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Ringing.
Buzzing in his ears.
Drip.
It came into contact with the ground without any flair or disturbance to it.
Drip. Drip.
Steady it was, running down, the beats of it calm and unbothered unlike the tragedy that surrounded them.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The droplets kept running, amidst all the shouts and screams of the unforgiven—of the pawns that were never made to live.
Amidst the lives that were lost in each second, strikes that demanded sacrifices and not kindness, Caelus thought of a field of flowers, grasses, and even weeds—wild and untamed—that only wanted to live and blossom even if for a fraction of a moment.
It was not granted. For they were not meant to be.
For they were made for ruin.
And as Caelus opened his eyes, he didn’t know which were crueler.
The blood that escaped from his core or the tears that fell onto his face from his other half—his sun—his ending .
A hoarse laugh—more of a staggered exhale of a kind—escaped him.
The one above him—with those golden eyes that shone with unshed tears that has yet to join the rest running down his pale cheek— shuddered and pressed close at the same time.
Something almost impossible to decipher if it weren’t for the fact that they had spent almost all their lives with hands in each other’s and warmth shared through smiles that never burned but engulfed in its embrace.
Memories burned behind his retina and regret swelled in his wounded chest.
A pink-haired girl long gone. A promise.
What was it?
His fuzzy mind struggled to remember something that he had sworn to do, something that he had held close to his heart all this time.
‘Take care of him, okay?’
That's right. That was… He was supposed to…
Ah. I failed.
Phainon…
His trembling hand outstretched, cradling the other's cheek, Caelus murmured, “Don't cry.”
Phainon tightened his embrace, the arm that was the only thing that held Caelus up wrapped tighter around his back, the hand that pressed onto his gaping wound was held there in desperation even if it only bought them some time―even if it were futile.
In an almost broken voice, Phainon whispered a lie, “I'm not crying.”
A lie seen clearly from the few tear drops that managed to escape. A lie that was felt clearly from Caelus' own hand that caressed his cheek, even if weakly, and wiped them away.
The tears itself started to burn. Evaporating by itself. Dissipating the proof of humanity. Evidence that was vulnerable and true of them. Of pain and despair.
Caelus chuckled then―the sound almost tapering off into a wince―at the attempt of normalcy. “You are… a terrible liar.”
Phainon grinned sheepishly. “Am I?"
Caelus mustered up the best impression of a deadpan look as he could. “I could hear how she would have giggled at that one."
“You could at least give me some credits, buddy.”
“Hah. No." Caelus shot back a grin of his own. One that he knew was stained by blood. He could feel them on his tongue and the back of his throat.
Phainon's eyes dimmed at it and he drew closer, securing Caelus more onto his lap. “No way to change that?”
Caelus at least had the kindness to not mention the rapidly escaping heat out of his body. He instead tilted his head to lean onto the deliverer's chest, a teasing smirk clad in place. “No. And minus point for― Ugh ," He winced, one eye squeezed close and the other starting to go blurry― “for cuddling me like this without taking me to a date first.”
Phainon's smile became thin―almost like it wanted to break into pieces and still held itself back―before he shook his head with an amused huff.
“I thought I already did?” He tried to answer with as much of the teasing lilt that Caelus played into.
Caelus hummed, leaning his head even more onto Phainon now that he felt even immensely tired. Was he still bleeding? He didn't know anymore. “Yes…but not with spoonfeeding.”
“Is that a necessary variable for it to be a date?" Phainon asked in a quiet voice, almost sounding like a lullaby to Caelus.
Caelus nodded.
Phainon chuckled lowly. “I see."
Caelus closed his eyes, only realizing now that his hand had slipped off Phainon's cheek. He didn't know when. He didn't know how he felt right now.
Painful? He was not sure.
Cold? He couldn't determine.
Numb? Perhaps.
His body fully burdened his weight onto the other heir. His ear tracked the thump of the heartbeat beneath the chest he had his head lolled onto, making up a frantic melody that was strong and fast. It soothed him somehow.
Somewhere in his senses, he recognized the hand that caressed his cheek now, thumb rubbing heat onto cold skin.
A grasp on his chin, guiding him into a chaste kiss as Phainon leaned down.
Caelus opened his eyes again then, lidded and begged for rest.
The blurry sight of Phainon's finally broken smile and a whispered “....Please stay." brought him a final strength.
One that allowed him to kiss back with all that he had left. A dying will to convey everything within one touch of lips slotting against another.
A prayer that this love at least would live on, untouched and blazing higher than possible.
A wish that Phainon wouldn't be completely alone.
When they pulled away, Caelus could only whisper, “I'm sorry." I can't stay.
Phainon smiled the most real for the first time after the blade had struck Caelus down.
“I know," he said. “I know. I―"
Phainon squeezed his eyes closed before then seemingly determined, he grinned brighter than ever.
A farewell, Caelus realized.
“Sweet dreams, the heart of my life."
Caelus smiled too, closing his eyes once again.
And in the dark, he felt himself drifting away.
Body cradled closer to a warmth that sobbed against the crown of his head. Life steadily seeping away.
In the dark, he wished and wished.
If not in this life, then maybe the next.
He wished for a happy ending.
In the dark, he knew it wouldn't be granted.
For this was never the first time. And maybe would never be the last.
Maybe if they weren't who they were.
Maybe in another world. Somewhere. Somewhere else.
Caelus woke up, feeling a bit crankier than most days. Limbs shaking with aftershocks for an unknown reason.
A dream?
The bed creaked as he shuffled off it, sheets wrinkled. A note to himself to tidy it up as he looked around his assigned room.
A book left open on his writing desk, a remaining lit candle from his late night reading. The light that filtered in through the window, catching onto his potted herbs, caught his attention.
His feet padded on the marble floor as he approached the window, opening the curtains to fully let in the sun's grace. The view outside never ceased to amaze him from how different it was to the dim scenery he was used to back in his prison-like room in his homeland.
The garden was tranquil in its beauty, nature unmoving with only a few birds chirping at this hour.
Caelus stared, a strange feeling in his chest.
It was a dream. Yet it felt so real.
Like a wish had reached him, from another version of himself out there. Desperate. Yet its voice was gentle. Kind.
He shook his head, trying to dismiss the feeling with it.
And as he went to start his day, the voice drifted with the wind, reaching the sky as the sun rose with it.
It said ‘Do your best.’
Even if the world was still unkind to you.
Even if fate still had it for you.
Your ending was still unwritten.