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Settled in the lounge of a little cottage in Rexxentrum, two wizards are entwined on a couch with their respective books. One sits upright leaning against the arm while writing some last minute notes; the other has abandon his reading to look at his partner.
Caleb has felt Essek looking for some time but doesn’t turn away from his writing.
‘You know, I never believed I could love until you,‘ says Essek.
Caleb’s quill stutters for a moment before continuing smoothly. He is still not used to this. Not entirely. Not aimed at him.
‘As you have said many times, Dear,’ he says with a touch of a smile.
Above the smile Essek catches the spectre of sadness in Caleb’s eyes.
‘You still don’t believe me,’ Essek observes. ‘Not entirely,’ he amends.
Caleb continues writing and allows his expression to settle into something more stoic. Essek continues.
‘If you do not wish, Love, for me to speak these things, you need only ask,’ he says softly with a care crafted from many echoed conversations.
Caleb does not respond yet. Instead he reaches the end of his sentence, gives the last paragraph a cursory scan, and closes his book. He closes his eyes to match; taking a breath in before turning to his partner.
‘It is not that I don’t wish to hear them Essek, or for you to say such things. And it’s not that I don’t believe them–‘
Essek’s face betrays a slight downturn to his lips while he listens. A consequence of a vow to never lie to Caleb again.
‘–not exactly.’
Essek searches Caleb’s eyes but is patient with his silence. He has learnt that often Caleb will elaborated –needs to elaborate – to try on answers for their fit and size. Sometimes he finds insight; sometimes just passing thoughts.
Essek waits with no judgement regardless. He knows it takes time.
‘I do not know how to take these words as I do sharing them with you.’
Essek mulls this over.
‘You’ve said as much before,’ he starts as he pushes a strand of auburn hair back behind Caleb’s ear.
‘This maybe be presumptuous, but are we back at the question of worth?’ Essek’s hand moves to cup Caleb’s cheek. ‘Because if you still doubt how deserving you are of my love, I will continue to prove it for as long as you require,’ Essek says with such earnest Caleb struggles to look him in the eye. ‘All you need to do is tell me.’
Caleb notices the tiniest crinkle between Essek’s brows and moves to clasp the hand on his cheek with his own. He moves their joint hands to his lips, kissing the back of Essek’s as he watches the crinkle fade.
‘I suppose I am telling you now. But it is less doubt and more that I am still feeling out the weight of your care, that is all. You are patient, Dear,’ he kisses the hand of his lover again. He smiles into it this time, raising his gaze as he speaks.
‘I suppose I’m asking for a little longer to get through this thick heart that this is allowed. What we are is real.’ Caleb smiles sheepishly. ‘If you will have me.’
‘I love you, Essek Thelyss.’
Essek leans in to give a gentle kiss wearing an open, honest smile his younger self, before he met Caleb, would have thought impossible. When they part, just slightly, he says—
‘And I love you, Bren Ermendrud.’
Another kiss.
‘Caleb Widogast.’
A kiss and the press of foreheads; the familiar urge to push back against the truth that Essek speaks. The urge he acknowledges and lets float past out of mind.
‘Under any name you would have me see you, I will know you, and love you.’
And this time Caleb finds he might, just a little more, be able to accept it. That he is loved as truly, deeply, as he loves Essek. That if they keep working at it, together, one day he could take on that love just as much as he gives it
‘I will prove it to you for as long as you want me to. For as long as you need.’