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Pure Vanilla stripped Dark Cacao’s armor with a mastery that could only come from life-long friendship. He was so nervous, the first time, hands shaking from the outermost layer to the padded fabric beneath. Feared if he acted too slow – or too hasty – his friend would have bled out on the battlefield. Now, they had nothing but time. An eternity even as darkness steadily approached, but not yet prevailed, unable to prevail. They were strong and full of love; they were amongst friends in the land where all were equal. Pure Vanilla felt as if he had returned home.
So he took his time. His fingers traced the fine details of the armor plating, before he stripped his friend out of it. (He had a sudden urge, then, to press a kiss upon it. A gesture of gratitude for having protected his Dark Cacao after all this time. However, when you were his age, you learned how to suppress your impulse.) Dark Cacao was silent and still – but he was always quiet. So pliant that a braver man would invoke the word obedient – though he had always been soft under Pure Vanilla's hands. Nothing changed at all. The more they changed, the more they stayed the same.
Pure Vanilla put the breastplate on the table next to them, leaving only the gambeson. The buttons were… there, slightly to the side, near the waist. Pure Vanilla slowly unbuttoned it one by one.
First times were always clumsy, but it became much easier the second time around. The hardest part was getting Cacao to let you get this close. Oh, yes, never get it wrong – Cacao let him. There was no battle, nothing to conquer. Cacao was accustomed with struggles for power that even the slightest of force would be met with relentless resistance. Gentleness, on the other hand… gentleness seeped through his defenses like acid.
Pure Vanilla laid his hand across his stomach, moving up to follow the long strip of faded scar, cutting across Cacao's torso from shoulder to waist. The historical evidence of attempted fratricide.
"My dear friend," Pure Vanilla whispered, touching his scar. "Why did you not come to me?"
Dark Cacao did not answer, though he felt chest rose under his hand from the sharp, sudden intake of breath.
"If you had come to me in time, it would not have left a scar," he mourned the past, as the ancients would. "I could have healed you. You do not have to hurt, to suffer… to agonize. All you had to do was ask."
Cacao narrowed his eyes. "You want me to crawl to you, begging for mercy."
"There is no shame in seeking help from your friends."
"My dignity would not allow for it."
"But we have known each other for so long." Pure Vanilla spread his fingers over his chest, where the soul should be. "And have loved each other so deeply."
Pure Vanilla didn't think he was exaggerating. If you disregard the double meanings (and who would look that close? words were just words) it would sound as if he was simply stating facts.
Something he said struck a nerve, he supposed. Cacao never knew how to handle sincerity. He only knew how to charge at it like he did his enemies and now, his friend, leaning forward from the chair until their foreheads touched.
"You want me to beg," he accused. His eyelids drifted close. "Vanilla, heal me. I am hurt, I am ill …"
Pure Vanilla held his breath, holding on his friend's shoulder for strength. Cacao's long, flowing hair framed his face like curtains, gently caressing his neck and draping down his shoulder.
He pulled away, leaning back into his seat. "..Who would do such things?"
Pure Vania finally exhaled. He noticed then, a pale eyelash clinging to Cacao's cheekbone. He didn't know to whom it belonged to, but he wanted so desperately for it to be his that he didn't know what to do with himself.
"Why?" He wondered out loud like a child would. Why must there be suffering in this world? Why were we created?
"You heal me, and what then?" Cacao propped his elbow on the armrest. His voice was without feelings, but his gaze was full of scrutiny. "Do I come to you whenever I hurt? What happens, then, once I rely on you? Once I become resistant to the cure? When you are the only one who can make me whole?"
Pure Vanilla laughed.
(Weren't you just asking yourself?)
He laughed, laughed, and –
"That's what friends are for, Cacao." Pure Vanilla trailed his hands down to the other man's thighs. "Do you trust me?"
He nodded.
Pure Vanilla turned to the table, and blew out the candelabra.