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Adrian was never one to let on when something was wrong. He was meant to be strong, meant to be collected, meant to be alone.
After they left, he was fine, more or less. He almost enjoyed the respite the calm nature of taking care of the land allotted. The calming breeze, the pebbling brook, the serene quiet almost made the entire estate seem peaceful. The land healing itself from the damage his father had caused.
Cleaning the castle from the battle had been enough to busy his body, but those repairs had been finished and the mind was a thing of its own. Always wandering back to them, back to Trevor and Sypha.
The pitiful attempt to cope by making the dolls helped. At least it gave him something to talk to over the solitary dinners he found himself nibbling at.
“What do you think, Trevor?”
“I think I hate everything and everybody, so I’m going to get drunk on beer that's been brewed in an old sheep carcass and then I’m going to stick my tiny penis in a dead dog I found in a ditch to make hate-babies or something because I am actually more stupid than mud.”
“You are a horrible, terrible person, and many other words for horrible and terrible, because I know all the words because I am smarter than everybody, and one day I will go back to live with my flea-bitten family in a cart, which makes me better than everyone, and you will all die in a fire. A big one.”
He sombered at the act, the fish turning to ash on his tongue. He was conversing with dolls. Dolls he crudely stitched together because the loneliness that choked his heart was never ending, and he missed them. He missed their banter, their presence, their warmth.
“Oh my god, I am losing my mind.” He downed the rest of the wine. “It’s only been a month… I think…” Had it been a month? Half a year? He had lost track of time, the isolation caused the days to blur together in a haze of dusty silence. He woke, he gathered dinner, he ate, he slept.
He felt that was enough.
It had to be enough.
-- ✦ --
One of doll Trevor’s button eyes was slipping out of place. He had noticed it over the steamed fish he was pretending to enjoy. After washing the dishes, he picked up the dolls and took them into the bedroom where he originally made them, carrying both as to not subject Sypha to any of the loneliness he was constantly followed by. He had taken residence in one of the guest rooms, found he couldn’t muster the strength to be anywhere near his childhood bedroom, much less sleep there every night.
He stood in the doorway and smoothed his thumb over the yarn that was meant to be Trevor’s hair, wondering if his actual hair was as soft as the yarn was. He sighed as a small, blue petal flittered to land atop the dolls.
His brows drew inwards. Where had that come from? The windows were closed and he hadn’t noticed anything that looked like that petal anywhere on the grounds.
He held the petal between his fingers. It was soft, velvety. The blue reminded him of their eyes.
No matter where it came from, he placed it on the bedside table and pulled the sewing kit from the drawer, sitting on the edge of the bed. He set Sypha next to him and placed Trevor on his lap, readying the needle and thread. He inwardly apologized as he snipped the loose threads, freeing the button and restitched it back onto Trevor.
Newly fixed, he admired his work. A pang of longing raced through him as he stared at the dolls. His throat tightened, and he tried to clear it, finding some papery thing occupying the space in his mouth.
He pulled another small, blue petal out.
Same as the petal sitting on the bedside table.
Were they coming from inside him?
He coughed, another one fluttered out of his mouth, littering the space in front of him.
Why would he be coughing up flower petals? His mind raced with questions as he laid the dolls on the bed and made his way into the library.
Surely his father’s study would have an an answer.
-- ✦ --
Adrian had been coughing consistently since that first day. He had spent weeks filtering through the literature, all absent in any mention of expectorating petals. He lost himself in the text. Books on curses and ailments yielded little result.
His lungs and throat ached as he had hacked up enough pieces to form a full flower at this point. 5 petaled, vibrant, blue flowers gradating to a white and bright yellow center. He had taken a break from the medicinal side and began searching through the botanical sections when he found the flower he was plagued with.
Myosotis; derived from, mys, meaning “mouse,” and ous, meaning “ear,” to refer to the shape of the flower petal. Common name: vergissmeinnicht. Coloration: blue or purple and white, with a yellow center. Structure: petals have a rounded shape with a rounded notch in the middle. Symbolism: related to remembrance, everlasting love, devotion.
Vergissmeinnicht, a german word. Forget Me Not.
He swallowed around that annoying itch in the back of his throat and coughed as a small cluster of petals landed on the page. He brushed them off and closed the book, replacing it in its home and left the library. He’d look through the epidemiology section tomorrow, but now, he was simply too tired to read more. His limbs far too heavy and his chest far too filled with that ever present icy soreness.
Adrian had tried to swallow around the itch in his throat, just making it to the top of the stairs before doubling over as a coughing fit racked his frame. The velvety petals drying the inside of his maw and scratching its way up and out of him.
When it ended, he found a small handful of petals littering the ground around his feet.
He’d sweep them up tomorrow.
-- ✦ --
The episodes had been getting worse. Lengthening in duration and severity and nothing in his research allotted him any hints as to what was happening to him, so he attempted manage the symptoms.
He drank tea to soothe his raw throat, boiled pots of mint and thyme to clear his airways.
Tried to ignore the slowly increasing amounts of petals he was producing, how the ache in his chest never seemed to subside, how a chill settled somewhere deep in him.
What else could he do? The growing lethargy ate away at his sense of self and he found it fruitless to do much more than the bare minimum. His chores piled up. He stopped fishing and nibbled on wild tomatoes and parsnips he found when he finally mustered up enough strength to actually go outside and forage. His lack of answers left him dejected as he was coming to accept he would be forced to foster a garden in his lungs forever.
He wondered if Sypha had a story about something like this. She always had stories. Wondered if Trevor had some distant relative that was afflicted with a similar curse, although the Belmont hold also had no answers for him when he combed through their stores of research.
He rolled over in bed, the soft moonlight dappling over his sheets and drew the covers around him as another fit shook him. Adrian sputtered around the petals. In any other circumstance, he’d find the way they danced in the air rather elegant, but he was in far too much pain to find any part of this beautiful.
He brushed the petals away, pushing them to join the growing pile at the edge of his bed.
He sighed as his gaze landed on the dolls sitting next to the first petal he expunged; dried, dull, and a bit dusty. He noticed their little spoon arms touching as his eyes welled.
He longed for them to a degree he hadn’t thought possible. Perhaps this is what drove his father to commit the atrocities he had. But his father had loved his mother. Was what he felt for Sypha and Trevor be considered just that? Did he love them?
He wanted to keep them safe, to keep them fed and happy. He wanted them by his side and to hear their laughter echo through the halls. Was that enough to call what he felt love? Was he capable of feeling anything other than the freezing agony that encompassed his being?
Adrian realized he was crying then, a silent stream collecting on his pillow. The faint song of crickets and small catches in his labored breathing the only sound in the room. The pressure in his chest mounted as he coughed around more petals. He choked on something larger, something lodging itself in his throat, scraping the lining and clawing its way out of him. He coughed a sputtering breath into his hand. Upon opening it, he found a full intact flower. The bright blue of the petals staring back at him, mocking him.
How dare something so delicate be produced from the grounds of something so melancholic, so dour. He closed his fist, nails biting into his palm as anger welled in his chest, a bright fury replacing the despondent miasma that had surrounded him. Why would they leave him like this? In a house where his parents had found such joviality, where he had been forced to commit patricide under the guise of the betterment of man? The same men who caused the genocide by forcing his father’s hand. Why would they leave him alone? Was his well being not enough of a reason to stay? Had he not been enough for them?
They had each other, the passing glances and chaste blushes that so often colored their cheeks had never been a result of his actions. He was stupid to think that they would choose him, that they would choose to stay with him when he so desperately needed them to.
“...he's a cold spot in the room... His sadness is like an icy well. It's bottomless…” Sypha’s words echoed in his head as his hand relaxed, his anger calming back into that cold numbing ache that resided in his chest. Of course she would choose Trevor. Warm, sunny Trevor. With his aloof disposition and cloyingly annoying charm. And Sypha, bright, brilliant, sharp, and kind. Her patience unending and wit surpassing what would ever be expected of any other speaker. They were right for each other, and he was simply a sleeping soldier.
So he did what he did best. He slept.
-- ✦ --
His dreams a passing stint of their faces, of his parents, his father teaching him how to fight, the pride apparent on his face when he succeeded in his studies. His father reduced to a cold pile of ash on the floor of his childhood bedroom. He heard Trevor calling his name, braiding his hair, and Sypha peppering kisses along his jaw. He saw them powerful and confident, slaying night creatures and vampires, their tired smiles and trusting eyes when the fight was over. Saw them collapsed on the floor, faces tight with agony, blood pooling around them as the light left their eyes. He heard his mother humming softly over salves and pots as she nursed townsfolk back to health, her gentle smile turned towards him as he sat and watched her work. Her screams as she was burned alive in the righteous flames of the church.
-- ✦ --
Adrian woke with a start to banging at the door. A pile of petals had collected near his mouth that must have filtered out as he slept. He wasn’t sure how long he slept for, guessed it must have been a few days by the size of the pile, a week perhaps. He tried to breathe, but found he could only cough, a feeble attempt to dislodge the petals that had been accumulating in his lungs.
It hurt, far worse than it had before. Tremors seizing his sides as he hacked up a clump of bulbs, some of the petals tinged with spots of blood.
He dreaded how this sickness progressed.
Another set of knocking pulled him from his stupor. He rose and slowly made his way through the halls, dried petals shifting as he walked through them. They littered the space, lining the floor as he found no need to continue to pick them up only for them to be replaced within a few days.
It took him much longer than expected to make his way to the visitors at the door. His movements slow as the misery he felt coalesced into stiffness in his joints. He stopped on the steps as he heard their muffled speaking through the heavy wood.
“Maybe he’s gone out, he has to eat at some point.”
“Maybe he’s being a lazy bastard and ignoring us,” Another set of pounding rattled the door. “ALUCARD, I’M FREEZING MY BALLS OFF, OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!”
They were gone, they said they had things to take care of, why would they return? He choked on more petals, his coughing stifled by his hands clamped over his mouth.
“Did you hear that? Like coughing?” The heavy door groaned as Sypha pushed it open.
“It was open the whole time?” Trevor mumbled as he walked in, shaking the snow that had collected on the shoulders of his cloak off, as the door closed behind him. It reminded Adrian of a dog.
“There you are!” Sypha smiled, arms outstretched and almost running up to greet him.
Adrian stepped back, “Don’t come near me.” His voice was hoarse, gravelly and strained from disuse and the soreness in his throat, further muffled by the hands still clamped around his mouth.
She stopped, smile faltering as a twinge of guilt flickered through him. “What’s wrong?” Her tone laced with concern.
He gathered the petals into one hand and shoved them into a pocket. “It appears I’m ill with something I can’t quite shake.” He didn’t know if whatever he had was transferable from dhampir to human, but he did not want to risk their health.
“Vampires don’t get sick, what are you on about? And why are there flowers everywhere?” Trevor picked up a handful of the drying petals.
“Don’t-” He was interrupted by another fit, he turned and hunched over to cover himself and direct the petals behind him. His chest ached, his throat felt like an open wound. He felt a hand come to rest on his back.
“Are you alright?” He attempted to clear his throat, yielding only another, albeit smaller, set of coughs as he pulled a much bloodier flower out of his mouth. He heard Sypha’s breathing stutter as she saw the flower he held.
He straightened, crushing the blossom in his grip, “I’m sure you both are tired. Had I known you were coming, I would’ve prepared a room, but I’m sure there’s something in this castle to accommodate you. I assume a single room would suffice?” His voice was sore, it pained him to speak so much after so long in silence.
He saw Trevor bristle and look away as Sypha nodded and withdrew her hand.
“Come along then.”
Adrian attempted to quell the need to cough until they were away from him. He showed them to a room with a northern facing window, a single, large bed and dresser occupying the space.
“I’m just 3 doors down the hall to the left. Let me know if you need anything.” He swallowed around the burn in the back of his throat, looking at them. Sypha’s face was tight, worry creasing her brows. Trevor looked stern, confused almost. The ache in his chest grew, but their presence brought a small smile to his face. “It is rather nice to see you both again.”
“Alucard,” Sypha reached for his hand, but he pulled away, stepping back.
“Good night.” He couldn’t linger on how her concern made him feel.
He closed the door and made his way to his own space where he crumpled. Tears pricked his eyes as he wrapped his arms around himself, an attempt to keep his chest from bursting. The coughs tore through him, a bouquet sputtering out with every hack. It was ceaseless, clump after clump of petals and stamen, flowers and buds. He worried if it continued any longer that they’d find him as nothing more than a heap on the floor, surrounded by bloody petals. He wanted to be quiet, but the racking barks tore through him, forcing him onto his hands and knees.
It hurt. Each cough ripping any semblance of comfort he might have derived from their return, no matter how short their stay might be. The petals that weren’t stained with blood billowed out with each forceful breath. The ones that were landed on the floor with a viscous splat. He wheezed, drawing tiny gasps as more coughs ejected more flowers. His vision darkened around the edges as he spat up bloodied bulbs.
Why did they come back? The worry plastered on Sypha’s face was ill-placed. He was fine. Would be fine. Had to be fine. Surely they would leave again and he would be alone again, left to wander the halls until he was more flowers than man.
The coughs slowed, allowing him strained, sputtering breaths as something rattled around his chest.
A soft knock on the door halted his broken panting, “Alucard, which one of these blasted doors is the bathroom?” He wanted to answer, if he could just draw enough breath to speak.
“Alucard, I-” Trevor opened the door, his gaze falling to Adrian crumpled in a ball on the floor, chin doused with blood and petals.
“Christ, what is wrong with you?” He dropped to his knees and placed a hand on Adrian’s back. He couldn’t breathe, his throat was too full of flowers.
“I’m getting Sypha, just, I don’t know, don’t die.”
“Trying... not to,” He managed to wheeze around the words before another wave hit him, his back shuddered under the strain, the pain bright pinpoints dappled all throughout his chest and throat. He groaned as another set of bulbs slid out of his mouth, the lot more crimson than azure.
Sypha came in then, placing her hands on his back and whispered something.
A lance of pure fire burned its way down his windpipe, he choked, clawing at his throat as the coughs were nothing more than spasming waves of agony rippling through him. He gasped, drawing enough air to continue coughing, working violently to dislodge something sharp cutting its way out of him.
A final gnawing hack freed a small branch, coated in bulbs and flowers and blood. It clattered onto the floor in front of him as he heaved hulking lungfuls of the breath that had been absent.
“What’s happening to me?” Adrian turned to Sypha, his voice raw, pleading for answers. He wondered briefly if he looked as desperate as he felt.
“Hanahaki’s disease. There's flowers growing in your lungs.” Her voice was low, saddened. Why did she sound that way?
They helped him up, stepping over the viscera he expelled. Sypha sat next to him on the edge of the bed as Trevor stood at the foot, arms crossed.
“I’ve heard only a few stories about it. A woman was coughing up yellow orchid bits. Sometimes just the petals, sometimes the whole flower. She suffered quietly for months before she was found with a whole posy spilling out of her mouth, hands clawing at her neck. Seems she suffocated on a bloody mess of them.” Sypha wrung her hands together, “Thankfully its not contagious. Unfortunately, its usually fatal.”
“Usually?” Adrian tried not to think of how he might succumb to choking on a cluster of flowers.
“The only person to survive had… confessed… A last resort of sorts.”
Trevor chuffed, “Alright, you cheeky vampire, I can't wait to hear your sins.”
Sypha shot him a look, cutting through any amusement he might have found in this situation. “He proclaimed his love for another man. Disastrously, his subject of his affection did not take kindly to his admittance.”
“Oh,” Trevor’s arms fell to hang limply at his sides.
The air in the room was tense, the stillness so thick they could hear the snowfall outside.
“I apologize for disturbing your night, but thank you for the aid. I need to think about some things.” His voice was as small and vulnerable as he felt.
“We’ll find you in the morning, Alucard.” She rose, placing a hand on his shoulder, “If there's anything we can do to help, don’t hesitate to ask.”
He nodded as they left, catching Trevor eyes as he closed the door.
Adrian fell back onto the bed.
He could tell them that he was hopelessly in love with the two of them, knowing they would choose each other and he would be left to suffocate on his own loneliness, or he could bury his secret in the garden infecting his lungs, slowly suffocating on the encroaching branches and bulbs.
The latter seemed far less embarrassing than the former.
He ground the heels of his palms into his eyes. It would be better if he could just die now. Not have to make the decision and simply fall into that icy well of melancholy. At least then he wouldn’t be faced with the dilemma of isolation or asphyxiation.
Adrian crawled under the covers as his eyes landed on the dolls.
They had absolutely seen the dolls.
He groaned, the sound causing him to cough up a bright blue petal.
He’d deal with it all tomorrow.
-- ✦ --
He didn’t wake until well past mid morning. The scent of rabbit stew wafting through the halls stirred his seemingly stifled appetite. When was the last time he’d eaten anything more than a few bites of a roasted potato? He huffed and rolled over, wishing to go back to sleep when he heard the door creak open.
He heard them step in. “Sypha sent me to see if you’ve woken up yet. Have you?”
Adrian considered staying still and quiet. He tried to until that persistent itch forced him to cough up a few petals. He sighed, “Unfortunately, I see the light of day once again.”
Trevor moved to sit on the edge of the bed, the pair facing opposite directions.
“What’s with the dolls?”
Adrian cringed, he meant to put them in the drawer. “Ignore them.”
Trevor was silent for a while, leaning back on his hands and staring at the ceiling. “You can tell me, you know. I can keep a secret.”
Adrian remained quiet, telling Trevor would mean confessing to Trevor, which would lead to confessing to Sypha. He couldn’t handle that kind of rejection when the halls were finally occupied by something other than him.
Trevor lowered himself onto the other side of the bed, lying back so his head barely grazed Adrian’s back. “If its Sypha, I get it. She's… something else.” He spoke softly, as if he was considering the weight of his words.
Adrian sighed, “It’s not -” A small fit shook his frame, pain blossoming low in his chest. The flower he coughed up was speckled with blood. He tossed it to join the pile on the floor. “It’s not that simple.”
Trevor rolled over and scooted further onto the bed, resting his chin atop Adrian’s side and looking over at him. “Then explain it to me like I’m stupid.”
“You are stupid.”
“Precisely.” He smiled then, an easy smile, full of the sun’s warmth and Adrian had to stop himself from reaching out to brush the stray strands of hair that had fallen into his face.
He understood why she chose him. He’s a contradiction of a man. A gentle reprieve hidden under intense strength. Why wouldn’t she? Why wouldn’t anyone? Adrian took a breath to say something when another round of coughing caught his words. It was larger than before, the wheezing returned as petals flew out of him. He heard Trevor calling his name, but he couldn’t stop coughing.
Adrian curled into himself, something rattled in his chest again as he struggled to breathe. There were too many petals, too many flowers.
He felt Trevor jump from the bed and yell for Sypha. She came running and placed her hands on his back once more, whispering those same words as last night.
It shook whatever was rattling loose as the burn in his lungs jumped to his throat. He hacked, choking, as bloody bulbs landed in the space on the bed next to him.
He gasped, wishing he’d just die sooner rather than later. The ache in his chest was too great, the soreness of his lungs too much. He groaned, wrapping his arms around his middle and curling inwardly.
Sypha didn’t remove her hands, rather she warmed them slightly. The heat soothing his strained muscles.
“Please Alucard, just confess to whoever it is. We’ll help you, anything, please just-” Her voice was painfully soft.
“I-” His words caught in his throat. He found a part of him wanted to tell them, to just get it over with so he could stop coughing up petals and they would leave and he could rot in this bed in peace. Another part wanted suffocate on these flowers if it meant they would stay nearby. If it meant he would wake up to Trevor cooking once more and have Sypha tell them another story.
Trevor moved to the other side of the bed, sitting on the floor to look him in the eye. Adrian felt Sypha lean against him, her head pressed against his back. Trevor brushed away the hairs that had fallen into his face, holding the length between his fingers. “You can't die like this.”
Adrian winced, he didn’t want to die like this, choking on twigs and more sore than he’d ever been. But it had been easier to accept that he would, easier than admitting that their friendship would never be anything more than just that.
“How long are you staying?”
Trevor blinked, confused by the change in subject. “A few weeks, a month maybe?”
Adrian laid there pensively, it was obvious they cared for him. They wouldn’t be pleading with him to save his own life if they hadn’t. But why? Because he’s a friend? The tender heat radiating through him from Sypha’s hands and Trevor playing with his hair was platonic.
It had to be platonic. They loved each other, not him.
Right?
“Why did you come back?”
He felt Sypha lift her head as Trevor looked at her over his side. Trevor sighed, “We need your help.”
Adrian’s stomach dropped, of course they didn’t come back for him. Just for what he could do for them.
“One of your father’s generals, Carmilla, is attempting to seize power, I’m sure you can understand why that's a problem.”
He swallowed around the pain in his throat, “I don’t know why I expected any different.”
Sypha withdrew her hands, “What do you mean by that?”
Adrian shifted, rising to sit upright in the bed as he felt his chest tighten, frustration bubbling low in his belly. “I’ll only ever be a sleeping soldier to you, a tool to be used and to be discarded, locked in a box until further notice.”
Trevor huffed, “We wouldn’t be spending a month here if we merely wanted to ask you to fight with us again.”
“We missed you, Alucard.” Sypha spoke softly.
His head whipped around to glare at her, “You missed me? You left me!”
She looked wounded, “We thought-”
Adrian scoffed, a few petals flying out with the rush of air. “That what? I would be perfectly fine in the place I murdered my own father in? Alone? That I wouldn’t collapse into that icy well?” His tone was becoming more pointed, “That I wouldn’t wish for any sort of companionship? That I wouldn’t long for y-” However thankful he was for the flower choking him (he wasn’t sure if he would be able to stop his rant if it went on any longer) was subdued by the fact that he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t draw breath to start coughing, the petals lodged in a way that closed off any flow of air.
His hands rose, grasping at nothing as he struggled. He felt his face contort as his shoulders pulsed, his body mimicking the act of coughing, without any of the benefit of actually forcing something out, only able to make gurgling, strained sounds.
Trevor shot up, positioning himself behind Adrian and leaned him forward.
“Sorry if this hurts,” Trevor then locked his hands around his middle and yanked backwards. Any air that was in Adrian’s lungs rushed out as he lurched, gagging on and spitting out several intact and bloodied flowers onto the sheets in front of them.
They were silent as Adrian panted, Trevor still wrapped around him. Some small part of Adrian wanted to lean back into him, to feel his heart beating against his back and soak up any warmth he offered.
But Trevor wasn’t offering his warmth to Adrian.
So he drew his knees to his chest and curled around himself, any attempts to stop his tears were absolutely fruitless. He hated this whole situation. The decision of loosing his friends or loosing his life was a cruel choice for the universe to place upon him.
Sypha moved first, laying a hand on his shoulder as he trembled. “I’m so sorry,” she scooted closer to tuck some hair behind his ear so she could look him in the eye. “We should have known you wouldn’t be okay.”
Trevor moved behind him, leaning forward to rest his chest against Adrian’s back, tightening his hold on Adrian. He was just as warm as Adrian thought he would be. He remained quiet, but rested a cheek against him. Adrian could feel Trevor’s scruff through his shirt.
“While we were traveling, I would find myself checking the caravan to make sure you were sleeping okay during the days, only to find it empty. When Trevor would cook, he’d always make enough for 3, the extra portion always made me so sad.” She took a deep breath and glanced at the bloody mess on the sheet, “These flowers are Forget Me Nots. Adrian, we never forgot about you. Not for a single second, your presence was always, always, missed.”
His sobs intensified, Trevor’s grip tightened ever so slightly, pulling Adrian further into his chest. She had shot straight through him, exposing his core and holding his heart with a tenderness only she could manage. Swiftly dispelling his fear of being forgotten, of being left to wither away, his name being something only mentioned in passing. Only being remembered as his father’s legacy.
Trevor’s voice rumbled against his back, soft and gentle, “I know you missed us too, those dolls speak for themselves.”
Adrian chuckled despite himself, “They kept me company during the days, I was holding them when all this started.”
He fell quiet, weighing the current situation against the thoughts that combated any rationale that suggested he deserved their love. Perhaps a confession wouldn’t end things. Trevor clinging to him surely couldn’t be something he did to his other friends, if he’d manage to keep any. Maybe they thought about him as much as he did them. Sypha said they did.
She moved to rest her head against his arm and he had started to wonder how long they would wait for him to say something. At the moment, it seemed they’d wait as long as he needed. Their combined touch was comforting, quieting some malicious thing in him. Surely they were purposeful in maintaining physical contact with him. Could their act of holding him so intimately be their gentle way of suggesting something more?
He spoke softly, “I know it had been Trevor and Sypha, but… what if we were Trevor and Sypha and Adrian? Could that be a possibility?”
Sypha lifted her head and beamed, her eyes glossy. “It certainly could be.”
Trevor placed a feather light kiss onto the nape of Adrian’s neck, his lips lingering on the spot before resting his forehead against his shoulder, his confirmation far gentler than Adrian thought he could be.
Adrian gasped as the ache in his chest dissipated, the burn in his throat finally subsided. He breathed, fully, openly. He hadn’t realized how difficult it was to do something to simple. He felt the flowers withering, giving space for the air to once again fill his lungs.
“I think,” He took a deep breath, “I think they’re gone…”
He didn’t think Sypha’s smile could get any larger as she flung herself into them, giggling. Trevor grunted, buried under both of them, but didn’t complain.
Sypha held his face, “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I thought you would have rejected me, that would have told me that there was no room for me and that you both would have turned around and left me alone again.” He turned in Trevor’s grasp, looking at him. “I thought suffocating would be less painful than that.”
He shook his head, “I thought I was the daft one.” He smiled and brought his face closer, a silent request. Adrian closed the gap between them, meeting Trevor’s lips with his own. The kiss was gentle, warm.
He pulled away from Trevor and met Sypha, kissing her softly. She hummed, smiling against his lips. Her lips were soft, the kiss, sweet and tender.
They parted and shifted into a more comfortable position, Sypha and Adrian laying in Trevor’s lap as he braided small sections of Adrian’s hair and Sypha peppered his cheeks with kisses.
He smiled, thankful that some dreams do come to fruition.