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Aesop watched Eli pace back and forth as if he had a demon of distress clawing his back. Aesop was amused at how he managed to avoid running into the walls without Brooke who stood in a corner. Neither of them knew how much time had trickled by. It was just Eli, Aesop, and the owl.
Eli’s room had grown dusty. The curtains thickened and blocked any beam of sunlight from entering, books and items were left untouched and disorganized— and even his owl appeared cranky.
The embalmer dropped his sight to his fidgeting hands, trying to escape the tension. He could feel the uneasiness crawl on his skin. He’d never seen Eli that anxious.
The seer slumped down into a seat in front of the other with a low, dreadful sigh. A sigh so heavy that Eli seemed to deflate of all hope. Aesop crept his eyes up to the navy blindfold, curiosity and concern in them. Silence.
“Aesop.”
Aesop stirred and solidified his gaze forward. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry you have to see me this way.” Eli paused for a moment. “I feel like it’s about time I talk to someone about how I feel. I’m thankful for you coming over to listen. Really, thank you.”
Aesop sat still. “Of course, Eli.”
Eli opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, then said, “I’ve had corrupt visions and... I feel like I may never see her again. I’ve lost sleep over intrusive thoughts and I can’t get myself to step out of bed while feeling like I don’t have a purpose. I’m afraid I’ve lost her. Forever.”
“Eli—”
“It’s okay. I don’t need pity, please.” A rueful smile clung onto Eli’s voice. “I just can’t leave these emotions bottled up for so long.”
Aesop bit his words back and nodded in understanding. “Tell me about her. She sounds like a wonderful person.”
Eli heartened. “My beloved Gertrude,” he whispered as the name itself melted sweetly on his tongue. “I miss her dearly. She loves flowers— especially the gentians. Sometimes I’d give her some of the bluest gentians and she’d bury her nose in them and smile at me.” He hummed as the memory fluttered his heart. “She’d tell me that they remind her of my eyes.”
Aesop found himself slightly leaning in with interest. He waited for Eli to go on.
“She’s very intelligent. I’d take her outside to point at the constellations and she could name every single one.” Eli remembered when he’d trace constellations onto his lover’s freckled and rosy cheeks with a thumb. “Of course, she was very kind, Aesop. You’d think she’s a butterfly.”
“I’m convinced she’s a butterfly.” Aesop let out a huff of laughter.
Eli chuckled lightly and continued, “She took my hands once and pulled me to the center of a dance at a gathering. I’m not a very good dancer.” He sounded like he was nowhere near the manor. In that voice was pure bliss and nothing more, reliving the vivid memories in which he could almost feel the breeze. His smile slowly dropped and his voice returned to its somber tone. “I was excited for the wedding. I was excited for so many things.”
Aesop felt a hole carving his insides. “You should still be. There’s always hope, so don’t lose it now. Not when there’s a chance,” he said firmly. He had to clench his fist to squeeze those words out.
Eli listened to every word, finding it somewhat humorous that it was probably the most Aesop has ever said to him. “You’d be my best man. You’re very important to me, don’t forget that.”
Aesop shied away from the praise, closed fist softening. “You are to me too. You’re...the closest I’ve ever been to someone. I can’t let you feel like this.”
“It’s okay. As long as you’re around I have a sense of hope,” Eli told him as he felt some life return to his body. “It’ll hurt to never feel Gertrude’s warmth again, but I know she’ll find happiness. That makes me—” Eli’s voice went dry. As if his voice itself didn’t want to speak lies. But Eli finished the sentence off, anyway, “...happy. It makes me happy.”
“I’m sure she also wants you to be happy, Eli.” Aesop gazed at where Eli’s eyes would be if he could see them, but instead, saw glazed trails of tears down his cheeks.
“You’re right. If she wants me happy, then I’ll try.” He feigned a smile, but it broke apart and Eli couldn’t contain himself any longer. He fell towards Aesop and hugged him tight.
Aesop wasn’t sure what to do. He placed a shaky hand on Eli’s back to test the waters, then stroked his back. It took the embalmer that moment to remember what a hug was until he held the brunet. A silent sob shook Eli’s body. Aesop pulled him closer, the misery reaching his eyes until even his own sight blurred.
Who knew what visions Eli had? To live a life of guilt knowing that a terrible future awaits but having to stay quiet was a nightmare.
They held each other for a long while, Eli gripping onto the sleeves of Aesop, soaking the fabric. The owl fluttered her wings and sat beside them, looking right at Eli. Eli slowly turned his face towards the owl to take a look at himself using Brooke’s sight, sighing, “I look like a mess.”
“It’s…It’s okay, Eli,” Aesop assured. “That doesn’t matter.”
Aesop watched Eli face the owl, fixing himself as if Brooke were a mirror. His fingers followed down the marking on his cheek absentmindedly. The owl returned to perching on his shoulder as always, watching Aesop. The embalmer sat still, afraid of intruding the silence.
“Thank you,” Eli said, his face dropping a little. Aesop nodded, and he could feel Eli’s blind gaze on his. For a second, Aesop thought he saw the seer perk up in sudden revelation. The owl shrunk into her own feathers and cooed, her large blue eye never leaving Aesop’s.
Eli turned away in a sudden, and it almost made Aesop doubt his blindness. This silence was unnerving. Something happened and the embalmer had not the slightest clue what it was, but he knew to leave it as that.
“Let’s eat?” Eli asked as if to put his mind on something else, though his voice stayed low. “I’m sure that everyone else has returned to their rooms by now.”
“...Yes,” Aesop replied while standing. Eli stood up as well, leading them over to the door. Eli let the other step out first then stood as immobile as a rock for a moment. Aesop tried reading him.
“Again— thank you, Aesop. I hope I wasn’t much of a bother.” Eli went back into motion, out of his rock-like state.
“I-It’s not a problem. I’m happy I could be there for you.”
Eli stepped out and closed the door behind himself with a subtle smile. Then the two of them walked down the hall and into the dining room to finally satisfy their hunger.