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There was someone in Caleb’s office.
Strange; there shouldn’t be. The students should all be in bed by now, and he didn’t think anyone had snuck through the wards he’d placed around the tower.
But no: there was a person in his office, a stranger who was playing with the cat figurines on his desk.
“Can I help you?” Caleb spoke, finally, spooking the stranger slightly. The stranger--a skinny, dark skinned human man with white curly hair--jumped at both the sound and the sudden light, squinting in the darkness. Caleb sent out 4 globules of light into the room, brightening it significantly, and Frumpkin jumped from his shoulder to investigate the person.
“Caleb Widogast!” The stranger said cheerily, his voice familiar but impossible for Caleb to place. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“I see that,” Caleb said quietly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. It would not do to wake the students if this conversation turned violent. “How can I be of service?”
The stranger ignored him, turning his attention from Caleb’s desk to the window behind the desk. “I love what you’ve done with the place. I’ve always loved a good tower,” he mused out-loud, running his hands along the brick that makes up the window. “And a sun dampener! That must be a strange sight here in Blumenthal. What inspired that, I wonder?”
The man before him doesn’t seem to be a threat, and so Caleb decides to humor him. “I spent some time in Rosohna. I suppose I got used to the eternal night,” he steps behind the stranger, so that he stood behind him, in between the desk and the window. “That, and I want all students to feel welcome here, even those who are sensitive to sunlight. Hence, the dampener.”
He does not say: the man I love is a drow, and the sunlight hurts him. And while he’s not here now, I want him to know he’s always welcome.
“And yet the flowers still bloom,” the stranger smiles. At his feet, Frumpkin purred, rubbing his head against the man’s ankles. That was a good sign, that Frumpkin seemed to like this man. “It’s quite an achievement. You should be quite proud.”
There’s something uncanny about the way he speaks that makes Caleb feel unnerved, like he knows more about Caleb than Caleb knows about him. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry to be rude, but who are you and what do you want?” he asks quietly. “Are you interested in becoming a student, or…?”
“I was wondering if you were hiring teachers, actually,” the stranger muses. “You see, I’ve recently found myself--well, my life has changed significantly,” the stranger explains. “After taking the advice of some friends, I’ve done a bit of soul searching. Decided to quit my job. Sell my house. Fake my death. Go exploring,” he gestures outside the open window, where the fields of Blumenthal are quiet at night. “See the world and learn more about the people out there. The ones I’ve hurt. Try to make a few amends.”
He snaps his fingers, and the disguise drops. In the stranger’s place, sitting on the windowsill, is Essek Thelyss, a little older, with a few more scars than the last time he saw him, but the half-smile he gives Caleb is the same as it’s always been.
“Essek,” Caleb breathes, and he feels his heart races immediately at the sight of the man he loves.
“That is, if you have an opening, of course,” Essek teases him. “I hear Widogast Academy is quite prestigious. I hope my credentials are up to the job.”
Caleb cannot help himself; he leans forward and kisses Essek gently, the way he’s wanted to in the months it’s been since he’s seen him. “I think we may have a place for you, here,” he whispers, brushing Essek’s hair out of his face.
“I--may need a new name,” Essek blushes, his cheeks slightly darker than the rest of his plum skin in the moonlight. “I wasn’t lying when I said I faked my own death. Much as I’m hoping to like teaching your students, I’m not sure we can trust that some of them won’t go back to Rosohna and speak of Professor Thelyss.”
Caleb takes Essek’s hand, and kisses him on the ring finger. “You can have mine, if you want it,” he offers, not yet releasing Essek’s hands from his. “Widogast has served me well so far.”
“You like naming things after yourself,” Essek teases. “Widogast’s Vault of Amber. Widogast’s Transmogrification. Widogast Academy.”
“Widogast’s husband,” Caleb whispers, kissing Essek’s hand again. “If you’ll have me, of course.”
Essek blinks, and Caleb notes his eyes are a little watery. “Of course! I mean, yes, I--” he grabs Caleb’s face and kisses him again, deeper this time. “Yes.”
“You’ll marry me?”
“If you want me--”
“Of course I want you! I asked!” Caleb laughs.
“Then yes,” Essek grins, and kisses him again.