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After yet another experiment involving him, he and Albedo stopped at the latter’s camp to rest and warm up. The alchemist almost immediately began to describe everything he had observed on his tablet, and Aether plopped down on the first chair he could grab.
The lab was quiet except for the frosty wind howling outside and the rustle of the paper Albedo was using. Aether soon got bored and began… well, thinking, for the lack of some other things to do. He couldn't bring himself to distract Albedo with pointless conversations. There was nothing to look at here, except for the man himself. Albedo was too absorbed in his current research and didn’t pay any attention to his surroundings, and therefore Aether could look at him. Just a little.
At first, he just watched him work. Albedo frowned a bit, then paused, crossing something out, and continued to write. Then, Aether examined his appearance — it's not like he was doing it for the first time, but still — letting his tired mind wander. Unexpectedly for him, it decided to choose not the most pleasant path today. Looking at him, Aether suddenly got reminded of other people — people he had once loved, and still did. The longing for things long gone sometimes took over, and Aether succumbed. He always did, the weight of this burden becoming unbearable over thousands of years.
Albedo's unkempt hair was just like hers, even the color was almost the same — albeit a bit lighter. She was never too fond of spending too much time on taking care of it, considering it a waste of time — no wonder, since she was almost always busy. Aether hated to see her completely lose track of time, forget about herself, so he took care of her himself when she had a moment to spare. He washed her hair, combed it, and then braided it. She accepted it with her usual stubbornness, but he saw that she liked it — and took a slight pinkish blush on her cheeks as his little reward.
Oh, how his fingers itched to touch it again. How many worlds ago was that? Seven?
Albedo lightly tapped the tip of the quill on his lips, humming, deep in thought. Aether shifted his gaze to his mouth.
He couldn't deny that Albedo’s voice was… sweet. Lingering, ever-refreshing. Soothing. Aether could listen to it forever. It had been a long time since he had met a person with such a voice. One of his lovers was very fond of singing and would often sing to him when they and Aether were alone: in their bedroom, behind the stage or in their favorite greenhouse. Sometimes he fell asleep on their lap. They woke him up some time later with a smug grin, calling him a sleepyhead, acting as if they didn't sit still for an hour just to not wake him up.
They also tried to teach him to sing, but it didn't work out. He was too embarrassed, thus the results were far from impressive. However, they weren't upset, accustomed to being in the spotlight — just confidently told him that they would sing for two.
Albedo didn't look like someone who enjoyed singing. Still, listening to him talk was pleasant enough.
Having decided something, Albedo continued writing his report. Aether only now noticed that the alchemist was writing with his left hand.
It reminded him of yet another person. He had slender fingers, delicate hands and was left-handed as well. If Aether remembered correctly — and he’d hate himself if he forgot — he almost always wore a silver ring on his index finger. The man loved jewelry, and Aether gave him every precious thing that reminded him of him during their travels with Lumine. His heart always fluttered when he saw that he was wearing some of it, and Lumine teased him endlessly for being flustered over such a small thing.
His hands were smaller than Aether's, always fitting perfectly into his. He kissed them, stroked them, let them explore his own body — and they were always careful, gentle.
Aether was certain that Albedo's were the same under these gloves. Flawless, well-groomed.
…Not to say that Albedo was not unique, of course. Quite the opposite. Aether was rather curious about the star on his neck. Was it a scar? A birthmark? A tattoo? Was it a common trait for people of this world if he didn't bother to hide it under his clothes?
And his eyes, too. Aether had never seen anything like it. Charming tourmaline color with a pinch of coolness that Albedo admired so much; light spots on the iris, which somehow reminded him of the pattern on the alchemical table. Piercing, but also surprisingly soft. Shining like the moon reflected in a bottomless clear pond, like snow on which the rays of the early sun fall and—
—Albedo was looking at him. How long ago did he start looking at him?
“Aether?” he called. Calm, considerate. “Is something wrong?”
Aether blinked, feeling sudden heat crawl into his cheeks. He really shouldn't have been staring.
“It’s nothing,” he said, waving him off. “Just ignore me.”
Albedo watched him for a couple more seconds, as if searching for something. Aether gave him one of his warm smiles, holding his glance without turning away. Even if the alchemist suspected something, he kept it to himself. Sighing, he returned to work, and only after that Aether allowed himself to relax again, the smile slowly dropping from his face.
He was a bit too familiar with this rapid heartbeat and fluttering in his chest. The willingness to agree to any experiment, to any errand, just to get to know this enigma better... Oh, stars, Aether knew he was falling in love again, but couldn’t do anything about it.
His only relief was that Albedo didn't look like the type who was interested in dating.
Maybe his unfortunate crush will soon pass.