Chapter Text
“I will be traveling to Doma to treat with its leader in two weeks.”
Emilianus sighed, setting his book down on the coffee table a touch more forcefully than he meant to. He knew Maxima was leaving, and he was reasonably sure Maxima was aware that he was the one who handled the planning for the entire thing.
So why. Why had he waited so long to tell him? Was he hoping he’d broach the topic himself? Or was he going to leave without a word if he hadn't thought to ever-so-graciously mention that he was going into a place that was, until recently, an active war zone and was still doubtlessly (understandably) wary of, if not actively hostile towards, Garleans? Radiance preserve.
“I am aware,” he replied, fighting to keep the edge out of his words. “Did you intend to leave me in the dark and fly away in the night if you hadn’t thought to mention it?”
The last thing he wanted before Maxima left was a fight, yet he couldn't help but feel angry; betrayed, even. He didn't want to feel entitled to Maxima’s every movement. They were not so close as to have the luxury of asking that of each other, but a trip of this nature should have been something important to mention more than two weeks in advance.
“Have you forgotten that I handle funds for the Populares? I approved the envoy months ago.”
Though his back was turned to him, he could see Maxima stiffen slightly. So he had forgotten, or had at least been hoping he wouldn't bring it up.
What a joke.
“Emil.” That nickname. Maxima knew he loved it when he called him that. Normally, he’d have been ecstatic; he hardly ever did so, but now… He was trying to butter him up, and his heart sank rather than fluttering.
“I didn't try to hide it from you. I was…” he trailed off. Likely unsure of what excuse to use, Emilianus reasoned.
“Too busy using your mouth for other things?” he supplied with a sarcastic curl to his lip. “Honestly, Max, one would think I was an oasis and you a man lost in a desert with how eagerly your lips find me when you’re feeling needy.”
His words fell from his mouth, each like a stone being hurled at the other man. He mentally kicked himself for every single one; he didn't want a fight. But here he was, starting one anyway. Fuck, he was a mess.
“Somewhat,” Maxima continued, voice a touch quieter, but almost distant. “Are you implying that I use you only for my own pleasure? We do not have to continue this… arrangement. I would sever ties here, if you feel so inclined.”
Emilianus’s stomach sank. He knew that tone, and despite the cordial words, he knew the emotions behind them all too well. So it would be a fight. Of course it would be; he'd started one, after all. Even more than a mess, he was a damned idiot. When he wanted to pull him closer, all he did was push him further away. It was a relentless cycle the two of them danced in, spinning and orbiting each other so closely but never truly touching. Every time they drew close enough that lifting a single finger would have closed the distance between their hearts and souls, one of them withdrew or pushed the other away.
And thus the cycle renewed once more.
Emilianus stood from the armchair he was sitting in and picked up his book, walking away even as Maxima tried to move closer. He couldn’t let him see the anguish that would cross his face when he inevitably left. Instead, he strode over to his bookshelf to busy himself with finding where his book went.
“Do you feel so inclined? I would think that you do, with how easily you leave once you’ve had your fill,” he snarked, still refusing to meet his gaze. “Do I really mean so little to you?"
The words seemed to strike them both like a gunshot. Emilianus knew that they needed to discuss what they were, but not like this. Not in an argument. Not when he may well never see him again; oh radiance please let him come back safe. The thought of losing him made tears prick at his eyes even as his words made his feelings seem the opposite.
"Emil." He was closer, now. Close enough to cast a shadow over his trembling hands clutching at his book like it was his lifeline. When he spoke again, it sounded earnest, but he was still distant "Emil. You mean more to me than I can rightly say. And that is why I leave. I cannot let you come to harm."
"And I matter so much to you that you would rather push me away?!" The dam broke, and Emilianus whipped around, face hot with anger. "I am my own man, and I do not need you to protect me! If I meant that much to you, you would listen to me, Maxima. I care not if I put myself in harm's way by being with you."
His outstretched hand withdrawing at the outburst, Maxima flinched. His face tightened, almost unreadable, but Emilianus knew what he felt. He knew the emotions hidden behind those pink eyes were the same as his own. But the dance must go on, ever spinning, never touching. Getting involved had been a mistake on both of their parts. They could have - should have, even - stayed as colleagues. Friends, possibly. But not this. Never this.
"I apologize," Maxima murmured, words as stiff and rigid as his spine. He was upset, if not outright angry, and Emilianus couldn't blame him. "I don't mean to make decisions for you, Emilianus, but I am as concerned for your safety as you are for mine. You can't hide that you worry about this trip. I know you too well."
Too well, indeed. The use of his full name somehow stung worse than the nickname.
"Maxima," he sighed, voice as shaky as his hands, which gripped the shelf behind him as though it would vanish the second he released it. He had to end this before it spiraled further into petty arguing on his part. "I... wish you luck with the envoy. Keep Asahi in check; you know I don't trust him."
He still couldn't meet his eyes. He couldn't bear to see the hurt he knew would be there, because damn it all, they knew each other too well.
Maxima's hand balled into a fist, then he sighed heavily, turning away from him. He spoke over his shoulder as he moved to the bedroom door. "I'll gather my things and be out within the hour."
"Alright." Emilianus just wrapped his arms around his waist and stared at the floor. Well, he'd royally fucked this up, hadn't he? It was as if all the right words had gotten stuck in his throat and left only the twisted, hurtful ones. The words he wanted to say had never come, and he was glad that they hadn't. Maxima knew how he felt - he had never tried to hide it, even if his feelings weren't reciprocated. Saying it again would have been poorly timed at best. He would've looked like more of a fool than he already did, and it would only have hurt the both of them.
Tears welled in his eyes, and he tilted his head back against the shelf to blink them away. It was no use crying over something he had done to himself, after all.
Two of the right words came to his tongue far too late.
"I'm sorry," Emilianus murmured into the empty living room.