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How could he have been such a fool?
Hades ran as fast as his feet would carry him, like a man possessed, through the streets of Amaurot. It didn’t matter that it was raining, it didn’t matter that people turned to look at him as he barrelled past the citizens on the street with only a cursory “sorry.” It didn’t matter that he hadn’t even bothered to conjure an umbrella to keep the rain off—his hood would have to serve.
“How long has it been since you last spoke to her?” Hythlodaeus asked him. The conversation from earlier echoed in his mind.
“...I’m not sure. Several months, I reckon.”
He flew past the automat they all love to stop by after their classes were over. The one staffed by those silly humanoid rat constructs that she adored for some reason. How many days had he sat across from her studying her lips and her smile for some sort of message that he could never quite decipher?
“You two got into an argument, didn’t you?”
“...Yes. It was after we went to see that stage show the day before she left to train with Azem.”
“Which one?”
“The tragedy. The one about the legend of the ancient war. We got talking and…she interpreted some of the themes and characters in a way I disagreed with.”
He ran past the theater they had seen the performance in, the lights cast from its facade lighting the rainy streets and dancing off the colorful mosaic above. How many times had they been there together? How many times had he swatted her hand away from his popcorn after she had finished her own and tried to sneak some of his? How many times had they laughed and cried together at the moving scenes the actors brought to life on the stage?
“And? You two have always had lively debates, that’s nothing new.”
“I know, but this time, she— I don’t even know why anymore, there was something that got under my skin. It made me so angry and I—” He slammed his fist on his chair arm in frustration. “I was so STUPID! I don’t know what I was thinking—I WASN’T thinking, clearly—but I said something terrible to her. Something I dare not repeat here. As soon as it left my lips, I regretted it. She didn’t accept my apology. She just went silent and then…she left.”
Hythlodaeus sighed and looked more serious that Hades was used to him looking. “Hades, my dearest, oldest, most trusted friend. I tell you this because I love you. You are a fool.”
“You think I don’t know that?!” Hades snarled.
He ran past the jazz club the two of them had dragged him to one night on a whim, the one he had too many cocktails at the first night and learned his lesson after that. The three of them had become regulars there. They knew every musician’s name. How many nights did they dance their cares away together? How many lessons did they show up for earlier in the day to get better and better each subsequent night? How many nights had he repeated in his head “Rock, step, triple step, triple step…” trying not to step on her feet. How many times had he felt something when he reached out and took her hand, but tried to push it away?
“Hades. Tell me now, and speak true. Do you love her?”
His expression turned pained as he looked away. “Well, of course I care about her a great deal and consider her a close friend—”
Hythlodaeus shook his head. “That is not the kind of love of which I speak, and you know it. Do you love her?”
Hades buried his face in his hands then ran his fingers through his hair before grabbing fistfuls of it. “Please…stop…! I don’t want to say it!”
One night, Hades had become so frustrated with her showing him up at swing dancing he turned on the radio and practiced in his room for hours, perfecting every step, dancing until his feet blistered and bled, but he paid it no mind. He felt terrible all the next day of course as he hobbled around on wounded feet. Hythlodaeus laughed and told him to go see a healer, but he refused. It was only after she sensed something was amiss that she scolded him and dragged him to the nearest clinic herself, where he was forced to explain himself. It was an easy fix, at least. He danced with her again the very same night.
Hythlodaeus breathed deep and closed his eyes as he rested a hand on Hades’ back. “Then let me tell you something else, something she made me swear to never tell. It is not lightly I break my word to her. I can only pray she understands.” Hythlodaeus moved his hand to cup Hades’ own hand in his hair, and his grip loosened. “Persephone loves you. She has loved you for nearly as long as I have.”
Hades raised his head from his hands, tears streaming down his face. “What…? This whole time…? Then why— Why did she keep silent?”
“Because she did not want to come between us, or so she told me. I told her that her presence had never once concerned me, that I would gladly share my love with her, but she could not believe that you would accept her and love her the way she loves you.”
“And you never told me this?” He was nearing the Polyleritae District now. The main aetheryte plaza wasn’t far now. But would she still be there? He had no idea when she was due to arrive. Perhaps she still had paperwork to fill out in the Bureau of the Administrator?
“She swore me to secrecy. And I respected her wishes. I had hoped that, in time, you two would come to be honest with your feelings for one another on your own terms. But I think now is the time for me to break my oath. If you love her, then tell her. You have my blessing. Go to her. She has kept in contact with me over her journey abroad, and she returns to Amaurot tonight. Tell her the truth, before you lose her for good. Before we lose her for good.” Hythlodaeus ran his hand over Hades’ cheek and gently pulled his face up to look at him. “You two are my oldest and dearest, most beloved friends. The ones I want to someday return to the Star with when we’re old and have fulfilled our every wish and duty, hand in hand. There is nothing I would not give to see my beloved friends happy.”
Hades lunged forward and sobbed into his robes as Hythlodaeus gently petted his head. “How dare you! I can’t believe you two! I’m so angry with you both—! And I love you both so much—!” he choked out between sobs.
He ran past the Hall of Rhetoric. How many grand debates had they gone to spectate there over the years? From the most esoteric and existential philosophical questions to the most mundane and specific things, they both loved to watch a good debate. They were no strangers to it themselves. Sometimes they would reserve a private room and debate the merits of the most ridiculous of hypotheticals, just for fun. There was something irresistible that happened when they were alone and he could see her unguarded eyes light up with passion for a subject.
Hythlodaeus smiled. “We’re all a right mess together, aren’t we? She was due to arrive back in Amaurot tonight, you know. If you go now, perhaps you can see her return and speak with her before she heads home.”
“What? Tonight?!” Hades shot up and hastily wiped his face on his robes. “When?!”
“She didn’t say exactly when in her last message to me, only ‘tonight.’”
Hades scrambled out of his seat and put his white mask back over his face. “It’s already getting late! She may have— I have to go! I’ll be back later, I promise!”
“Yes! Go! Shoo!” Hythlodaeus said with a laugh. “I’ll be here to sort you two out if you need it, even if I have to knock your stubborn skulls together myself!”
He reached the Aetheryte plaza and scanned the lines of people through the rain. It didn’t matter that they all wore black cloaks and white masks—he could see each of their souls clear as day if he willed it. And there was no mistaking her soul. That brilliant, blinding soul, all the colors of the sky within its depths. “As beautiful and terrible as the dawn,” he had once described it as. She lacked the ability to see Aether in the way that both Hades and Hythlodaeus could, and had asked him to describe it to her. She laughed in return and answered, “A fitting answer for a man who loves the darkness of night!”
She was not there. He ran into the Bureau of the Administrator and scanned around the lobby, oblivious to his sodden state as water dripped off his hood. She wasn’t here either. Before someone could even greet him he was out again, running off down the road toward the Bureau of the Secretariat. Her home was further past Acadaemia Anyder on the south side of the river. If she was heading there, she would have gone that way.
It was starting to hit him now that he had no idea what to say to her even if he found her. Should he apologize? Hadn’t he done that already? What difference would it make now?
“Tell her the truth,” Hythlodaeus had said. Easier said than done. Maybe she had once loved him. Did she still? She hadn’t sent him a single message in all her time away. But then again, he had not sent her a single message either. He had tried a few times, but he scrapped all of them. How could he explain what had happened that fateful night without it coming across like he was trying to sugarcoat it or otherwise downplay what happened? But verbally flagellating himself in writing over what he’d said that night felt inappropriate and self-centered as well.
He rounded a corner onto the tree-lined boulevard with the Anyder river running down it, and a gust of stormy winds flowing down the open avenue blew his hood down, but he paid it no mind and continued running, desperately scanning for the color of her soul. He ran down the street to the nearest bridge, and there, climbing the steps up, he saw her. He came to an abrupt stop at the foot of the stairs and had to catch his breath.
“Persephone, wait!” he called up to her.
A masked and hooded figure stopped and turned around. “Hades…?”
There at the bottom of the steps, was the usual prim and proper Hades, always so rules oriented, always concerned about maintaining decorum, soaked by the rain and looking like a pathetic wet cat. His white wavy hair was a soggy mess blown all around his head.
“What are you doing out here?” Persephone asked in disbelief.
“I… I wanted to apologize. I know it’s not enough, but I—I missed you so terribly much while you were gone.” He tried to pull some of his wet hair off of his face and mask and then pulled his mask down in frustration. “I’ve been such a fool, I know. But I can’t deny it any longer.” He willed his gaze to look directly at her. “I love you.”
For a moment, Persephone did nothing. He saw her lips part as if she were about to speak, but no sound came out. Then she reached up to lower her hood and threw her long, pomegranate-colored locks out into the rain. She smiled and ran down the steps but before she could reach the bottom, she leapt off and threw herself into Hades’ arms. He was admittedly caught off guard by this and cried out in surprise at her throwing herself at him so suddenly, but he managed to catch her and keep hold of her even after stumbling back.
“You are indeed quite a fool, Hades,” she said as she pulled her mask off and looked into his amber eyes with her own forest green ones. “It’s about time you realized that.” He opened his mouth to reply, but she put a finger on his lips and he let her continue. “I love you too.”
She pulled her finger away and their lips met. How long either of them spent there, kissing at the bottom of the steps by the bridge in the pouring rain, neither could say. Time, place, people, weather, it all ceased to exist for them in that moment. All that mattered now was that Hades loved Persephone, and Persephone loved Hades.