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“Well, this is the last stop, stranger.”
The merchant senses Leon from a mile away approaching him for maybe the tenth, twentieth time– he has honestly lost count. The young man arrives in front of him with a slight limp in his stride and a few more bruises blooming in his exposed skin, all blue and purple. It’s pretty, he thinks quietly before pushing the thoughts far into the back of his mind.
He doesn’t consider himself much of a gambler but the first instant he lays his eyes on Leon in the factory, he thinks he has better chances getting cured before Leon can make it out the island alive. He sees the handsome visitor simply as potential business, as one of his very few customers in an island desolate of a conscious, independent mind. Anyone else would’ve toppled over, lost half a body to a chainsaw or been fed to plagas infected dogs, their flesh torn apart beyond recognition.
But against all odds, here he is, a knight in shining armor.
Leon’s request for some repairs and upgrades shakes him out of his thoughts. He gets them done quickly with practiced hands and asks, “Anything else I can help you with?”
Leon is quiet for a short moment, but the pause was enough to get the merchant’s interest piqued. He likes to think he knows what Leon requires by now, what upgrades and repairs he prioritizes, being one of only two customers of his in total. But this time, the request feels heavy in Leon’s tongue.
“Will I see you again?” Leon asks, his voice soft, almost down to a whisper. Despite that, the merchant can hear a hint of wanting, of hope coloring his words as it braves its way out of his mouth. He keeps peering at the merchant while rearranging the items in his case.
The merchant lowers his gaze, his yellow muddied eyes tracing the lines of the wooden table. Leon’s contrasting clear blue eyes skittering back and forth at the merchant– waiting. For a moment, all they could hear was the light clanking of glass as Leon rearranges his vials of herbs, the soft crackle of the purple fire, and the deafening sound of impending doom. He contemplates for a second and breathes out a sigh. “No need to worry about me, stranger. You save yourself and the girl.”
Leon closes the suitcase, the two locks clicking in tandem before he pauses. His calloused hands are still on the locks of the case, his thumbs pressing hard against the metal. “Promise me you’ll get out of here,” he says, raising his gaze back towards the hunched figure, his eyes searching for something– a wrinkle on the forehead, a scrunch in the nose, a lilt in the corner of the lips– but it was difficult. It was difficult when all Leon could see of the merchant were his plagas infected pair of eyes, like peering through a window where all he could see from was a gap in between the curtains. He braves himself to fix his gaze on the man in front of him. “I’ll drag you out of here myself if I have to.”
The merchant raises an eyebrow and chuckles. “You’d definitely be very capable of that!” His chuckle tapers off quickly into a series of coughing as he hunches more, his arms outstretched with his palms against the edge of the wooden table. He entertains the thought of Leon carrying him out of this place for a split second, but that thought is nearly as dangerous as the plagas residing deep in him. Leon breathes life, his heart pumping blood. In contrast, the merchant is, for a lack of better wording, as good as dead. He’d be doubtful to attest to how much longer he’d be able to live with the plagas carving a place for itself inside of him, taking a portion of his own life for itself with every passing second.
But the gods must be against him, for when he meets those clear blue eyes again, his resolve crumbles and sift through his fisted palm like sand. He exhales a shaky breath and gambles. “Everything comes with a price, stranger.”
Leon looks a little taken aback by the response but proceeds to dig out whatever pesetas he has left in his pockets, patting down every nook and cranny of his gear. “This is all I have,” he says, counting a total of around 5 000 pesetas on the tattered gloves of his hands. “Will that be enough?”
“Not that,” the merchant sighs, putting a hand up and pushing away the pesetas in Leon’s hands. “This isn’t something you can put a price on, stranger. I know you realize I’m infected.” His muddy yellow eyes lock with Leon’s deep blue ocean eyes once again, making his statement clear.
But Leon, oh, Leon. He doesn’t back down. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t one persistent guy, busting his way through every unimaginable obstacle and hurdle. God knows how he survived all that.
Leon narrows his eyes, his gaze almost piercing. “I’ve done so much,” he says, confidently, with so much more resolve than the merchant could imagine having while standing in front of a man sculpted like a Greek God, face framed with sharp jaws adorned with a mesmerizing pair of blue eyes. “I could do so much more.”
The merchant almost whistles at that, but he holds back. “Is that so?” he teases, thinking maybe he can push his wants, lay it out on the table. No harm in that, right? They’re not very likely to meet again anyway. In another universe maybe he can hold onto Leon’s waist tight as they ride into the sunset. Maybe he could be the reason for Leon’s smile– oh he would give the world to see Leon laugh openly; eyes crinkled and the corners of his lips spread wide, a melodious sound ringing out of his mouth.
In another universe, he wouldn’t be infected.
In another universe, they would–
He knocks himself back into reality– the reality that keeps his feet firmly rooted in this place of undead. It would be a far stretch of the mind for him to walk among the living. He wrecks his brain for something– anything, that could possibly push Leon away. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if Leon, a living, breathing, walking human being, gets buried under the rubbles of an island the synonym of a ticking time bomb.
“A hug.”
“What?” Leon asks, almost breathless.
“That’s the price, mate. A hug,” the merchant jests. He didn’t want to make promises he couldn’t keep, didn’t think Leon would actually do it. It doesn’t matter anyway, right?
“I could do that,” Leon says easily. And just as easily, he steps forward, his arms stretched out wide.
The merchant steps back, surprised by how quickly Leon agreed. His mind is running a mile an hour, and his mouth regrettably catches up. “I meant to say a kiss,” he corrects himself, “A kiss is the price.”
What?
Seeing zero hesitancy in Leon, he had to up the stakes. It’s been so long since he last had such intimate human contact, he doesn’t think he could bear it, not especially from Leon. But there’s no taking back what now hangs heavy, suspended in the air. Instinctively, he bites his lower lip, and heat starts to rise in his cheeks, thankfully hidden well behind his face mask and the dim lighting. He is almost certain that with those words, he has dug himself an early grave. At this point, he might as well open the casket and jump in himself before Leon’s punch sends him there.
The air was silent for a moment. Leon’s eyes were widened, his mouth slightly agape in shock, his fists clenching and unclenching. The merchant doesn’t think he has ever seen clearer eyes with how much his pupils had dilated– swears that he can almost see the blue skies reflected in it.
“It’s just silly banter, mate. Don’t bother,” the merchant says with forced laughter tumbling awkwardly out of his mouth, trying to right the wrong. But the damage has been done. On the bright side, he could at the very least watch one last show of Leon flexing his muscles to send him, the victim, flying off. He could pretend to be dead, and this will be over. They won’t have to see each other anymore.
“That’s fine.”
The merchant whips his head to Leon, not believing his ears. Before he could distinguish sense from nonsense, what’s real from what isn’t in his mind, he sees Leon surging forward in his direction, pulling him into a tight hug. Warmth– the way it envelops him in a comforting embrace, felt so new. He hasn’t felt that in months, maybe years. As Leon pulls the merchant impossibly closer, the merchant finds himself curling in and sinking against Leon’s chest with his chin tucked on his shoulders. His arms circle around Leon’s back, clutching on the straps, hanging on for dear life.
Leon was a man with all strength and hard edges, a vessel containing a heart too big and a soul too forgiving. The merchant wonders what he ever did to grant him the honour of crossing paths with someone that seems to walk the earth with a pair of wings.
Leon pulls away a little for a moment, and the merchant too quickly misses the comforting warmth. But it returns quicker than he anticipated when Leon leans forward, their foreheads touching. With a hand on the merchant’s shoulder and the other below his chin, Leon guides him, closing the distance. A chaste kiss is pressed against the merchant’s lips over the fabric mask, the touch fleeting.
Everything seems to stop. The rustling of the trees, the hissing of the wind, the insects buzzing around– all sounds turned into muffled echoes in his ears. All he could feel was the warmth of Leon’s lips over the mask and their foreheads leaning against each other. Leon slowly pulls away just an inch and the press of his fingers on his chin leaves soon after.
With all rational thought thrown out the window, the merchant tugs off his mask and surges forward. His hands nudge the back of Leon’s head closer toward him as their lips crash into each other again. This time, the merchant presses on insistently. It isn’t pretty. Their teeth clacked against each other and their foreheads bumped rather loudly. But Leon is kissing back with the same unrelenting pressure. He pulls the merchant by his coat infinitely closer reveling in their shared warmth enveloping warmer bodies.
The merchant tries to memorize every glide of Leon’s lips, desperate for it to be imprinted in each fold and crease in his brain. He’d walk into his mind palace and find it in every single room.
But the moment shatters just as soon as it started.
The merchant pulls away as if he’d been scorched, the fire building up from inside his lung charring his airways until all he could do was cough out the smoke. His pupils dilate and his breathing is labored and uneven. Spit lines his lips and he raises his arm to wipe it off, as if offended. “That wasn’t–” His throat clamps up. It’s difficult to form any coherent thoughts. It’s even harder to voice them out.
Leon stands there in shock. His lips are red and his cheeks rosy but that doesn’t hide the hurt in his eyes. He takes a hesitant step back.
“I must apologize, I shouldn’t have done that,” the merchant says, quickly turning around and pulling his mask back on. He busies himself with packing all his things, hoping he had scared Leon off. He prepares himself to listen to a pair of footsteps storming off in the distance. Instead, Leon’s voice is loud and clear.
“A deal’s a deal, right?”
The merchant swivels around to see Leon standing there, tall as ever, a rare smile lifting the corners of his mouth ever so slightly. For someone who has every compliment in the book to send Leon’s way, he is struck speechless. A laughter quickly bubbles out of his mouth. “You know how it is, stranger,” the merchant quips.
But his gear is packed in one huge bag strapped on his shoulders and he's ready to go. He spares one last glance at Leon before turning around. “Now that the payment’s made, I promise,” he says, loud enough for Leon to hear, “I’ll see you again out there, Leon.”