Work Text:
Cotton kissed wounds upon wounds scrawled upon innocent flesh. Mantras of bruises, scars, and lacerations that tore and peeled through skin and warped it into various shades of a hideous red. Cotton laced with alcohol, that burned the raw skin, but was only a temporary pain compared to the agony of a striking blade tearing it.
It wasn’t a unfamiliar sight to Edgar. If anything, this is the least of what he’s seen. Since that manor. He’s been working on cleaning up the monstrosity on Luca’s back. Faint scars of old wounds that have disappeared over time. Injuries that were still prominent because they were continuously opened by new ones. It was repulsive. Luca had spent far more time in the manor than Edgar had, but still came to that place bearing different scars. His skin didn’t know mercy. Edgar’s work would be far more difficult if it weren’t for the care provided by Dyer during their stay (Thank god he didn’t get any kind of infections). He only had tasked himself with the job of cleaning up the remains. But, he knew this job was coming to an end. Luca was healing well. Wrapping everything up soon became less necessary. (Still a necessity, because Luca would pick open his injuries every now and then, when Edgar thought he could trust Luca to leave himself alone.)
Luca propped his chin up with the knuckles of a balled fist, with his legs crossed, back faced Edgar, as he cleaned his wounds and rebandaged them. Sometimes, this would be done multiple times a week, as Luca was a restless man, and had to busy himself with some kind of work. Which would result in the reopening of these scabs and scars. Edgar could sit still for a while (he preferred to, anyways) and he healed fine. Luca was difficult.
It was done in silence, with little to no small talk. Upon the white sheets on the bed of their room, where they would (Occasionally?) rest together. (They like to stay up and work. If the bed was occupied, it would be usually be by one of them, at some bizarre time.)
“I forgot to go buy more gauze. You’ll have to stay put until I can buy more.” Edgar lifted himself off of the bed, in a slow motion, and approached Luca so they faced each other. “I mean it. You’ll heal faster this way.”
Luca did little in response to acknowledge him. He’s been awfully quiet since they’ve left the manor. It’s been two months. He’s adjusted himself a little, but he’s not used to living in society again.
Edgar stood back to stare at the work on Luca’s back. His skin was sore with red, scabs and scars dried crimson, and various other shades of red lined his back. Most of the dried blood Edgar had cleaned. But the other reds would have to heal by themselves. It was a work of art, in all honesty. Luca sat there, motionlessly, before yawning. He’d only waken up hours before.
“Can I paint you?” Edgar threw the question out, half expecting not to be responded to. He was going to, regardless. It was almost more said like a statement. Luca smiled.
“I feel like I’m almost the only thing you paint. And yet, that’s a question I don’t hear often.” It was mumbled. That was enough for Edgar. So, he opened the bedroom windows as a gracious breeze invited itself in. The man hadn’t painted in a while, since they arrived at his little estate. But he had just gone out to get more paint the other day. Most of which were shades of red. (What’s the point of a painter that doesn’t paint?) He unbuttoned his shirt, just enough to expose a bit of his bare chest, and nothing more. Just to welcome the fresh air even more.
Edgar stepped out for a moment, to return with two glasses of water. One he would promptly give to Luca, another for himself. It was gratefully accepted. The latter was placed aside on a table next to the easel that had been left out, (well before Edgar and Luca had arrived. Is it a Valden estate if Edgar doesn’t have a corner dedicated to painting?) as well as his newly bought paints.
Settling himself down on the stool, he pulled aside a small pencil box, sitting next to the rest of his supplies.
“Have I been to this estate before?” Luca turned to look at him. He was trying to make small talk.
“No, not that I’m aware of.” Edgar muttered, much rather busy with sharpening lead with an old blade. An old blade stained with a rusty color. (Although, it wasn’t rusted.)
Edgar no longer found himself entertained with the idea of using his own blood as pigment. Striking himself with a blade, like a matchbox, to unveil a burning crimson. Only to press a brush upon it to glaze it across a canvas. It didn’t excite him anymore. It stung. He had long since retired it. The image made him sick, anyways.
He tossed the blade.
Edgar would pause for a moment. And lay his eyes on his muse, who was intently watching him back. They stared at each other for a moment. Edgar sitting in rays of light, pencil in hand, charcoal dirtying his hands and sleeves. His hair was lazily pulled back, so some brunette curls lay around his face, kissing them gently. Luca was hunched over, glass in hand. His hair was messy, but not tangled. Never tangled. Edgar made sure of it. He smiled.
“You’re pretty.” Luca’s eyes trailed down to his skin. It glowed, even with faint scars from their time at the manor. “Ah, but if you unbuttoned it-” Edgar interrupted him with a scoff, before striking his canvas with his pencil.
“Another day. Turn around.” Luca did as he was told, as the sound of sketching came out from behind the canvas Edgar hid behind.
And then it was quiet again.
—-----------
He used rough hands to wrap Luca in gauze, across his chest and around his neck. His neck wasn’t wounded, he just had the tendency to scratch himself till he bled. It was weird to Edgar, how Luca seemed bothered when he didn’t have the collar around him.
“Just not used to it. That’s all.”
“I’ve seen you take it off.”
“I- I know…I don’t know how to explain it. Sorry.” Edgar pulled Luca towards him, with his arms over his shoulders. They were face to face, and Luca could feel Edgar’s breath on his lips. It was faint.
Edgar doesn’t say anything else. He wasn’t the type. Instead, he just gazes into the others eyes. Luca’s eyes were dark. Edgar’s were a bright blue. That was a contrast of theirs. Luca had one small dark freckle under his right eye, and thick brown eyelashes. Edgar slowly drew himself closer, and placed a very gentle peck on top of the freckle. Luca drew in a soft breath.
“I should have drawn a bath before I finished wrapping you. Fuck.” Edgar said with a whisper, though the last part was a bit harsh.
“Ah.. Am I sticky?”
“No. But it would have been nice to sit in it with you.” Edgar pulled back, and promptly hauled himself off the bed they were sitting on again. Luca turned to follow his presence, but remained where he was. Edgar looked back to smile at him, as he pulled a shirt from his dresser. “Here. Get dressed.” Luca caught it as it was thrown at him, and stood himself to put it on.
He turned to the painting Edgar had been working on earlier in the day. It was very….Red. He was no expert on art, but the approach Edgar took was very stylistic.
“Stop staring. It’s not done.” Edgar raised his hand to point at it, before promptly taking his hands to drag along it. “I have to blend in a different color. For your skin. I took a break to go get your gauze.”
“Am I that red?”
“No. Your back is though. That’s why I’m taking care of you. So you don’t die of infection.” Edgar was thankful that Ms. Dyer took decent care of everyone. All those hunters' weapons were probably dirtied with everyone’s own blood- Edgar winced at the thought.
It’s all over now, though. He gently grabbed Luca’s hand and thumbed the top of it. They won’t be separated again. He kissed his hand. And smiled.
“Let’s go for a walk, hmm?”
“You’re much more cheery nowadays.”
Edgar shook his head. He considered it being productive. Besides, he's trying to return to the carefree life he and Luca had before everything happened. He wanted nothing more than to relive him of all his woes. Take the weight off his back.
"You've been through so much. It's time to rest." Edgar caressed his lover's arm, holding it as he laid his head upon his shoulder.
"You have too.. I want to support you, in any way I can." Edgar stifled a chuckle as Luca said that, and he slowly began to lead the two out of the room. "You're too stubborn."
It was true. Edgar was far too stubborn. But not maybe as much as he was initially coming to the manor, but he had to forcefully learn that he had to let others in, to survive. He couldn't help Luca if he was bleeding out too. But he always amounted to that. He never saw it as him being taken care of.
When they went on their walks, Luca would become more chatty. That would usually be why Edgar would encourage it. It lightened his mood. They'd walk down a specific path almost every time, (although, curiousity has pulled Luca astray) down to a lake, where they would sit together and watch the water. And almost every time, Luca would throw (not Necessarily throw, but definitely 'excitedly get in the water') himself into the water, and be rewarded with a smile from Edgar.
Edgar would follow suit, into the water, and they would play together. They both cherished it so much. It felt nice, making eachother feel like they could relieve their stress, be rid of the 'games' and feel freedom again (albeit Luca forgetting what that tasted like, Huh.)
Luca missed his friends. He felt guilt, leaving those people behind, people he'd developed relationships with, been through struggle and hardship. Sometimes he'd have nightmares about being brought back. To jail, or the manor (although the latter would be far better), and facing their wrath. Edgar would try to keep him busy from that thought.
"Can we go out to town? I..I want something sweet." Luca squat over a hunched over Edgar, with his somewhat damp shirt over the smaller mans back as he wrung out his own.
"Mm, I thought you liked laying low.."
"I know, but.."
"What were you thinking?" Edgar subtly put his own shirt back on, allowing Luca to take his own back.
—-----
It ended with a stroll out of town. The sun had set a good half hour ago, and Edgar insisted on returning home. They could share it there.
The walk back was quiet, as the two rather let the bugs and insects do the talking instead. The estate was on top of a climb of stone stairs, but as they lead themselves up them, they sat down towards the top. Luca was quick to stretch himself out, and smile.
"Thank you for this, for everything. These past few months here." He grasped Edgars hand with his own, to hold it. "I know I complain a lot, but I know you're just..looking out for me." Edgar only grunted.
"Eat it… we went out to get it, so eat it."
"Haha, I wanted to let you have it." Luca
smiled, placing it in Edgar's other hand. Edgar furrowed his brow in response. "You have a sweet tooth, I remembered that."
"Oh."
"Sorry. I know you wouldn't treat yourself normally. And I don't exactly have any money to my name. Yet." Luca pulled his hand away from Edgar's to throw his arm around his shoulder instead, and drew him closer. Edgar chuckled. He looked down at the little pastry in his hand. It wasn't the freshest, (considering the time of day) but it was still good.
"Okay." He peeled away the paper it was wrapped in, and pulled it into two uneven halves. He gave the (Obviously) smaller piece to Luca. Luca graciously smiled, and pressed a big kiss to Edgar's neck.
"I love you. Let's go to bed together tonight, okay? I won't complain if you want me to model for you again.."
"You don't have to bribe me. I love you too."
—----
"Lucky, huh? Even through prison I didn't lose it!" Luca was showing off his engagement ring. The one Edgar bought him. Edgar still had the matching one, the one Luca got him. It doesn't leave the box it was originally gifted in often. Luca wears his, though. "They let me keep it, hmm."
Edgar and Luca considered themselves a married couple. They were fiances before the manor, before prison. Luca proposed to Edgar, and they vowed to wed in secret. It never came. So, when they reunited, they vowed their marriage then. In case something
ever..happened. Luca wore his ring with him, underneath his electrical gloves, whereas Edgar wore it only on special occasions. It was still a secret.
"I'm glad. I'd be heartbroken." Though, maybe a proper wedding would be nice. One outside of that manor, one without the horrifying memories. A happy wedding. One that wasn't a desperate vow, but an eager one.
Luca was sitting at his desk, talking away about whatever he was working on. They were always small ideas, things to improve quality of life. It was never the big idea. The whole invention Luca went to the manor to complete. Edgar didn't want to bring it up.
Edgar couldn't busy himself with his art, (as his muse was occupied) so he cleaned instead. It wasn't something he found himself doing often, but he knew he had to do something. Dancing around the room (not literally), picking up things. He found himself standing over the trash bin. The one that had his blade sitting in it. Curious. He slowly picked it back up, standing there, staring at it.
"No, no- give me that." Luca prompted, with an outstretched hand. (Ahh. He was watching him.) "Give me that blasted thing."
"I'm not doing anything with it." Luca's hand remained open. After a moment of nothing, he only pointed at the painting. "Haha. That's a fun idea, isn't it." Edgar put the blade in Luca's hand, slowly, before Luca tossed it upon his desk in one quick motion. He sighed.
"You lost a lot of weight after prison."
"Are you cross with me?" Luca sharply turned back, and furrowed his eyebrows.
"No." Edgar wasn't even facing him, let alone paying attention. "A lot of the clothes I brought here for you didn't fit anymore. It made me sad." Luca would've spit, if he didn't know Edgar any better. He was just trying to change the topic. (But in such a nitpicky fashion..?)
"You wore a brown suit all the time. It was my favorite. Maybe I can get something similar tailored.."
"Get something for you too. I like it when you're all dolled up." Luca decided to let his attempt fly. Edgar's a very awkward person. Luca Balsa lets him live. Edgar was satisfied with the tone shift, so he eagerly approached Luca, and sat in his lap. (More like his leg. Did you know Luca Balsa is a manspreader? That or he’s sitting weirdly.) Nobody says anything more. Edgar sits there, his arms around Luca, his head resting on the others. Watching Luca work away. The morning light seeped in through the windows again, and its tender warmth put him to sleep again.
_____
“It’s freezing.” Edgar dipped one foot into the tub, hesitantly putting another in after. Luca said nothing in response, sitting in it. Edgar (begrudgingly) complied. “I wanted to relax. This isn’t relaxing.”
“Sorry.” Luca had his legs pulled up against his body. Edgar didn’t mind laying back and crossing his legs, hanging his head back. The two sat there for awhile, quiet.
“I just want to spend time with you."
“We have nothing but time.” Luca gently chuckled. “Not like there was much room to get away from you in that manor, huh.” Edgar shifted. It was quiet for a moment.
“I-is… is there anything you don’t like about me?” It was quiet for another moment.
“..Hah…?” Luca stared at the other man, as he pulled his legs up to match him. “I didn’t mean it like that."
“No, I know, it’s just.."
“You’re a little insecure sometimes. N..not like that’s bad. But.. I like you. I like you as you are.” Luca has always been better at consoling people than Edgar. “Is there anything you don’t like about me?” It was quiet again.
“You’re stupid."
“....Er.” Luca didn’t expect such bluntness from a question he intended to be rhetorical. But it was Edgar, afterall. “This isn’t relaxing.” He pulled the drain.
“You’re stupid.” Edgar pushed on. He leaned towards Luca. “You’re too gullible. You let people get too close to you. Those people. They held you down.” Luca was a little stunned. But he kept himself busy fiddling with the bath.
“You’re kinda stubborn, aren’t you..?”
“I’m right.”
“No… No, you’re not. Maybe you won’t realize that for a long time. Especially when it’s just the two of us again. You won’t let people take care of you. Even me. And I’m married to you.” Edgar smiled. But it was a condescending one.
“You’re cute. Come here, lay down.” Edgar held his arms open, inviting him in to his grasp.
“You never take me seriously.”
“I do. But, right now, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Luca scowled, and for a moment, they sat there, Luca avoiding his gaze, and Edgar only staring at him. Luca eventually turned around and complied. He laid his head in the man’s lap, and got a small hum of praise.
"Please. Trust me more. I want to be a shoulder for you to lie on. You stress out all the time. It makes me miserable thinking I can't do anything to help."
"Seeing you happy is enough for me." He said, with a blank look. He used his hands to massage warm water onto his hair, and sighed. Luca eventually gave up. Edgar isn't someone you can argue with. Luca closed his eyes, and relaxed into the other's body. The water was warm this time, and it had a light steam. It was enough to put him half asleep. "Isn't it so much better?" Edgar wrapped his arms around Luca.
"Yeah. It is."
______
"Fuck…"
Edgar was terrified of illness. When he was in the manor, Luca would constantly be under the weather. He'd have to rest in bed for days. Edgar would sit by his side, praying to whatever the hell he could, (despite not being religious) that Luca would recover quickly. Edgar hated sitting in Luca's room. It was always cramped and cluttered with junk, and Luca worked in the dark. He'd trip over things. But he'd dismiss his initial bias to be with him.
Edgar Valden never really ever got sick. (Which is impressive, considering his family's history with sickness. HAHggahHHahsnsnnBs)
Though, you could consider him lucky, for finally falling ill after the manor. It stressed him out immensely, though.
"It's okay. I'll take good care of you." Luca sat next to Edgar, who was half propped up by pillows, under the sheets. He looked horrible.
"I'll be fine."
"Haha, remember that conversation we had? It's time for you to trust me. I can take care of you. I want to. Please." Luca grasped Edgars hand, and ran his thumb across it, causing him to glance in the gestures direction. It's so nice to be vulnerable. To have someone shower you with warmth and love. To trust someone. Edgar wanted to give that all to Luca. Even though he wanted some of it for himself. He grew to see it as only one of them could have it. Luca needed help sometimes, and that mentality kind of. Festered some kind of idea in Edgar's head.
Before the manor, before Luca went to prison, Edgar would always go to Luca to feel comforted. Luca had a bold, and outgoing personality, and Edgar eventually fell for that. He liked being held, and stroked, and told that he'd be alright. By a most charming man nonetheless. He was good with words, and feelings. None of which Edgar was. He liked it.
But Edgar felt guilty for what happened. Even if he had nothing to do with it, or couldn't have prevented it, it was a guilt that sat with him. As days went by, that guilt and worry consumed him. But when he met him again, at the manor, he was greeted by the man he loved most. That was him. He'd seen how prison wore him down, but it never broke him. Luca was incredible.
"You trust me, right?"
"I do."
"I know you're nervous. But I promise you, you'll be alright. I can manage the both of us while you're out."
"I don't doubt that. I just.."
"I promise to stay by your side." Edgar had a kind of separation anxiety. He'd never admit it, but it showed. He'd linger around Luca when he wandered about, and felt knots in his stomach when one of them went to a match alone. Edgar knew he could die. (I mean, what happens to survivors when they're bled out?) And every time, when he came out, worn out and bruised, Edgar would rush to his side, and demand to know what hurt the most.
Luca knew that Edgar had a lot of anxiety when it came to illness. It didn't seem like much to Luca, but he'd never say that to Edgar. It was life or death in his eyes. Even if he didn't cry, or sob about it, it was his wrenching silence and the distant gazes that made him know he was deep in thought.
Luca and Edgar both had nightmares. Luca would cry, but Edgar would hold his breath. Maybe pull himself closer into Luca's resting arms. He never asked to be comforted. He felt it was an admission of weakness. He hoped Luca would just recognize that, and pull him in himself.
So Luca did just that. And he would spend Edgar's sick days caring for him. He took on Edgar's usual chores, cleaning, cooking, shopping, tending to flowers. (Actually, Luca hadn't realized Edgar had an interest in gardening, until now, when he expressed the wish to go out and water the flowers.) Edgar would be lying if he said he didn't like it just a little. Watching Luca run around catering to his every whim. Once he felt comfortable in the idea that it wasn't a burden to Luca, it definitely excited him a little.
"Come here, sit with me, I'm bored." Edgar would pat the side of the bed next to him. Luca would put down his notebook and pencil, and scoot next to him. Maybe give him a small peck. "Tell me. Do you think I'm pretty?" It'd make Luca chuckle.
"Do you like to hear me talk or something? I tell you this all the time." Luca smiled, and wrapped his arm around his lover's waist. "You're beautiful." It would earn him a smile. Edgar pulled up one of his legs to rest his hand upon, and his cheek on top of that.
"I do like hearing you talk. It's my favorite."
"Do you want me to read you something?"
"No. I like hearing you talk. Not read. It's different." Luca tilted his head at Edgar. He still smiled, but he had a confused look. "You sound different when you read. Your tone..it bores me. I like it when you talk."
Edgar had a funny smile. It was a smile like a fox. It was cunning. But, not in the condescending sense. He was just having fun.
"What do you want to talk about?" Luca dragged his hand upwards to twirl Edgar's hair in his fingers. Edgar would break his posture to point at something behind Luca. The notebook he'd tossed aside. Luca slowly turned his head to give a glance, and then promptly brought his gaze back to Edgar. "Well. I was drawing, to be honest."
Luca stood himself to collect the book, and then sat himself back down, next to Edgar, who quickly leaned against him and tangled his arms with his. Quick to steal the opportunity to cuddle. Luca placed the book in his left hand, to situate it so they could both see, and briefed over its contents. Notes, poorly written, with scribbled drawings (though, the handwriting slowly got better as they progressed. The notebook is a bit old. He got it from the manor.) Edgar could recognize some of them, some of the little machine Luca made to help with decoding ciphers. (He'd left it behind, as an aid to their friends, though he said he'd remake it, purely because he missed it. They had no use for it anymore.)
Then they stopped at the most recent page.
"I was trying to draw you." It was a small sketch of Edgar slumped over, eating something out of a dish. He was in bed, and his hair was down. He supposed it was from this morning. It wasn't a very clear drawing, but he could make out some details. "You always draw me, so I wanted to draw you. I'm sorry. It's not very good."
Edgar sat there and stared at the drawing. It even had a small note at the bottom. Read 'My dear.'
"Can I keep this?"
"..Um.. I guess. Haha. It's nothing like your art." Edgar didn't care. He just sat there, slumped over the page, clutching it. Something about it.. just tore at him. He loved it so goddamned much. It was so sweet.
"Thank you."
(You're? Welcome?)
______
Cold sweat.
The room was pitch black. The curtains were drawn. It was definitely very late. It only stressed him out more.
Usually there'd be a candle or two burning (Edgar liked to stay up late,) but it wasn't one of those nights. So he cried. It only served as a reminder.
It was quiet. A sob and sniffle. He was cold.
It went on for a few minutes, before Edgar sat himself, very slowly. It took him a few moments to even get half awake, for him to stretch his arm around a crying Luca, and whisper in his ear.
"Tell me what's wrong."
It took a bit for Luca to calm down, where he would then shrink down into Edgars grasp. He seemed miserable.
"I don't want to go back." Edgar didn't know what 'back' was. Probably jail. Luca knew, realistically, his chances of going back were slim. But it never made the nightmares any less scary. He knew how real it was. Edgar, with one arm still over a slumped Luca, reached over to his bedside. In a very strained motion, he reached for a match, before realizing he did need both hands, momentarily freed him. He struck his match, and lit the candle sitting on the table. The flame was small, but admitted enough light to see In one last swift motion, he put out the match with his fingertips, stuck the burnt thumb into his mouth, and returned his arm to Luca.
It was bright.
Edgar offered no words of comfort. He was bad at that. He only had touch. So he held Luca. For as long as he had to.
Luca would cry again.
"Why'd we leave them?"
Edgar winced at the question. Very obviously too. But Luca wasn't looking at him.
"We had to."
"We couldn't have brought one more?"
"Some of them had made it out already. We did too. They'll be fine."
"They're still in there because they can't." Edgar gritted his teeth. He was really bad at this. Especially when everything he said was combatted.
"They'll die in there, Edgar."
Edgar wasn't used to pessimism from Luca. The room got so quiet, it sucked life out of him.
"So what? Would you rather be added to that body count?" Edgar put it bluntly. Luca went quiet. And for a moment, he wanted to pull away from Edgar's grasp. But he hesitated. He looked up at Edgar, who was looking away, and he decided to stay. "I didn't take months of torture to be told this. You didn't take years to go back."
Edgar was always blunt. He didn't sugarcoat what he thought was the truth. Luca couldn't bring himself to say anything else on the matter. He knew Edgar was right, but it pained him. He had friends there, afterall.
Edgar was harsh and rude, but Luca knew why. Luca knew, that even with all the stubbornness and bitterness, Edgar only meant good. Tough love was his forte.
"My body. It aches. It's sore. It hurts to move sometimes."
"I know. I'm sorry." Edgar finally pulled himself back under the sheets, to level himself with Luca. He pulled Luca close, arms wrapped around him. He gently pulled his head under his chin, and sighed. Then he fell asleep.
_______
They were at that lake again.
The sun was setting, and they decided go on their usual walk, to watch it go down. Luca had waded himself down into the water, but Edgar stood back. The setting sun glistened on the lakes water, and Edgar watched as Luca waded further into the swallow lake, till he reached the epicenter. He turned back with a wide smile, and waved his arms in the air.
Edgar's hair flowed in the wind (it was particularly windy today,) and for once it wasn't tied. He didn't care today. The sky was a pink with yellow clouds, making the painter's soft brunette rosy. His skin glowed in the radiance of a dying sun. What a beautiful eternal candle.
Gorgeous colors bled together and beautiful hues swirled in the water and sky. The touches of fall leaves complimented the tone. The clouds would be long strokes, as the leaves blotched dabs of paint. Edgar gazed off into the distance, analyzing every detail of his environment.
"Edgar.."
The voice was distant, but he could hear him. His lovely Luca. A man he'd poured his heart out to for the first time. Because, for the first time, he felt truly understood. It felt ironic, because Luca had no eye for art, but his ideals were similar about his craft. He created too. Besides, he could mold his views about art into his own. Luca didn't mind hearing any critiques or opinions on the arts. They were generally positive, anyway. Explaining techniques or praising colors and brush stroke patterns. Textures blended and formed with oil paint.
He'd done a lot for Luca's sake. He'd sacrificed, suffered, and lost for him. All so he could hold him close.
It was smitten. He was handsome, and rugged, and even through everything he'd been through, he smiled. And everytime, he'd kiss his small round face, and tell him he loved him. Loved his pretty sky blue eyes.
It inspired Edgar to smile more.
So he did.
Luca excitedly waded back to shore, and ran up to the little hill Edgar was mounted on.
"You're soaking."
"Ahaha. Oops." Luca's smile was cheeky, and he pulled Edgar's arms into his hands, and pressed a kiss against his lips. It lasted for a good moment. Edgar always found kissing him a little funny. His little fang always brushed his lip. It was cute.
They sat down together, Edgar in Luca's arms. He'd twirl his fingers in his hair, and hum gently. It was so tranquil. He would sit there forever, if he could. Kiss that boy forever.
He wondered if Luca was happy. He seemed happy.
Was Edgar happy? I mean, he had everything he had worked so hard for. It was like he was searching for some kind of closure. What would he do next? He tended to just.. plan in the spur of the moment. When he realized he needed to go buy more ingredients, it was because he was looking around in his pantry. When he realized he needed more paint, it was while he was painting. Closure..
"Luca, if you were going to die, how would you want to?" Luca didn't respond right away. Not because he didn't know, but it kind of felt sudden. It surprised him.
Actually, Luca did know how. He had plenty of time to think about it. During the long months he was awaiting to be hung.
"I'd want to die painlessly."
"But, how?"
Luca threw his head back, and was quiet for a moment again.
"I don't want to die. It's like you said … I've been through it. And I made it out alive." Luca's gaze shifted out onto the horizon that Edgar had initially been staring at. "I want to live. I want to live for a very long time. I want to die of old age." Those chances were very slim. Luca probably knew. With his condition and all. Luca lived with a lot of pain. But, it never slowed or dragged him down. "I want to spend my youth happily. You gave me that. And I'm glad you're here. I'm scared to do it alone."
Edgar smiled. He was content with that answer.
The matchbox struck again. Once for Luca, again for Edgar.
Luca used the match to light a cigarette that was very quickly put out by Edgar.
"No. Not in here. Not now."
"I thought you were staying up."
"I am. I'm going to finish this painting." Edgar used his match to light a few candles. He liked the atmosphere. Different sized paintbrushes clacker against his easel as he moved around his tools. "Take your shirt off."
"But, I'm all healed, aren't I?"
"Yeah. Take it off."
Luca complied. It was true, he was pretty much healed. It had been a few weeks before he started this painting. He turned his back to his maestro, and resumed whatever he was doing.
Edgar mixed a sort of mustard color with a white and beige, and did small swatches till the shade was right. Until it matched Luca's skin on the piece.
Then, so very carefully, he dragged the color across the red scars.
( ◜‿◝ )♡