he would fail. He knew it as instinctively as he knew that he would try. He would reach and reach, but he was human, and, as humans do, he would fall short.
“Poe.” Lovecraft’s voice was as haunting as ever, a kind of voice you could never quite identify, that seemed almost unreal, like he might not have been speaking at all. “You are upset.” Not a question, simply an observation. Edgar nodded. “Come.”
He didn’t know if he complied or if his body simply obeyed of its own accord. He followed Lovecraft out of the building and down through the city, only stopping at the edge of the beach. The moon-drenched waves rippled softly against his boots. Lovecraft himself was little more than a dark silhouette, the moonlight almost bending around him, casting the shadow of something not a man, an image far truer to reality.
“Tell me what is bothering you.”
Yet another command Edgar couldn’t quite decide if he had any choice but to obey. “I’m just scared.” His voice came out stronger and steadier than he had anticipated. “I know one day you’re going to leave me behind. I’ll never quite be enough for you. I’m just a heartbeat in your eternal lifespan, so I don’t even know why you’re here, bothering with me, when there are so many other things you could be doing.” It wasn’t how he wanted to explain it, but that was the truth, wasn’t it?
Lovecraft took a step toward him. The waves were silent now, leaving Edgar with only the sounds of Lovecraft’s footsteps and his own breathing. “I will not lie to you, Poe.” He exhaled. “I am ancient and eternal. I was here before your kind and I will be here after you. Of course, you will be swept aside as all things are. I have lived long enough to have forgotten entire civilizations; you stand no chance.” Edgar closed his eyes and exhaled. Something in him had been holding back, now wanting to fully believe it. But Lovecraft had said it, had confirmed all of his fears. He would give his life to the monster, and then he would be forgotten.
Something coiled around his waist. “But that doesn’t matter now. This is your life. When it’s over, it’s over, but it is not over yet. For now, you are alive. We are here. What may happen tomorrow is irrelevant. Your time is limited. It would be unwise to spend it worrying in such a way.” Lovecraft set a hand on his shoulder and spun him around. “The future cannot be controlled. It is outside of your power and not worth your consideration.” Edgar flailed, trying to fight, break free from his grasp, but Lovecraft simply pulled him closer. “The only choice you have is whether you choose to live while you have the chance.”
Lovecraft turned him around again, and this time Edgar went along with it, letting his feet glide softly across the sand, guided by the limb around his waist and the arm on his shoulder. Lovecraft ebbed and flowed like gentle waves, his movements soft and steady. His hands were as cold and stiff and flexible as ever, but there was something gentle about the way he moved. Edgar let his head rest against Lovecraft’s shoulder as they turned in the moonlight, a silvery glow the only way to see one another.
Lovecraft drifted toward the water, letting the waves ride up against their legs. The water was cold, rushing back and forth against Edgar. His boots were thin, barely providing any defense from the icy waves, leaving him shivering. He tried to pull himself tighter to his newfound dance partner, not that it did him any good. With anyone else, there would have been body heat, the heavy warmth of human life in their body, but with Lovecraft, there was just the cold solidity of his chest, a subtle but unmistakable sign of who and what he was.
Something rumbled in the background, and Edgar flinched, but Lovecraft just turned him again. But, even still, Edgar’s mind was whirling, disassembling and reassembling Lovecraft’s words over and over in an effort to make sense of it. He was going to be forgotten, one day, but maybe Lovecraft was right. Maybe that didn’t matter now. But one day, it would. One day, Lovecraft would slip away from him, his memories of Edgar dissolving like seafoam over the course of millennia.
Lovecraft hooked a limb under his chin and smiled. “You are going to be alright, Poe. You may not know what the future has in store, but I promise I am going to be here until the end.” And then, he kissed him, pressing their mouths firmly together for a single moonstruck instant. It simultaneously felt like drowning and flying as Lovecraft pulled him closer, tentacle-like appendages coiling through his hair. Then, they broke apart, Edgar gasping for air. “Remember that, no matter what happens.”
Edgar sighed softly, leaning softly against Lovecraft. Maybe that was another unbreakable order. Maybe it was a personal request. Or maybe it was just meaningless words meant to distract him from the crushing weight of eternity. No matter what, though, he would try. He would try to live, if not for himself, then for Lovecraft.