Work Text:
He was sitting there, facing this marble block. This solid, flat, boring marble block. He was supposed to turn it into a beautiful statue. Except he hadn’t been able to do that in a while. He was… empty. He didn’t feel anymore the spark that lived in him before. The spark that sculpting made brighter, stronger. The one that lit the first time he touched a piece of marble. He used to be so amazed by everything. Now life just felt dull and indifferent.
-Come on James, find something -he told himself.
He got up and placed his right hand flat on the marble block. It was cold and almost smooth. James sighed. He didn’t know what to do, but he had people, he had clients counting on him. A person. Yes that’s it, he would sculpt a person. The spark wasn’t back, but at least he had the tiniest idea. With a prayer to the Gods, he picked up his tools and started working.
***
There he was. After weeks and weeks of hard work, his work was done. Lowering his chisel and mallet, he took a few steps back to fully take his work in. His gaze traveled along the cold stone, along the curls, the smooth cheeks, the jaw-line, the swan-like neck and collarbones, the shoulders, the chest, the hips and stomach. Everything about him was beautiful. It was truly James’ best work. His prayers to the Gods had been answered. Later that night he would go thank them properly with offerings, but for now, he was absorbed in the contemplation of this young man.
He needs a name, James realised. His eyes drifted to the window, open to let in the cool air of the night. The stars were shining in the dark sky. Regulus, he recognised. His favourite star, the heart of the lion. His dreamy gaze fell back on the beautiful young man made of stone he had created. Regulus, he thought again, Regulus shall be your name.
***
From that day on, he lived in his workshop, almost constantly admiring the figure of Regulus. But it wasn’t the same as it was with other pieces he had created in the past. He was not scanning him, to find the smallest imperfection or mistake, he was admiring him. As if he had been made by someone else. As if he was a person on the street, as if he was real. Oh, how James wished Regulus was real. He wished he was a living, breathing human person. With warm skin, a bright smile, and an even brighter laugh. He would give anything to hear his laugh. James was haunted. Properly haunted by the thought of Regulus. Of his hands, of his face, of his hips, that James had lovingly carved himself into the stone.
Sometimes, when he was alone at night, in his bed, James would think of Regulus, and a hand would wander down, down under the bed sheets, and his mind would wander far, far in a world where he could hear the sounds Regulus would make.
***
On his knees, palms facing up and eyes fixated on her statue, James begged. He begged for Aphrodite to hear him, to answer him. Her altar was overflowing with offerings. Roses and wine and honey, apples and sea shells, incense and candles. He was asking her for the impossible, for a miracle. He was asking her to free him of his torment, to let him be with his love. He was desperate, obsessed, his every waking thought was for the man made of stone. With tears in his eyes, he prayed. Please, please, oh Aphrodite, let me wake up next to him, oh goddess of love.
The breeze started blowing softly around him.
***
He was seated on a stool, contemplating Regulus’ soft face yet again. If only he could just… touch him. He got up, and slowly approached the statue, placing his hand on Regulus’ cheek. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him. His face grew closer to Regulus’, until they were only milimeters apart. Holding his breath, he delicately pressed their lips together.
The kiss lasted longer than James intended, but with each passing second, Regulus’ lips grew warmer and warmer, calling him in, feeding into his delusion that the kiss was real. That is until he felt soft arms embrace him, pull him in and hold him. He broke the kiss, eyes wide and heart racing, thinking he must have dreamed the whole thing, but no, the warm arms were still around him, and a very alive, very human, very not stone Regulus was standing in front of him, eyes equally wide and cheeked flushed.
-Hey, said the sculpture.
-Hey, said the sculptor.
Their noses brushed as they looked into each other’s eyes, finding what they had been longing for.