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A life of compassion, Kaelix had given him. If Freo could have rejected it the moment he met him, he would have—what he would have preferred was an explanation. A reason as to why his best friend abandoned him, with no word on why he was leaving. An answer to why he now walked amongst the stars. But all he got was a smile beneath a dejected look when the other didn't receive so much as a ‘hello’ from the designer. The crooked kind of smile that seemed to be one of amusement, the entitlement of that former friend of his.
When they touched noses—Kaelix taking the initiative to lean in—resentment filled his body, as if the blood circulating his system had turned into liquid fire. It felt like the betrayal he experienced the day Kaelix died. If Freo had to pick a favourite star amongst the array of constellations in the sky, it certainly would not have been his.
A lie. He would have chosen him. Over, and over, and—
"Hey, stranger," Kaelix finally opened his mouth to speak. Careful, reverent, like a newly woven thread. A hesitation born not from distrust. Not from fear. But from the weight of carrying too much for too long.
Freo’s ribs caged itself tight like his heart would spill if it didn’t. He didn't know whether to cry and scream and shove him away like he couldn't recognise who he was, or cling onto him with utmost desperation and pray he falls under his grace—torn, damned, as devout as a crestfallen believer confronting God for salvation. He hated how vivid everything was to him, how real Kaelix’s presence felt, how his voice was as sweet as ever. Unchanging, just like how he was when he was still alive, breathing, living.
As Kaelix went to give Freo a hug, acting as one final reminder of the life of compassion he’d given him and to live by it, to treat those around him with that very same compassion, he flinched away. He didn’t want this—a life from Kaelix—a dead person, his dead friend, because that just made it entirely real now, that Kaelix is dead, and those cerulean eyes that once held so much life are now still, cold, buried someplace deep down in the living realm.
And Kaelix had to step forward, again, to give Freo the essence of his life—his soul—and this time he took it, body flushed and lips pressed against his. He wanted this to be over with, loathed staring at Kaelix’s translucent body, sun-kissed and stellar-blessed. He recalled, clear as day, when they held hands tightly, never wanting to let go like there was no tomorrow—and his beautiful, silky skin was very much corporeal, had the kind of warmth he would remember even in distant dreams, even through many lifetimes.
He shouldn't have let him go.
His kiss was a quiet kind of violence. Not loud, not bruising—but deliberate. Unforgiving. The kind of kiss that said ”I miss you.” The kind that told him, without hesitation, ”I’d worship you, and yet you’d cast your damnation upon me.”
He kissed Kaelix like he was air and he was always choking. Like if he just stayed close enough, maybe the world wouldn’t feel so hollow, so echoing. His hands, now on his face, trembled with the weight of everything he wouldn't say, everything that pressed itself into the seam of their mouths instead.
And when he finally pulled away, it was only by inches, a ghost of contact before his face found its place in the curve of his neck, lashes damp against his skin. As if it had always belonged there. As if he had belonged there.
Kaelix didn't say anything. Only peered down at him, softly giggling, the corners of his eyes waning into delicate crescents. Freo wrapped his arms around him like he was made of something holy and breakable. But Kaelix’s soul, although it soothed his own, hurt the most. More than the heartbreak he felt at his unrequited love. More than the grief of losing him.
When he disappeared, dissolving back into the dark, Freo had nothing left of him—and now, Kaelix is a part of him. With every breath, step, and decision he makes, Kaelix is there. Just like he was, all those years ago.
And if Freo focuses, pauses for just a moment—sometimes, he can smell his scent, hear his voice.
It agonises him.