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Like a shaving block that almost melted under his feet, apparently the boots he wore were unable to withstand the heat radiating from the man's skin. The snow, now creeping on each strand of its waves, could not rival the whiteness of the young man's hair. The gleam in his eyes revealed a surge of emotions within him, as the two pairs of corneas stared deeply and sharply at his opponent, the silhouette hinting at his intention to express his feelings to the figure before him. Anger, disappointment, regret, suffocation, sorrow, and an indescribable feeling pierced his heart, rebelling within his chest.
The rapier sword, reflecting the constellation of stars in its shadow, Griffith firmly held out towards his opponent, challenging them to a decision that was about to be contested. His gaze remained loyal, observing the individual in front of him, staring at their dark, lustrous mane, captivating handsome visage, and skin tone darker than his own due to mingling under the sunlight. The iris of their eyes also met his own, with an expression that Griffith couldn't decipher.
He releasing a puff of white smoke as its breath, caused by the moderately cold temperature. Seeing the perfect man, his beauty extending from head to toe, it was not fitting for a human of such perfection to hold him here, constantly manipulating him to remain by his side as a stepping stone towards his ambitious desires. Guts didn't understand, nor did he comprehend the thought process of the owner of those blue eyes resembling the color of the sky. If he wasn't a friend, then who was he that Griffith would willingly restrain himself, forsaking his own troops, lowering his dignity to draw his sword against his subordinates in order to intercept his shortcut?
Guts observed the graceful countenance, greatly admiring his leader. However, he didn't want to be under Griffith's command. He wanted to stand on equal footing with Griffith, so that the leader would acknowledge him as a friend, companion, comrade, and brother.
A suffocating feeling gripped his chest once again, accompanied by an intense pain, stifling his breath, as Guts realized that Griffith had no intention of speaking to him. Instead, all he encountered was a gaze filled with resentment. Slowly, Guts came to the realization that Griffith would indeed hate anyone who obstructed his path.
Therefore, if Guts is indeed crucial to Griffith's path towards ambition, it is no wonder that Griffith would despise him.
Within a split second, Guts directed his massive and sturdy sword towards Griffith, accepting the challenge that Griffith had presented moments ago. Understanding that his opponent was not someone to be taken lightly, Guts prepared his defensive and offensive stances for the future.
"Guts,"
Griffith decided to break his silence after a long period of time since Guts declared his intention to leave. The nobleman bit his lip, torn between knowing that there were numerous things he wanted to convey to Guts. However, not even his peach-like lips could utter a single complaint from his mind. The conflict within him continued to simmer, stirring up adrenaline to the point where he wanted to vomit his pancreatic contents.
Griffith took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly while tightening his grip on the rapier. "Three years ago, you still remember, don't you? That we went through such things together. I put this duel on the line so that I can possess you, to the point where even your death belongs to me. Your sword, you can only sacrifice it for me. That was your promise."
Guts didn't respond. Thus, Griffith continued, "But now, you have betrayed that promise. Therefore, what we agreed upon during the fight must be concluded as we have done before. If I manage to defeat you, I will reclaim you, Guts."
The taller figure merely responded with empty silence, carving a painful crescent on his face, reluctantly raising his sword higher, accepting every command from the young man.
As if Griffith had been enchanted, or perhaps it was a fact, when he swung his sword towards Guts, Griffith didn't realize at all that Guts had moved behind him. His footsteps silenced all traces of his presence, his movements leaving no shadow that could be captured by Griffith. Guts had learned every move and mindset of Griffith's fighting style over these three years. The nobleman was superior, a genius fighter. Hence, from him, Griffith's weaknesses became opportunities to achieve victory. The weakness in question was that Griffith always felt superior, failing to observe the abilities of his opponent, despite the fact that every individual's abilities are dynamic.
Griffith didn't have a chance to react as the retaliatory swing of the steel sword effortlessly bypassed him, and in an instant, the young man with white hair's rapier sword snapped. Guts didn't leave a single physical wound on Griffith, yet why could Griffith feel an immense pain in his chest? It was as if his heart unpredictably stopped pumping blood, as if Griffith was merely a lifeless body.
Oh God, this hurts. It hurts.
The elbow joint had gone numb, and Griffith's body collapsed onto the surface of the ground, completely embraced by the snow. He knelt behind Guts, his face wilted, staring emptily towards the ground. The pupils of his gaze trembled as if he could feel the sharpness of the ice crystals repeatedly striking the walls of his chest—pain. His wavy hair served as a veil to conceal the expressions that emerged from his saddened countenance, unwilling to let the dawn sun steal his radiance. The perfect waves of his white mane perfectly hid Griffith's expressions from the universe, including Guts.
Guts' graceful face was adorned by the sunlight belonging to the dawn. He turned his gaze towards Griffith, who now knelt on the ground. Guts placed his steel sword back into its sheath, but his eyes diligently observed the young man's back. He contemplated reaching out with his palm to touch his back but refrained, optimistic that Griffith would undoubtedly despise the defeat that had occurred. But it didn't matter, Guts was confident that Griffith would soon rise again. He was nobody to hinder Griffith's path. Griffith would be fine without him, the Band of the White Falcon would thrive without him. Guts was certain.
“To Griffith, I’m nobody ,” his monologue, as he was keep staring at Griffith’s back. “I will stand by your side, Griffith. No longer under your command. Acknowledge me when that day comes.”
"I'm leaving."
As he heard the footsteps of Guts' departing footsteps, devoured greedily by time, Griffith shook his head, unwilling to let Guts go, unwilling to accept it. Tears could no longer be restrained by his eyelids. Griffith suppressed his sobs due to the tightness in his chest that he couldn't release from his throat, leaving a dry sensation in his pharynx, capable of choking his neck.
There were many words that Griffith wanted to express, declarations and statements. But his ego suppressed his desires, vehemently rejecting those fantasies. It couldn't be denied that Griffith struggled to articulate the contents of his heart into words. Whenever he tried, his tongue felt limp, as if it couldn't be moved again, defying his logical commands.
However, Guts would leave. Guts would leave him behind. Griffith wanted to unleash the act of backfire, betraying himself. Griffith wanted to hear the real reasons, to pour out his heart, to have Guts stay by his side. If the sun was the center of the planets orbiting around it, then Guts was the sun, and Griffith was the planet. He didn't know when this idea had entered his mind, since when Guts had taken control over him?
"Don't,"
Guts' heartbeats tore through his resolve, diverting him from the path he intended to pursue when his ears caught the cry from behind. The distinctiveness of the voice when giving orders for a strategy to unfold according to his logical plan, but this time it was different. Guts did not perceive any implied arrogance in the tone of his voice, but rather tenderness and pleading.
Guts turned towards the source of the voice, finding Griffith dragging his feet to approach him. The muscles in the man's calves were still weak, his gait irregular, and he ended up falling in front of Guts.
Guts widened his eyes as he noticed the shades of red and blue dominating Griffith's cheekbones and several areas of his gorgeous face. The corners of his eyes appeared swollen from tears, and Griffith clutched the collar of his garment, unable to speak due to his sobbing hindering him.
"Griffith—"
"Don't, don't go... don't... Don't, don't, don't. Guts, I... I don't want you to leave. Don't leave me alone, I want you stay by my side.”
Guts planted one of his feet on the ground, staring intensely at Griffith's face, even though Griffith did not return his gaze. "Griffith, you don't need to be like this. You can achieve your dreams without me—"
"I'm even willing to cast aside my ambitions for you, Guts!" Griffith interrupted as he lifted his head to engage in a locked gaze. Griffith continued, "What does it mean if I achieve the ambitions I desire, but when I stand atop my dreams, you're not by my side?"
"I..."
Guts turned his face to evade Griffith's gaze, his blood rushing through every artery, his heart pounding as if a missile struck his chest after hearing Griffith's statement. Wasn't that too much for an ordinary knight like himself?
Then, Guts continued, "I'm not anyone to you, Griffith. I can't possibly be your reason to stop pursuing your ambitions. Someone like me... can only hinder your path."
"No, no. What are you thinking? Is that your reason to leave me?"
"You revealed it by yourself that night, with the Princess. I intended to report about the mission you gave me, but what I heard instead was your declaration. I'm just a burden, insignificant to you. It's the opposite for me."
Griffith's entire body froze upon hearing the explanation of why Guts intended to leave him. Griffith's memories were thrown back to that night, in front of the palace fountain with the Princess, remembering what he confessed to her, unaware that the lie he declared that night was overheard by Guts.
A grave mistake, a fatal error.
"Guts, that night I lied. I didn't want the truth to shatter my determination at that time. You must know, Guts, that you are equal to me. You're no longer beneath me, you're by my side. You're my friend, perhaps even more than that."
Griffith pulled Guts' body into his embrace, tightly and warmly. Griffith conveyed his true feelings through the embrace. He buried his face in the broad and sturdy shoulder of the man, causing Guts to be unable to think about everything that had happened. It could be said that Guts was torn between disbelief and a sense of relief in his mind after hearing Griffith's words.
"I... Equal to you?"
"More than that, Guts. Haven't you ever wondered once in your life? Why do I always help you, defend you against everyone, share my thoughts with you, Guts? Have you ever thought about why I trust you more than anyone else?"
Guts remained silent, barely taking a breath.
"I can't trust anyone else, not even one. Only you know what's in my mind, the person I would help is only you, even though I understand that helping you could sends me to heaven.”
His firmness had been fragile from the beginning, and now all the strength he had put on as a mask in front of the nobleman was shattered. Tears fell like precious gems on the surface, Griffith's statement was something that Guts had needed all this time to answer all the questions that tormented his heart, no longer needing to guess.
Griffith gazed at the face of his beloved, throwing a faint smile to Guts. He brought both of his thumbs to wipe away Guts' tears.
"Guts, you may not be my friend. Your place are in above of that. You are everything to me."
The large palm of the man cupped the jaw of his opponent, pulling his face closer until their noses touched each other. Guts held Griffith's hand, feeling their breaths collide, understanding that Griffith would only leave silence and allow Guts to take the next step, Guts understood that very well.
Guts glided his full lips over Griffith's rosy lips, he was sure that the color of his face had now turned to a shade of orange, as the fire within him tore through his veins. Guts' hand moved to the slender waist of the man, holding him tightly as he tried to deepen their connection. Griffith briefly painted a smile on his charming face, followed by an unwavering desire to prove his expertise in this matter. Griffith responded to the caress as Guts consumed his lips like a drug. Griffith pressed his palm against Guts' nape, teasing his lips with his tongue, before finally savoring the entirety of the object and exploring everything that lay within his mouth.
Guts released their connection as he felt his breath reaching its limit. His breaths were heavy, robbing of the remaining oxygen. Griffith chuckled lightly upon witnessing Guts' reaction, allowing the man to exchange his lungs' air for the surrounding atmosphere.
"I... didn't know we’re same. I thought I was the only one who feel all of these things,” said Guts with a perpetual blush on his face. "Forgive me, Griffith."
"A rare moment of you asking for forgiveness," Griffith smirked upon hearing Guts' confession.
The dawn had passed, and the sun had blossomed among the hills. On the cold pile of snow, the two figures embraced, letting out their emotions to answer each other's misunderstandings. Griffith stood atop the thigh of the larger-bodied man, looking at the birds freely flapping their wings in the sky. Meanwhile, Guts held Griffith's body from behind, his arms encircling Griffith's waist, his pupils faithfully staring every line on the face of the man, considering Griffith more beautiful than the sights the universe had to offer.
"Guts," Griffith turned his gaze towards Guts' face, meeting the eyes of his beloved. "Come back to me."
Guts chuckled softly, "I haven't left yet, not yet. You managed to hold me back earlier." With a playful tone, Guts planted a brief kiss on Griffith's forehead. "I'll stay by your side, Griffith. I belong to you until eternity."