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12:48… The clock reads.
The clinks of porcelain plates and pans were the only thing ensuing inside the quiet yet inviting household as Fulgur patiently, ever so slowly smeared the wet silverware with an almost damp cloth.
It was too quiet. Far too quiet for his liking, ironically enough. Almost deafening, almost terrifying. If this was any day a few good months back, the house would be filled with hearty giggles, high-pitched sounds from god knows what video game, and unnecessarily loud… evidence of their love making.
He smiles. Almost a fateful memory.
Lately, the house has been nothing but cricket noises and blasts of the air conditioner. No more of those warm laughter and games. Instead, it’s cold air and dark seems. They also loved leaving the curtains open before they fall into slumber, always having the presence of the evening sky known.
Now it’s always closed. Never open. Even in broad daylight, and postludes of the sunset.
Like the skies pains Uki when he sees it.
He sets down the last sets of plates inside the cupboard. Fulgur knew to be careful, especially the plates are one of Uki’s favorite designs. He loved collecting decorated tableware. Asymmetrically designed, which Fulgur would rather call ‘designed in an inconvenient way’.
“Shit.” He mutters as the plate almost slipped on his arms. It was funny that it was too evident that he wasn’t the cleaner of the relationship. Uki always insisted to clean, though not every time, but he’s strict with the rule of him cleaning when it comes to the kitchen.
He longs for those days where he could see Uki’s scrunched up face when he sees him ‘ruining’ the kitchen right after he cleaned it.
He misses Uki Violeta.
Speaking of, where is his lover? He knows almost certainly that he is most definitely not asleep by this hour. He climbs as he finished with the house chores, an attempt to reach their bedroom— a sanctuary of sorts. The door was open, a small creak making its way through the doorway. Almost as if his lover wanted him to peak through his nights when he’s not in the same room as him.
Fulgur sighs as he makes his way through. He makes sure it was loud enough for Uki to hear, yet not too disturbing.
And there, Uki laid. Back against him and covered in layers of duvets and blankets. The cold and distant energy he was conveying was enough to make him shiver on his stand, but he persists. If this were to go on, Fulgur would go insane.
He was patient, he IS patient. But the unawareness and distance are going to kill him anytime soon.
He deserves a word, right?
He just wants to know. He just wants to know what is going on inside the head of Uki Violeta.
What’s troubling his now distant lover?
Has the world been unkind to this pure soul again?
“Uki, I know you’re awake.” Fulgur just hoped he wouldn’t regret his decision as the mattress dipped and he sits on the cold crevices of the duvets.
Uki doesn’t stir. Conscious but tired. He waits for Fulgur’s next sentences, burying himself a little more on the thick blankets.
“Talk to me, love. I just want answers.” Uki closes his eyes. Oh... His voice was so—gentle. Saccharine. Almost cotton-like as if Uki will break in an octave higher.
And he probably will.
Still, Uki pretended to sleep. He knows Fulgur knew him enough to tell he wasn’t, still it was worth a shot. He could pretend to be sleeping for hours on end to avoid having this conversation. Everything but this conversation.
But…
“Uki, darling, please. The house is so quiet without you. Talk to me, Uki..” Almost a cry. Almost a hidden plea.
Oh.
Oh... His voice was so… fucking vulnerable.
So hurt. So despaired. Like the past few days have been crumbling up to him like an overflowing dam of water.
Uki nearly tears up, but the ducts in his eyes were dry, no more water to be seen. Or there wasn’t anymore left to begin with.
But, oh. His heart was crying. Desperately. Phantomlike. Deep inside, he was sharing the despair with his beloved, who he could feel was shaking on the coldness of their mattress. Alone. Vulnerable.
He wonders—
When did it even start?… When did the warm nights lost its presence?
When did the grief start engulfing Uki to his core?
When did the silence even start?
When did the love—
Uki’s eyes widened with the thought.
No. It couldn’t be. He loves Fulgur with every fiber of his being.
He loves Fulgur despite the distant times. He loves him despite the grief, despite the dull mornings, the quiet evenings, and the somber dinners at their table and sofa.
He was just lost in the midst of it all… The feelings of being unsuitable… and flawed. The fear of being left behind. The constant terror of the time Fulgur will look at him the way Uki sees himself in the mirror, the broken mirror he sees every brink of dawn. The only times he will open the curtains a little, and glimpse at himself in the mirror.
And God he hates it.
He hates the way the constellations shine before him in such a dull way. Like suddenly, he wasn’t colored anymore. A blank canvas that couldn’t be painted. A mannequin that can’t be dressed.
He hates it.
Even the stars undresses his facade.
Even the moon reflects his sorrows.
It was almost funny. Almost disgustingly coincidental.
Still,
Uki loves Fulgur. His Fuu-fuu chan.
But sometimes… the grief is far too much.
And so, he turns, an attempt to confront. An attempt to reason. He turns and lets the layers of cover drop beneath him. Lets the cold attack them both.
And, oh.
There goes the tears. There were still tears.
“Fulgur…”
He almost heard his heart plummet. He curses the world at seeing—
Fulgur Ovid at his clear vulnerability.
Crying, no— sobbing. Eyes pleading for anything present. Hands gripping for the remnants of their love.
His body was shaking through its stance, his head down like he was ashamed of it. Like it was going to ruin them more.
Uki breaks. Breaks further.
The tears once filtering his eyes, finally streamed down and he realized how much he needed this. How much he needed the cry. How much he needed to see and speak to his lover again. How much he wants to complain like a pained child. How much he needed to break down the barrier of silence between them.
Only through tears was he able to realize it.
How on Earth could he have neglected this man’s love? How did he leave Fulgur broken like this?
His Fuu-fuu chan. Out of all people.
God, he never cried. Never ever. Not even through the toughest seasons. The tears he’s showing this evening is a proof of how much he’s been good, so much without return. He’s been patient, like time was nothing at all. A proof of his love and devotion.
A proof of how much Uki failed at loving.
The violet beauty's hands were shaking, cold, and terrified of what’s about to come next as he takes his time reaching out to the man in front of him. He was ready to get pushed away. Ready to get lashed out on. Ready to fall towards his lover’s silence.
But, oh was he mistaken.
How does Fulgur Ovid love?
He loves through the pain, pushes through silence, adores your worst and despicable seconds.
He’s faithful amidst a thousand crowds.
He’s quiet when you shatter and lets your broken heart scatter.
He loves you through the grief, the sorrows, the never ending silence, and the lonely nights.
Fulgur Ovid is the embodiment of love and devotion.
So, when Uki reaches out, he didn’t even need to let his hands touch his shaken figure.
Instead, Fulgur moves.
Reaches.
Embraces.
Cries.
And loves.
He embraces the crying beauty like his love depended on it. Like the world will crumble apart when loosened. Like Uki will cease if left otherwise.
The darkness was a witness to their crying figures. A testimony of their two despaired hearts.
“I’m so fucking sorry.” Uki was left nothing but to sob. “I love— you so much. I’m just so… so scared. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m such a mess.” He cries. He's broken because he loves him so. Far too much.
Huffs. “I’m so—sorry” Uki showers the love he failed to show through his grip—phantom like on the other’s back.
How does he explain without breaking the cyborg further?
“Just talk to me, Uki. Let it out. You don’t have to be scared with me, dear. It’s just me.” He doesn’t understand one bit. It’s because it’s ‘him’, that’s why he can’t ever say it.
Because how does he explain the grief he feels when all he’s been receiving is the purest form of adoration?
He was undeserving of Fulgur’s love.
Grief is undeserving of Uki’s soul.
How cruel that it had to be both.
“It’s so unfair.” He murmurs like a child in pain.
“The world is so unfair, it hurts.”
Fulgur stirs. His arms tightens, almost grounding himself and losing his already ruined composure. All in between.
“It isn’t unfair, dear.”
Only people and feelings are. Yes, Uki knows. It was Fulgur’s mantra. But what else can he blame?…
He just wanted to know why it seems like nothing could quench his pained soul.
Not even the most clear, most still— not even the love that poets express— not even the love that painters can portray— not even the love he receives.
Not even the love Fulgur Ovid offers.
Oh, Uki was devastated. Is and was.
Why is love never enough to save him? Why… when he’s receiving the purest love from his lover. His person. His heart.
It’s simply unfair that the love he longed to have is still— still not enough to save him and his aching soul.
The red figure closes his eyes. His tears stops. His heart patters. He knows. He understands. He realizes it now.
He realizes it by the hesitance of Uki’s body as he pulls away. Stuck unto him like he would simply fade if he releases.
By the way he only ever lets go… when he meets his stricken eyes, and quickly averts off, like he never wanted to see him once more.
Never again to be met through those starry sights.
He knows by the realization that he didn’t know what Uki’s eyes looked like anymore. He doesn’t memorize the clusters sparkling in his eyes. He’s nearly forgotten.
Because he doesn’t see them anymore. Uki does not let him see it anymore.
He realizes it now.
Why the curtains are always closed.
Because the stars he used to marvel on, doesn’t shine on him anymore. Does the night sky pain you, dear? Almost as if it was a painful nostalgia.
He realizes it now.
Why he grew accustomed to silence.
Because today, the grief clings on Uki a little closer. A little harder. A little stronger for Fulgur to erase.
A little more stubborn for his lover to tame.
Nights like this when Fulgur’s touch couldn’t suffice. Soft kisses couldn’t be felt. And mellow hums couldn’t be heard.
Nights when even the stars couldn’t rescue a pained soul.
Nights when the weight of the world’s burdens are Uki’s to carry. A world devoid of kindness.
But… It is evenings like this,
Is when love is proven to hold and to cherish.
Because Fulgur knew, he realized long ago, that love isn’t a refuge. It’s not a shield from pain, but an ace among cards. If only he knew a little earlier...
Love is not a personified savior. It does not save. It does not purify.
Instead, it cushions your descent. It holds your head as you fall. It embraces you as you plummet.
So when Fulgur’s love does not suffice,
He knows that all Uki really needs is for him to remain. Hug him through the fall of pain and distract him from the crash land.
For Fulgur can not save him. But he can stay. Eternally, unconditionally.
And that’s simply how Fulgur Ovid loves.
He stays even when he should leave.
And he shows it through the way he kisses Uki’s tears—undeserving and relentless away.
Mark the insecurities apart
Illuminate what once was a bright star and color what has already faded.
Disperse some of the grief...
And love the pain away.