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For a thing so quiet, silence takes on countless shapes.
First thing in the morning, it is light and secretive.
It is warm and tired for an afternoon nap.
Vast and empty in a room with no one to wave hello or goodbye, or tight and stubborn after a fight.
It is sweet and steady, filling the space between lovers holding hands at night.
And then, it is Leon’s favourite.
Ah, what does that silence sound like?
Let me tell you.
Leon’s favourite silence starts with careful steps.
A door closes, just as careful, and the steps continue to an even quieter place. There you will hear whispered voices and delicate touches and pages turning slowly. Perhaps a chuckle and hushing.
Then Leon will find a lone desk filled with morning light in front of big windows and move the chair just so, without making a sound. He will place a script before him, smile unaware, and begin reading.
The silence of libraries has always been comforting. Gentle, one that has been there since times long gone.
Not to say Leon does not get interrupted – there would always be someone to trip over the carpet, a flustered apology, or a pile of books too heavy, placed on a nearby desk barely in time.
On occasion, like today, Kyle’s cheerful voice would make a comment or tell a story, and Leon would smile or furrow his brows in answer.
All of these little interruptions are common and welcome and part of his favourite silence.
One like this, though, the young expediter is not used to.
“Leon.”
Leon’s hand falters as he turns, a name spilling from his surprised lips.
“Dietfried?”
Dietfried is there, smiling. Tall. Elegant. A little defiant in the undone top button of his shirt.
“Hello,” he says, softly.
A breath of wind plays with the curtains as Leon puts the pen down.
“Hi,” he answers, bright eyes still searching for an explanation somewhere on Dietfried. But the other man does nothing, except look at Leon with too much tenderness for a place outside their rooms. “Why are you here?”
Dietfried’s brow rises. “Are you unhappy about it?”
Leon frowns too, then, as his eyes roll. Mostly at Dietfried borrowing Kyle’s chair as if it was his own.
“That one’s occupied.”
Dietfried discards the problem promptly with a brief shrug and leans on the desk. “Documents were supposed to be archived two months ago. There was a delay, and I was informed yesterday to come sign them as soon as possible.”
Leon hums and picks up his pen. He spins it over his fingers. “Quite the delay then, doesn’t happen often over here.”
“Is that so?” Dietfried looks curiously at Leon. “Well, it appears it was one worth bothering with.” He smiles again, and there is a hint of playfulness on his lips. “What are you here for?”
“Work,” Leon sighs, “new arrivals to be copied and forwarded to Shaher’s.”
“Your observatory is popular.”
“Kyle says so too,” Leon smiles to himself, “he says they’ve grown much busier in the last few years. I’m a little jealous.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised, you love doing this,” Dietfried chuckles. Then, he leans further in. “So, is too much work why you’ve been hiding…” his hand reached towards Leon, below his chin, tipping the willing face closer to his own, “these?”
Leon blinks. “These?”
“These,” Dietfried confirms quietly and taps the side of Leon’s glasses. “I have not seen them yet.”
“Oh.” His glasses – round, though Kyle has, after too many consecutive nights spent observing the sky, declared them to be moon-shaped of all things – that he has never thought about enough to mention them to Dietfried. Leon liked spending their time together more productively. “They’re for…if I stare at scripts for a long time. My eyes hurt after.”
Dietfried hums, and Leon feels as if his glasses are being judged meticulously. At last, the man leans back and nods. “I like them.”
“I thought you wouldn’t. You stared for a while.” The right side of Leon’s lips quirks up.
Dietfried’s match his, and he has to keep down his laughter. “I was staring, although…”
“Hm?” Leon tilts his head. “Although?”
Dietfried says nothing. He smiles for a moment, with his eyes a little more serious than before. “Say, Leon…would you-”
“Ah, that’s my- oh! I- I’m sorry, sir.”
“Kyle.”
“Oh.” Dietfried looks at the young man, down at the chair, and up again. “Kyle, is it? This must be your place.”
“Well-”
“My apologies, I should have asked. Please,” Dietfried stands up and moves a step away.
“No, no, it’s alright! I- did not recognise you right away, I am sorry too.”
“Don’t be.” Dietfried’s smile changes into one of studied politeness. “I was just on my way out.”
It is always beyond Leon why Kyle, who befriends people with so much ease one can only be jealous of his friendly nature and smooth conversations, always got flustered around Dietfried. It was as bothersome as it was amusing.
“Good luck with the work, both of you. Leon. Kyle.” Dietfried bows lightly, again in a way well-constructed to make him look best, and as the other two bid their farewells, leaves.
Leon glances at Kyle.
“You’re staring,” he states.
“I- do you even know who he is, Leon!? Bougainvillea! Whenever I see him, I always feel a heart attack incoming! Of course I stare, us commoners don’t get to just- meet these people! No, do not make that face- ugh.”
Leon frowns. “What face?”
“Like I’m insane! You know you’re an exception, right? I don’t know what nerves you’ve grown to be able to handle the pressure of working for them so many times. How big even is their library,” he mumbles to himself in the end.
“Ah…” Leon shrugs, “work is not as bad as you might think.”
“…’m not sure I can imagine,” mumbles Kyle and flops down on his chair, apparently exhausted. “So, why was he here?”
Kyle is met with silence.
“Leon?”
“I think he wants to discuss some details from last time.”
“What, today?”
Leon nods.
“Oh…but then-”
“Not now, Kyle.”
“…so we’re still going for dinner?”
“Yes, we are still going for dinner.” Before Kyle could proclaim his happiness too loudly, Leon adds. “As long as you do not steal my food again.”
Kyle gasps in what seems to be the biggest offense of his entire existence. “I have not-”
“Are you two done over here?”
“Ah- Benedict!” Kyle turns around mid-sentence. “You finished already?”
“I can do a couple more things if you need time, but I’d like to end this sooner rather than later. Takes a while to bring all of this to the post office.”
Leon eyes the pile in front of himself and sees another hour or two of transcribing in it.
“We should be done before it gets dark.”
Benedict contemplates with a sigh. “Alright, I can wait. Just don’t be late.”
“We won’t! Actually…Leon, we could help him move the copies!”
“What?” Benedict blinks.
“Yes, you’ll be done faster that way, right? You can have dinner with us, if you want?”
Leon then feels his eyes widen and a strange urge to strangle Kyle on the spot prickle his skin. But, as Benedict tries and miserably fails at hiding his hopefulness at the offer, Leon doesn’t.
“Can I?”
“Of course!”
Well, now he is sparkling.
Leon looks after Benedict muttering to himself he’ll have to thank his boss for making him take on the job and leave happier than he was, after having arranged a meeting time with Kyle.
Kyle, who is now staring in that same direction and refuses to look at Leon.
“Kyle,” he says calmly.
“Y-Yes!?”
“We’re having dinner first and then you’re helping him carry that by yourself.”
“What- Leon!”
“You invited him without notice?”
He meets Kyle’s eyes and that is enough for the other one to know he is coming out of this as unscathed as he can.
“…fine.”
Leon nods and puts the tip of his pen down on paper again.
“…so, want to go to the place I told you about last time? The one with really good potatoes?”
“Sure,” Leon smiles and Kyle relaxes at last.
One happily tipsy Kyle and a sadly responsible sober Benedict later, Leon manages to wave the two on their way to the post station goodbye and, after a brief stop at his current inn of choice, hurries home.
Well, it is not home, exactly.
Putting aside Leon's work, which does not allow him much luxury to settle down so rented beds are what he sees most often - it is too big and expensive, not quite lived in and seldom offering roof to a person.
But Leon has a key, and Dietfried is the one inside now, and to make it a home, that is enough.
The lights on the ground floor are off. He does not bother knocking. The door closes quietly and Leon's shoes find their place beside Dietfried's boots.
He heads upstairs.
No lights there, either.
The only sliver of brightness comes from beneath the bathroom door. Leon knocks.
"Dietfried?"
After a moment of silence comes answer.
"Leon?"
"Yes. Can I come in?"
Something shuffles around.
"Of course."
Leon does.
He finds Dietfried soaking in the bathtub, all hidden by foam and his loose hair halfway wet. Leon pulls a wooden stool for himself near the edge, but does not sit before briefly finding Dietfried's lips with his own.
"Are you joining me?"
"I showered at the inn," Leon shakes his head as he settles on the stool. Dietfried's hair is just within his reach, so he pushes his sleeves up and reaches for the soap.
Some new mix of spices, this time. Complimenting bathing oils, and easier to bubble up than the last one. Leon finds himself not minding that as he rubs it over his hands and makes an offering gesture for Dietfried to move towards him.
"You'll get wet," the man comments quietly, yet leans closer nonetheless.
"It's alright, I'll borrow your clothes."
"Ah, yes," Dietfried huffs a weak laugh, "the cottons."
"The cottons," Leon rubs a spot on the back of Dietfried's neck that makes the older one melt into the touch, "are more comfortable than your silks.”
“Albeit not as pleasant to the eye.”
“Most people wear them, and so do you.”
“You make me, too easily.”
“Well, you can’t say it’s better to wrinkle your shirts in bed.”
“Ah, starlight, my shirts.” Dietfried laughs, moving to face Leon fully. Unfairly toned arms bend underneath his head as he leans on the bathtub edge. Bright, worn-out eyes look up at Leon from underneath long wet lashes.
He’s breathtaking.
So Leon’s mind thinks in silence, now and each time Dietfried places himself so, aware of his effortless handsomeness, used to it for so long he cares not to spend time thinking about it. The look in his eyes a little daring, if not dangerous, yet one Leon has learned to read better than that.
“I have not always had reasons nor luxury to spend time in there often.”
Leon slowly moves to embrace the other. Water begins soaking into his oh-so-common cotton shirt, and neither minds it. Dietfried’s fingers find the tips of his own, settle there. For a while, nothing but droplets can be heard echoing as soap slowly dissolves and wet skin turns into shivers.
“How long do I have you for?”
“Until morning.”
“Hm, morning? Your friend will worry if you don’t come back.”
“I told Kyle you wanted to discuss things.”
That makes Dietfried look up. Leon does not lie.
“What made you say that?”
“You wanted to ask me so.”
I did. I did, and I haven’t, and you still know.
Dietfried says nothing.
“What ruined your mood?”
A broken sound escapes the older as he takes hold of Leon’s face.
“Why do you know?”
“You left your button out of place.”
“Mm, perhaps I was feeling more unruly than usual.”
“You wouldn’t have minded asking me to join you with Kyle there either.”
“It felt unfair, starlight. To take away time from plans with your peers, just for my own needs.”
Leon expression tightens. “You know I wouldn’t think that.”
A moment of silence and a helpless chuckle, before Dietfried answers, “no, you wouldn’t,” and leans into the other’s arms again. “You came here, and now your shirt is all wet.” He feels the material beneath his skin with more sadness in his voice than he wanted to let out.
“I should borrow one of your wools, then,” Leon murmurs and holds him tighter.
“Anything you want.”
“Mm.”
Minutes later, and his lover still has not let him go. It must be unpleasant, feeling his cold skin, and messy hair and the drenched shirt in-between. If not for that, Dietfried wouldn’t have moved.
“I’m alright, Leon. I’ve been having nightmares, that’s all.”
He almost laughs when he feels Leon shift worried against him, so full of love.
“Will you tell me?”
“No, starlight, there’s not need.”
“But…what else can I do?”
“Be,” Dietfried says and stands. He presses a kiss to Leon’s forehead, and a smile to his lips. “Would you wait for me on the balcony?”
“I can wait here.”
“It really is alright, Leon. Go fetch a sweater and give me a moment to make myself presentable. I’ll be right there.”
It takes Dietfried precisely six more kisses to silence Leon’s protests and doubts, despite Leon’s opinion on the number of oils necessary to make a bath still not being as dramatic as his own. It appears to be an opinion that makes Leon crack a smile though, so Dietfried decides he has no reason to change it.
Letting one last laugh fill up that empty space, Leon gives in.
“Not cold, hm?”
A little unwillingly, Leon detaches his eyes from the night sky. “No.”
“Thought so.” Dietfried smiles as he pulls up a blanket nonetheless.
Leon makes no comment on that, but the hand ruffling his hair is not undeserved. He has eyed Dietfried’s clothes with too much amusement. Hah, cotton shirt.
But let’s leave that aside, for soon enough the two are busy arranging cushions on the balcony bench, and themselves around each other.
The latter’s a habit, and done fast.
The former isn’t, because with all his composure Leon has still not developed any immunity to Dietfried’s soft, mildly damp hair. It always smelled nice. Today it reminds him of lilac and musk and he isn’t denied whenever tiptoeing around his lover to reach it and tuck it, brush it, caress it. He has grown taller and it is not that much of an effort anymore, but out of habit and self-indulgence, Dietfried likes to keep Leon steady by his waist regardless.
He fits there with ease.
Even as they laze on the bench, even as Leon’s back finds its place against Dietfried’s chest, it is always where his arms end up. Close around him, selfishly keeping him to himself, one last unsullied soul willing to let him in, in all of his ugliness and wrongdoings - and few good deeds that Leon likes to remind him of.
By no means does he not have better days, when the bad is not as bad as today, and the good comes to his mind sooner; he does. But on terrible ones, when he is lucky enough to spend them like this, a hand warmer than his will cover his own and the air will be clearer and his mind quieter and gentler and he will let himself forget for a minute.
He fixes the blanket.
“That sweater is too big for you.”
“It’s comfortable.” Leon’s neck bends when he looks up to meet his eyes. “It looks like it would be too big on you too.”
“Mm, it might.” With the help of a gentle press of a finger to his chin, Leon’s head tilts even more as Dietfried demands a kiss and lingers when he isn’t let go. “You always seem to find those among all that fit me perfectly.”
“I find rare objects for a living,” Leon chuckles and looks up. “Remember any of the constellations?”
“I remember all you’ve told me about.”
“You do?”
Dietfried huffs out a laugh and pulls their hands up to kiss the top of Leon’s, then tucks them back under the warmth of their cover. Had it been lighter outside, he would’ve sworn he could glimpse a light hint of flushing on Leon’s cheek – but all they have are the stars and the moon, so the most he can do is imagine it there.
“I swear I do.”
“Which one is your favourite?”
Dietfried hums and thinks for a second, if only to give himself time to intake the sweetness of excitement in Leon’s voice. “Pleiades.”
“Ah, we’ve seen those. Remember?”
“Quite well.” It’s why I chose them.
“Then…have I told you about Ursa Minor?”
“A…bear?”
“Yes.”
“You haven’t.”
“Want to hear?”
“You know I do, starlight. Although, if you speak of bears, I do have a short story too.”
Leon looks up surprised, and smiling a little. “Why…why would you have a story about bears?”
“Ah, so you do want to hear. Well, it happened years ago. I had just returned home briefly, and…”
Leon looks at Dietfried talking for a moment.
As unfairly charming as before, but now softer around the ages, brighter in his eyes. Warmer around him.
He moves to tuck himself as close as he can, presses his cheek against that cotton shirt Dietfried does not quite love yet, moulds into the embrace and shuts his eyes and listens.
The night is quiet.
Beneath his ear there’s a heartbeat, a rich voice, the tremble of laughter about to happen. It has little to do with libraries or the scratching of pens against paper or books placed on shelves. It is gentle and loving, and beautiful, and – ah, there it is, Leon, Dietfried says, calling his name.
His favourite sound in the world.