Work Text:
Owen had mentally checked out of the book signing before it even began.
He knew that he should be thrilled that so many people loved his work, but in all honesty it just made his heart ache. He was a fraud, at least in his mind. None of what he’d written was fiction.
The Coldest Goodbye was the recollection of his past life as the son of an Earl and the discovery his soulmate was a stable boy at their estate.
His time with Curt, however brief, had been magical. Stolen kisses in the barn, tender embraces under the moonlight, laying in the gardens and watching the stars. . .
Their love had been forbidden, but not because of their sex.
It was considered taboo amongst the upper class at the time to marry below their station, even if they were your soulmate. When Owen’s father had discovered the truth about Curt, he’d ordered for him to be sent away.
Owen had cried harder than he ever had in his life that night.
That was the last time he got to see his love. Curt had held him in his arms and kissed his face, promising that one day, perhaps in another lifetime, he would come back for Owen. That nothing could keep them apart.
People loved their story, loved their romance and were constantly raging that ‘he’ tore them apart.
He knew he should feel grateful for the success they gave him, but he felt a sort of bitterness. This was his life, his lover. Sometimes he regretted sharing it with the world.
Owen moved his marker mechanically against the inside of each book, giving each fan a smile and a greeting. He was just sort of out of it today.
Another book was placed in front of him silently, which was sort of strange, as usually his fans were the chatty type, ready to ask him to write a message or dedication.
Owen flipped the cover open, marker ready, when he paused. There was already writing on the inside.
I’m sorry I took so long, darling.
Owen slowly raised his head, heart thumping in his chest, and locked eyes with the man across the table from him.
His breath caught in his throat. It was Curt, looking just as beautiful as the day he’d last seen him.
“Do you forgive me?” Curt asked, eyes soft.
Owen leaned across the table and threw his arms around the man, burying his face into his neck. “Curt, you wonderful fool,” He murmured, kissing his skin delicately, tears leaking out of his eyes, “there’s nothing to forgive. You found me.”