Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

What was the word…

It had been a very odd, confusing day for Christian. He was sure he’d been ready to talk to Roxanne, certain that their love for one another would make speaking with her the easiest thing in the world now that he had learned, with the help of Cyrano, how to say the right words. After all of the coaching the... unique man had given him, he felt confident that he could come up with words of his own that would be worthy of a woman like Roxanne.

Unfortunately, the moment he locked eyes with her in the midst of the strange group of women, her small white hands clutching the paper she’d been reading from to her lips, his mind went blank. Utterly.

His first conversation with the woman he was in love with was nothing short of a disaster. After taking him to a VERY high place so that they could be alone together, Roxanne had asked him if he was nervous, using a word that he didn’t know. When he’d answer that he was afraid of heights, she had laughed. It was a wonderful sound, full of joy, pure, tinkling around him. It made his heart soar, but he could not fathom what he had said to cause it, or how to do so again.

The silence that settled around them as he tried to think of something else to say had been… heavy. Mind racing, Christian grasped wildly at the words Cyrano had taught him, all the things he had learned from the small man, but nothing came. It didn’t help that he was distracted; as he stood closer to the object of his affection than he ever had before, her beauty filled him up. Her fiery hair lying softly against her rosy cheek. The brightness in her eyes. The way her teeth worried at her pink lips. The curve of her body, the way her dress moved with her. On the rail next to his own hand was hers. Inches away. All he had to do was move his fingers a short way and he’d be touching her, for the first time.

Before he could make that move, however, she’d demanded the dreaded words, and dear God did he flounder. Out of his mouth spewed nonsense, silliness, and before he knew it she was gone, her voice echoing throughout the room and rising to the ceiling as she demanded more than he now realized he was capable of giving.

Though unwelcome, if Cyrano hadn’t been there Christian wouldn’t have known what to do. As it was, the two men had gone flying through the streets, Christian trailing behind as the other man grumbled in frustration, determined to fix the carefully crafted romance that the younger man had almost toppled.

Now, the two men stood in the shadows behind a low wall, Roxanne a vision on the balcony above, and Cyrano had taken over. Christian, hiding so near to Cyrano, the man he considered to be his best friend, listening as his words went floating up through the warm night air, was once again at a loss.

What was the word… he KNEW there was a word for what he was feeling.

He had liked the dwarf almost immediately. As far as Christian had gleaned, Cyrano was beloved by many and well respected, and it didn't take long for him to see why. He was witty, far more so than most, and though he was perhaps an irritable sort he was exceedingly kind to those who meant no wrong. The charm he carried was undeniable, and though his reach was short Christian understood that his skill with a sword was unmatched.

In the weeks since their agreement had been struck the two men were together every moment they could both spare, hours upon hours, Cyrano pouring all he knew of the language of romance into Christian as his pen flitted across paper after paper, passing to the younger man each letter he composed. They often went well into the night, and when their minds finally grew exhausted from poetry and verse and professions of love, their talks would turn to other things. Yes indeed, Christian had grown to like him very much. But now...

Staring at the man with whom he stood in the dark, Christian felt... Listening to the most beautiful words he had ever heard in this life, he felt... Heart pounding in his chest as a shiver shook through him, he felt… what. What?! What was the word…

... an urge.

Chapter Text

But an urge… to what?

What was the WORD?!

Christian wished, now more than ever, his father had allowed him to spend more time with his mother and sisters. They had all been so clever, spending time writing and reading, laughing in the small library of his childhood home. Alas, no. Father had found more “useful” employment for his only son, and Christian had not failed him. He was skilled with a sword, could hold his own in a fight, was brave and strong and… and…

Stupid.

Leaning against the stone wall, silent in the dark as he listened to his friend weave together words like they were silken threads, Christian felt stupid.

“The way I feel is like… falling stars,” sang the small man, “Diving into cold ocean waves…”

Christian couldn’t keep his eyes off of him, knowing he himself could never speak in such a manner. His words were simple, to the point, artless and depthless. No matter how he might attempt it, the things Christian felt, the emotions he wanted to set free, were locked away by his inability to speak their truth. So often in the midst of conversation, no matter who with though especially women and especially Roxanne, he would become trapped, halted dead with the inability to find the right word.

Well… except for when he was with Cyrano.

Cyrano. He always seemed to know exactly what it was Christian was trying to say, always knew the precise word that the young guard was looking for. Though he sometimes became lost in the dizzying intellect of his friend, each and every conversation he had with Cyrano was wonderful. When they were together, Christian was always hearing something for the first time, some word or phrase or concept he’d never considered before and, no matter how lost Christian was at a moment, Cyrano would look at him with patience and understanding and, eyebrows knitted with humor, explain what it was he had said. And the things he said, the way he said them, his words made Christian feel strange… warm and welcome, nervous but somehow more comfortable than he had ever been. So many evenings spent with the man, talking as candles flickered between them, Christian had heard incredible, lovely words. In all of his life, he had never met a man who was kinder, more clever, braver, or more romantic than Cyrano, and now... Now, in the failing light of the courtyard, Christian could not look away from him.

It was as though it were yesterday that Christian had first seen his dearest friend, the memory was so flawlessly etched in his mind. He had laughed, found him ridiculous, but now… Now...

This urge. This new urge that he felt pulling at him from somewhere below his stomach. As he stared at Cyrano, the dwarf's full lips effortlessly forming the perfect words, Christian's heart raced, his breathing coming quicker, his hands aching...

And, before he realized he was thinking it, before he could consider stopping it from escaping his lips, he breathed-

“Beautiful.”

Chapter Text

“What did you say, Christian?”

Damn

Christian could have kicked himself. Roxanne had heard him, and the look Cyrano was giving him was drenched in confusion, frustration, and bewilderment.

“What are you doing?” Cyrano mouthed at Christian, jaw jutting forward.

Christian could only stare. Beautiful. Though he might not have seen it before, it was true; Cyrano was beautiful. The way his short fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword, how his eyebrow cocked when he said something particularly clever, the sharp angle of his jaw, his… his smile, the wit behind his eyes, the pout of his lips…

The urge... so... beautiful...

The word…

The word he was looking for, he could feel it near. It wasn’t “beautiful,” but he knew it was related, knew he was coming closer to grasping what it was he wanted, needed, to say.

“I… caught a mere glimpse of you and… ” Cyrano called up to the balcony, not taking his eyes off Christian, his expression slowly softening, “I was overtaken by your radiance, all thoughts left my mind.”

"Be quiet.", Cyrano mouthed at Christian. Christian, however, shook his head unblinkingly, determinedly. Without looking away from him, a question dancing in his eyes, Cyrano spoke again, “I… need a moment,” he called up to the woman Christian was supposed to be dreaming of, “I must compose myself. Please, grant me your patience, I must express my heart to you.”

“Of course, sir,” came Roxanne’s voice from above, “But please, whatever you do, stay.”

“There is no wish in my soul to be anywhere else tonight,” Cyrano called up to her. Then he asked, voice hushed so only Christian could hear, “Christian, we - you are so close, what is wrong?"

Inhaling deeply, not considering that Roxanne would see him nor truly thinking of her at all, Christian crossed the archway that separated him from his friend. Cyrano eyes darted around, panicked for a moment at his companion’s sudden seeming lapse in judgement. He hurried to take several steps back to make room enough for them both to remain out of sight.

“Christian, what has come over you?” he asked incredulously, but as he gazed up at Christian any semblance anger left his expression. The anticipation in his eyes left Christian’s mouth dry, but he clenched his fists and swallowed his fear. All this time, chasing down a thing that now felt impossible and small, he had not taken a moment to see the thing that he already had. Though he did not have the words, he needed to try –

“God, what I’d do
To just be able to tell you
What it’s like when you…”

Cyrano’s eyebrows rose as he looked up at him, “Christian…”

Christian took a shaky breath, taking another tentative step towards his friend, further closing the space between them. He sang -

“The words dance away from me
Just beyond my fingertips
It’s something like…”

“Christian, my friend…”

Christian knelt down and grasped Cyrano’s hands, holding his gaze, trying to stifle the quiet desperation that was edging his voice. Cyrano did not pull away, only shifted uncomfortably and seemed to struggle to hold the other man’s gaze. At the end, though, he couldn’t seem to look away as Christian continued –

“I’d give anything for someone to say
All the words I don’t have and I can’t put together
I’d give anything for someone to say for me
All the words in my heart that are true beyond measure"

"I..."

Christian raised his hand, resting it on Cyrano's cheek and pulling the man in closer, their foreheads nearly touching. The smaller man did not protest or resist. Christian could feel tears behind his eyes, but he did not stop; he could feel the word he'd been searching for forming in his mind, singing in his throat -

"Have you ever wanted something
So badly you cannot breathe
Have you ever loved someone
Madly"

Love... Love. Love was the word.

Chapter Text

Cyrano was… at a loss for words.

That was a rarity. As Christian knelt in front of him and held his hands and his gaze, eyes pleading with something Cyrano could hardly fathom, he was speechless. Roxanne was waiting for him, waiting to hear the words that he had only vaguely hoped to say to her. Now that his time had arrived, now that he was finally uttering the secret he had carried in his heart for so long, he couldn’t bring himself to look away and return to his only love.

Speechless.

“I…” he stuttered out, heart quickening, searching Christian’s face for what he didn’t know, “I-”

“Please,” Christian said. His bottom lip was trembling, “I’m… I need to speak.

I held my breath since I saw her,” he sang
I couldn’t look away and I didn’t see
That maybe there could be another
For me

Have you ever wanted something
So badly you cannot breathe
Have you ever loved someone
Madly.”

Cyrano’s world was spinning.

Never in his life had he imagined, dreamed, of something or someone or anything else besides Roxanne. His heart had never strayed from her, her magnificence and wit and charm, her kindness and joy and spirit. It had always been Roxanne. Roxanne and Roxanne and Roxanne, ever since the moment his eyes had met hers.

But now, for the first time, there was something else. Someone else. No one had ever looked at him with… what was it? No one had ever spoken to him with words of… no, it couldn’t be true. There was no hope for another possibility, no dream of someone looking at him with anything close to attraction or desire or… love.

And Christian. As Cyrano looked at him, really took him in, he couldn’t help himself. He was overcome by his perfection. The broadness of his shoulders, the strength in his arms. His smooth, dark skin. His shining, innocent eyes that betrayed his purity and kindness. The fullness of his lips, lips that so often held a hopeful, open, joyous smile. His lips… Cyrano couldn’t look away.
An ache entered his heart, painful and wanting.

And Cyrano, the way he looked next to this tall, strong man, he simply wasn’t…

As these thoughts and feelings twisted and turned in his head, he found his words again;

“You’re giving your love to the wrong one
I don’t know what you see and it can’t be true
That a man like me could deserve someone
Like you”

Cyrano wanted this. He wanted the man kneeling in front of him. For the first time, there was someone in his heart that wasn’t Roxanne, and it felt more possible and real and close than his love for Roxanne ever had.

But it couldn’t be. Christian was good. He was sweet and sincere and pure and beautiful, but so often moments would run away with him and he’d get lost in the romance of the world.

No.

Though she had not known it had been him she had asked, Roxanne had pleaded with Cyrano to stay. He couldn't. Cyrano, without taking his eyes away from the dark eyes that peered to deeply into his own, rested his hand over top of Christian’s, entwined their fingers, and removed it from his cheek. Slowly, his heart bleeding with the effort of leaving the lips that loomed near his untouched, stepped away.

As he fled, quick steps echoing in the darkened streets, he heard behind him a whisper that pierced his heart –

“Have you ever loved someone… madly.”

Chapter Text

It wasn't until Cyrano had shut the door behind him that he knew he had returned to his home. Falling against the door, he placed a hand over his heart. It was racing, aching, pushing against his ribs and ready to burst.

Everything had been going so well...

Roxanne, his dearest Roxanne, was on the verge of happiness and his... friend. Yes, friend. His friend Christian was so close to the goal that they had toiled for together... deep into all those dark nights, small flames sputtering around them, ink spreading over paper in black, wet romance, the light dancing on Christian's warm skin as he -

No.

These thoughts, they... simply could not be. Turning his back to the door, Cyrano let himself slide down, sitting in a defeated heap on the floor with a groan. He felt cold, more alone than he had ever been.

It was all wrong now.

There was no room in his heart, had never been any room, for anything or anyone but Roxanne. It was a fire and passion and want for Roxanne, encapsulated and kept secret and safe by the fact that he would never have her, was not good enough for her. She would never know of it, never peak into his heart. So long as that shield was up, there could be no pain; only longing and adoration and love, all from afar. Now, the armor around his heart had cracked, and somebody else had broken through. Somebody strong and beautiful and sweet and pure. Somebody earnest and hopeful and, in a strange and unfathomable way, clever. Somebody who made him laugh with incredulity and authentic humor. Somebody who made his heart ache to sing and his hands yearn to hold.

Somebody perfect. And all Cyrano was now was somebody desperate. Desperate for somebody he, once again, would never have.

But it didn't matter how much his heart knew the young guard would never be his. His mind was filling with Christian up to the brim, spilling over and drenching his being with desire.

Christian... Christian Christian Christian.

The name pounded in his head, dripping from his lips in song;

"Every evening at the fall of ni-i-iiight
I see you standing against the sun
You look at me with the purest ey-ey-eeeyes
Every evening I am overcome.

Fear and sadness, blinded by madness
Everything's there in your name..."

Christian Christian Christian...

It was perfect. The way the name whispered past his lips each time Cyrano breathed it, sighed, screamed it, chased it as it skipped around his tongue, escaping before he could taste it. Cyrano's fingers traced his lips, wondering what it would feel like to... perhaps... Impossible.

"Christian, what am I supposed to say?
What is what I can give gonna do?
The longer I dream it, plan out and plead for it
The more it's not enough for you...

Christian... Christian... Christain..."

Knock knock knock, "Cyrano?"

Oh God, Christian.

Chapter Text

Cyrano sprang to his feet, clattering through bottles of ink and skidding on paper as he backed quickly away from the door, never taking his eyes off of it.

"Cyrano?" called the quiet, sweet, clearly nervous voice from just outside the door, "Cyrano, it's me, Christian."

Despite the state of himself, Cyrano chuckled. He'd been listening to the voice of this strange young man every night for weeks. So familiar had he become to Cyrano that, despite the barrier between them, he could picture the earnest, hopeful, shy expression furrowing the brow of his dear friend. Of course he knew it was Christian.

So chuckle he did. But he could not bring himself to answer. The silence stretched... and stretched...

"Cyrano," Christian called, more firmly than before, "I followed you here, Cyrano. I know you're in there. I'm... I must see you, I have speak to you."

Cyrano's heart beat with Christian... Christian... Christian..., strong and warm, his breath heavy and hot. His arms ached for the beautiful, tangible, possible thing that sang his name, but his hands trembled. Trembled because it was TOO beautiful, INtangible, IMpossible. He didn't dare call back to his friend. He didn't dare entertain his hopes, his dreams, his desires.

"Cyrano...?" came the soft, pleading voice, "Please... just for a moment."

Cyrano couldn't take it anymore. His eyes burned with the tears hiding behind his eyes. Voice thick, he whispered, "No."

"Cyrano?" Christian said, near frantic at the sound of an answering voice, thumping against to the door.

"No, Christian," he cried.

Pulling his arm up to his face, Cyrano scuttled further from the door. His tears brimmed, then finally fell, staining his sleeves as he stifled any possible sobs.

"Please. We must talk. We must discuss what has... happened. I've tried, but I can't... in my mind, I can't..."

"Unravel," Cyrano offers.

"Yes, Unravel. I can't unravel all my thoughts. Please."

Silence. Followed by Silence.

"Cyrano, you will let me in, and if you don't open this door, I'll find a way to get in there myself."

"Christian... please. You must go back to Roxanne. She loves you. Just go."

"No, I left her Cyrano, I said goodbye. I... I told her the truth, all that we've done."

Ice shot through Cyrano's frame. Roxanne... his dear Roxanne, the occupant of his heart for longer than he could truly comprehend, now knew they had been his letters. His words, his professions of love. His desires and overtures of passion and heat, his need and want for her. Everything was crumbling around him.

"Is she... Christian, have we harmed her?"

"I don't know. She told me to go, and I came here, I followed you. I could never measure up to a woman like Roxanne. I froze in her presence, I... I..."

Christian's voice pittered out, and Cyrano knew. The only reason the tall, beautiful man would look at him would be the loss of his real love. Cyrano couldn't take one more second of the torture his dear friend was unwittingly subjecting him to, the fire he'd lit that he slowly roasted over.

"Go."

"Cyrano-"

"Just go."

Sniffing, Cyrano turned from the door as silence descended, taking deliberate steps to his bed chamber. Before he could take more than two strides, however, a soft, clear voice rang from the other side of the keyhole

"No, Cyrano," Christian sang
I won't let you go
How can you not see?
Let me in, Cyrano
I've nowhere to go
You're all there is to me."

Taking a tentative step towards the man he wanted with all his being, Cyrano answered;

"Oh Christian, I can't let you in
The one you loves not here
She's in a distant land,
Awaiting your hand
On a balcony, true and dear"

Together, though their own voices masked the words they sang to each other;

"Have you ever wanted something
So badly you cannot breathe
Have you every loved someone
Madly"

Cyrano took another step towards his friend... yes, only his friend. As it would always be. He continued, the need to reassure his beloved Christian stinging in his heart;

"It's okay, Christian
I've known what I am
From the second your hands held mine
In the moments since then
I've learned to understand
You and I will never intertwine."

Cyrano's goodbye was edging his lips, but before he could release it Christian sang back to him, his voice tinged with an earnest fervor that Cyrano could not ignore.

"I know Cyrano
I know who you are
I promise, I feel the same
So my friend,
Please let me in
You've set my world aflame"

Cyrano felt numb. The words... it was as though Christian meant them. Christian was not a dishonest man, and though perhaps he was foolish in the purest way, it was not within his capacity to be cruel or false. Weakly, hardly trusting his legs, Cyrano went to the door and undid the blot. Christian heard it and, while Cyrano stepped back to the middle of the room, he opened the door, inch by inch, until he could step in and close it behind him. Cyrano's breath vanished from his lungs. It was as though he were seeing his friend for the first time. Tall and dark, strong and bold, but in his small smile and furrowed, worried brow a sweetness that was unmatched by any man Cyrano had ever know.

"You... love me?"

"Yes," Christian said, exasperation hinting in his voice as tears threatened to fall from his deep, brown eyes.

"But.. How -"

"Cyrano... you... you are," Cyrano raised his hand, about to offer a word, but Christian surged forward and pressed his own hand over Cyrano's mouth, causing the smaller man to gasp as he took hold of Christian's arm to steady himself, "No. I must say this for myself." Taking his hand from his friend's lips, Christian straightened and, closing his eyes with a deep and calming breath, he continued, "You are... like the sun to me... I... you... you are bright, and warm, and so far out of my reach. I want to climb to you, fly to you, feel you. Feel... your warmth, catch myself in your light, breathe in your heat. I want you to burn me and scar me, until I am a cinder... a... a cinder that you can keep with you always..."

For the umpteenth time in that night, Cyrano was speechless. It didn't matter that Christian had said the words haltingly, that the text was amatuer. It was beautiful. No one had ever said such things to him. And the person who had spoken them was gazing down at him tenderly, completely vulnerable and exposed. A clarity came to Cyrano's mind.

"... You love me."

"Yes," Christian breathed, relief exuding from his smile.

"Then you may come in," said Cyrano.

And with that he and Christian rushed into each other's arms. The taller man fell to his knees and Cyrano draped his arms over he broad shoulders while Christian wrapped his around the smaller man's waist. Their eyes met for just a moment, then their lips touched and Cyrano's world was black but for the sparks flying behind his eyes. He was hungry for the man he held, and when Christian didn't hold back neither did he. The slight stubble of his love's cheek matching his own, the supple lips pressing into his, the hands caressing him and moving on him, pulling him in tighter, as if to meld the two men into one.

So this is a kiss.

It seemed to go on forever, but when they pulled away from each other, eyes closed and foreheads pressed together as they both tried to catch their breath, Cyrano knew it could never be long enough. He wanted to die with this man's lips touching his. Just as he began to sing, so did Christian, and they clung to each other all the tighter;

"Have you ever wanted something
So badly you cannot breathe
Have you ever loved someone
Madly"

Chapter Text

My Dearest,

I have sent a holy man to you with a choice. You have declared your love for me and I can no longer wait to enjoy your treasures. I am on my way to you. If you keep the priest there, I will marry you. If you send him away, we shall consummate our love without the bonds of vows. Your choice. Either way, I will possess you tonight.

Roxanne felt weak. Her heart tightened and slowed with fear and dread. Trapped. She was trapped in lovelessness or ruination and, apparently, it was her choice.

Her mind raced. Panic consumed her, clouding her thoughts and executing from her any idea of eluding her fate. Breath quickening, she fell to her knees and tears fell from her lashes.

Then, shining bright in the fog, a name escaped her trembling lips.

"Cyrano."

Chapter Text

Their lips parted.

"How long..." Cyrano stuttered, the man in front of him tying his tongue, "When... When did you -"

"Moments ago," Chrisitan confessed breathlessly, holding his forehead to Cyrano's, "They way you stood in the dark, below the balcony, speaking those words tonight. You were so... so..."

"Say it please," Cyrano whispered.

"Beautiful."

A groan escaped Cyrano's core as he pulled the young man's lips once again to his, crushing them together with fervor.

Beautiful.

"And in mere moments," Cyrano continued, placing his hands on Christians shoulders to hold him back, far enough for Cyrano to pretend to have some semblance of control, some pretense of resisting the blissful kiss, doing his best to clear his head, "You have... run from a beautiful woman and..." he laughed a little, "fallen at the feet of a man you have only ever known as a friend. Is your love so in earnest, so voracious and unquenchable as to shed all veneer of decorum ?"

Looking into the searching, puzzled, and somewhat blank expression of the sweet and eager man kneeling before him, Cyrano laughed huskily.

"Just say yes."

Nodding vigorously, eyes refocusing, Christian exclaimed, "Yes!"

Grinning, Cyrano pulled his dearest friend to his lips once more, but Christian swerved to the side with what Cyrano might dare to describe as a giggle... almost.

"And you?" Cyrano groaned as Christian swerved, dodging Cyrano's lips and diving into his neck, then drawing away to look into the shorter man's eyes, "When did you feel the way you feel for me now for the first time?"

Ah. The way this young man spoke. Clumsy, true, raw, unpracticed. The smile on Cyrano's lips spread like a errant splash of ink on ready paper. He took in Christian's query, considered for a moment...

"You held me once before," he said.

Christian's expression was, for a moment, clouded by a fog of confusion, but soon cleared with a light, blinding and glorious to behold.

"The day we met," he said, a sweet smile stretching his soft cheeks.

"Yes," Cyrano replied, the smile of his friend spreading to his own lips, "You told me that you were sure that we would be the best of friends for the rest of our lives."

"And now we will be, my love."

My love. Cyrano thought his heart might burst.

"Oh my, isn't he romantic," Cyrano laughed derisively, a heat building in him, deep inside.

"Well, I had to learn it eventually," Christian said coyly.

The heat Cyrano felt rose violently, the eyes of the man kneeling in front of him boring into his soul. Their lips crashed together, their hands roaming across muscled backs, drawing each other closer, deeper, further and further -

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

The two men broke apart, Christian staggering to his feet in such haste as to almost throw Cyrano off his balance. Glancing at him in wonder, a small dart of hurt struck Cyrano, not quite piercing his chest but certainly stabbing near. Clarity formed abruptly in Cyrano's mind, a picture forming of the life he and Christian might lead together. Grimacing, excising the thought, Cyrano looked to his door.

"Yes," the small man said, then again, clearing the lust from his voice, "Yes, who is it?"

"Cyrano."

A terrible vice encapsulated Cyrano's heart.

Roxanne.

Roxanne.

Roxanne. Roxanne. Roxanne Roxanne Roxanne.

Cyrano glanced blinkingly to Christian, mouth agape and completely lost. He could think of no word but her name. Her... her beautiful name.

Roxanne...

Cyrano couldn't tear his gaze from the door that masked Roxanne. The girl, the lady, the woman he had loved all his life. In his periphery he had the vague awareness that Christian had somehow disappeared... but...

Roxanne.

"Yes," he replied weakly, fumbling fingers tucking in his shirt.

"May I... may I come in?" came the tentative voice behind the door.

"Yes," Cyrano cleared his still-feeble voice, "Yes!"

Rushing forward, Cyrano opened the door with an almighty lurch, and there she stood. Roxanne and Roxanne and Roxanne, in all the beatific glory he had always known her to possess. Her fiery hair, the pink lips firm and determined, her jaw set, her chin high, her cheeks pale, her nose... red. Her face... stained in tears. Once he had taken in her magnificence, the truth of her reality crashed around him. This woman, this impossible creature that, without touching, he knew every crevice of, carried a burden. He had known her too long, loved her too long and too much, not to recognize the horror withheld so expertly within and so perfectly masked in the societal façade she, for the determent of humanity, wore.

After a breathy moment of hesitation, indecision twitching in her perfect face, Roxanne stepped hurriedly into the room. The splendor that was Roxanne had never been in the space before that Cyrano de Bergerac called his own, and the phantom Marie was nowhere to be seen. Despite the hazy, fiery moments that had just passed so readily through his heart and body in his peaceful sanctuary, Cyrano felt shy.

For a long time, Roxanne stood far from him in his study. Though her back was to him, Cyrano could see that she was taking in all that she saw, her keen mind gleaning more than he could fathom, taking in all the secret things he had always hidden in his personal realm. He watched her, slowly closing behind her the door, shutting she and him away from the world as her eyes took in ink and paper and boot and scabbard and wine and book and book and books and books and ink and paper. Finally, her head whipped around to him and a strained smile split across her face. With a strange, gasping, heaving laugh, Roxanne disregarded the many vacant chairs at her disposal and fell to her knees. Cyrano took a violent, worried step towards her in the case that she needed to be halted from hitting the hard cedar floor, but she landed gracefully in a cloud of white fabric, folding her hands across her lap and bowing her head.

Cyrano had never seen her so defeated. His heart ached, yearning for her to look at him. He waited seconds, then minutes. Finally, just as he began to reach for her, Roxanne looked up, her red eyes meeting his.

"My dearest friend," she said, a tearstained smile upon her face, "I have a confession to make."