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Golden rays of light shine brilliantly through the floor length windows that line the wall of William Vangeance’s simple office. The light reflects off small bits of dust floating listlessly in the air, making the room sparkle with a quiet radiance. The setting sun is beginning to dip low against the tree line, casting the world in long shadows and high contrast. Outside, crickets are beginning to chirp and frogs are beginning to croak, the sounds of the evening awakening with the fall of the sun.
William sits elegantly perched on the edge of a simple couch leaned back with a book held in front of him. He’s been partial to reading lately. After everything that has happened in the past few weeks, he has begun to appreciate the small quiet moments of rest he can get before he’s thrown back into the fray; the times where he can appreciate his new found solitude. He tries not to linger too much on thoughts of why his world is now so quiet. If he did, the loneliness would start to creep back in and his thoughts might wander to dark places…No. It is best to keep his mind occupied and focus only on the positive, appreciate the time for introspection, and not linger too much on the details.
There is the muted sound of soft footsteps approaching his door and the subject of said thoughts is quietly twisting the knob of his office door, slipping inside wordlessly and shutting the door gently behind himself. William lets his eyes dart up from his book to watch the blonde elf, who doesn’t acknowledge his presence aside from a moment of brief eye contact. He watches silently, lilac eyes following the elf’s languid movements, as he walks slowly to stand at the window, peering regally out over the grounds with a look of haughty indifference. He watches the golden silhouette at the window, marveling at the way the light softens the delicate features of his face, bathing his pale skin in the warm light. The sunset lighting brushes through the loose strands of long straight hair that fall smoothly down his back like silk, illuminating them like they’re lit from within. Even his usually cold eyes seem softer in the glow of the sun’s rays. Patri is undoubtedly a beautiful creature and William still finds himself staring in awe and sometimes envy, in small moments like these, when no one is watching and it’s just the two of them.
William forces his eyes away from the dazzling creature in front of him and returns to his book, not wanting to be caught staring. Patri frequently visits his office at all hours of the day. He doesn’t always say something when he comes in, nor does he necessarily want anything from him. William understands him well enough that speaking isn’t necessary. Although the elf would probably insist he is simply checking on him, lowly fragile human that he is, William knows he’s truly seeking companionship. It went unspoken between them that, despite the joy of being independent of each other at last, there is a certain loneliness that comes with no longer being bound to one another.
William returns to his reading, Patri’s calm presence and the warmth from the slowly fading sunlight lulling him into comfortable silence. William isn’t sure how much time passes before he hears the quiet rustle of the pale cloak and leather soled shoes padding closer to him. He doesn’t look up from the pages in front of him but watches carefully from the corner of his eyes as Patri meanders closer to him, like a cautious cat. The elf moves to sit on the floor beside William, leaning his back against the couch and resting his head against the other man’s knee. He winds his arm lightly around his leg and lets his fingers curl loosely over the other man’s booted ankle. William reaches his hand out to settle atop the silken strands of silvery hair, winding his fingers absently through it, a slight smile tugging fondly at the corner of his mouth.
“Won’t you sit beside me?”
“I am beside you, William.”
“You know what I meant.”
“I’m perfectly fine right here.”
His tone is even and measured, but William can sense the hint of discontent that colors it: a passive sort of displeasure that leaves him wondering what he is thinking. William chooses to ignore it and continue his reading, winding and unwinding his fingers continuously through the elf’s fine silvery hair. It isn’t until he hears the elf give a small sound of discontent, hardly a breath, something that sounds mildly like irritation, that he finally breaks the silence.
“Is there something I can do for you, Patri?”
His golden eyes flicked up, his posture stiffening ever so slightly. He hesitates before speaking.
“…Must I have a specific reason for coming to see my dear friend?” His voice sounds innocent enough, but William knows there is something dissident there, something slightly off in the way he speaks. He sets his book down in his lap and looks down, meeting Patri’s mismatched golden gaze. Patri has turned to look directly up at him, golden eyes peering up from beneath long silvery lashes, expression carefully blank and guarded. William lets his fingers slide down the side of his head, gliding gently through his soft hair to cup gently around his jaw.
“Tell me what troubles you.” Patri’s eyes flick away for the briefest of moments, a tell that he’s not completely certain about what he’s about to say. William waits patiently. If he doesn’t want to tell him what’s bothering him he won’t. Patri can’t be forced to do anything he doesn’t want to.
He doesn’t seem particularly willing to talk so William doesn’t push him. Instead, He simply traces the planes of his face, fingers skimming over the scarlet lines curving around his temple, across elegant cheekbones, down over the sharp contours of his jaw and the slender column of his throat. He’d never imagined that Patri would ever be there, right in front of him, a real person he could see and touch and hold. Being able to see him still feels like a dream. He appeared as a golden visage, a vision of strength and beauty and power. Even after all that has happened, he is so strong, with unshakeable willpower and determination, an unbreakable spirit with so much life and conviction. Always so confident and sure of himself in a way William never has been.
He traces his fingers down to smooth over the crease of worry that has appeared on his brow, smoothing his expression back into something neutral.
“William?” Patri’s voice is low and quiet, barely above a whisper as he looks up at the knight, golden eyes scanning his face, trying to read his intentions. It frustrates him how difficult it now is to read exactly what William is thinking without being privy to his every thought anymore. He wants to demand that he speak his thoughts aloud, that he speak words of comfort and reassurance instead of staring at him with that same agonizingly blank expression.
Patri rises carefully from the floor, golden eyes never leaving the other man’s face until he’s standing over him. He moves forward slowly to stand in the space between his knees until his own legs hit the edge of the couch. William sets his book beside him, letting the pages flip shut with a gentle flutter, looking up at the golden elf with rapt attention.
Patri’s expression is strange: a mixture of quiet longing, pleading, curiosity, anger, fear, frustration, but most of all pain. Feelings he usually keeps carefully buried beneath a facade of cool indifference. He’s taken aback by just how vulnerable he suddenly looks. William wishes desperately that he could take away that pain. He’s hauntingly beautiful, framed in the golden light from the setting sun pouring in through the picture windows, that sorrowful gaze cutting through him sharply like a knife, making his heart falter.
Patri leans his knee against the edge of the couch between his legs, eyes still locked on Williams face, expression still filled with concern as he rests his hands on either side of his head, caging the knight between them without touching him. He hovers over him for a long moment, silvery hair spilling over his shoulders as he leans down. Neither speaks, too entranced by the other. William is not exactly sure what the elf wants, but his heart flutters with inexplicable joy at the closeness, like it craves the missing piece of soul that no longer resides in it, and rejoices in the very suggestion of its return.
Patri leans in closer, eyes half lidded until their breath mingles together as one. He can feel the comforting warmth of William’s body, only a hair’s width from actually touching and it fills him with a strange wave of loneliness. He’s searching for something. Something he is missing. Some form of closeness, something to fill the void of emptiness he now feels without William’s steady presence there in his mind to reassure him. He wants that connection again, the deep understanding and acceptance from within that had given him such confidence and certainty before their separation. All he can think is to press closer until it can feel like they are one again. He let his lips sink slowly against the humans, moving softly, and carefully.
William’s eyes flutter closed and he’s careful to hold perfectly still, for fear of startling away the elf, despite wanting desperately to wrap his arms around him and pull him closer. He wants to be able to give him the comfort he so clearly craves, to take away the pain that’s clearly eating away at him.
Patri can feel himself growing more frustrated. He wants the pain to stop. He can taste the faint sweetness of skin against his tongue as he tries to get closer, closer, closer… The anger and the loneliness and the deep shame are overwhelming and the harder he presses the sharper those feelings come into contrast. He wants desperately to soothe the swell of emotion, to be lost in the sense of safety and security that William has always unconsciously provided for him. To be one again.
But there’s nothing soothing, no comfort to be found, just a sharp ache that spreads through his body. He pulls away and the loss of the warmth makes the ache hurt worse and he’s not sure if the closeness has made it better or worse than before. Guilt gnaws at him and he knows he doesn’t deserve to feel anything at all. He can feel the weight of William’s stare, sense the unspoken question between them: why? He doesn’t know why. He knows it doesn’t really make sense, doesn’t have the words to explain…
“Sorry.” He mutters quietly but he doesn’t move away, golden eyes still drawn down to scan the knight’s face.
Words aren’t necessary. William understands. He can’t help the way a kiss makes his heart soar with affection but he knows that’s not what its born of. It isn’t an expression of love or a declaration of hidden feelings, much as he may wish it were. It’s a deep longing for closeness, understanding, something that has been lost between them now that they’ve been separated from one another.
Patri makes a frustrated sound, and William’s heart aches for him. He wants desperately to be the answer to this problem, wishes he could be enough for him, that he could kiss away the pain and suffering, and anxiety. To be enough to make him happy. But that’s a fantasy and he knows it, knows better than most. Patri has never truly been happy, not in any of his lives, and that’s something that’s going to have to come from within himself. Its not something that’s up to William to decide.
“I can’t fix it for you. I wish I could.”
“I know.” Is all he says as he pulls away, that sorrowful expression returning to his features as he straightens, brow creasing with worry again. He doesn’t look at William, staring blankly at the wall instead, gold eyes unfocused, lost in thought.
Patri is a complicated person. He’s driven by emotion and when he doesn’t understand what he’s feeling it makes him frustrated, fueling a cycle of rash decisions that only muddle his thoughts further. William knows this. So, he’s not entirely surprised when Patri suddenly reaches forward and grabs a fistful of his cloak at the base of his throat and jerks him forward off the couch to stand directly in front of him. He doesn’t loosen his grip, using the other hand to lock behind the captain’s head and seal their mouths together more forcefully than before. His grip is crushingly tight to the point of pain. His mouth is hot and wet and the feeling of his tongue lashing out against his own is so good, he doesn’t want it to stop. Patri’s pressed his body as close as he can get, like if he just presses hard enough they might blend together into one again. William is so lost in how good it feels to be so close again that he forgets himself for a minute. Forgets that this isn’t love. It’s not something to rejoice about. It’s an expression of pain. A pain no one else in the world could possibly understand.
He remembers and puts his hands against Patri’s chest, forcing them to separate, stopping him from moving towards him again, from doing something he knows he’s going to regret later. He doesn’t need more guilt weighing on him than he already has.
Patri’s expression is wide eyed, almost manic, anger bubbling to the surface, as he pants for air.
“This is what you want isn’t it?” His voice is harsh, filled with anger and accusation. William shakes his head and tries to steady his own breath. He’s familiar with Patri’s anger. He knows how to deal with it.
“It’s not about what I want.”
“Isn’t it?” His tone is sharp, wanting to lash out, to cut.
“What is it that you want, Patri?”
“What I want doesn’t matter.” He can’t keep the tinge of bitterness from lacing into his voice.
“It matters to me.”
“It shouldn’t. I’m supposed to atone.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to give up everything to other people’s whims and desires. It’s ok to still want things for yourself, to want to be happy.”
“You’re not ‘other people’. I don’t care about ‘other people’.” He growls out between his teeth which are barred like a wild animal.
“Oh. I see. That’s what this is about.”
Patri stares at him warily, expression wavering between defensive and curious.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice is cold, eyes narrowed, and lip curled. Defensive it is.
William doesn’t respond, only straightens his clothing and walks back to his place on the couch. He’s infuriatingly calm and relaxed. He looks so collected and composed while Patri feels exposed, unhinged, like he’s unraveling. It makes him mad, like no one else should get to feel so calm and content when he feels so wildly out of control.
William pats the spot next to him and smiles gently.
“Sit beside me.”
Patri looks like he wants to refuse. He wants to argue more, to yell and stamp his foot until he gets what he wants. He’s thinking about arguing until William beckons again. “Come. Sit.” He bristles at the command but complies, moving to sit stiffly beside him. He’s careful to leave a generous distance between them and William can’t help but chuckle softly to himself. “Now, tell me what you’re thinking.”
Patri slouches against the back of the couch, eyes staring stubbornly straight ahead, expression blank and guarded again but for the slight grinding of his teeth. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, fingers twisting into the fabric of his cloak. He’s being stubborn and petulant like a surly child. Even still, William adores him all the same, wants to help him however he can. “You know that I won’t judge you. There’s nothing you can say that will make me upset with you.”
“I hate them.” He finally says. William doesn’t need to ask who.
“I don’t know how to let it go. I can say that I regret what I’ve done, that I understand it wasn’t their fault, but it doesn’t change anything. I still hate them…”
William watches him quietly.
“Why does that upset you so much?”
“Because I shouldn’t feel that way!”
“How should you feel?“
“I should feel guilty or sad or grateful or regretful or something! I should grovel on my knees and beg for their forgiveness!
He can think of a thousand things to say to him, things he thinks might make it better, but that’s not what he needs right now.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re not the one who should be sorry. I’m the one who should be sorry, who shouldn’t be forgiven. I don’t deserve it after everything I’ve done.”
“Well, that’s the thing about forgiveness. It isn’t about whether you deserve it or not.”
“I guess.” He’s still not certain but the anger is starting to dissolve, a wave of tiredness following in its wake. He lowers himself down onto his side, letting his head rest in the captain’s lap. William returns to stroking his hair absently and watches the sun set through the window. They remain like that, in quiet silence until the sun has sunk far beneath the horizon and the room is bathed in darkness.
“Your question, from earlier… about what I want.” Patri’s voice is quiet in the empty room. “I think I’m content to just stay by your side. Whatever that may mean.”