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Azik turns off the alarm before it has a chance to ring.
Rolling over, only a smudge of drowsiness follows Azik as he slides out from under the covers to rise with the morning. He yawns, covering his mouth with a hand. Sat on the edge of the bed, he peers over his shoulder to catch sight of the mop of black hair sticking out from under a pile of blankets.
Azik's lips turn upward.
Sliding his feet into his fluffy cat slippers, Azik pushes off of the bed to get ready for the day.
A chilling air hangs over the atmosphere—a permeating presence that has Azik rushing to grab a robe to tighten around himself. Carefully opening the bedroom door, he steps into the corridor.
Although the house has heating, it is seldom dialed up all the way—even in the heart of winter—as his partner has enough qualms about paying more than necessary for the gas bill, thus Azik has gotten into the habit of relying on more primitive ways to stay warm.
Once down the stairs, Azik pads into the kitchen and puts a kettle on the stove. From the cabinet, he pulls two matching ceramic mugs from the cabinet: one with a long black snake and the other with a small black cat. Little top hats balance on their heads. Azik tears open a pair of tea bags, dropping them into the mugs. In one of them, after grabbing a knife and a lemon from the fruit basket on the counter, he does not forget to add two slices.
As Azik heads back upstairs, he peeks into the bedroom. Smiling at seeing the lump under the blankets still unmoving, he leaves for the bathroom without a word.
In the pocket of this home, walls adorned generously with picture frames and postcards along the walls and shelves cramped full of souvenirs and gifts, the sound of running water through the pipes offers a steady hum to the winter quiet.
Washing his face, brushing his teeth, combing his hair—Azik's morning routine goes undisturbed and unaccompanied as always.
After emerging from the bathroom with a refreshened air, Azik re-enters the bedroom and makes his way to the other side of the bed.
With a gentle smile, Azik reaches out to shake the lump under the blankets. "Klein," he calls. "It's time to get up."
A muffled protest sounds from underneath.
Undeterred, Azik replies, "I have already let you sleep in a little longer. You will be late for your class."
"—ve more minutes."
Sighing fondly, Azik sneaks his hand over and into the blanket and clamps his fingers over the scruff of the cat he finds.
"Cold!" Klein jolts up and out from the blankets, flinching away. His wide brown eyes stare at Azik in outrage, but the fatigue hanging from his expression and the way his bedhead has his hair sticking up at an unruly angle has Azik smiling. His body's cold disposition has its benefits.
Azik chuckles and rises to his feet. "Your tea is ready if you want it," he says before walking away innocently toward their wardrobe.
Klein follows him with a half-hearted glare. Grumbling, he slides his feet into his cat slippers and nearly shuffles his way into the bathroom. He yawns his way through washing his face, brushing his teeth, and combing his hair, and by the time he finishes, he returns to find an empty bedroom.
From the wardrobe, Klein retrieves and dresses in his day clothes: a white shirt, a waistcoat, a belt, and slacks. He grabs a tie on his way out.
Descending from the stairway, Klein takes a breath in and finds sweetness on the frosted air.
Azik greets him in the kitchen with a mug of hot sweet tea.
"Thank you," Klein says with a smile, exchanging the tie in his hand for the cup. He takes a sip. The familiar taste of citrine and honey melt on his tongue as warmth seeps through his chest.
"Of course," Azik replies. He reciprocates his smile while he reaches forward to loop the strip of fabric around Klein's neck to tie it.
Klein lets him do so as if he has done so millions of times.
After firing up and downing two pieces of avocado toast, Azik and Klein gather up their briefcases by the front door. Azik helps Klein put on his coat. Klein helps Azik wrap a scarf around his neck. They put on their shoes and lock the door behind them. As they make their way out to the main street, they press close together in time with their steps, locked together by Klein's hand hanging on the crook of Azik's elbow.
Winter paints a sheet of grey over the hovering sky. It brings both gloom and cold without the sun to thaw the mood, but when Klein breathes out warmth, he cannot help but smile at the visible puff of air he sees.
Calling for a carriage does not take long. They greet the coachman in familiarity, exchanging the old good mornings and the how are you's. Settling inside the carriage, Azik's hand slides behind Klein to settle on his waist and tug him closer—less to give warmth and more to steal his.
Klein drops his head against Azik. His eyelids flutter closed.
The rocking of the carriage, the steadiness of Azik's shoulder, and the secure anchor of Azik's hand are what lulls Klein to a shallow sleep.
Azik tips his head against Klein's. His eyelids flutter closed, but he has no intention to sleep—only just to sink into the quiet warmth of his lover. He hears a mix of different sounds as the carriage carries on: the bustle of the morning rush, the rumble of passing wheels, and Klein's soft and slowing breaths.
When Azik finally opens his eyes, his gaze jumps to the carriage window.
"Klein."
A nasal sound answers Azik. Dragging his eyes open, Klein hums heavily as he lifts his head, shrinking back from the morning light.
Azik smiles down on Klein. "We have arrived."
After Azik steps down from the carriage, he reaches out to catch Klein's hand, steadying his way down. To the coachman, he pays the fee and offers a nod of gratitude.
"The department head hates me for scheduling me an 8AM class," Klein grumbles as they walk into a building of the faculty of history. The hallways are empty; the lecture hall, once they enter, is too.
Azik offers a laugh. "You are a relatively new professor, after all," he replies, watching Klein place his briefcase onto the desk by the chalkboards and begin to take out his lecture materials.
"Seniority is always the issue," Klein mutters before he falls victim to another yawn.
Azik cannot help but reach forward to pat his fluffy hair in comfort.
"Hmm?" Klein blinks blearily at him.
"Bedhead," Azik answers. Dropping his hand, he catches sight of his watch and glances at the time. "I should get going soon as well."
Klein nods. After a second, he poses a question: "Lunch?"
Azik smiles softly. "Of course. Did you have a place in mind?"
"Rosemary's?" Klein suggests immediately, his brown eyes lighting up and his mouth spreading in a bright smile, "I've been craving their turkey sandwiches lately." He stops to ponder. "Though, I'm still unsure of what kind of sauce they use. The last time I tried to replicate it, I couldn't capture the exact…"
Klein's voice fades out just as a hand reaches out to him, cupping his face, tilting his chin upward, and drawing him forth in a slow invitation.
Azik's lips meet Klein's in a gentle touch—a fall of a feather or a flap of a butterfly's wings. Instinctively, Klein's eyes fall closed. His hands freeze in the air only to steady themselves on Azik's chest just as he feels an arm loop around his waist to tug their bodies close.
When Azik pulls away, his breath is hot on Klein's lips as he murmurs, "Whatever you want." The dark pools of his eyes do nothing but draw him in.
"I—" Klein's voice stutters in his throat, a blush blooming across his face.
The door behind Azik starts to open.
Klein jolts, shoving Azik away as he whirls around toward his desk.
From behind the door, a young female student peeks in with a smile, "Good morning, Professor Moretti—" her gaze jumps to Azik, "Ah, and to Professor Eggers as well. Sorry… am I interrupting something?"
Azik smiles in amusement as he watches Klein cough into his fist, a faint red to his cheeks.
"Hello, Marlene. No, you can come in," Klein responds as he puts on an unfazed smile. "I was just running my lecture plan by Professor Eggers. You're not usually here this early."
Marlene closes the door behind her and answers, "Oh, I had an errand to run that ended quicker than I expected so I thought I would come in to ask a few questions about the upcoming exam."
"Yes, of course." Klein gestures Marlene to come closer. As she does so, he glances tentatively at Azik.
"I'll take my leave," Azik says. He turns halfway toward the door and smiles, a hint of mischief to his eyes. "Well then, good luck with your lesson today, Professor."
Unsolved Mysteries of the Fifth Epoch is a class that Klein has taught for six semesters, yet he is still not quite sure how class attendance is so high given that the slot is always in the early morning. Perhaps, his exams are too easy… Just that suspicion alone makes him want to make them more difficult (though he would never go through with it as a former student himself).
Klein puts down his chalk and turns to the classroom with a smile. "That's all the content we'll cover today, so I'll let you go." As he watches his students begin to pack up, he continues, "Just as a reminder, I rescheduled my office hours to 1PM today, but if you can't make it, your teaching assistants will still be available at their regular hours. Have a good weekend, everyone!"
The lecture hall is empty by the time Klein finishes packing up and answering some students' last-minute questions. After slipping on his coat, he checks his pocket-watch.
"Azik should be finished his class by now…" Klein murmurs as he steps out into the hall. Once he opens the front door of the building, a blast of cold breeze strikes him in the face, sending a shudder down his spine. Blinking into the wind, his gaze jumps to a figure standing by a nearby bench.
At Klein's approaching footsteps, Azik looks up. His expression softens, a smile spreading across his lips, as he asks, "How was it?"
"The same old." Klein smiles back. "I'm still receiving questions about whether writing utensils are needed for a written exam."
"You get used to it," Azik chuckles, intertwining their hands.
The restaurant door triggers a bell as it swings open. The mixed aroma of coffee and baked goods greet their entrance, accompanied by the heavy embrace of heating. Lightbulbs hang from the ceiling with a strange aesthetic. From behind the display counter, a few workers move about, brewing drinks and arranging dishes.
Glancing at the few occupied tables, Klein comments absently, "It seems like we've beaten the rush."
The male cashier turns toward them with a plastic smile. Yet, when their familiar figures register, the smile reaches up to find his eyes. "Professors!" he exclaims. "What can I get for you two today?"
Azik pulls out his wallet and answers, "A cup of marquis grey and another of sweet lemon tea, please. Also, two turkey sandwiches. Thank you."
After paying, Klein chooses a table by the window. That is, their usual seats. Rosemary's is a restaurant-cafe hybrid that opened up almost a year ago. Because of its close proximity to the university, their main source of business happens to be students and staff. The doorbell rings as others come and go.
The time passes in a slow pursuit.
"Midseashire?" Klein echoes. He lowers the mostly-eaten sandwich in his hands.
"Yes." Azik nods. "How does Constant City sound? I've heard from my colleagues that they hold a festival from mid-December until the end of the year. They will have many attractions, musical performances, and foods stands. We could travel there after the exam period."
Klein hums, munching on the last piece of his sandwich. While wiping his hands, he says, "That sounds nice." After some thought, he stretches out his arms onto the table, raps his left index finger on the surface, and says, "You have a weak tolerance to the cold, though."
Azik smiles gently. "But you'll be with me."
Blinking wide, Klein props his chin on his right elbow and turns toward the window. A slight red tinges to his ears. "…Leech."
As Azik takes a sip of his tea, he watches as Klein's gaze focuses on something outside.
"It's snowing…" Klein murmurs, his brown eyes reflecting both the falling white of outside and the warm glow of inside. From the monochrome clouds, flutters of snowflakes spiral down. They vanish as they hit the ground. "I wonder if the campus lake will freeze over. We could go skating."
Azik reaches out to hold Klein's left hand. The latter does not bat an eye, already lost in his thoughts, when Azik runs his thumb along his knuckles and the black-gold ring on his finger.
"That reminds me of the first time we met," Azik remarks, his voice a hint nostalgic. "Are you sure that you want to skate?"
Klein purses his lips, flushing. "In my defense… it was black ice. I'm not usually that clumsy."
"How unfortunate," Azik smiles, looking at him, "I like catching you."
"How did you two get together?"
The question had been asked on two separate occasions:
-
In his office, Klein had frozen at his desk, blushing red from the neck up to the ears.
-
In the lecture hall, Azik had blinked in surprise—more at the question's bluntness than the actual content.
Klein looked away and replied shyly, "Ah, was it that obvious?"
Azik looked forward with a fond expression. "Well, he quite literally fell into my arms."
One said, "It was in Winter."
The other continued, "I was waiting in line for a stage play."
"When they started letting people in, I stepped forward and slipped on some black ice—"
"I reached out—"
"I fell back—"
"I caught Professor Moretti—"
"Professor Eggers caught me."
At the romantic oh's that reply in teasing, Klein interrupted with a cough, "If you aren't here to ask real and relevant academic questions, please leave—"
"Was it love at first sight?"
Klein, already flushed red and burning, had opened his mouth to quip back, but the embarrassment on his tongue was enough to choke his voice. "Ah, that's… well—"
"Yes," Azik had answered, smiling with unbridled affection, "It was."
The remaining classes Azik and Klein have scheduled finish by the time the snow has stopped. A thin layer of white levels over the campus ground. Frost hangs over the atmosphere like haunting ghosts, reaping shivers and goosebumps from all those who pass through the open air.
"Excited?" Azik asks as he draws Klein's into the carriage with him.
Huddling against him, Klein laughs. "To criticize? Of course."
Klein usually has his office hours at 4PM, but the reason why he rescheduled them to earlier today is because the two of them had booked tickets for a stage play a month ago. It is one by the famous Emperor Roselle. Although the man's stories are praised as literary masterpieces by some, Azik and Klein have found that most of their enjoyment comes from post-credit criticisms and complimenting the actors for making the best out of their circumstances.
After arriving at the theatre and waiting outside, huddled like penguins, the pair are soon led inside into the large auditorium, set aglow by a dim gold from the lights lining the walls and upper floors.
When they reach their aisle, they settle in beside each other. Azik offers his elbow; Klein takes hold of it.
With his free hand, Azik takes out the program booklet from the seat pocket in front of him.
As he flips through it, Klein chips in, "I heard that the main lead from that indie musical we watched landed a role as a minor side character."
"Endless dream?" Azik asks, gaining a thoughtful look. "Is that so? That's quite surprising. I found her acting far beyond her peers to only land a minor role."
Klein hums. "I wonder why."
"It could due to differences in experience."
"Or connections," Klein lampoons, leaning his head on Azik's shoulder. "It's always connections."
Azik laughs. "Or that, of course."
Feeling Klein sigh against his arm, Azik reaches into his pocket and unwraps a lemon candy, offering it to Klein who lazily opens his mouth and allows himself to be fed.
Before long, the lights of the auditorium die down, plunging the room into a subtle darkness. Below the stage, an orchestra lifts their bows. The song of strings fill the air as the curtains part, revealing the story it will begin to tell.
Azik and Klein watch in company and in silence—at least, most of the time. With each cheesy line or a well-delivered one, Klein turns to Azik with a hushed whisper. Either a grimace or a smile will spread across his face. Under the roars of the symphony, they exchange their thoughts from shared looks as if reading each other's minds, needless of voices.
At the climax of the play, when all the pieces collect in a single place, when all that was built comes to fall, Klein looks to Azik with many words to share.
Azik is already smiling gently at him.
"I thought it was anticlimactic! There was all that build-up just for nothing," Klein complains, animatedly gesturing with his hands from across the restaurant dining table. The candle flame separating them wavers.
The low-lit lighting of the restaurant seems to mirror that of the theatre auditorium as many other tables seat a rush of people, bringing about a distant background noise to their conversation.
"I share the sentiment." Azik swirls his glass of wine and considers his own thoughts for a moment. "All the events prior were very well-done, including the foreshadowing, but the climax did not utilize them correctly." Chuckling, he continues, "It is a common trend for most conclusions to fall flat."
Klein sighs, cutting into his steak. "It's always easier to create a premise than it is to end it."
Azik laughs. "That's true."
Seeing Azik take a sip of his wine, Klein falls under brief contemplation before he looks around. His eyes find who they are looking for. "Excuse me," he calls.
Catching their attention, a waiter walks over with a polite smile. "May I fetch anything for you, sir?"
"May I have a glass of your signature wine?" Klein asks.
"Of course. I'll be right back," the waiter nods, stepping away from the table towards the bar.
Azik blinks in faint surprise, eyebrows furrowing. "You do not fancy that brand—let alone many wines, my dear. Are you sure?"
"I need to forget my disappointment," Klein reasons, feeding himself a piece of the steak and sighing in joy at the taste. Chewing it like a chipmunk, he swallows briefly after. "Where were we?" The candle flame catches the warm brown of his eyes.
Drifting back in thought, Azik replies, "I was only about to mention that we must acknowledge that neither of us know anything about how to write a compelling drama."
"That's why I chose history," Klein lets out a laugh, "I only have to report what has been said and done."
"Then, what about the elective you are teaching?" Azik points out. "Unsolved Mysteries of the Fifth Epoch."
Klein blinks like a cat caught in mischief. His gaze darts around briefly before he answers, "That's different. I have a strange fascination in the events of that era. Theorizing about their mysteries is a favorite past-time of mine."
Azik opens his mouth to respond—
"Pardon me."
The two of them look up from their conversation.
Reappearing a serving tray in hand, the waiter places a wine glass in front of Klein and says, "I apologize for the wait. Here's our signature wine. Please, enjoy!"
"Oh, yes," Klein begins, "Thank you." Taking the glass in hand and swirling it slightly, he turns back to Azik. "Sorry, were you going to say something?"
The candlelight flickers.
The shadows on Klein's face wanes.
After a moment—one not long enough to notice—Azik shakes his head.
"It's alright," he says with a smile. "I forgot what was on my mind."
It takes them a thirty-minute carriage ride to get home, a bumpy ride that one of them does not notice. By then, Azik pays the fee to the coachman, steps back into the carriage, and scoops a very drunk Klein into his arms, unable to stifle a chuckle at his lover's light snoring.
The faint clash of keys echo through the hallway once Azik manages to get the door open. Careful, he places Klein upright on the hallway bench to take off his shoes.
"Hmm…?" Klein hums, blinking blearily. "Did I fall asleep?"
"Not for long," Azik says, helping Klein shrug off his coat to hang it by the door. "Do you need me to carry you upstairs?"
Yawning, Klein shakes his head. "…I can walk," he replies, but the moment he stands up, it is only because Azik catches him that he avoids smacking his head into the doorway table.
"I thought you said you're not usually that clumsy," Azik softly jests, looping an arm around Klein's and under his knees to lift him into his arms.
Klein wraps his arms loosely around Azik's neck. "…I thought you said you like catching me," he slurs, his eyes closed.
Azik smiles and leans down to press a kiss to Klein's hair. "Always."
Carrying him upstairs and into their room, Azik places Klein onto the edge of the bed and steadies him to make sure he does not crash sideways, backwards, or forwards. "Can you undress by yourself?" he asks.
Klein nods, half-lidded.
As Azik turns to fetch their pajamas, Klein manages another yawn as he begins unbuttoning his waistcoat and shirt. His limbs move sluggishly as if through mud. He hums unconsciously as he watches Azik open the wardrobe and rummage through their clean clothing.
By the time Azik turns back, Klein's waistcoat is on the floor. His shirt, however, is only left buttoned, revealing the paleness of his chest.
With an affectionate sigh, Azik steps closer to help Klein finish the job and says, "For next time, my dear, you should not drink so much. If wasting money is the issue, then—"
A hand snatches his tie and yanks him forward into a kiss.
Klein's lips taste of sweetness—light and lacking the bitterness Azik is familiar with. They taste of fruits, a mix of them that Azik cannot name. For a better guess, Azik pushes his tongue against the seam of Klein's lips, licking into his mouth and eliciting a muffled sound from his lover's chest.
Klein wraps his arms around Azik's neck, pulling him further down until the latter has to brace himself on the bedside. In turn, Azik's other hand comes to caress Klein's face. He holds him like glass.
Fingers run through Azik's hair, pulling his locks loose from his hair tie, before they drop down to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt desperately. Once the fabric is open, his warm hands splay across Azik's naturally cold skin.
It takes much of Azik's willpower for him to pull away. "You're too tired, my dear," he reasons unevenly, his eyes pinned the swollen red of Klein's lips.
Klein pants, "You can do all the work." A subtle daze clouds his eyes.
Azik smiles, leaning in once more. "I always do."
Without further pause, Azik kisses Klein again, deep and slow and patient. Without pulling away from each other's mouths, they shoulder off their clothing and drop their belts to the floor. The bed sinks under their combined weight as Azik guides Klein down.
Through the split of the curtain, under the heavy crimson moonlight, Azik and Klein entangle in bed and body, making love with gentle whispers and light kisses and soothing touches. Azik kisses away Klein's tears. He grasps his trembling hands. He moves slow like the push and pull of the ocean tide, always in comfort and never in pain.
The room grows warm without the presence of heating.
After a timeless moment, Klein lets out a soft shuddering sound. His spine arches just so and Azik's hand follows the curve of it, holding him steady through the waves until Klein relaxes like a loosening bow. Azik lowers him to the bed carefully, murmuring sweet nothings and praise.
The fingers clenched into the muscles of Azik's back slowly begin to weaken.
"Azik…"
Klein looks up at him in a daze, lips parted and puffing, lashes fluttering and teary, sweaty skin adorned with a crimson glow. He looks beautiful under Azik's touch.
There is no need for Azik to hold back from leaning down to steal one last kiss from him—one overflowing with passion in attempt to convey the love he has for Klein.
When they draw apart, a silver thread connects their mouths.
Panting with his lips parted, Klein blinks slowly, half-lidded. "Azik..." he huffs hoarsely. "Again."
And Azik, ever indulgent, has never denied Klein anything.
When Azik awakens, his eyes focus on the morning light. His gaze carries no burden of sleep. A mop of black hair sticks up below his face, smelling of a familiar citrine soap. He peeks down to see Klein's sleeping face.
Azik lifts his hand to brush Klein's locks past his temples and around his ear, holding his fingers there for a long moment. Klein's long lashes flutter in reply, yet he does not wake.
Wordlessly, Azik watches him sleep.
He cannot help the bitterness rising up like bile in his chest.
In this lifetime, Klein Moretti is a history professor at the renowned Tingen University. He is beloved by all of his students, enough to capture their hearts within two years of working there. He makes his exams far too easy for the course level because his heart is too weak to make them harder. He drops by every academically-hosted sporting event, art alleys, and holiday celebrations, donating money despite how stingy he proclaims himself to be.
In this lifetime, Klein Moretti is a food enthusiast. He travels first-and-foremost not just for the sights but to taste and explore unfamiliar cuisine and culture. He is never one to shy away from trying novel foods even with some skepticism. He cooks out of passion and not chore, always one to surprise Azik with a homemade meal.
In this lifetime, Klein Moretti is a self-proclaimed stage play critic. He is the first to offer applause to the conclusion of a show, showing support whether his enjoyment was rich or absent. He answers with polite congratulations and praise when asked by directors but during over-the-table dinner debates with Azik, he lets his criticisms loose like wildfire. He mourns for those who do not receive the credit they deserve, going far enough to support them himself through sponsorships or connections.
In this lifetime, Klein Moretti is a man who feeds every stray cat he sees.
In this lifetime, Klein Moretti is a man who has never known war nor madness.
In this lifetime, Klein Moretti lives a peaceful life where he is happy and curious and loved, and so you see, there are many ways one could describe the life of this lifetime's Klein Moretti:
Routine.
Mundane.
Modest.
And yet, there is nothing wrong with simple.
Not for Klein.
Not in this lifetime.
Not that he knows it.
Because Azik Eggers, the son of the God of Death, the former Archon of the Balam Empire, and most importantly, the Angel who has been by Mr. Fool's side the longest—even though he may not know it—knows that the soul of Klein Moretti and Zhou Mingrui will never know the true happy ending he deserves.
In the heart of the Sixth Epoch, where the deities roam the stars and not the barrier, Azik looks at Klein sleeping in his arms without a single worry nor a burden and wonders if this will ever be enough.
This is all I can do for you, my dear.