Oblivious to the wreckage he had just created, Seodai stared at the edge of the cliff before him, though his thoughts were much more distant. He recognized Syllke's retreat as a loss of comfort, but when he glanced up his friend was casually reclined, watching what was going on behind them. The moment was still was electric and thick for Seodai, because his mind was still filled with Lysander, and the images of the lovers behind them. He cleared his throat a little, feeling more than awkward. But Syllke was his friend, right? He certainly couldn't tell anyone else this. So, why not?
"Lysander is..." he began, and ran out of words immediately. And then, it was as if a dam had been opened, torn down, releasing a torrent of words and emotions that Seodai had clearly been holding in for some time. He spoke in a rush, as he described Lysander. His beauty, first. Otherworldy, ethereal. And then he started at the very beginning. He explained how he had been summoned to the labyrinth to walk with old Zahari, and how he had met Lysander when he had arrived. He explained every awkward touch as they turned through the twisting path, every brush of Lysander's skin against his own. And then he told the story of how the night had become so frightening and ugly, the lights falling from the sky. He told of Zahari's loss, was it death?, and how the acolyte had been distraught. He and Lysander? Terrified, but well enough to drag the mourning kin of the old Priest off to find the Captain.
And then he told of how, on her orders, he had stayed with Lysander through the night. Seodai detailed how terribly Lysander had been injured and how, without hesitance, he had used the incredibly precious potion (that very well would have saved his own life in more dire circumstances) to heal the captivating youth. He marveled at how, with a kiss, Lysander had pushed his scrapes away, melded them into his skin. He lingered too long here, his fascination drifting from merely the healing properties of Lysander's kiss to the power of those lips against his skin, period. Seodai spoke with a rushed whimsy, even as he barreled through to the end. Lysander was not there when he awoke. He had seen him a handful of times since then, but only at night.
Beyond peculiar, it was. And so frustrating.
"It's just... I didn't even decide to want... him. This. That. I mean..."
Seo raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. He'd forgotten about the lovers behind them, but he felt exposed, awkward, embarrassed. He leaned back on his elbows so that he could tap his knuckles against Syllke's knee.
"It's like I can't not. When he is around I can't even think. I can't breathe, Syllke. Everything, every single touch," he said, his fingers idly curling and uncurling just above Syllke's knee, "it's like fire. But I shouldn't be chasing some son of Leth. I should get married and make perfect little babies. Ensure Denval carries on. All of those things, right? There's no purpose in this, and I don't even know how to...."
Seodai trailed off, leaving that thought ambiguous. With a dramatic sigh he flopped onto his back, lifting one arm to shield his eyes from the sun. He stared into the sky for a moment, and then lolled his head to the side. With an open, vulnerable expression, he fixed Syllke with an expression that clearly stated how much he needed the affirmation of a friend. He needed Syllke, the first person to know of this, to tell him that it was alright.
"Have you ever felt like that, Syllke?" |