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Have you ever wondered, oh, Lady Destiny, if love is a mistake?
If it is not, my loyal companion, why am I so paralysed by it?
These flowers are the message that my desire is not shared
and with agony I tell you, they will make me meet my end.
But these curse has not forbidden me for loving him like he was mine,
because although the gold that lightens my existence admires someone else
dying is a blessing if it is by his side.
So darling friend and counsel, let your ally blossom in my chest
knowing that succumbing to his call is not something to elude.
My confession will run away cowardly till my bed,
where at last my lips will seal, his name the last wind to hear.
Jaskier observed his compositions notebook with clenched fists. An acrid smile decorated his lips, wishing to let out a painful smile. Even in moments like those, where his life depended on whether his friend Destiny takes mercy on his soul or not, he could write a pitiful song.
He coughed, feeling how in his lungs, more and more flowers started to blossom. They were a step away from leaving him breathless, bloodless, lifeless. Soon his eyes where going to close forever and he had not been able to gather enough courage to stan up and with the little force he had left, go get that damned witcher who had stolen his heart. But, what was it for? What was it for? What the hell was the use of looking for him, if the words he wanted to hear from his partner would not come out of him no matter how many prayers he threw to the sky?! Geralt did not love him. He would not love him even if he was about to meet his end. Why would he keep trying? Fighting for an unrequited love was even more agonising that death itself.
His breath had started to come out with difficulty when moonlight hair appeared from the door of the room they were renting at the inn. He sighed and tried to sit up, desisting when his chest tightened around his ribs. Even then, when his groans were audible and filled the room, the witcher was not willing to turn around. What? He was not important enough in others' life to get his company on his deathbed? He was just going to stay there, looking at the starry night, like his life was not withering with the pass of seconds?
"Are you not going to say your farewells, stupid witcher?" he whispered with rage, trying to hide the tears that were ready to leave his zaffire eyes. Geralt kept looking through the window, his back tense, fists painfully clenched.
"I cannot say it."
"Why? Is my near death not enough grief for a simple goodbye?" he coughed again. Jaskier observed with tired eyes his witcher's back, no, his witcher was not right, he was not his. He watched Geralt´s back tense with a shiver.
"I cannot say it because you are not going to die" he said, turning around at last. With surprise, he could see how the others' golden eyes shone with unshed tears.
"There is no cure for this curse, Geralt." he coughed. "Not one you can honestly give me anyway"
The witcher came closer, with a tiny container in his quivering hands. It was a see through liquid where a yellow petal he knew by heart danced restless.
"Drink this" he growled desperately, his eyes showing so much that it was impossible for him to find what he was looking for. "You will get better."
"I know what that is." he let out bitterly. "I am not going to take it."
"Jaskier, by Melitele, just drink it!" pure horror. That is what his voice, his eyes, even his trembling hands showed. He coughed again, tiressly,
"I am not going to drink something that is going to end with the only thing that keeps me alive"
"It is also the damned reason why your life is about to end" he growled again. Jaskier let out a giggle. "What?"
"Tell me, dear witcher, what is a bard without love?"
"You can still be Jaskier without it"
"Oh darling, if you really think that, you don't know me at all" the air left his lungs. He coughed hurtfully, Geralt´s hands holding his back and caressing it with an unknown tenderness.
"We can fix this" he said, now without his usual control over his feelings, the longing of seeing the bard well winning every battle he had been fighting against them. "Just tell me who is the one you yearn for"
"Have you not realised it yet, love?" he whispered, raising a hand covered in crimson and yellow. He caressed the silver head´s cheek with fondness, smiling miserably. "You have always been the receiver of every ounce of my affection. There is no one in this world that I have loved more that I have loved you, no, that I love you, Geralt of Rivia."
Although his lungs were beginning to collapse due to lack of air, never in all the years he had been in the company of the witcher he had felt so light. The other´s face showed surprise, until sour tears streamed down his cheeks. Jaskier laughed and took away one of them with shaking hands. The witcher took advantage of it and grabbed his hand, lifting it to his lips and leaving a chaste kiss in it that coloured his pale face.
"I have been a fool," he murmured. "You are like this because of my selfishness. Because I refused to believe any sign of your love."
"Any of that matters now, Geralt. This unrequited love keeps taking my life away with every flower that blossoms on my lungs"
Golden eyes changed. The witcher stood in front of him and grabbed his face with both hands, moving the tears he didn't even know he was letting out away.
"It is returned, you insufferable bard" his breath tickled his lips. He licked them impatiently, tasting his own blood. "I love you, Jaskier"
"Is this real or you just want to fulfill some dying man's wish?"
"It's real" he took his gaze away from a second and, then, with desire and anguish, joined their lips in a slow and emotional kiss that took away every flower his lungs had been embracing with resentment.
When they broke apart, Jaskier burst into tears. He felt free, he could breath, there weren't any more petals tangling his words in his tongue. And the most important thing: his love was returned at last. No love from his past had hurt like this one.
"I love you too, Geralt." the witcher smiled. It wasn't a big or joyful one, but it was just as bright. "And now you are not going to get rid of me for a long, long time, darling."
After a silence where both looked at each other lovingly, Geralt kissed his forehead and cleaned the blood that still rested on his chin with the back of his hand. Getting up, he offered a hand to his bard.
"I wouldn't want it any other way"
Lady Destiny had taken pity on him and had given him the only wish he had been proclaiming into darkness.