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It’s a crisp and clear morning in the late autumn; the air is fresh but whatever surface is hit by the rising sun gets comfortably warm. The prince finds Lucius—seemingly watching the sunrise—outside on the balcony sitting on a chair wrapped in a blanket, a long cold cup of tea on the table next to him. Aridan joins Lucius on the balcony, also wrapped in a cozy blanket with two cups of fresh steaming tea. He already knew what’s up with Lucius when he woke way too early alone in their shared bed.
“Thanks,” Lucius whispers barely audible, looking pointedly away from Aridan, as he places down the tea. The cold air outside feels like needles on the skin and is in stark contrast to the warmth of the sun. As Aridan sits down on the other side of the table, he slightly leans over to hold Lucius’ hand on the table. His hand is ice cold. How long has he been sitting outside?
Lucius pulls his hand away, grabbing the steaming cup of tea as a poor excuse to avoid Aridan and his touch. Aridan doesn’t mind, really, at least he warms himself.
“Is it the darkness again?” Aridan asks softly.
“It’s more of an emptiness,” Lucius answers, quietly.
“You are not alone,” Aridan says to Lucius, whose face is still awkwardly turned away from the prince, as if trying to hide.
“I know,” Lucius whispers, so faintly, as he places the tea down on the table.
Aridan reaches out to Lucius’ hand again and this time, Lucius lets him hold it. They both quietly watch the morning, warmed in the sunlight, as Aridan desperately tries to hold on to Lucius, who once again slips away into nothingness.