Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Dear Dietfried…”

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Rain was, to Leon, both a blessing and a curse.

On days when it poured, nothing felt righter than to pick up a pen, swirl it around fingers, put the first line of ink on a fresh sheet of paper and watch as letters bounced from underneath a shiny golden tip, joyous and playful, all new and his own like little living things.

Rain smelled like an enchanted city, and if Leon looked well enough, he could see it take shape through the window of his favourite café, right above the edge of a warm teacup. A town full of wonderous unknows, transported into a time other than his own.

Like stars streets shimmered with raindrops that jumped whenever footsteps hurried towards the nearest roof, and people woke up from their usual lives, turning their eyes up towards the sky instead of the ground.

The world laughed with a smile so contagious Leon could not help but offer one back.

And then, other days happened.

On days when rain poured differently, greyness seeped into each corner and alleyway, between every crack and window there was. Like a quiet, never-ending noise it filled Leon’s thoughts with what if’s and would have’s and all the thoughts that shouldn’t be. It cut him off from the world, and while being alone was not something Leon minded, loneliness certainly was.

Words were empty and heavy and no matter what, the pen would tear at the paper and stumble over itself.

There was little to nothing that helped on those days other than hours of sleep, hoping the night would care enough to take the darkness away with her.

Leon looked through the window that let late autumn light fall onto his desk.

His legs crossed as fingers held onto the pen tighter, forcing it to finish what it had started.

Slowly, small and exhausted, Leon put down the final word.

It stared at him as he stared back in silence, reminded by drops plinking on his window shelf of better days to come.

With a sigh, he sat straight and folded the letter in an envelope.

Dear Dietfried,

How are you?

You probably weren’t expecting this letter? Well, neither was I. I already know it will be all over the place, for which I apologise now.

I am not too sure why this is being written. Rain woke me up and I suppose it has just been a lonely day since. Will I even send this? So I thought I would do this. Pretend you are answering as I write. Even though it probably won’t help.

I thought

Sorry for this mess I might or might not send. I’ve run out of things to say, to you or myself, for that matter, and the pen is heavy. I should go to sleep instead of bothering you and the paper with my thoughts.

If you happen to receive this letter, don’t worry. I promise I am already fine.

We are meeting towards the end of next month, aren’t we?

I am looking forward to seeing you.

Take care.

Yours,

Leon

Dearest Leon,

I must admit you have indeed caught me off guard with this letter. Most unanticipated, although I cannot say unwanted. It was a pleasant surprise. Thank you.

I will have you know the messenger has found me home right during a short stay of two days, so I can only hope my fast answer comes as a welcome surprise as well. I have been doing fine myself, although I wish you were too.

Has the sun come out by the time you are reading this? I have been told it has been a rainy two weeks. And have you succeeded in getting some rest? To enter a new month exhausted is not the most pleasant of things.

I trust that you can take care of yourself; you are stronger than you let on. Let me, however, admit this: it is quite flattering to find that you are willing to lean on me when times are not good. I like that side of you, too. But you already know that, do you not? I wish I had been there for you in person. Albeit, I was not, and for that I apologise.

I would like to take more time to write all I want to say. Unfortunately, duties I cannot reschedule await me, and I will have to believe this letter will have helped at least in some way.

As for our appointment, it most certainly still stands. If you could forgive the insolence, though, I would like to see you three weeks from now as well, as long as your schedule is open. If you do not mind indulging me; I do feel terrible having been unable to lend you my shoulder during a time of need. Remember - do not feel any pressure to do so. I will be in and out of town over next weeks, so you may send your answer to this address. I will be waiting.

And now, do not laugh at me for the rather formal wording of this letter. Half of it is, as you once again well know, due to a boring habit of mine, the other due to my wish to make you smile. It suits you so.

I hope to see you soon too, Leon.

Until then, starlight, stay safe.

Affectionately,

Dietfried

Half past four in the afternoon.

Evenings have been getting cold.

If looked closely enough, small clouds of warm breaths could be caught escaping people who rushed their way home. Hands in pockets, noses covered by scarves. A faint scent of fog and red leaves permeated the streets beneath Leon’s window. It was autumn in full bloom, and the sun would soon begin to set.

One, two, three, Leon’s shoes step softly towards the hanger. He should get going. It is not Leon’s habit to be late, and neither is Dietfried’s. With ease the young man slips into a coat, enjoying the night-blue woollen warmth that surrounds him immediately.

Days have been nicer, just as he thought they would. On his desk, Dietfried’s letter is folded neatly in its envelope after being read, admittedly more than once. However well weeks might have been going, though, Leon still sees no reason to refuse an earlier than anticipated meeting with the man.

He opens the window one last time. Cold, but not too much. Subconsciously, his fingers fix the edge of his turtleneck higher. A pile of thicker winter clothes is still neatly folded in one of his bags, although no event in the world could make him bother to sort them out now. Well, a blizzard, perhaps. But there are none happening anytime soon so until then this will have to do. Besides, most of Leon’s life has been spent on top of a mountain.

Ah, good.

He's ready.

The following part Leon has done so many times it can only be described as an easy habit. Window shut, he takes his bag, turns on his heel, wraps a scarf around himself and turns the room key twice.

Leon takes a deep breath of late autumn air.

Both edges of his mouth curve towards the sky.

Have you ever noticed how the world turns upside down in rivers?

Sky flows on the floor and houses grow from ceilings and gravity doesn’t work on anything at all. It is all switched around and wobbly, with a single exception. Light. Lamps still shine in all directions. A little strange, but beautiful, still. At least that is how Leon has always found it.

Waking up is a process he neither likes nor dislikes, and more often than not he finds himself abandoning a couple of minutes of sleep for a longer route by the river. This time is no different. It is beautiful; why should he not enjoy himself?

In autumn, Leon’s favourite addition are leaves. While the river passing this town could appear murky and dark during evening, leaves coloured gold and bronze and bright red and soft make it look like the sky, or a path full of roses, if that was what you happened to be looking for.

Thanks to the last rays of light, a pair of blue irises identical to his own reflect curiously at Leon, making him wonder if his upside-down self is pondering over same things as he. If it still will, for the next five minutes until he reaches the agreed-upon spot.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Ah. Were it any other voice, Leon would have jumped. This one, although unexpected, he has grown so used to hearing it clicked right into place.

“Am I late?”

“Not at all. Early, in fact.”

At last Leon tears his gaze away to meet Dietfried’s. Tall, imposing, elegant. Quiet, and reassuring. The man nods and offers something Leon has learned to recognise as a formal smile of sorts. One most often directed at people who are not Leon, and even far more commonly seen on the streets. Regardless, he falls into the other man’s step and closes some of the distance. For a second or two, a hand greets him on his back.

“I wasn’t expecting you here. Weren’t you going to come from the station?”

“I boarded an earlier train. I happened to have some minor business to attend to.”

“Oh. Have you sorted it out?”

“I have.”

“I see. That’s good to hear.”

“Thank you.”

Leon shortens the distance between them by another small margin. With Dietfried silence has always been comfortable, almost as much as the hand brushing Leon’s side every third step or so.

Now, Leon does not know this, but he has a very particular quirk to his walk. Whenever they meet, Leon skips a step. It is just one, within the first five, but it most certainly occurs. That happens to be a favourite secret of Dietfried’s, which he fully intends to reveal at no foreseeable point. His smile betrays him, but it is something he has learned to hide well.

“How have you been, Leon?”

The smaller rubs his nose on the checkered scarf. It used to be Dietfried’s and it still smells like him. Are smells supposed to linger for years? Maybe it’s because it’s cashmere.

“I’ve been fine.”

“Leon.”

“I really have.”

They make another few meters in silence. A bell rings nearby and a polite store announcement makes its way through the door before disappearing with the sound of it closing. Leon listens closer and hears their shoes tapping on uneven stones of the path. Two pairs of black shoes, slightly out of rhythm. It reminds him of raindrops.

Then, Dietfried chuckles. It is so typically soft of him, yet no one would ever believe it if Leon said anything of the sorts. “Would you still let me ask about your week later?”

“If you want to, yes.”

“I would.”

Biting back a smile perhaps too filled with emotion to be seen, Leon nods.

Seemingly satisfied, Dietfried mirrors him and his hand brushes Leon’s side once again.

“We are matching today.”

“Huh?”

Despite the fact that the more time he spends with Dietfried, the more Leon comes to realise this man can be as witty and brazen as he wants, he still finds himself at a loss for words on occasion. An achievement Dietfried seems to pride himself in, in the most tender of ways.

There is nothing matching about them today.

“Such as my beige pants and your black ones?”

“No. Our socks.”

“Excuse me?”

“We are both wearing black socks.”

Dietfried’s finger points at Leon’s ankles that his pants loosely let peek through. His socks are indeed black. And just as before, Leon has no idea what to do. He looks up, face drowning in confusion. Dietfried, though, he merely lets out his second chuckle.

“Were you about to laugh?”

“I…am not sure I can tell.”

A carriage passes them by.

“Laugh whenever you want to, starlight.”

The rough hand that always treats him so gently takes hold of his own and the press of lips to his fingers has Leon halt and then shiver. It is gone as fast as it happens. Yet, the skin burns, burns, and burns.

Then so does the side of his face, caressed under pretence of a scarf being wrapped into place.

Unfair.

“Should we continue on our way?”

So unfair.

Leon wants to laugh, as much as he feels the need to tell Dietfried he should shut up, and approximately the same amount as he wishes for those arms to wrap around him. Dietfried would be more than content about any of these.

“You’re so unfair.”

No more than a gentle tug. The smaller hand pulls Dietfried’s sleeve, looking for the shirt tucked safely beneath. Both infuriating and lovely, the taller man smiles in anticipation, imagining the kiss would be returned.

He is not wrong.

Not entirely.

It is not the fingers. Leon’s lips touch his wrist and for a moment Dietfried starts believing he might be suffering from a terrible case of vertigo and the town flips upside down as if in the river.

Leon bites back a smile. He knows how this goes. While the kiss is gone as fast as it happens, the skin burns, burns, and burns still.

Laughter bubbles up from Dietfried’s lungs. Leon’s are filled with the smell of his lover, hiding him from everyone else with a single touch of an arm to his shoulder.

“It’s good seeing you, Leon.”

“…Likewise, Dietfried.”

Elbows hooked, they walk forward.

“That reminds me, Leon, I have something to ask- ah, this way.”

“Huh? We haven’t arrived yet.”

“Well, perhaps I have intentionally kept it a secret. This is where I was planning to head to.”

“Oh…how did you find out about this place?”

“A letter told me you are quite fond of it.”

The tea house was small. No more than ten tables, comfortable sofas and stairs leading to an upper floor. The two waiters were polite, the teas tasted of home, and the occasional chocolate croissants were freshly baked, warm, and ah, the chocolate. You might have guessed it correctly that the latter were, unsurprisingly, Leon’s favourite ever.

Not much can be said about what happened over the next two hours. Leon would rather leave most of their time spent in there for others to imagine, for it was too private to share.

What he can tell are the number of flowers drawn on his teacup, the smell of Dietfried’s cold minty drink and his warm peach-flavoured one. He remembers the surprise on Dietfried’s face when Leon ordered two croissants, knowing Dietfried would like it. Then there was a hand reaching over the table, rough fingers finding their place between his, a firm hold hidden between them. And perhaps, when no one was looking, a pair of lips over his own.

And most important of all, Leon recalls thinking how this trip was a very extravagant Dietfried-like prelude just to ask Leon if he would mind indulging him with a visit to his most trusted tailor.

“No need to hold your breath.”

Leon glares. “No need to keep up with this farce of hiding your laughter, you’re fooling nobody.”

“My apologies. It has been a long time since I’ve seen you unsure of what’s happening.”

“If you are trying to say you just did when we met today, I will get angry.”

“Oh, no, no, I really didn’t mean that.”

As a man of both actions and words, Dietfried patiently waits for Leon. His stare is a bit colder than he would like it to be, although the pair of blue eyes still sparkle with more warmth than Dietfried ever expected such a colour to possess.

“You sure?”

“Quite so.”

“Alright.”

It is easy, with Leon.

By a weird twist of fate, Dietfried often finds himself cursing his past. The war, the losses, the pain. The family.

With a little less frequency, although not by that much, those curses land on Leon’s past too. The young man is dearer to Dietfried than he could ever have hoped for. An emotion he was so scared of having lost he hardly lets himself ponder on it.

And then at last, albeit very rarely, Dietfried thinks back at both of their lives, and thanks all the gods for what they have been through.

He knows how sharp his words can cut. Truth hurts, but Dietfried prefers it to lies. Matters being solved fast and efficiently. Straight to the point.

Leon is the same. He will speak his mind, which has got him into trouble before. Why Dietfried is proud of incidents he has never seen, he can’t explain.

What he likes to think is, they are similar. With million memories that could have happened but never did and pieces of hearts broken, they know how much it hurts.

When a problem arises, they solve it. When there is none, they do not need to say much. And if they do, it is always words Dietfried locks in a special drawer in his mind, to reminisce when he is happy, or sad.

It could then again be that the reason for this peaceful partnership lies in differences. Dietfried knows how to talk, Leon won’t speak until needed. One would plan gatherings, the other avoid them. Despite what one might think, it is Dietfried who is more likely to cause mayhem. And just to not be mistaken - he does it on purpose.

Such a dynamic is one Dietfried has not often experienced before, if at all. Now, it is part of his life, and it is…nice.

Although, to be truthful, as Dietfried prefers to, he would not be afraid to admit that it is Leon who takes most of the credit for this. Dietfried is sure he could not stand another one of himself for more than an hour. Leon offers him selfless patience and Dietfried can only hope to one day become someone who is worth a single fraction of it.

If you asked Leon, though, he would simply tell that Dietfried loves and loathes himself in equal amount. And, although a little more quietly, Leon would admit the same.

“It suits you.”

The compliment catches his attention and Leon hurries to answer. Those words have been spoken eternally softer than they should be to someone whose only current activity is awkwardly following orders of a dressmaker he has only just met.

“What, my unnatural pose?”

Dietfried chuckles. “Maybe.”

“Excuse me, dear, could you lift your arm up for me- right there, thank you.”

“Uh, sure, no problem.”

“I apologise, dear, you see, it takes me a lot less time to do this for sir Bougainvillea here, since I’ve taken his measurements before and they have not changed at all in the past few years. He still won’t let me in on the secrets of his diet, though.”

Out of all tones, Leon has to admit he has not one expected to hear a cheeky one in Dietfried’s presence. Not an unpleasant surprise.

“I believe we’ve been acquainted for long enough for you to drop the honorifics, Margaret. How many times have I asked you to?”

“My, I would never dare.”

“We both know that isn’t true.”

“Sir, you keep your diet a secret from me! Turn around, please, Leon- lovely. And if you keep secrets, how am I to know you are not going to tell on me for disrespecting you?”

“If anything, it would be for you not following the order to use my given name.”

“See, Leon? He says we are friends, then orders me around. Preposterous, truly.”

Margaret, whom Leon has come to adore in the twenty minutes since they’ve shaken hands, pretends to be terribly upset.

“Be careful, Leon. You’ll find it unbelievably hard to win an argument against her.”

A soft laugh leaves Leon as he observes the skilled movements of this woman. She is fast, precise, and although he is no tailor, no one could deny the obvious; she has every idea about what she is doing. He wisely judges not to say so while the two bicker, but he can see why Dietfried would trust her. How old was she even? Some years above Dietfried?

“Leon.”

“Yes?”

Margaret takes a step back, as if she knew Dietfried was finally going to abandon his poetic cross-legged pose on the chair.

“Let me see.”

At last Leon allows himself to relax when Dietfried smooths out the fabric making the sleeves of a sample shirt. It is careful, so much so that a little voice in Leon’s head keeps whispering to please hold him tighter and closer. His eyes catch a minute twitch of lips before a thumb rubs his shoulder just quickly enough for no one else to notice.

Ah, he must’ve figured it out.

“Does it fit well?”

“It’s nice.”

“How do you like the sleeves? Should we make them like mine?”

With a contemplative face like that, Dietfried could easily work as a private investigator.

“Heh, I’m afraid I don’t want to stand out that much.”

“Hmm. Indeed, you wouldn’t like that. They seem a little tight,” Dietfried ponders like an expert trying to fit a finger under the hem of Leon’s sleeve. “Would you mind if they were a bit puffier?”

“I suppose not…if not by a lot?”

“Mhm. The fabric?”

Leon shrugs. “How often do you see me wearing shirts? It’s fine.”

First Dietfried looks, analyses, then nods to himself. “Fetch him the softer fabric, Margaret, would you?”

“Right away.”

Despite Dietfried being a pleasure to look at, as she walks to an adjacent room Leon can’t help but notice how self-assured her back looks. Straight, strong and confident to do the job right. Leon wishes he could one day be the same.

But, ah, another wish comes true first.

A nostalgic smell of wood and amber.

A quiet heartbeat.

A gentle gesture of love.

Leon cannot stop a relieved sigh when he is allowed to lean against a familiar chest. Before he knows it a hand glides over his hair once, twice, three times.

“Would you like to stay at a hotel tonight, dearest?”

“Please.” Most of his answer stays muffled in the other man’s softness. Leon nuzzles against Dietfried, who holds him tighter.

“Of course. Has this tired you out?”

If it kept the hand on his back from ever leaving its place, Leon would tell a lie about his exhaustion with no remorse. But why would he if he is a terrible liar and, regardless, Dietfried wants some company too?

“It’s only been half an hour.”

“And I know she can be intense at first.”

“So can you.” Leon chuckles and leaves a peck to Dietfried’s shoulder before Margaret’s quick steps reach them.

“I believe you meant this one?”

“I did…yes, some elasticity is definitely better.”

“Excellent choice. As for the- oh! Terribly sorry, Leon, you can change back now, please. I was saying, sir, should I add some buttons on the sleeves?”

“Either is fine, I’ll leave the details to you. I’d suggest gold.”

“I was thinking quite the same thing.”

“Should I pick up your coat too?”

“Ah, thank you, Leon.” Dietfried pulls his gloves back on as his attention shifts to the dressmaker. “Put a bow on for him, or leave it plain. He is not fond of cravats-”

The man’s brows rise at Margaret’s giggle.

“Sorry, sir, the way you talk under your breath makes it sound like a secret conspiracy.”

“…When do you expect the shirts to be done?”

“I’d love to say in a couple of days, but winter this year will be harsh and we’ve had a big order influx of heavy clothing. It should take us two weeks, if you would be fine with that?”

“No problem at all. We won’t be needing them for another month.”

“Oh, most lovely! We’ll have plenty of time for minor adjustments if you’ll want so.”

“Come now, Margaret,” Dietfried rolls his eyes, “when has that need ever arisen when you have sewn clothes?”

“My, I am honoured. Would you like to see how yours is coming along?”

Before Dietfried can contest, the dressmaker speaks up again.

“Worry not, I’ll keep company to your friend for the minute you’ll be gone. Lucas!”

“Yes?”

“Show the gentleman to our sewing room, dear. Second shirt on the right.”

“Right away, miss.” The soft-spoken boy offers a polite bow. “Sir, if you’ll follow me.”

With a pat-push by Margaret to his back, Dietfried is escorted to yet another room while she finds her way to Leon, whose hands are full of Dietfried’s winter coat.

“Here you are. I’m sorry for the rush, it has been a little busy over here.”

“No, not at all, I don’t mind waiting. And, uh, it was nice to meet you.”

“A pleasure for me too! I’m glad to see you here with Dietfried.”

So she really doesn’t mind calling him by his first name.

“You probably see him often?”

“If he’s not busy I do, once a month at least. But, you see, never quite so happy.”

Dammit, Leon curses the hint of nervousness creeping up his spine. Does she know?

Margaret smiles. It’s a motherly, reassuring smile.

“Don’t look so shocked, dear. I have been acquainted with Dietfried for a long time, you know. My older brother joined the navy when war began, that’s how we met. I am not sure how much you’ve been told, but if you happen to have any ties in that circle, you’ll have heard of the Bougainvillea family. His life hasn’t always been the easiest. Especially as the war ended, he’s been…gloomy.”

Leon shifts his weight to the other leg. He knows. Not more than a part of it.  Only enough to imagine how much pain is hidden behind that composed face.

“But lately he has been a bit more cheerful and I am delighted to see it’s because he’s found himself good people to keep him company.”

“I…don’t think I’ve done much, really.” His attempt of a smile must be terribly crooked. “He’s been kind to me too.”

“Oh, dear. Look at him when he smiles. You gave him back something he has been trying to find for a long time. And if he ever isn’t nice, just tell me! I have a secret or two to threaten him with.”

“Uh- that shouldn’t be necessary.”

“Oh, no, I can see you can handle him on your own. I simply want to have a little fun.”

“Margaret.”

“My, you’re back already. Is the shirt coming along to your liking?”

Hadn’t Dietfried known better, he would have pursued his dressmaker’s dubious offers to Leon. But she would have ignored him and flip words around until the talk would flow the way she would want it to, and while sometimes Dietfried does not mind indulging her, now he has no time for such things.

It is late, and he needs more rest than he did fifteen years ago. If it is spent with someone he cares for, well, who could blame him for wanting to leave?

“Yes. I’ll be back in two weeks to pick it up.”

“Certainly. Bring Leon with you too, he makes for a great conversation partner.”

“I’ll have to think about that.”

“I am sure you will.”

Watching the exchange from the outlines must be more entertaining than being part of it, in Leon’s opinion. Margaret at last bows to them, followed by her assistant in the back. Time does not mind nor wait for them; a new customer enters the store and cuts their goodbye short. Still, as the door is closing, Leon turns back to bid a final farewell to the smiling lady.

As delightful as evening walks might be, whether in company or not, it didn’t take Leon long to give in to Dietfried’s request for a carriage.

It has always made him laugh how fellow observatory students took his quiet nature as lack of knowledge.

Leon knew more than most.

The time they spent chattering, he spent listening and watching. He’s learned how to pick up on their quirks and when it was best to avoid trouble. Although, that last part was often rendered useless by his unnecessarily fast and sharp tongue. Especially when his self-restraint, who commonly went by Kyle, was not present.

Be it classmates or anyone else, Leon observed and learned. Which is how he found out that Dietfried’s leg is likely to act up if he spends a major portion of any rainy day on his feet. There was a small, faint scar just above his right knee. Leon was surprised he hadn’t found out about it sooner, considered the amount of their shared time.

“That? A minor stab. It did not bleed much.”

“How can a stab be minor?”

“In the grand scheme of things, it unfortunately is.”

That’s why Leon did not at all mind taking a seat next to Dietfried instead of pursuing a half an hour long walk. The shoulder underneath his temple was firm, the gloveless hand in his warm, and the occasional quiet voice all too enchanting. If either had nodded off during the ride, they do not say.

“I left yours in the bathroom.”

“Thanks. I’ll be back in a second, leave the lights on.”

“Alright.”

In the low-lit room, Dietfried sets the last of his belongings on a chair before heading to bed. A fair size. There is an extra sofa in the corner, but it is not going to be used; that much they know. The sleeves of his rented sleeping attire don’t seem to fit entirely, so Dietfried spends a minute fixing them as he slips under covers, soon to be joined by another young man.

It is a jumper of sorts, neatly knitted. Warm, if not else, although Dietfried is much more used to silk. Or those short-sleeved cottons that Leon has introduced a while ago. Truth be told, Dietfried has started wondering whether it was because of his excessively frilly - bothersome at night, according to Leon - shirts or the way Leon often liked to caress his arms. Then again, the latter could very well be Dietfried’s reason for wearing them.

But for having barged in the hotel so late in the evening with no room reservations, this will do just fine.

“Need the lights?”

“No, you can turn them off.”

As soon as he does, a silvery shine from the moonlight covers their room. It matches Leon’s eyes painfully well, Dietfried thinks as he uncovers the empty half of the bed. After pulling a curtain closed, only so much to keep the morning sun away from the bed, Leon tucks himself in.

His hands reach for the bow on Dietfried’s hair. He undoes it and slowly, carefully begins to work on the braid as well.

“It’s damp.”

His voice is no more than a murmur.

A hand holds his side steady.

“It’ll dry as we sleep.”

“Mm, probably.”

Dietfried’s eyes close when his unravelled hair gets tucked behind his ear and played with. “I don’t believe I have any spare energy to do much more than that in the first place.”

“Neither do I.”

“Is that so? Why won’t you lie down then?”

“Your hair is soft.”

The older man chuckles. “You can still touch it. Come here.”

Leon doesn’t need to be told twice, not with all the tiredness, and a bed already warmed up by the other is more than welcoming. He finds his place on his side, curled close to Dietfried with his leg over Leon's. The little thigh scar gets discovered in no time. Leon rubs it. If only he had the energy to kiss it better too.

“How are you?”

“I’m,” he blinks as something warm presses to his forehead, “fine.”

“Good.”

The warmth moves, tickling him only slightly, as Dietfried speaks against him. Leon finds a way to the beautiful locks of hair, threading his fingers through them.

“So you were planning an opera visit from the get-go?”

“Ah, you’ve uncovered me.”

“Hard not to. You’ve told your dressmaker the entire building concept so she could match the shirt.”

“You’ll see when we’re there, Leon.”

“See what?”

Dietfried moves so he can hold him better.

“How nice it is to feel more appropriate than everyone else.”

“Dietfried.” Despite everything, Leon still laughs and drags Dietfried with him. “Why does it even matter if we’re going for the opera?”

“Oh, it doesn’t. But who else could they be jealous of?”

“They won’t be jealous.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“I’ll assume from that tone that it’s a longer story for another time.”

“What tone, dearest?”

“The one you…”

“Sleepy, aren’t we?”

“…use when you’re talking about your arson endeavours. Or things of that sort.”

“Ah, I’ve mentioned that one before, haven’t I? I don’t think Hodgins has ever forgiven m-…your yawns are infectious, it seems.”

“Who is Hodgins? Wasn’t it your family’s building?”

“Collateral damage.”

“Have you apologised?”

“Probably. I’ve been raised to be well-mannered.”

As Leon sinks deeper into the softness of Dietfried’s clothes, he can barely muster enough air to huff out a short laugh. “What is the opera…about?”

Dietfried’s voice falls quiet into a murmur. With endearment unable to stay hidden from his face he returns the earlier gesture, pushing Leon’s hair off his forehead. He won’t stay awake for long anymore.

“Should we talk about it tomorrow, starlight?”

“Mm. Just the outline, please.”

“Just the outline, then. Have you heard of Orpheus and Eurydice?”

“Don’t think so.”

“It’s a myth from ancient Greece. About two lovers, and one of them trying to bring the other back to life.”

“Sounds…sad and beautiful.”

“It is. But not now, tomorrow.”

“Mhm. When we wake up.”

“Of course. Sleep well, Leon.”

“You too, Dietfried.”

The two lovers drift asleep in the arms of one another. As it happens, the morning is not as kind to be fogless and sunny, leaving them instead late in bed to catch up on some hours of sleep, and on each other.

Less than ten days later, a small package is delivered to Leon’s temporary stay in this town. It is a collection of Greek myths, with a certain page marked by a silky blue ribbon.

Leon gets lost in it and ends up reading the whole book in no more than two days.

“Punctual as always.”

It is Dietfried’s hand to reach him before greetings do. Warm on his back, a habit Leon has grown used to early on.

Next should come - and indeed it does, a tug to his side, a body pressed against his, and a kiss to his temple. Reserved for when they are away from privy eyes, which Leon’s room seems to be doing a job good enough for.

Depending on the day, it is either a loving peck or a playful, and Leon still feels inappropriate using this next word when it comes to Dietfried, smooch. Today seems to be the latter, if the smile pressing against Leon’s cheek next second is anything to go by.

He could describe almost every single one of kisses like these he has ever received; that’s how accustomed to those tender flowers of affection he has grown. So used, that you would expect Leon to notice if anything was amiss.

His eyes widen.

These kisses don’t usually tickle.

“You- oh.”

“I?”

“Your hair is down.”

“Does it not suit me?”

Leon waits for Dietfried’s face to lean close enough to come into reach of his extended hand. As if in trance he slowly glides over night-blue locks, taking his time to trace a small golden line, a pin to keep one side in place.

“You never wear it like this.”

“…Leon, dearest, am I supposed to take that as a compliment?”

Leon’s fingers take hold of Dietfried’s chin. Almost low enough to match Leon, the man is still tilted forward in half a bow. It is then that Leon sees the sly smile and arching eyebrows, and that twisted shine in green eyes. Show-off.

Leon doesn’t have to say it aloud for Dietfried to know. As their lips meet for a brief moment, the man grins.

“I’m glad to have made an impression.”

“I can see.”

“But, I’m afraid you look wonderful too. I see my package had been delivered promptly.” Leon’s hair is braided and neatly tied with the blue bow. He has become quite skilful at it. “Pleased with the shirt?”

“It is very comfortable.”

“Mhm,” Dietfried decides to examine the three golden buttons lined up on Leon’s sleeve, “I knew it would look good on you.”

“I…thank you.”

“I mean it, Leon.” He gets pulled in an embrace, soft voice believing the words it whispers to his ear. “You truly look wonderful.”

It takes Leon one deep inhale to start breathing again.

“So do you.”

At last, Dietfried lets out a genuine smile.

“Thank you.”

“Shouldn’t we be leaving?”

“Perhaps. We’re making our drive outside wait.”

“What? Why don’t you say so?”

“Oh, he is my personal chauffeur. He’ll think I’m coming down with something if I’m only gone for ten minutes.”

“No, he won’t, let’s hurry.”

“Don’t forget your suitcase.”

“I won’t, even if you still refuse to tell me what it will be needed for.”

“Here, let me carry.”

“No need to.”

Dietfried still does.

Leon follows suit. Coat on, one last turn, and the room key turned twice.

He takes a deep breath of late winter air.

Both edges of his mouth curve towards the sky as he looks at the man next to him.

That’s a lot of people.

Leon frowns, shortening the distance between the two of them.

It is not too big of a crowd, no, nor is it loud. It is just that compared to the amount of people Leon meets in libraries and deserted storage houses, there are far more visitors than he is used to.

“The line isn’t long, let’s step aside over there.”

“Okay.”

“How did you find the book?”

Dietfried stops near a female sculpture.

“The myths?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting. I am not sure I can pick a favourite story.”

“…I suppose I should’ve expected you to have finished reading it all by now.”

Leon nods. “It took me two days or so. I can’t put it down if it’s good.”

There is a hint of loving exasperation in Dietfried’s laughter.

“Well, I am glad you found it enjoyable.”

“I did. Thank you for sending it. Oh, and I found a translated summary of this opera too. I worried I wouldn’t understand much.”

“I’m sorry, how did you find that?”

Leon looks up, brows curved somewhere between confused and isn’t it obvious? “It’s my job.”

“Dietfried?”

Almost like a spell, that single name freezes its owner in place. A familiar voice, resurfacing from distant memories.

“…Claudia.”

“Huh? Who’s that? Boss, do you know him?”

Now, that one Leon is vaguely acquainted with. A tall, young blond man approaches. It might have passed well more than a year since Leon has seen him at Violet’s workplace, but the loudness of his voice is one he to this day finds impressive. Speaking of her, they do look similar. But that is all there is to it, probably.

“Yes. From back in the day, at least. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Indeed.”

“Oh, sorry, I haven’t…” Leon lets his surprise peek through a little when Claudia looks at him apologetically. “I’ve interrupted your conversation, haven’t I? I’m sorry, I didn’t stop to think. Nice to meet you. I’m Claudia Hodgins. An old friend of Dietfried’s.”

Was the sadness adorning the friend just Leon’s imagination?

“Ah…nice to meet you too.”

Leon shakes his hand. It is a little rough around the edges, but gentle. Safe. A hand used to giving and caring.

An unexpected hope to see the man happy washes over Leon. A good sting of pain, like the one when an old couple smiles in love at each other despite not having much left, or when a father lifts his young daughter high in the air, knowing one day he will have to let go.

He can’t tell why, but such was the melancholy hidden behind a smile who seemed to have been bearing it all.

He must be a loving father. One Leon still wishes he could have had for long enough to remember him.

Claudia smiles as he lets go. “Are you here for the opera too?”

Dietfried stands stiff. “What other reason could there be?”

“Ahah…you’re right. My bad.”

And while Leon only raises his brow at Dietfried's unfamiliar rough tone, the blond guy glares.

Oh.

Now he’s…

Leon looks at Claudia’s leg returning to its place after landing a jab to the younger one’s.

He’s pouting.

“Violet knows one of the opera singers who gifted her a pair of tickets, but the play overlapped with her schedule. So Benedict volunteered.”

“I see.”

“Ah!”

“Hm?”

Leon leans away from the finger pointing at him.

“You look familiar. What’s your name?”

“Uh…Leon.”

Benedict hums. “I wonder where I’ve seen you before.”

Leon prays to all the entities that it is not from their only previous interaction.

“Oh, wait! Do you know Violet? You know, our Doll?”

“Violet Evergarden?”

“Yeah, her.”

“We…worked on an assignment together.”

All of the directness makes Leon feel like he’s shrunk on himself. His hands find a way to the pockets of his coat.

Had he looked at Dietfried, he might have noticed the warning stare directed at Claudia.

“Ah, the pictures! She keeps pictures of some clients in her room. You must be one of them.”

Right. He still keeps the other one in a notebook.

“Possible.”

“I see, I see. So, wait, you’re Leon, right?”

A nod.

“Leon what?”

“Benedict, stop asking!”

“What? Why, boss?”

“He’s barely met you, can’t you see you’re making him uncomfortable?”

“Oh. Shit, am I? I’m sorry.”

“…No, it’s fine. It’s Stephanotis. Leon Stephanotis.”

“I knew it.” The boy named Benedict lights up. “You work for that observatory, don’t you? There’s just one station that delivers there and your name comes up often. Ah, I’m a postman, you know-”

“Enough-”

“Benedict!”

“Ow- boss!”

“Stop disclosing business information! I am so sorry, Leon.”

Claudia glances at the pair, clearly observant enough to know Dietfried was about to interfere. And Leon highly suspects that depending on his own reaction, he still might.

“It’s…okay.”

“No, it-”

“I already know where he works, Hodgins. He’s helped us with document searches and transcriptions several times before. Enough to earn himself a peaceful evening at the opera.”

“Oh…is that so.”

Part of Claudia appears to be relieved. For his employee to at least not having blurted out something supposed to remain private.

“That doesn’t mean you should be asking him about it.”

Dietfried's stare is now burning holes into Benedict, who, in his defence, looks like he wants to dig one on his own.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t! They’re right, I shouldn’t have. I…sorry. I apologise.”

The embarrassed face bows at him and it almost makes Leon feel bad. It isn’t that big of a deal. Besides, he wants this evening to be a good one.

“I’ll take your apology, then. Just…”

Benedict looks up.

“Don’t…there’s no need to ask everything at once. Please.”

Benedict looks mortified as he nods. Leon feels the same. That’s more than he would have ever said to someone he has just met for the first-second time.

“Sir Bougainvillea?”

Good lord. Whatever this call is, Leon can only thank the skies for it.

“They’re calling for private loges. Let’s go.”

“Ah, okay.”

“Enjoy the opera, both of you.” Claudia smiles with a wave in their direction, while Benedict mouths yet another sorry at Leon specifically.

Leon excuses himself with a bow.

Dietfried though, he stays silent and doesn’t look back.

“This way.”

“You know your way around here.”

Dietfried smiles towards yet another attendant bent in a respectful bow as he makes way for them. “I used to come by often.”

“Mm. Won’t the old man mind?”

“The attendant downstairs?”

Leon assents, although most of his attention wanders to imposing paintings and fluttering lights on the wall.

“He knows me well enough, I doubt he’ll resent me for going alone and letting him take a short break.”

“I see. Good, then.”

“Would you like to see the rest of this floor?”

“Huh? Ah, no…where are we going?”

“Up the stairs right there. But we have plenty of time, if you want.”

Leon considers. Tempting. Almost enough to give in.

He shakes his head.

“Later, maybe.”

“Of course. After you, then, monsieur.”

As elegant as irritating is the only way Leon can describe Dietfried’s curtsy when executed with a teasing smile. Perhaps more irritating than elegant, if only because Leon is thrown off first by the playful gesture, and then by the way he can’t help but be enchanted by it.

He makes sure Dietfried sees the eye roll before offering his hand. To hold, or at least so he, naively, believes. Instead, a graceful kiss flutters on top of it, followed by a chuckle and a tight hold on his waist as soon as Dietfried catches up to him.

He only lets go when another attendant comes into view at the end of hallway. The man bows immediately.

“Good evening, sirs. I will do my best for you to find your time here worthwhile. On behalf of our patrons and performers, I welcome you to our opera house.”

Leon thanks Dietfried in his mind for describing an opera experience beforehand. Prepare for the staff to be extremely polite, only clap when acts end, and keep the coat as it might get cold. Also, a handkerchief to spare is never a bad idea.

“It is good to see you again, sir Dietfried. And you for the first time, mister Stephanotis.”

Right, names on tickets.

“May I ask if you would like any drinks to be delivered before the play begins?”

“I see you’re still fast to remember all of your guests, Albert. I think my company here would like one of your tea blends. And white wine of your choice for me.”

“Would something with chocolate suit you?”

“Tea with chocolate?” Leon’s never heard that before.

The old man though simply nods with a knowing look to his eyes. “Unexpected, but I trust that you’ll like it, if you enjoy a hint of white chocolate. It is a visitor favourite.”

“Then I would like to try it, please.”

“Certainly. Anything else I can help you with?”

“Thank you, Albert, we’re fine.”

“If that is the case, I shall be back with your drinks promptly.”

With a bow, the man disappears. Leon likes him. The way his old legs move in short but hurried steps is too similar to Le Verrier’s for him not to.

“Now, Leon…”

Ah, that voice. Proud, expectant, caring. He swears it is laughter that is woven in it.

“…welcome, to the opera house.”

Dietfried opens the door to their lodge and rich golds and sky blues take Leon’s breath away.

“How is it?”

Few things in Dietfried’s life bring the man joy.

Collecting is one of them. Fine wine, tailored clothes, stamps. Easy and casual, these take little effort, if some patience at times.

Then there are some that while rather than money necessitate time, they always prove more efficient to keep his mind from wondering to places he would prefer remain unexplored. Social gatherings within his circle of acquaintances, which often had them playing boules, and if he has a day or two to spend how he wants he would opt for travelling or archery.

Lately, two more have slowly been finding their way into Dietfried’s routine.

First, there was reading.

Dietfried has not been, and still isn’t, a peaceful man at all times. And while the reasons for that may vary, he like all humans is not exempt from the feeling of exhaustion. More so as years pass by.

It has not yet come to the point where Dietfried would say he is too old for anything; far from it. Arguably, the one exemption might be sleep, but Dietfried would dare bet that there are not many who could keep up with his teenage four to five hours a night throughout their thirties. At the very least, not without consequences.

But, other than that, the change was not his age as much as it was wisdom. Dietfried does not need silence. He has just learned how to appreciate it when it rarely comes around. However, as he is quite new to this and thoughts like to wander when left alone, a book happens to be what helps him distract himself just enough.

And how has he come to learn about this?

The answer would be the second addition to Dietfried’s daily life.

Leon.

Although daily might be too strong of a word, the young man has earned himself a firm enough place that Dietfried would still consider it the right one.

At first Leon provided a distraction. Some novelty. Moments that had nothing to do with Dietfried’s normalcy. Soon enough it was something that challenged his apathy, slowly morphing it into tenderness. Then came the books, chosen and given with thought. Gentleness. Something to keep nightmares away. And with time, alongside some banter and gratitude, he had rediscovered laughter.

Not in a million years did he think he would one day be learning about stories of stars. Here he was, with one he has got to keep all to himself.

Dietfried knows this opera house well. He knows the luxurious chair he sits on. He knows the room is nothing more than gold and lights and blue shades. But when Leon lets go of the balcony railing and turns to him there are constellations reflecting in his eyes and Dietfried’s grip on his own coat tightens.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.”

“Thank you.”

Dietfried looks for the soft hand and caresses its knuckles gently.

“It’s nothing.”

Before Leon protests, a soft knock can be heard from outside.

“Private service. May I come in?”

“Go ahead, Albert.”

“It’s okay, I’ll get the door- ah, should I hold something?”

The attendant’s eyes widen, then soften. “It is quite alright, mister. Please, let me take care of this.”

A small table between them is quickly occupied by a pair of elegant wine glasses, a bottle, and a delicate teacup in fine porcelain that smells delightful.

“I hope it is to your liking. Anything else you need, sirs?”

“I’m alright. Leon?”

“No, nothing, thank you.”

Albert nods with a bow. “I shall then excuse myself. If you require anything, one of the attendants should be present in the hallway at all times.”

“We’ll be sure to find him.”

The old man bows as the door closes behind him. Simultaneously, Dietfried gets rid of the table by pushing it forward, leaving space for their chairs to be joined side by side.

“Do you mind?”

“Terribly so.”

Dietfried waits for Leon to sit down to kiss his temple. “There should be a sofa somewhere around here, if you want.” A number of unused chairs serve as their luggage holders.

“What? No, really, this is just fine.”

“Is it?”

“It is.”

“I shall believe you then.” Last thing to do, Dietfried pulls the curtains a little closer, takes Leon’s coat and places it on its owner’s lap. “It might get cold.”

“Dietfried?”

“What is it, star?”

“Join me here?”

Whether Leon has whispered a please or Dietfried has just imagined to hear it, the older man cannot tell. Whichever it is, it takes him no time to join the other and Leon leans to his side immediately, relaxing into the familiar smell as the hold around him grows safer and safer.

“I got you, love.”

Kisses find places here and there, chaste and light, and in their own little space, Leon lets himself dream for a while.

“Can you see well? I rather enjoy the curtains offering some privacy, but…”

“It’s fine like this.”

The stage below is, to put it short, grand. Being on the upper, second floor allows for a full view, as well as an overlook of the majority of spectators. Being well into the third week of this performance, a free seat here and there can still be spotted. The opposing two loges too appear to be empty. Lack of secrecy is the last thing on Leon’s mind.

He prefers leaning over the edge again, as much as his behind not leaving the entirely too comfortable chair allows him, and make another attempt at counting the guestless seats.

In the pit fronting the stage, the orchestra handles some last adjustments, a few nods and whispers fly between the first violin and maestro, a nervous harpist adjusts her already perfectly positioned notes and a flautist points out the crooked bowtie to his fellow player.

Leon counts twenty-nine vacant spots at the centre of the hall before the lights dim at once and it is too dark to see.

Five minutes.

“Found anything of note?”

Leon shakes his head and settles down, covering crossed legs with his coat. It has indeed grown colder. “I’ve been looking for the two from before, but luck seems to have failed me.”

“Ah, right.”

“How do you know them?”

“I only know Hodgins. He was a friend.”

Murmurs shared between guests are too quiet for Leon not to notice Dietfried’s voice straining.

“Was?”

“I will not talk about it.”

“…I’m sorry.”

Damn it. Damn it.

How Dietfried loathes himself whenever the younger one looks and sounds like this and infallibly a memory resurfaces. One of those he never wants to have to look at again. From when they have barely met, if it can even be called a meeting, on a snowy mountain between shattered walls and a shaggy roof. When Leon’s face fell at Dietfried’s words so quickly and painfully that the mere thought of it used to feel like a slap to his face. As their time together grew longer, it became more akin to a punch to his stomach, hard enough to make him feel sick.

“Leon?”

“…Yes?”

Insecurity fuelled by fear of having done something wrong. A picture Dietfried hates to see framing Leon’s face. Even more so if caused by the man himself.

“May I?”

Of course he would let him. He always does when they argue, although it happens so seldom, he cannot even recall the last time. Dietfried makes sure to hold the hand as gently as his mind can conceive.

“Please. Don’t apologise. It is what I should be doing.”

“No, I shouldn’t have-”

“I shouldn’t have. You know nothing of this, and regardless I have no excuse for being harsh.”

“Dietfried, listen, please.”

Who would have ever thought that refraining oneself from a simple kiss to the temple could be so cruel?

“I know you don’t like sharing about your past, or the war. Or…” Your family. “I should’ve thought before asking, I really mean it, I just…”

…wanted to know what hurt you so badly and if I could help. If I was able to. If you would let me.

“Leon.”

It takes a lot of courage to look up. It takes much less to accept the embrace.

“It is not your fault.”

After a moment of silence, slowly, slowly, Leon’s hands find Dietfried’s lean waist. He rubs it carefully.

“I don’t like seeing you sad.” You don’t deserve it. He’s said it before, he’s always meant it, and Dietfried’s always thanked him with a kiss and a smile. Rarely, though, has Dietfried ever believed him, no matter how hard he tried to.

“I know, love.” Dietfried strokes night-tinted hair. “I understand.”

Leon exhales to his chest, letting some of the tension go. “Alright.”

“Mm.” They remain like that for another minute, reassuring each other in a way they best know. “Would you want to hear about it?”

“Dietfried, you don’t have to-”

“Hush, Leon. It is not something I couldn’t share parts of. I have overreacted; it came out of the blue and I have never expected to see someone familiar around here.”

“You know I’ll only listen if you want to tell.”

“I do. You’re a great listener.” He kisses Leon’s temple and suddenly remembers to breathe. “Would you let me ponder on it?”

“You don’t need to ask me that.”

Dietfried nods appreciatively. “Later, then.”

“Whenever you want, Dietfried. If you do at all.”

Leon’s voice in moments like this always has a special colour to it, Dietfried has noticed. Only heard when he puts his heart on the line. It makes Leon sound like the adult one, and the funny juxtaposition of it never fails to make Dietfried smile, if only a little bit.

He cups the lovely face and thinks to land a peck on it, until the other demands the kiss to last longer. And has Dietfried ever been a man to refuse such an indulgence?

With a smile he at last leans back, but not before planting one last brush of lips over the tip of Leon’s nose.

“It’s going to start now.”

Leon nods, fingers entwine, and both of their attention gets stolen by a choir of grieving nymphs and Orpheus with a broken heart.

It appears that there was no need for Dietfried to tell Leon about theatre etiquette. The boy stares in awe at the man on the stage in distraught who has lost his love for the second time. It is only once Dietfried chuckles that he startles awake and joins the unanimous clapping for his spectacular aria.

“I take it you’re enjoying yourself?”

“Yeah…a lot.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Dietfried?”

“What is it?”

“Why do you think they chose to remake this story into a happier one?”

“Do you not like happy endings?”

“No, no, nothing like that. I suppose I am often fond of the stories in the form that was written down first.”

“Mm, a noble quality. My guess would be that regardless of how the outside world is, there will always be people going through a hard time. And if a twisted happy tale mends even a small part of their lives, well, what can the performers be but happy?”

Leon appears deep in thought for a moment, then nods. “That’s reasonable.”

“Well, there are some well-received tragedies out there, too. But,” Dietfried leans over to steal another kiss tasting of chocolate, “why don’t you let the singers show you the answer themselves?”

On a stage so silent you could hear a pin drop, the weeping Orpheus awakens again.

In retrospect, the handkerchief was good advice, Leon thinks as he wipes his tears away after one of the shortest as much as wonderful ninety minutes or so of his life.

“Now, now, starlight.” Dietfried laughs behind the curtain with Leon’s face cupped in his hands, a pair of watery eyes and red nose on display.

“I liked it.”

“I can tell.” He laughs again.

A kiss.

“You didn’t tell me I’d cry.”

“I didn’t know you would. I’m already used to these.”

“Not fair.”

“Ahah, I would apologise, but…”

An emotional Leon is often found in Dietfried’s arms, and the endearment of it is infinitely more unfair than not telling Leon how tear-inducing an opera could be.

He glances at the nearly empty hall. In a swift move, his arms catch Leon’s waist and lift him up to the tip of his toes. In response, Leon’s find their place around his neck, as always.

“Ready to go?”

“Mm.”

“Not yet?”

“We can go.”

“Alright.”

…

“We can’t go if you hold me here.”

“I could carry you.”

“I know.”

After indulging for ten more seconds, Dietfried lets go and hands Leon his coat. The scarf, he wraps that one on himself. Seeing anything of his own on Leon pleases him.

“Got everything?”

“I believe so.”

“Good.” Ever the gentleman, Dietfried opens the door with a bow. “After you, mister.”

And ever exasperated at Dietfried’s tendency for anything and everything theatrical, Leon kisses Dietfried’s cheek on his way out.

In front of the staircase stands Albert, bowing to each leaving guest. Or so Leon assumes, seeing there aren’t any left on this floor.

“I hope the show succeeded in giving you what you came looking for tonight.”

“Certainly did. Send my compliments to the cast, would you?”

“Thank you, sir. May I ask about your experience too, mister Stephanotis?”

Leon smiles, a little less shy than the first time they spoke. “It was wonderful. And the tea, too. Thank you for the recommendation.”

“Ah, I am pleased to hear that. Be sure to try the mint one if you happen to visit us again. We would love to have you.”

“Likewise.”

“I’m afraid we have the next appointment to catch, Albert. It was good seeing you again.”

“As it was for me. Take care, sir.”

“You do too.”

Dietfried does not forget to show Leon the remaining paintings, offering a story where he has one. Whether he does it purely out of the happy feeling tugging at his heart when he sees on Leon’s face how stories get processed and stored inside his mind, or to avoid meeting a fragment of his past, no one will ever know.

“So, are you finally going to tell me where we’re going?”

For the umpteenth time that day, Dietfried laughs. “Would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?”

Leon gives up, resting his face on the cold car window.

Next thing he knows, a very familiar train station comes into view.

This place is one of the few Leon finds comfortable despite the amount of people passing through every minute. He would not have to joke to call it his second home. Safe for the observatory, Leon spends much of his time running from train to train, picking up new books and whatnot. Would you believe him if he told you one time a man tried donating a pot, the pattern on which matched, according to him, the exact placement of Ursa Major and Ursa Minor?

Well, regardless of your answer, Kyle would be able to confirm. Leon ended up accepting the pot, if only to save it from the imminent discard the man was planning. Recently, Kyle, or so his letters say, has been using it to learn the ways of fruit compote. Apples and dried plums. Leon is excited to try it.

"How did you come up with this?"

He could manoeuvre his way through the station blindfolded. Still, their destination is as mysterious as it was two hours ago.

“I wonder…flash of genius?”

“Mhm. And the truth?”

“The truth is that our schedules won’t be matching up for another month or so, therefore I thought to spend these two days efficiently.”

“Oh. It’s a sleeper train.”

“It might be.”

“Dietfried…”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all. Though, could you…let me help arrange things next time? It would have been just as fine to spend the night somewhere in town, you don’t need to tire yourself out with this. I love it, really. But…”

I love you more.

“Hush. I wanted to do this. You always show me to your favourite places; let me return the favour.”

“…”

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that?”

“Mh?”

“Could you repea- ah, no, love,” the excitement of Dietfried’s successfully held secret is unmistakably there, “this way.”

Leon, as he has often found himself doing when in Dietfried’s presence, stops and stares for a second. He has been pulled away from the last gate of the station. Or at least out of those he usually travels through. The luxury liner opposite to it is most definitely not part of them.

“…Do you travel like this all the time?”

“Not as often anymore.” A smile makes its way to Dietfried’s face. “Let’s go.”

You always show me to your favourite places; let me return the favour.

What makes them special is my time there with you.

Upon entering a carriage, Dietfried’s reasons all become clear. Leon glances around blue velvet and golden decor, chairs more comfortable than a bed and crystal glasses he would rather avoid touching so nothing cracks and his wallet does not get emptied in one go.

Splendid. Especially, Leon finds, when he is given an opportunity to observe Dietfried’s tall back make its way through those colours as if he owns them. It suits him beautifully.

"We're almost there."

"Our cabin?"

"Cabin? Oh no, no. I always book the same suite."

Oh of course a suite.

To Dietfried's immense pleasure, at last a small gasp escapes Leon when they enter.

It is a room like those that kings from tales and legends live in. A small castle of blue and rich wood packed into a single space. Floors are covered in carpets, surfaces polished, an expensive-looking bottle chilled in a bucket of ice. Leon does not need to be a regular passenger to know this is going to be anything but ordinary.

“Bathroom to your right, all the rest on the left. Make yourself at home…oh, not a bad pick.” Pop. “Care for a glass of champagne?”

“Uh…sure.”

Leon looks around the place once more, as if that will help him decide where to rest his luggage. After spotting three possible storages and liking all of them, he decides it is about time to stop pondering too hard on it.

I have to begin somewhere.

With more ease than one would judge him to be capable of, Leon drops off their luggage to the farthest room in a vacant corner next to the bed. There is a delivery service from what Dietfried has mentioned, but some things in his bag are too important to be lost. One of them being a pale and loose sweater Leon is more used to feeling on himself than the shirt Dietfried still refuses to accept any money for. He changes promptly so he doesn’t ruin it.

Although, speaking of the man, he seems to have already made himself comfortable on one of the sofas near the entrance. Legs crossed, champagne glass undergoing tasting. Definitely at home.

“Cheers.”

Dietfried hands Leon the untouched glass as the younger makes his way back to him.

“Cheers.”

Just the right amount of sweetness. It makes Leon wonder if it is just the fabric of the chair he is leaning on that makes the champagne so velvety on his tongue.

“Do you like it?”

“I do.”

“Should I pour more?”

“Heh, let me finish this glass first.”

“As you wish.” Leon adores the voice hiding a chuckle beneath. “I’ll have to unpack my suitcase for a second.”

With a nod Leon sees him off, turning to take one last look at the station outside. Well into the night its lights are still bright enough to make it appear as if it was sometime early afternoon. The champagne glass rests on Leon’s lips. He doesn’t drink. The chilly feeling of it is enough to make him remember that all of this is, still, real.

He wishes-

Someone knocks. Three times, in an irregular pattern. “Room service!”

“I’ll take it.”

“Ah- please, thank you.”

He unlocks the door. “Good evening.”

Now, Leon considers himself to have honed his skills of judging character a little over the past few years of constant travelling. That is why he is fairly sure in making an educated guess that the steward standing in front of him, a young man, somewhere around his own age, of fair wavy hair and deep brown eyes, is light years more talkative and energetic than either of them.

A smile flashes and a hand shoots out for a confused Leon to shake.

He was right.

“You’ve beaten me to it, sir- oh, you look lovely. My name is Oscar and I’ll be your steward for the duration of this trip. Good evening to you too, and, I believe, another gentleman…?”

“Yes, he’s over there. Should I call him?”

“Oh, absolutely no need to bother, if you don’t mind me explaining a couple of things to just you?”

“Ah, yes, that’s fine.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Leon accepts two shiny folded pamphlets.

“That would be your menu, sir. I will ask you to tell me the time at which you would prefer to eat. We have three dining cars, although the grand suites offer an in-suite meal too, if that is what you prefer. If it isn’t too much of a bother, I would like you to hand me back these menus and your time of choice for breakfast during today’s dinner?”

“Sure, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Thank you very much, sir. Ah, and you can find the general hours we serve courses at on the menu as well. If you’ll be eating in here, we can deliver the food last minute, but it would be of help if you finished your meal within half an hour.”

Leon checks.

　　Breakfast 7:00 - 9:00

　　Lunch 12:00 - 14:00

　　Dinner 18:00 - 20:30

“Of course, as we are departing late today dinner is postponed, so you needn’t worry about that.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you.”

The boy bows quickly. “Likewise, sir. That would be all about the meals. But if you find yourself missing anything, we are always available of course.”

Leon smiles. “Thank you.”

“May I ask which of the gentleman are you?”

“My name? It’s Leon.”

“Ah, Leon! Very pleased to meet you, I hope you will enjoy these few days on our train.”

“So do I.”

“Well…may I let you in on a secret?”

“Huh? Um, I suppose so?”

“While private dining is also an option, I would recommend trying the dining cars out. The evening atmosphere is wonderful, I assure you. I am fortunate enough to be on duty more often than not at the time and it is a joy seeing our guests enjoy their meals there.”

“I…can only imagine it, yes. I’m sure we’ll come by.”

“Ah, lovely! I shall see you there, then, I imagine.”

Leon nods, unsure of what else to do. People on the livelier side that he meets are usually business transactions, not a service. He isn’t sure what to do with it.

“And, once again, if you need anything, there should be a bell button right next to the door. It will connect to me directly-”

“Oh, a new face.”

“Excuse me?”

Dietfried makes his way behind Leon, buttoning his shirt up without too much care. The last two buttons, of course, are left open. “Do you work here? I haven’t seen you around.”

“Ah, I am just filling in for someone this month, for now?”

Dietfried hums. “I see.”

“May…I help you with something, sir?”

Having become closer with Dietfried, Leon almost forgets this is how first meetings often go with the man. Hadn’t he been in the steward’s shoes years ago, he might end up letting out a chuckle. Although he does seem more irritable than usual. Leon makes a mental note to make sure he gets coffee first thing in the morning.

“Dietfried Bougainvillea.”

“Oh. Pleasure, sir, I am Oscar, your…steward.”

At the very least, Leon has to give it to the boy for not extending his hand to Dietfried. It doesn’t feel like he would take it.

Dietfried though stays impassive, perfect as ever. The polite smile reserved for the streets is plastered naturally on his face. “I assumed so, yes. Worry not, though, I don’t think any help is needed. Say, who are you filling in for? Old Sylvan, is it?”

“That’s…right, yes. Should I assume you are one of our regulars?”

“You should indeed. Not quite so often as of lately, but I believe I still know my way around here, so you don’t need to trouble yourself with us too much.”

“Oh, no trouble at all, sir.”

“Ah, of course. But rest assured, if you take a few minutes to rest instead of letting us bother you we will not tell the secret to anyone.”

“Well…that is terribly kind of you, sir.”

“Don’t mention it. Feel free to go.”

“Ah, yes. If you don’t need nothing else, I suppose I shall excuse myself?”

“Yes, we are fine. Thank you for your availability, Oscar.”

“Of course. I shall see you around then, sir Leon, sir Dietfried.”

The young man bows and leaves the two of them to themselves.

…

“That was more energetic than I was expecting.”

“Too energetic.”

“Coming from you?” Leon laughs and walks up to Dietfried who seems to be once again busy pulling things out of his suitcase. “Found what you were looking for?”

“Almost.”

“Okay. When’s dinner?”

“Ah, right. I hope you don’t mind that I picked us the menu and time for today?”

“Not at all.”

“Good. Wouldn’t have wanted the surprise to be ruined just for that.”

The train will depart in ten minutes. We ask all passengers to board-

“Oh, that’s soon.”

“Are you tired, starlight?”

“A little.”

“Lie down then- oh.” Dietfried can’t help but smile when he notices Leon all over the bed already. “Dinner starts in half an hour.”

“Perfect.”

And it really is. Too sluggish to change into any other clothes, Leon gives in and sighs when the mattress curves to hold him perfectly. Had he been covered by a blanket, he isn’t sure the food would have seen him today.

He has a vague feeling that Dietfried is saying something, but the warmth, the memories of the evening, the calmness that made him take all of this in, the next two days when no one will bother them - Leon can’t find it in himself to listen.

Until, the mattress bends more and the warmth increases and Leon doesn’t need ears to recognise the heartbeat beneath his touch. He moves to sit, but gets hushed back down and pulled closer.

Dietfried plays with Leon’s braid, messy after a few hours of socialising. “I might begin to understand why you like undoing mine,” Dietfried hums quietly.

“Your hair is silky.” As if to prove a point, Leon stumbles around to find the loose locks and holds a strand between his fingers.

“Mm. May I?”

“Go ahead.”

It feels much, much more skilful than when Leon himself does it. Dietfried knows the ins and outs of this, and if he didn’t, Leon would still allow those hands roughened by life to hold him however they wanted. Slowly, the braid disappears. Dietfried runs a hand through his hair, untangling whatever mess is still left. With ease, absentminded.

“Leon?”

“Mm?”

“Do you want to sleep?”

“No, if I do it now I won’t wake up till tomorrow.” Although the caresses aren’t helping.

“I see. Would you…”

No more than a little hesitation, a small trail-off, really. Enough to make Leon open his eyes and find Dietfried’s other hand.

“Would I?”

Dietfried stares quietly. As if he was looking into the void, or perhaps Leon’s soul.

Oh.

“Is it about your friend?”

“…”

It is a rare look on Dietfried, this one. Leon can’t say he has seen it more times than he can count on fingers of a single hand. Dietfried can be stern, gentle, playful, serious, tired, witty, laughing, melancholic. Each of these moods has a face, and Leon tries learning more about them whenever they appear.

This face, the dark one, only comes up when he reminisces about his past. Leon has seen it first in a mountain hut. It lasted only long enough for their eyes to meet once. Then again near a lake, when he first came to know about Dietfried’s brother.

Two more times were due to nightmares. How many he has not seen, Leon doesn’t know. Nevertheless, neither back then nor now has Leon any idea how to make the aftermath better.

Dietfried is good at it. He knows the right words, even though Leon is aware how much he sometimes struggles to say them. He still has never refused Leon a shoulder or a warm whisper when needed, when a memory of his parents long gone hit harder than usual. It took time for Dietfried’s walls to come down, but beneath he was the most kind-hearted man. Leon wishes he could make everyone else understand that.

But, what about himself? All he could do was kiss Dietfried’s back and embrace him until the other turned around, apologised and thanked him, and let himself be held. Leon doesn’t think Dietfried would have allowed himself to do that had there been any light in the room. His eyes must have been red.

Now is the fifth time, and neither knows how to keep it light-hearted.

“You don’t have to.”

“I’d like to.”

“Then I’ll listen.”

The train will be departing shortly-

Dietfried smiles weakly. Leon waits for another minute between small shoulder kisses until the man speaks.

“Perhaps it would be easier if you asked?”

“Ah, okay. I can do that. Then, can you tell me what his name is?”

“Starting off with an easy question, hm? He’s Claudia Hodgins.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard of many male Claudias.”

“Leon.”

“Yes? Sorry, have I interrupted?”

“No, no. Not at all. I just wanted you to know that I particularly adore your wit in discovering someone’s weak points. Try telling him that and you’ll have him sulking for a while.”

“Dietfried.”

The man in question promptly dodges a flick of fingers directed at his nose, although fails to contain a snort. At the sight of it Leon feels some of the tension ease up. Maybe this doesn’t have to end up in tears.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Apologise to him. But…Claudia Hodgins? I’ve heard it before.”

“You must’ve. He’s the owner of your favourite postal company in Leiden.”

Ah. Now Leon finally has a face to match the yelling voice he had heard when he passed by first. Considering how calm he looked today, he must’ve been very stressed. Maybe their Doll was right and he and the blond postman - Benedict, Leon reminds himself to remember - really do get along just like that.

“So you met him…where? Not the military, I imagine?”

“Not strictly speaking, no.” Leon’s face makes Dietfried raise a brow. “Why so confused?”

“Ah, no, I just thought he doesn’t…”

“Doesn’t seem to be someone who would join the military?”

“Yeah, I guess…yeah.”

“Well, he never liked it. But duty is duty. As it was for me. I first met him when he visited with…”

Only one name troubles Dietfried when he has to utter it. Leon could fill that hesitant pause himself. Gilbert. Saying it angry, or out of necessity, that wasn’t a problem. When he was telling the truth though, it just wouldn’t roll off his tongue the way it should. The first time it always comes out a little bit shattered.

“Your brother.”

“Gil…bert. Yeah. He, they…they both joined the military. As proper sons of their fathers were supposed to do. Claudia was kind and he…Gilbert too young to be there. They became friends fast and then I ended up joining them whenever we were in the mansion at the same time. In the first place my brother was the only family I ever liked spending time with, so I suppose it was inevitable.”

Leon stays quiet. While a hand is playing with his hair, Dietfried isn’t looking at him anymore. If the sad smile is anything to go by, what he is seeing now must be a memory of happiness long gone; fragile and precious, better not revisited too many times to keep it untainted. Still, to Leon he seems contented.

“Gilbert was always the quiet one so it was I and Hodgins who often ended up arguing. It was never serious and all in all we got along well. Until we got scolded for getting into trouble, but I can’t really resent either of them for that since it was mostly my fault. It doesn’t make for an excuse, but I realise now that none of us had it easy. I suppose we were lucky to have met each other.”

“Mm. Even if you got them scolded.”

“Hey.” Leon twitches at the pinch to his side.

“Wait, Hodgins, right?”

“Claudia? Yes, why?”

“Didn’t you say you burned something of his?”

“Ah, yes, it was him. I don’t remember anymore what inspired me to light the villa on fire. And before you start laughing - those are not my words. It was just an overly heated fireplace, but our family kept making it sound more preposterous than it was, so I thought I should word it like that too. Can’t say they enjoyed it.”

The train whistles into the night and slowly begins another journey.

“…you really were a troublemaker, huh?”

“Put that face away. Just so you know, these are tragedies my dear family has gone to great lengths to keep them out of the public eye.” Dietfried stretches atop of Leon and finds a spot between neck and shoulder to rest his head on. “Careful who you share them with.”

Leon wraps his arms around the man, musing at how his own legs, peeking over the edge because he couldn’t have been bothered to take his boots off, are now most likely vastly surpassed by the other’s.

“I’ll be writing to a newspaper first thing in the morning.”

As the bed shakes with two laughs entwined, Leon’s nails start marking a yet undiscovered path over Dietfried’s shirt. Down his neck, three bumps over spine, a brush to the side of his ribs, to the end of his hip. And then back up, over a dimple of Venus, a broad back, a carved shoulder blade and around to where it began.

“So, what of his did you burn down?”

“His clothes were lying around there.”

“Clothes? But it must’ve been cold outside if you needed the fireplace, did you push him in a lake to wet them?”

“Leon, I would not have done that. The reason…ah, it’s been too long to remember.”

“Did he get angry?”

“Oh, no. Or, well, he probably did for a minute, until I did apologised. But that’s not why things are like this between us. Before long the war reached its peak and we had no time to be returning home. The navy does not operate in the same areas, either. I hope that…my brother, Gilbert, he passed right when it all ended. I hope they at least didn’t feel…alone while they were there.”

Did you?

The question rests on the tip of Leon’s tongue, but he doesn’t say it out loud. Dietfried would not give him an answer, and Leon already knows it.

“So is that when it all…”

“Yes. Yeah. That’s when it all changed. We grew apart.”

“How long has it been since you’ve spoken?”

“Properly? Hah, many moons, starlight. I have seen him pass by in Leiden, and had had business with their post office on occasion, but I am afraid nothing about that could be called a proper conversation.”

“Mm.” Soft lips rest on Dietfried’s temple. “Do you miss him?”

It takes the man a while to answer. “I am not sure what to tell you.”

Many emotions surface whenever Dietfried remembers the end of those times.

Guilt. Blame. Anger. Hatred. Hurt.

He let them both down. His brother, by being selfish enough to force him into a position Dietfried should have been in. Claudia, by letting him guilt himself to the brink of desperation after Gilbert’s death because he felt like he should have been the one to protect him.

He hates himself for not entirely regretting the decision to have chosen the life path he did, and blames Claudia, for having had more time with his brother, and for having failed to bring him back home.

Then, he blames himself for being a coward, because Claudia has no fault in this, but it is easier to blame someone than bad luck.

He is angry at the world for letting it happen.

Now he and Claudia are alive and hurting, and Dietfried is still not enough of a man to reach out. He does not know how to rebuild bridges, or how to voice memories to someone who has been through them all. Much less does he know how to get rid of the fear that if they were to reconnect, things might change from the way they used to be. And Dietfried cannot guess if that would be for the better or worse.

It would be admitting Gilbert’s death, making it real, and the thought of it alone hurts him down to his bones.

Would Claudia even forgive him? Ah, no, of course he would. He probably has not blamed Dietfried for a second. Not about Gilbert, nor about leaving.

But dealing with this was less painful when he locked himself out of his own mind and spoke about it coldly, as if his body was not his own and he merely listened to a stranger talking. Is that how he is supposed to walk back to someone as broken as himself and make him hurt more?

Affection and warmth are something he has barely started rediscovering lately.

“Dietfried.”

“I’m sorry, Leon. I ended up thinking.”

“Don’t apologise. I wanted to…ask something.”

“Tell, starlight.”

“Remember when I first told you about my…my parents?”

“…I do. You were angry.”

“I…was. I didn’t know better. Back then you offered to help finding them.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“You were hurting.”

Leon nods against Dietfried. “It hurt to both love and hate them so much. I knew there must’ve been reasons for why they were gone but none of them justifiable. So I…didn’t want to meet them. The source of it all.” He laughs, but it comes out dry. “I came to terms with it later. But that’s not important, you know all of it already.”

Ah, why are words so hard?

“What I want to say is…I’ve come to understand why you’ve asked me that. I cannot imagine how it is to lose someone you’ve known for years and having to live with it. My parents, they…were gone soon.”

The most invaluable memories he has. He has made peace with them. Sometimes they would still hurt, and the desire to find his mom and dad often resurfaced. He knows he was loved. And if he ever meets them again, he wants to grow into a man capable of confronting them with a smile, and listen to their story. A reason for them leaving, Leon thinks, he deserves to hear even after all this time.

“I can’t say I fully understand. But a little I do, and if you, while you can, maybe…”

Ask him.

Talk.

“…”

“From the way you speak of him, I think he would listen. And…why not, if it would make you both happy?”

“Leon, I-” How he wishes he had done so before. How many times? The words barely fit through his throat. “I might try. One day, not now. But I will…consider it.”

“…Yeah. Okay. That’s good.”

Dietfried merely holds him tighter.

“I don’t know how I can help, but if you need me for anything, I’ll always be here.”

“Ah, Leon…” Dietfried pushes himself up and hovers over Leon staring at him with stars in his eyes. Blue hair falling down frames him into a night sky of the most beautiful sort. “How do you make me say things I have never imagined myself saying? Nor knew to be capable of?”

“I…is that a…good thing?”

A chuckle.

“It must be.”

The views from a running train during day and night are exactly that - like day and night.

Days are filled with green leaves, blue skies and myriads of colourful flowers. There would be a tree there and then, a forest, a river. The air smells of sunflowers. Not in winter or autumn, of course. Those smell of crisp snowflakes and red leaves, and even spring had a different hint of life waking up from its slumber to it.

Nights are different.

They all smell of night.

That is not to say that summer nights don’t smell a bit more of summer and warmth, or the spring ones of freshly mowed lawns and autumns of fog and herbs. Winter nights, like this one, for example, are of a sharpness that burns your lungs.

But there is always an underlying tone to the night that days do not have. Unchanging, rooted deep within shadows and stars, it is the feeling of secrecy, loneliness, silence. Peace. As if you alone were alive, and the universe would lend you an ear to listen if only you were brave enough to speak to it.

Leon couldn’t pick a single favourite time to travel. As he leans on his arms to look at the moon reflecting on a lake in the distance, a thumb runs over his knuckles underneath the table and he turns to smile at the man holding his hand.

“It’s nice.”

“I quite enjoy this dining car too.” Hardly a surprise, considering its blue-shaded seats.

“Oh, where are the other two?”

“The next two cars if you proceed towards the front.”

“Do we go there for lunch tomorrow?”

Dietfried’s brow rises knowingly along with a smile. “Would I be correct to assume this means breakfast gets served to the suite?”

“Please. As late as possible.”

“Wonderful. I wouldn’t mind to sleep in either.”

“Good evening, sirs.” A steward with the most admirable moustache Leon has ever seen pushes a cart to their table. “Dinner is served.”

“…This is too beautiful to eat, Dietfried.”

“Nonsense. The chef would hate that.”

Leon watches him fix the collar of his black shirt. Never eat in a white one if you can avoid it, he had once declared. Then he looks at the dish he feels Kyle would have already eaten, stolen from Leon and stuffed himself with it too. Just maybe Leon would forgive him this time, because he feels like doing the same.

He digs in.

“…”

“Good?”

“Delicious.”

“Ahah, dearest, I can’t wait to see you try the dessert.”

Oh, Dietfried was so right. Heaven doesn’t even begin to describe the tarte tatin and whipped cream melting on his tongue. Leon has a serious presentiment that food is all Kyle will want to know about this entire trip. Perhaps he won’t even hate apples by the time Leon will finish talking and his yearly apple box gift for Kyle’s birthday will be justified.

On the other side of the table Dietfried is sipping on a light cocktail and laughing to himself, although a little smug still peeks out on the corner of his mouth. He has no idea what the drink is, except that it is warm and leaves a vague taste of lemon and rosemary in his mouth. Similar to what Leon has; a simple hot lemonade with honey.

They fall into a conversation about a vague something that Dietfried only partly listens to. Nothing wrong with airplane exhibitions and a new botanical garden of poisonous plants opening, but most of his thoughts are focused on Leon, his soft self, his hands so well fitting into Dietfried’s, his tender smile that makes him believe he might be doing something right.

And-

“Ah! Good evening, sirs. I hope the dinner was to your taste today?”

Their steward Oscar smiles with a short bow.

“Ah.” Leon looks up. Oscar, was it? “It was incredible, thank you.”

“I’m most pleased to hear that. What about you, sir Bougainvillea?”

“Dietfried, if you don’t mind. And indeed, it’s good to see the standards haven’t changed. Could I ask you to deliver our compliments to the chef?”

“Why, most certainly. She’ll be pleased.”

“She? Ah, so it is Aster after all?”

“Hahah, sir…you know more people around here than I do.” A trace of embarrassment shows up on his apologetic, albeit angelic face before disappearing in the blink of an eye.

“Comes with the job. Or leisure, I suppose. Do tell her I send my kindest regards.”

“I sure will, sir. Is there anything else you might need? Another drink, perhaps? This particular carriage brags with quite the selection of finer liquors.”

“Another time, I’d say.” Dietfried nods towards his not yet empty glass.

“I’m alright as well, thank you.”

“Ah, sir Leon. Is that lemonade?”

“This? It is.”

“Excellent choice, I must say. One of my favourites too.”

“It is really good.”

“If you would like-”

“Ah, here you are!”

“Huh- oh, sir William, how lovely to see you!”

An interesting sound of steps approaches them as an older gentleman, aiding his legs with a cane, waves towards their table. Or, more precisely, Oscar.

“Ah, dear boy, I was looking for you everywhere. Oh, excuse me, am I interrupting?”

“Not at all.” Dietfried’s best social smile is still a brilliant one.

“Oh, thank lord. Mind if I steal your attendant here for a second? See, dear Oscar, Loren is over there and would love to see you.”

“Oh my, sir Loren is here too?”

“He is indeed.”

“Well, we shouldn’t be making him wait then, should we?”

“Ah, if these two gentlemen don’t mind.”

“No, not at all.”

Leon nods in assent. “We should be leaving soon enough.”

“Oh…that’s a pity. I suppose I shall see you around for breakfast then, sirs. And since we are on the topic, have you perhaps decided when you would like to have it?”

“Yes, I have those.” Leon digs through his bag full of small pockets and hands Oscar their menus.

“We’ll be dining in our suite. At nine o’clock.”

“Mhm, sleeping in late? As you wish, sirs.” Oscar scribbles down on his notebook. “Thank you very much. I shall leave now, if you are all set.”

“We are.”

“Ah, thank you, gentlemen. You see, me and my friend Loren over there, bless his soul, he is three years ahead of me, we’ve been here last week and the service was so wonderful we just had to come back.”

“That it truly is.”

“Is it not? And dear Oscar here was taking care of us and we wanted to thank him.”

“Sir William, you’re too kind-”

“Ah, nonsense, young man, come. Loren can have quite the impatient temper, see.”

“Oh, we must hurry then, indeed. Sirs, if you’ll excuse me. I will see you tomorrow.”

Oscar once again bows, helping the man walk as he leans on Oscar’s back with a hand and leads them to a nearby table. Dietfried knows that kind of limp. The man is not old enough to need a cane yet. War injuries.

“Ah, Oscar, here you are!”

“Sir Loren, wonderful seeing you again.”

“Likewise, likewise. Surely you’ll let us offer you a drink, if you’re not too busy?”

“But sir, you needn’t spend money on me.”

“Oh please, Oscar. We haven’t had a day off in years - at this age, can you believe it? - and last week was quite the breath of fresh air. By all means, let us at least offer you a glass. Or would you prefer something to eat?”

“Indeed, dear boy. Sit, order anything you want.”

“But…”

It doesn’t take the men too much convincing. As soon as the steward sits down, Leon notices him looking more than pleased to have a chat and drink in his newly acquired company.

He turns to Dietfried and his slowly but surely disappearing cocktail and raises a brow. Do you know the man?

The other shrugs smiling carelessly. Maybe. “Being military, it is more likely that he knows of me.”

That steals a chuckle from Leon. Vain, but for good reason. He sips down the last bit of hot lemonade. “Do we go back?”

“Yeah, it is getting late.” Dietfried finishes his drink before standing up. “After you, love.”

Leon smiles at the whisper and moves towards their suite.

Perhaps on another night the two would have spent the last remaining hours in a different way. Closer, or warmer, or whatever it may be. But tonight was a tired one, only long enough for a shower and sleep. Leon kept his sweater, Dietfried discarded almost everything. It didn’t matter. Each other’s arms were all they needed to enter the land of peaceful dreams.

Waking up at times happens to be not the worst thing. While mornings could be dull and cold, or even beautiful but soured by a side of work that was just never pleasant, they could be the shortest route to a day filled with dearly anticipated moments.

Some even simpler mornings were like this, not anticipated but wished for. So Leon thinks when he blinks himself awake under caresses.

Dietfried pushes a strand of hair aside from Leon’s face. “Waking up?”

“Mm.”

“Good morning.”

“Mornin’…why are you awake already?”

“Later than usual.”

Leon mumbles something underneath his breath, to which Dietfried laughs.

How he got atop of Dietfried, he can’t tell, but a morning could not start better than with a low, gentle rumble right below Leon’s ear.

“What time is it?”

Dietfried glances at the wall clock nearby. “Half past eight.” He pulls the blanket up to Leon’s shoulders. “You can sleep some more before breakfast.”

Well, Leon would want nothing more than that, so he hums in assent. He curls closer, appreciative of the arm resting on his back. Dietfried’s back, on the other hand…

“Are you okay sitting like that?” Calling it sitting is a stretch, even if you’re barely awake and squint with both eyes.

“Believe it or not, it is my favourite way to read books.” Simple like that, leaning on a pile of pillows with a book in his hands and something far more precious and content in his lap.

Their legs tangle together and Leon smiles.

“What are you reading?”

“Not something you’d enjoy, I’m afraid.”

“Historical romance?”

Dietfried lets out an amused snort. “Who do you take me for? It’s politics.”

“Mm, I’ll pass. You’ve found a book I have not read yet before you.”

“…I don’t read that little.”

“Heh, I know. Sorry, I’ll let you continue.”

“Sleep?”

“Probably.”

“Alright. I’ll wake you up later.”

“Please.”

With that, they go back to what they were doing. Leon to sleeping, Dietfried to reading. When something nudges against the latter’s hand, he knows what to do. Cup the side of a young face, a caress over its cheek, a tuck of hair behind the ear.

They feel at peace.

A time too short later, knocking kicks them out of bed. Or at least Dietfried, for Leon only manages to roll himself off the man to let him answer. The attendant must be someone Dietfried knows, if a short conversation in pleasant tones is anything to go by. The trolley is then left with them.

“Are you eating in bed?”

“No, ‘m coming.”

Not before finding a pair of socks. But soon enough Leon is there, arms to the sky and suddenly up around Dietfried. His legs join, and an embrace helps him hold on.

Warm lips kiss the side of his neck.

“Put something on,” Leon mumbles against the other in return.

“I do have something on me. It requires both my arms. Do you know we’ll end up in our food or the window if the train brakes?”

When Dietfried sounds amused first thing in the morning it is going to be a good day.

“It won’t. You can put me down.”

“Ah, I am jesting. You’re like the trolley, Leon.”

The boy chuckles. “Forgive my insolence; it might be because I’ve just woken up but I am failing to understand the meaning of this.”

“Oh, nothing serious.” The already satisfied smirk in Dietfried’s voice is palpable. “I meant to say you’re just light enough to manoeuvre around the suite.”

“I’ll eat your breakfast, I swear to-”

Words dissolve between laughter. Whose it was, was a fact long forgotten by the time it ended. Leon curled up on a chair, while Dietfried, finally covered by a shirt, took the sofa on the opposite side. And as lovely as his porridge was, Leon was much more looking forward to his chocolate croissant, half of which he ended up trading for a few pieces of Dietfried’s fruit selection. He left his poached eggs alone, though.

We must’ve been hungry.

Well before half past nine the two are done, and when it knocks this time around, a smiling Oscar stands before them. They return the trolley and hand him out their menus, which he accepts with a bow. Still as energetic, although Leon has a hunch that he had ended up indulging the two gentlemen for longer than anticipated. His voice is not as loud, although no cheerfulness is gone from it. They must have had a good time.

“Now, what do you want to do until lunch, dearest?” Dietfried’s fingers tickle their way up Leon’s side underneath his sweater.

“You have a book to finish?”

“Depends. Do you?”

“I always do.”

“Book it is, then.”

And they read, next to each other, side by side, one over the other and the other way around, until Dietfried dozes off and Leon moves to the sofa. The book gets replaced by the view of a clear winter sky and, following the same fate as Dietfried, Leon closes his eyes for a couple of minutes. Or it could have been more, because by the time he wakes up, Dietfried’s book is well finished and packed away, and the man fumbles around with something entirely different.

“Mm. Dietfried?”

“Oh, you’re awake.”

“You can wake me up if you’re bored, you know.”

“You seemed peaceful,” Dietfried kisses his temple as Leon joins him on the bed again. Leon returns one to his shoulder.

“Where are these from?”

“North. Want to take a look?”

“Yeah.” A small box of stamps can be far more interesting than people might think. Leon itches to visit those places, as much as he wants to see if any of the stamps in Dietfried’s collection are ones sent by him. “Can I help?”

“Of course. Here.”

Leon takes a stockbook and, as many times before, begins tucking the stamps safely inside little pockets. Remembering the first time Dietfried had explained and shown him all his organised collections is still a memory he is so fond of.

They work in silence, between light kisses and touches, tender glances and whispers of love.

“Don’t you have any more stamps?”

“Sadly, no. But I can offer you a game of chess or cards?”

“Chess it is, then.”

Dietfried pulls the chessboard out of a drawer Leon hasn’t even noticed until then, and, befitting the name of its location, their game ends with a draw of two against two.

They have lunch early. The second dining car is just as stunning in its shades of green - the last one’s theme is apparently red, and Leon is excited to see it too, although he doubts that he’ll prefer it to the blue of the first night - and Dietfried’s recommendation of food hasn’t failed him either.

However, they do not give themselves too much time for chatting at the table this time. The final destination of the route, at least in this direction, approaches fast and neither wants to waste time getting ready when they could be exploring the seaside city. Some others they have seen glimpses of as the train stopped on stations, but never enough to be able to leave it for long.

So when given hours, they both itch to go for a walk.

It is early afternoon when the train arrives and a walk turns into two and then into three and soon enough they have discovered little places and big secrets hidden between buildings and piles of snow.

Without a second thought Leon’s first destination is the local library. Having promised Dietfried to meet him on a nearby street where some tailor shops line up, he takes his time for a quick tour around shelves and notes down titles that pique his interest enough that he might recommend them to Le Verrier.

Used to this task as he is, and the library being small as it is, Leon finishes in no more than half an hour. Which means Dietfried is definitely not done yet. Which in turn means that Leon has enough time to sneak into a bookstore he had spotted on his way there.

And then as he spots Dietfried he closes the snowy distance and hands him a bag. Only to have one offered in return. Dietfried’s face softens unwrapping a book he has mentioned he liked but never had time to buy, Leon hides his when a new scarf matching Dietfried’s wraps around him like the warmest of hugs. He loves it.

He tells him that, joking how finally today they seem to be matching with their boots and dark turtlenecks and scarves, unlike last time. The hair, not yet. One day Leon might see Dietfried being granted the comprehension of functionality that a ponytail offers, but today is not that day.

Today is meant to learn of Dietfried’s almost child-like face of surprise when they stumble upon a winter market he has not seen around here before, and to taste street food of Leon’s choice, because it is not usually something Dietfried indulges in, save for the late adventurous nights of his adolescence he does not entirely remember.

Sweet smell coming from another stand lures them into buying a cup of mulled wine each. It definitely becomes Leon’s favourite alcohol drink, and even Dietfried, who would usually pick white wine over red, can’t deny how pleasant it is to drink on a winter day.

It is hard though, to pay attention to the sky whilst walking amongst warm lights and a happy smiling crowd. Before they know it, the last sunrays begin to flicker and the pair finds themselves walking a seaside path hand in hand, sheltered from strangers’ looks. Dietfried leads them to what Leon mistakes to be more snowy piles.

Never has he thought about where salt is made and how a saltern might look like. Today, he finds out. As far as his view reaches, salt pans extended towards the setting horizon, reflecting the sky to earth. In the middle of it all they share a kiss so sweet it almost brings Leon to tears. Stars around them shimmer to the beat of their laughter, stars above quietly whisper a story of lovers, lovers, lovers.

For a second, Leon regrets not taking his camera along. But then Dietfried’s voice reaches him, warm touch to his skin, lips to lips and smile to smile, and he thinks it would be strange to look at a picture that could never capture the happiness of that moment.

They return to the train with a small pouch of salt in their pockets. Apparently, the best one is made in winter.

With ten elegant minutes to spare they checked in and boarded the train. Leon’s fingers were red and freezing, despite having been kept hidden in pockets on the way back. At the first sight of them Dietfried frowned before pulling out of a bag a pair of gloves he had just bought. They slid on Leon’s hands easily, too easily, in fact. Leon was not surprised; they were meant for Dietfried in the first place. Still, the man looked sad as he mumbled how they were too big, and then pulled them off to take Leon’s hands into his own. They fit better than the gloves ever could.

But, hands or not, Leon was still cold and wanted nothing more than a shower, which he agreed to use before Dietfried as the man always liked taking his time. At least when life allowed him to. And as soon as he was done Leon slipped into his sweater, and lord, could there be anything more pleasant than that?

Well, it turned out there was.

There was one particularly mysterious clothing item Dietfried owned. The first time Leon had seen it they had also been travelling together, although the together part was more incidental than not and lasted only some nightly hours before Dietfried had to leave. As much as sleep had been pulling at Leon though, he to this day remembers having seen Dietfried take the sweater off.

It was a nice sweater. Too big for Dietfried, undoubtedly. A little too loose on the shoulders, too wide on his waist. Whoever it came from must have been more built than Dietfried, or it was someone who didn’t have an eye for clothing sizes. Maybe it used to fit once and it had just stretched overtime.

Whatever the reason was, Leon liked it on him, a deep forest green so unusual compared to the white of his shirts. And much nicer to hug. In it Dietfried appeared as if he had finally forgotten about the rush of his daily life in a weird, melancholic way. A little less stiff, less rigid, and sometimes more tired, although the regal, noble atmosphere never disappeared, just by the way he conducted himself. Back straight and confident, his guard a little lower. Despite Dietfried appearing as someone, for a lack of better word, expensive, deep down the man was not one who asked much of life.

Leon has only seen the well-worn garment out and about a number of times he can count on the fingers of a single hand. Just like the nightmares. Although, tonight Leon hopes those will stay away, while his sixth finger marks another time of the sweater’s appearance.

“It’s quite empty compared to yesterday.”

“Mhm, everyone must’ve wanted to retire to their cabins soon after an entire afternoon of sightseeing.”

“Dietfried,” Leon smiles despite his troubled face, “stop mocking them.”

Dietfried shrugs and watches the other take his seat at the dining table. “What can I say? I’m used to you. You don’t get tired from this much.”

“Well, I am used to traveling a…lot…?”

When Leon fails to stop some surprise from showing up on his face, Dietfried merely waits until he makes more space as Dietfried joins him on the same side of the table. Not on the other. And as Leon stares questioningly, careful not to look too obvious to anyone else, Dietfried shakes his head in reassurance. It happens rarely enough that Dietfried can find Leon’s concern reasonable, but he is fine.

Once Leon believes him, it is easy for Dietfried’s hand to find its spot on the small back of his. He rubs it gently. Leon allows himself a moment to rest his forehead on Dietfried’s shoulder, and to accept a kiss to the top of his head. It’s alright. No one in there is idle enough to spend time looking at them.

They cannot stay like that forever, not there, but the hand on Leon’s back does not hurt anyone. In a matter of seconds neither does his, on Dietfried’s knee, rubbing a spot under which lies the little old scar. It is warm, and comfortable, and if it wasn’t for some chatter in the background, they might have fallen asleep.

“It’s your favourite dining car, this one.”

“Ah, have I become that easy to read?”

“No,” Leon laughs as Dietfried swirls a glass of creamy liquor in his hand. It emanates a faint scent of vanilla. “It’s blue and offers a liquor selection.”

“A very good one at that.”

“Mhm, this one tastes nice.”

“Would you like to order a glass?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you.”

Dietfried stares at Leon’s empty glass that once upon a time contained lime water.

“Are you sure?”

“Why?”

“I was going to ask if you’d indulge me for a while longer.”

“Hm? Want to stay here?”

“Not quite.”

Oscar comes towards the end of their dinner to ask them about breakfast, still disappointed to know they will be having it in their suite. After he leaves Dietfried murmurs something about the peculiar choice of adding such an energetic member to their staff, and Sylvan being irreplaceable. Leon hopes to meet the latter someday.

Before long the blue dining car gets left behind as Dietfried leads the way through two more. Leon expects him to stop in the red one he has not had a chance to see yet, but instead they continue all the way to the next car, which is not a dining car at all. It still keeps up with the theme of blue, but instead of dining tables each side offers some sofas and dimmed lights, giving it more of a longue look.

At the very end of it there is a bar.

And another thing.

Safe for a group of four near the entrance, two men and two ladies, no one else is present.

Leon ends up occupying the last sofa across the bar, where Dietfried orders them a drink. Hot lemonade with honey for each, because Leon seemed to have enjoyed it.

But that is not what Leon is looking forward to the most. And Dietfried must have realised it, seeing how he nods at the bartender, of course he knows him, winks at Leon and sits at the centrepiece of it all. A grand piano.

And Leon’s sofa is right behind Dietfried's back.

The man turns around. “Anything you’d like to hear?”

“How…you’re allowed to play it?”

“If you know who to ask.”

Unsurprising.

Leon puts the drink down and folds his arms on the edge of the sofa, leaning onto them before answering.

“Pick one for me? I’m not an expert in this field.”

“If you’ll trust me.”

“Of course.”

As if that was his plan from the very beginning, Dietfried faces the instrument satisfied and presses some keys, testing them.

“I might have grown a bit rusty, hopefully you don’t mind a slower version of it.”

“I won’t. What is it called?”

Dietfried doesn’t look back, but a grin is definitely there. “Liebestraum. The third one.”

The first few notes resonate through the car.

The group of four follows the sound astounded before returning to their conversation looking a tad bit more joyous.

One by one, sounds build a song, slowly filling up the entire space.

“What does it mean?”

“Hm? The title?”

“Mm.”

Dietfried chuckles. “I think you will figure it out.”

He goes on, slowly, tentatively at first, more comfortable later, exchanging a few words with the bartender.

Leon doesn’t know the piece. But as he folds up his knees and Dietfried keeps playing a melody so gentle it makes him firmly believe his heart will stop beating of happiness and luck for having this man in his life, Leon thinks how the song sounds just like a dream of love.

“Say, Dietfried.”

“Yes?”

“How long have you been playing piano?”

He laughs. “Why?”

Their entwined hands dangle between them.

“It was very nice.”

“Oh, thank you. I practiced when I had time at home. Before the war, that is. Haven’t been able to do it often since, so as impressive as I’d like to appear, my repertoire is limited to a couple of neglected pieces.”

“It was beautiful, though. Really.”

Dietfried stops and plants a kiss to Leon’s temple. “As long as you enjoyed it. Now, after you, sir.”

Leon fumbles in the badly lit hallway to find the keyhole to their suite. Perhaps there is a little intention behind any stalling, since Dietfried’s head rests on top of his own until the door is unlocked.

The curtains they have not remembered to draw close let enough snow and moonlight shine through for any lights to be needless. Which suits them fine. It’s late, room pleasantly chilly, and bed all too inviting after a day like that.

“Will you be warm enough?”

“Yes, it’s alright.”

It was not Leon’s habit to sleep undressed down to his underwear like Dietfried often did, but sometimes exceptions could be made. When the cover was heavy and warm, and the man underneath was holding him close to his chest that stored the sound of his heartbeat.

Comfortable silence surrounding them lasted for an amount of time no one could guess.

“Dietfried?”

“Mm? Are you cold? There should be another blanket somewhere in those dressers.”

“No, no, it’s all good.” Leon presses a kiss to Dietfried’s chest to prove his point. Arms tighten around him. “I wanted to thank you. It was nice, spending two days like this.” Here. With you.

“Yeah?” Leon feels the chuckle. “You’re welcome, starlight. So did I. I might have to plot it again if I come across any good operas.”

“I’d love that, but let me help next time.”

“I like surprising you.”

“You’ve done that well enough. But since you’ve mentioned the opera…I think in the end I was glad Orpheus got to stay with Eurydice.”

“Even if it differs from the original story?”

“Even so.”

Save for fingers lovingly stroking Leon’s back, almost all of Dietfried falls quiet.

Leon can barely hear him. He waits for a sign, a thought, a sound. His thumb strokes Dietfried’s ribs in what he hopes is a calming motion, lips pressed against warm skin.

But not a word comes out and Dietfried looks no less troubled than he did since the silence began.

“What are you thinking?”

At that Dietfried shifts, pulling the covers up to better cover Leon.

“Something.”

“Mm.” Leon merely waits as he goes through the repeated motions of before. A caress, a kiss, a careful touch.

“It is not something I want to trouble you with.”

“It’s alright. You won’t.”

Ah, Leon. Dietfried wishes he was a stronger man.

“The opera had me thinking.”

“What about?”

“You.”

Me?

“I worry, sometimes. No, hush,” Dietfried presses a finger to Leon’s lips, “I am not confident I can put this into words well.”

Or say it aloud, let it become more real, and regret ever doing it. There are things that shouldn’t be thought and spoken late at night, particularly if it was one preceded by a day so loving and a glass of those liquids that make you talk too soon.

Dietfried does not understand. Neither why he hesitates to talk, nor why he considers not stopping. His words are safe with Leon. His heart is too. Perhaps the problem is that he doesn’t trust either with himself?

“I worry, about you. About you after…me.”

Leon tenses up and Dietfried wishes he had never mentioned it. It was rational, it was irrational, he didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want Leon to think about it. It was not his problem to have. The lack of an answer kills Dietfried deeper, even if Leon is not trying to hide how much he wants to speak up.

“I will probably be long gone before you, Leon. If not for anything else it will be because it’s what I deserve. But you don’t.” Stop, for god’s sake. “And I am sad- scared, to not know what…I want you to be fine.”

Of course Leon will be fine. They met when he was young and quiet, which he still is, but as Dietfried now watches all those beautiful sides of his slowly fill in the shape of the fine man he is going to become, he finds himself ashamed for worrying. Leon will be fine. Dietfried, too, will be fine. They both know how to live without the other.

Why, then?

This is not how Dietfried feels. Even without speaking about it, Leon is intelligent enough to understand; that much Dietfried can swear on his life. Never had he thought he would grow to care so much for someone he knows he’ll have to leave behind. It seemed pointless at times to try at all, but Dietfried has always enjoyed bending rules and consequences. And some times were worth it, and Leon is worth it. Dietfried knows him. He’s heard him laugh, smile, shout in anger and cry. He’s heard why part of him is always hurting a little.

He doesn’t want to be next on the list of people Leon has had to see leave.

He knows how partings can hurt.

He has said goodbye to most of his family. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore, that one. He never was able to say it to Gilbert, and it still pains him to think about. He left Claudia with an unsaid one and he can only wonder whose wounds are deeper because of it. He feels himself cracking slowly.

“I am so tired of leaving-”

“Dietfried.”

Leon.

“I know.”

Dietfried’s lips part as blue eyes stare into his own. Vulnerable, and honest. “…You know?”

“I’ve thought about it before…cried, probably, too. It felt like I was trying to both keep you away and chain you down. Even if I don’t mean it, and even if I know you understand that. Just as much as I understand that neither of us is concerned with this when we’re not in…a state like this.” Leon manages to chuckle through his last words, and likes to think Dietfried ends up returning the gesture. It made no sense that a problem that should, might, only be such in years was a problem in the present. “I’m happy with you. I might be happy with someone else one day, in some other way, but now I am happy with you like this and it makes no sense that I would want to give it up.”

Dietfried listens quietly in awe, not entirely aware of his fingers trying to wipe away tears that have yet to spill from Leon. The kiss on his palm though, he does remember.

“I know that…things might change. If they do, I know it will be because we both are fine with it. But…even so, I would still like to be-”

Words don’t come out as well as he wants them to. It’s frustrating, but Dietfried waits patiently.

“Even if not as how I am now, I still want to be someone to you, in your life. I do not care for how long, I just-”

“Leon.” Dietfried’s voice is barely more than a whisper. Leon sees him smiling softly, in all his seriousness, as their foreheads touch. “I will not cut you off like that. It’s not going to happen.” Dietfried pulls him to himself for a chaste kiss to the lips. “There are not many people like you in this world. Regardless of what happens, I’d like you to stay.”

“So do I. For as long as you’ll have me.”

And then Dietfried laughs lightly, asking how do I deserve you, until his own hands cover his eyes and his lips tremble unable to uphold a smile, and for a moment he feels Leon’s face hide into the crook of his neck before thinking how afraid he is of losing, how tired of being alone, and how so, so fortunate to be here.

He is not sure if he is the one to hold Leon, or being held, but a hunch tells him that it might just be both. He strokes the hair of the precious being in his arms, failing to hold in a laugh or two the more he thinks about how they ended up here.

“Stop before I end up crying too.” Leon is trying so hard to keep it in.

“Ah, Leon. Don’t, love. Wait, let me…”

Against his will Leon has to move when Dietfried pushes himself up to reach a nightstand. Something gets pulled out and offered to him. Leon blinks in Dietfried’s lap.

“I told you to always have a handkerchief ready.”

“…Dietfried-”

It’s all Leon manages to say before resting his forehead against a strong shoulder and laughing quietly. Before long Dietfried does too, and they end up under the covers once more, face to face, heart to heart, calmer.

Taking a moment to breathe.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m alright.”

They kiss. And Dietfried kisses him some more, from his lips to his forehead and both of the eyelids.

Leon likes to feel Dietfried’s skin touching his own. He likes it when Dietfried kisses his shoulder, or pulls him closer, or pushes the hair of his face, as if trying to imprint all of Leon into memories. He likes to think of Dietfried as a map and trail paths of stars and constellations, and tell him about it. A rare kind of fondness lightens green eyes when he does that.

This time around, Dietfried does wipe away some remnant of a tear. Leon looks small. Not held tight enough, so he fixes that.

“I wasn’t planning for the night to go like this, I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t. It’s okay. Are you okay?”

“I…you read lies too well.”

“Yes, so you won’t say any.”

“Ah…I just need a moment.”

“Okay.”

Leon shifts a little to remind Dietfried there is still an arm around his waist and a palm on his back. And legs still tucked together, and Leon still lacking enough centimetres of height to curl as close to Dietfried as air will allow them. Although far enough to leave some space for lazy kisses.

Beneath trailing fingers Leon finds the edge of Dietfried’s scar. He can’t see his own brows furrow at the small distance preventing him from touching it in its entirety, but Dietfried does and he laughs, kisses the unhappy forehead and lets Leon pull his leg closer when he tries to do so.

Better, says Leon’s face. Satisfied, he runs a thumb over the spot, again and again. And although Dietfried doesn’t say thank you, his touch does, his kiss does, his eyes do. Sometimes words take too much of him to be spoken, and Leon understands it more than anyone.

Dietfried smiles to himself. Once again Leon has no idea seriousness is all too visible on his face. Half concentrated, half determined to make it better. As if it was his responsibility, when it is not. His hips push against Leon as he shifts around, and finally, at last, he sees the tension ease up a little, if Leon’s soft sigh and a nose’s nudge against Dietfried are anything to go by.

So he does it again, heart blooming at the sight of the younger’s face softening and his black hair sinking into the pillow.

Why would he stop?

They, he sets into a slow rhythm, one barely there, only enough to keep them warm and grounded. Leon does try to push back a few times. It’s lazy and delicate and small. Enough for Dietfried to kiss him to lie down, only wanting to see the young man do nothing but breathe easy. The hand still on Dietfried’s back pushes him on top of its owner and sends shivers down his spine.

He holds Leon’s cheek.

“May I?”

His hand trails down to the side of Leon’s neck, who hums, turning his head to the side. “Lower, please.”

Dietfried hums in assent, kissing his way to where neck meets shoulder, and leaves a gentle bite. It tints Leon’s skin in the faintest of reds, soon soothed by another kiss. And so it goes on, kiss after kiss after kiss and some teeth and a tug, careful and steady. Leon feels himself melting at the gentle attention he always asks Dietfried to leave him with. A reminder, until next time.

“Too much?” Dietfried murmurs above painted skin.

“M-m. It’s nice.” Leon wouldn’t mind having Dietfried do this forever. There are times when it’s heated and others like this, with no rush in whatever they do. He loves them all. He loves those when Dietfried smiles into a kiss more. “Doesn’t hurt.”

“Good.” He pecks the spot some more, blows on it to let it rest. Leon shivers, but that too gets covered by lips. “Should I stop?”

Leon laughs softly with his eyes closed. “Do whatever you want as long as it stays below my turtleneck.”

“Oh?”

“Stop smirking.” Dietfried would, but he doesn’t want any amusement to disappear from Leon’s voice. “I don’t think I can do it today.”

“That makes two of us, then, love.”

“Mm.” Quietly, Leon runs his fingers through Dietfried’s hair, finds the hand next to his face with the other. “Dietfried?”

“What is it?”

“Call me Leon?”

“I love you.” Within a heartbeat their eyes meet. “Leon.”

“…I love you too.”

“Don’t cry, Leon, starlight, you’re fine.”

The corner of his eye gets kissed before those wonderful lips return to where they were, just a bite’s distance above the appearing mark on his neck. Leon sighs into the feel of teeth leaving behind more reasons of love.

“Leon?”

“…Yeah?”

“Still with me?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I…you make it feel really nice.”

He always says that. Dietfried kisses the lovebite again, if it can even be referred to as such. There is certainly more than one bite to it, and not as little red-purple love spilled as he thought there would be. But neither of them mind. Leon certainly not, because his arms pull Dietfried in for a kiss. As their bodies press together, the taller man runs his hand up and down Leon’s side.

“Leon?” A tug at the hem of underwear.

“Ah- you don’t need to.”

“Would you let me?”

“’Course, if you want to.”

He hums as he kisses Leon’s chest, just to make sure the other knows he does.

Not that it matters, because Leon stares at him until he is satisfied with the answer he finds somewhere in crystal-green eyes. “Okay, then.” Dietfried’s hair gets tucked carefully behind his ear.

“Any preference today?”

“Ever the gentleman, aren’t you? Your choice. But stop smirking.” Leon tilts Dietfried’s chin upwards and smiles through one last peck on the lips before lying down.

An effort is made to hide the grin away, which doesn’t entirely succeed, as Dietfried leaves a carefully chosen trail of kisses over Leon. Lips, neck, throat. His chest, twice, then to his side, abdomen and the line of his hipbones. Every spot covered by his last piece of clothing, and the hips buck up just a little. Then a kiss and a bite to his thigh for good measure, because it always makes Leon giggle and Dietfried is not selfless enough of a man to give up hearing that sound.

The tips of his fingers find their way under the hem of Leon's pants. He tugs, once, last, one more confirmation, and a caress over his hair is answer enough. The underwear gets lost somewhere on the floor, Leon’s soft sigh in thin air, and Dietfried’s lips somewhere much more intimate. He shifts, until both are comfortable. He, tucked between Leon’s legs, and Leon, knuckle-kissed hand entwined lovingly with Dietfried’s. Leon's delicate fingers trace lines of his own, calming and trusting.

Dietfried finds it only fair to return the gesture.

It almost always starts with kisses, this thing, to calm both of them down and warm it all up. Almost, he says, because there are times when it’s heated and others like this. Dietfried takes his time with his lips before the mouth attempts to do anything else. That too, is slow. Leon’s hips always - ah, here it is - twitch a little towards him, the first time he touches him.

It makes Dietfried smile and kiss him, hold his other hand too. One he would usually use to keep Leon down, when he wanted to make it last longer, or finish himself off, when blood rushed through his veins. Today, he has a feeling that doesn’t matter. He himself much preferred it when he could feel something he holds dear with not just one hand but both.

Then, he takes him in whole.

Leon exhales again, all sweet and pliant and something else too between his lips.

Neither of them rush.

A rhythm forms again, one that has nothing to do with songs and more so with them. Leon’s mind surely would have floated away had it not been for fingers between his own, tugging and touching and nails grazing the skin of his hips.

It’s nice. It’s always so nice with Dietfried. He hopes when he does it, Dietfried feels the same.

Not even a vague idea of time spent there lying crosses his mind, too busy remembering every movement of Dietfried on him, too busy meeting him halfway when he can.

Only when the mouth on him starts moving faster and the tongue twisting in a bit of a different way does he let out a small sound, convincing himself to look down.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have.

It was rarer between them for Leon to look at Dietfried from this perspective instead of the other way round, because most of the time that was how they preferred it, but the sight was none the less breathtaking.

And Dietfried, defiance and challenge and so, so much more love than anything else in his eyes, smiling lips occupied elsewhere, knew it.

Show-off.

Leon once again does not say so, but he sure must have mouthed it, because Dietfried’s throat chuckles and Leon feels it and he knows he is close.

He tightens his hold on Dietfried’s hand. A thumb runs over his knuckles. Dietfried knows it too.

It’s a short blur from there.

There is a tongue, a mouth, a strand of rebellious hair tickling his thigh, one last movement before Leon spills over the edge. He sees nothing and feels bliss. It takes a few seconds for the ringing inside his ears to subdue as reality comes back as a tingly white noise inside his head. By the time he opens his eyes, Dietfried lies above him and he wants nothing more than to be closer.

“Leon.”

“Mm.”

“You’re good. I got you.”

They share a kiss.

“Sorry,” Leon murmurs and wipes a small spot of white from Dietfried’s cheek.

“It was I who wouldn’t let go, starlight. I would have stayed longer, but I like kissing you more without another taste in my mouth.”

“Heh, I know. You apologise for it every time.”

“Well, you don’t seem to mind when it comes to me.” Dietfried pushes Leon’s hair off his face and kisses his forehead this time.

“Mhm. You. Not me. I have no strong desire to taste myself. Though-”

“But then-”

“Before you ask, if it involves kissing you, I really don’t care either way.”

Dietfried smiles and kisses him again. “Alright.”

Leon can’t hide a quirk of his lips either and his head leans on Dietfried’s chest. He struggles to move anything else yet. And then he remembers. While he is done, Dietfried is not. “Dietfried?”

“Yes, love?”

“Can I-?”

“You rest, Leon, I can do it myself.”

“But…are you sure?”

“I am, starlight. Please.”

Leon seems to battle himself before finally giving in. “Can I at least…”

The sentence never really gets finished, but it reaches Dietfried all the same. They lie down side by side, his hand on himself while Leon’s rub his back, his sides, run all the way down to where his own is without overstepping, then back to hold his face so he can get pulled into a kiss better and be held with more care. Soft lips find his collarbone and soon enough teeth join and they tug and are gentle, and now Dietfried too has a love-coloured spot on himself. Then Leon whispers his name and it does not take much more for him to come undone, a little breathy, head safely tucked to the side of Leon’s neck.

He can’t help himself but kiss the mark left earlier before wrapping his arms around Leon and pressing against him. They both have to keep back a wince from still oversensitive skin.

“How are you?”

“I’m alright and ready to sleep,” Leon chuckles against his chest, “and sticky.”

“Ah, let me clean us up…see, always keep a handkerchief at hand.”

“Dietfried, I swear…”

Quiet laughter from both fills hidden corners of the room as Dietfried forces himself to pull all covers away and wipe whatever still remains on them that cannot wait for a shower tomorrow.

“Is my underwear there?”

“Ah…” Dietfried looks around on his way back from the bathroom, “somewhere on the floor. I can see your pyjama pants, if that’s okay?”

“Please.”

“Here- are you cold?”

Leon laughs, unable to hide it, but equally unable to pull the blanket back over himself. He can deal with an uncovered minute. A minute without Dietfried though did feel a little too long. “I’m alright.”

Dietfried frowns and with mutual effort, Leon’s legs are finally dressed, covers are up and Dietfried is by his side, whispering.

“Come here.”

He does not need to be told twice. Leon lets his arms be rubbed and caressed and a chest press against him. Warm. Firm. Steady. Reassuring, like kisses sprinkled over his cheeks. He demands one on the lips. It does not stop at one, of course, but he can’t count them all.

“Dietfried?”

“Yes?”

“Nothing. Just that.”

“Leon…”

Dietfried laughs. Leon yawns and nuzzles closer, warm and safe. He feels himself drifting off. Dietfried is not far behind.

“I’ll see you in the morning, starlight.”

“Yeah.” He steals one last peck from the older one, and plants one on the cheek. For good measure.

“Goodnight, Leon,” Dietfried wishes over his lips.

The tip of Leon’s nose touches Dietfried’s. “Night, Dietfried.”

The first thing Leon hears upon waking up is Dietfried’s light breathing above his chest. They must have been moving around throughout sleep. Careful not to wake him up, Leon’s arm wraps around his shoulders, dark hair like silk under caresses. Dietfried shifts closer, but does not appear to be stirring awake. Leon is happy.

The second thing Leon hears is someone else.

Knock-knock.

“Breakfast delivery.”

And as much as he would prefer to stay in bed, it won’t do.

“I’ll go get it.”

“Leon.”

“Ah, did I wake-”

“…Good morning.”

Lips tingling from their first kiss of the day, Leon allows himself another couple of seconds to curl down, until Dietfried can reach the top of his head for a kiss and a few gentle strokes. He wishes this would go on forever.

Thankfully, once he does get up, he finds his sweater discarded somewhere on his way to the door. Not the most formal thing he owns, but it will have to do.

“Leon, scarf,” a lump vaguely shaped like Dietfried lying on his stomach warns.

Oh.

His hand moves to where reddened skin pulsates warmly beneath. The bruise is definitely visible. Leon smiles to himself, placing his newest scarf in its proper place right before opening the door.

“Good morning, sir Leon.”

“Good morning to you too, Oscar.”

Leon would probably not believe it if anyone told him how he looked in that moment. But he was, wrapped in all that is soft, smiling like life loved him back, eyes content and a smile so warm, surely nothing short of angelic.

And Oscar’s eyes widen with an emotion or two, as if he had just understood a little bit more, but he does what he can to keep all of that to himself.

“Your breakfast, sirs.”

“Thank you.” Leon pulls the trolley inside. “Until half past nine, right?”

“That’s right, Leon, sir.”

“Perfect.”

“…Ah, Leon?”

“Hm? Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no, not at all. I just…wanted to wish you bon appetite. To you and sir Dietfried as well.”

“Oh. Thank you, I’ll make sure to tell him that.” He smiles.

Oscar returns the smile and bows, hopping towards his next task before Leon can even close the door shut.

Back to the bed, Dietfried is sitting on its edge. Barely awake. Leon sets their food to the side, instead making another step to end up right between Dietfried’s legs. He hugs him to his chest, not complaining when Dietfried’s own arms take a loose hold on his thighs.

Leon strokes his hair.

“Still tired?”

“I am, and you are entirely too comfortable like this.”

“Mm. Want to stay here?”

“We have to eat.”

“It can wait.”

“Good.”

Because Dietfried does want to stay, if only for five minutes longer. Leon smells like Leon, like lavender honey and a slight hint of lilies. His fingers, smaller and smoother than Dietfried’s, so used to be careful with books and pages they turn, now rest on his cheekbone, caressing it gently. He’s buried somewhere between a pale knitted sweater, a scarf that he gifted and a familiar heartbeat. Breakfast is the least of things Dietfried would be ready to give up for five more minute of this.

Albeit, there is no need for such measures.

This time breakfast is consumed in bed, as close as they can possibly be. Not even a kiss’ distance away, since Dietfried, who was observing Leon’s piece of toast spread with butter and marmalade and saw some of the latter stick to his lover’s upper lip, did not have any will to refrain himself from stealing one.

With little time to spare before Oscar collected the trolley, they finished sipping on their orange juice - Leon loved it last time and Dietfried somehow just ended up picking the same thing as him - and save for a deck of cards to play later, packing was due before they entered the shower.

By a very intentional accident they did so together and ended up spending a time much less innocent than the earlier night. Although, if you were to ask them, shower is not the most practical place to engage in such activities. Both of their hair is long enough to get tangled.

The deck of cards was left long forgotten, replaced by Leon cuddled between Dietfried’s legs and a conversation full of love and meaningless stories.

“How do you like the red one?”

“It’s beautiful too.” Leon looks at the seats of their last dining car of the journey. Lunch eaten, they sip on what remains of their drinks.

“But?”

“I think I’ll have to settle for the blue one as well.”

“Ahah, I am not too surprised.”

“Heh, I bet you aren’t.” Leon stretches his legs until they fit between Dietfried’s. He looks at the man on the other side. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“This. Today and yesterday.” And many a day before that too.

As Dietfried smiles, his hand reaches forward. Leon places his own on top of it.

“I should be thanking you, dearest. You make me happy, you know that?”

“I- Dietfried-” It has become some kind of a rarity to see Leon flustered. Even now, it was not a blush, only a small feeling that flutters when told how much he is worth. Something Dietfried wants to make sure Leon one day understands with his entire heart and soul.

With a short kiss to his knuckles when no one is looking, Dietfried offers a reassuring smile. “Leon?”

“…Yes?”

“When should we go get those chocolate croissants next?”

“Huh? You mean that bakery?”

“That one.”

“Oh…well, I should be able to find some time during the next two weeks.”

“Good.”

“And you?”

“I’ll make it whenever.”

“…No overworking.”

“…I promise.”

Dietfried waits for Leon to read him enough to believe it. He has become fast at it.

“Then it’s alright. But you don’t even like sweet things that much.”

“Not my favourite, no, but those were good. And only the second reason for my request.”

“…”

“Leon?”

“I’m happy.”

“Ah.”

“Hm?”

“I forgot I haven’t seen the blue dining car during day.”

“Ah…I believe they’ll let us in if we ask. Unless you don’t mind the lounge one? The blue is similar enough.”

Oh.

“Oh. Yes, let’s go there.”

“That’s a lot of enthusiasm?” Dietfried smirks knowingly.

“Would you play another piece? If the place isn’t too full.”

“Ah, I’m sure it is not. And I would regardless, for you.”

With a final jolt, the train reaches its destination from where it had departed.

The two men with identical scarves, each holding their own suitcase, leave it behind and walk towards the exit under a light, snowy afternoon sun. One of them pulls the other to a hidden corner.

Leon’s heart laughs as he hears Dietfried’s do so, as the cold tip of his nose gets warmed up by lips, as his own meet them in a smiling kiss that lasts much longer than others. Two hands cup his cheeks, two arms hold him tight, and he could not be happier.

Write me a letter?

I will.

It does not last forever, because life will not wait for either of them. Books await Leon and documents Dietfried. After one last promise and one last brush of hands, they walk each in a separate direction, without looking back.

It does not feel like a goodbye.

Within the first five, Leon skips a step.

Somewhere in the distance, Dietfried finds himself thinking he heard it.

Winter isn’t as cold as they thought it would be.

Before a week passes, Dietfried’s letter gets delivered to Leon.

One might want to know what it says.

It is, however, not something for either of us to find out; secrets meant only for the other to see.

But, for those who might still wonder, the beginning goes a little something like this.

Dear Leon,

I trust you are well, and ask you to forgive my slowness. I have kept you waiting with my letter, I know it has been a long time. A full week - you laughed, haven’t you?

Firstly and most importantly, I’ll let you know I am free to join you for those croissants and a cup of tea next week as we agreed.

Secondly, a lot has happened in these few days, and, fortunately, it was only good things. I shall tell you more in detail about some throughout this letter, but I have a feeling you will find one of them particularly interesting. I received something along with it. Feel free to look forward to a little gift when we meet next.

Now then.

Until that time, let me share another page of my story with you.

…