Breathless.

Faelar himself could barely grasp how much he had fallen for this man. It felt as if the reason was always within arm’s length, yet he found it utterly impossible to fathom how much his affection extended. It surpassed even his own understanding, to the point he would drive himself mad in an attempt to have an inkling of an idea of why he fell for him. Love is such a foreign concept to him. Is driving himself mad to understand the origins of his romance story, what they call love? The more that Faelar is by his side, the more he finds himself unable to detach himself from this man. An image of a smile gracing his lovely face was ingrained into his mind, pestering his every waking moment no matter what task he busied himself with. His beloved Ruven. That name plagues every hour of every day since the day he laid eyes on him. It is not simply the waking hours that his beautiful name dances through Faelar’s mind, but the hours he spends in the fond illusions of the night does Ruven plague his endless dreams. Perhaps the universe thought of it as meant to be, purposely altering the course of events to force the two to constantly be in close proximity. But, Faelar never protested that fact. Ruven was naturally alluring, captivating his entire attention by simply taking a few humble steps into the same room. Every gesture appeared to be filled with a touch of magic, causing Faelar to stumble over a log and pursue Ruven’s lingering trail, staying head over heels after his every move.

“The stars are ethereal tonight, must I say. They feel so close, yet so far from us. The way they simply twinkle, nothing more, still seems to captivate my eyes. Stars are… such elegant celestial bodies.”

It was not the stars that were “elegant celestial bodies”. That unspoken fact was clear; the true elegance was just inches away from him. All he needed to do was shift his gaze to the left, just a few inches, and he would see the face of an angel. Such a simple gesture that would leave Faelar stunned beyond words. His eyes remained fixated on the night sky, an array of blues and blacks, dotted with white specks as if a painter purposely splattered the paint onto the canvas at random.

“Indeed it is. They seem just within reach, but in reality are thousands of miles away. Such a beautiful phenomenon. Truly is beauty itself … embodied … right before my eyes.”

Faelar turned his head toward Ruven. His words perfectly snapshotted how Faelar thought of Ruven; he truly was the definition of beauty, embodied before his eyes. Faelar’s head turned ever so slightly, but to his surprise, Ruven was already gazing back. Rosy lips upturned into a faint smile as their eyes met, causing a faint blush to creep onto Faelar’s cheeks. Before he could to utter a sound, to make way for words that would inevitably pour out of him, Ruven’s pointer finger pressed itself onto his sealed lips. A hush left Ruven’s mouth, leaving the other tongue-tied. Nothing physically restrained him from speaking, but the mere act of being hushed was enough for him to fall silent. Had it been any other person, Faelar would have wasted no time strangling their arms, bending the limbs to the point their bones snapped, shattering them to pieces. But this was no “other person”. This was a man who demanded his attention, and all Faelar could do … no … all he wanted to do was grant him that wish. The quietude remained unbroken, the air thick with unspoken words, and the unusual hush that befell the two only drew him closer to Ruven. Faelar’s eyes, habitually guarded, flickered with newfound warmth. His hand reached to wrap around Ruven’s wrist, fingers curling around the soft skin and pulling his finger away from his mouth, making way for him to speak all that he wanted to.

“You possess the presence of an artist, painting the world in vibrant hues. It is not the words alone you speak, but the way you mold the silence, the pauses between sentences – each passing moment is a brushstroke of your charm, onto the canvas.”

Ruven’s expression softened, an acknowledgment of Faelar’s heartfelt utterance. An unspoken understanding was formed; this was a confession of sorts. Although Faelar was a master of his words, this appeared to be the one time they failed to convey the way he felt towards Ruven. He could run his tongue over every flawless feature about the man for days on end, but he could never bring himself to pronounce the words. Thoughts full of doubt haunted his mind ever since Ruven expressed his flirtatious intent. The smallest possibility of Ruven seeing him as a friend danced a waltz in his mind, causing Faelar’s painfully obvious apprehensiveness around the other.

“Must you be uptight when around me? Your words carry hesitance, wistfulness, an uneasiness of sorts in the aftertone. I feel as if you are on eggshells while speaking to me. Despite your poise, you still are unable to mask your true expression. I can tell I capture your attention like a magnet drawn to metal, yet you never seem to verbalize those thoughts briefly or directly. Your elongated sentences are poetic, I must admit, but you have never said it in such a way where it is clear how you think of us. Am I the reason for that? What have I done to deserve such treatment, Faelar?”

Faelar’s eyes widened, it not occurring to him that Ruven thought he had made some kind of mistake. His speaking mannerisms seemed to have conveyed ill intent. The eloquent words were meant to display the opposite; to praise and to express his affection towards Ruven. A newfound discomfort edged at the back of his head, reaching towards the forefront of his mind. Affection was never the right word for all the feelings he felt towards the man before him. Perhaps, just this once, Faelar would succumb to the emotions and call it by its true name: love. He had always been anxious about labeling it as such. The weight and meaning it carried lingered on his tongue as if by uttering it, he would uncover a deeper truth within himself that he was not fully prepared to confront. It was a time-consuming emotion, at its core. Faelar lacked the time to dedicate and was afraid of the potential consequences that came with such a burden.

“You have not done anything wrong, not at all. I did not intend for you to think that way. I do admit, put bluntly, that I have taken a liking towards you. You have an enchanting presence, Ruven. It enamors me and causes my mind to spiral out of my own control. Ridiculous, I know. I seem reserved on the surface, yet my mind is the opposite. I am left in chaotic disarray whenever near you; your unspoken eloquence leaves me yearning for more. Ruven, I am afraid you may not understand just how much I crave to be by you every moment for the rest of my life.”

Love, with all its complexities that Faelar originally feared, danced a tango between the two, begging for acknowledgment. Faelar hesitates, still clutching onto Ruven’s wrist, the fabric of his ivory cotton sleeve rubbing against his palm. He felt that if he had relinquished his grip for a second, Ruven would disappear before his eyes. Caught in the delicate balance between the fear of vulnerability and the undeniable tug of his heart. In that fleeting moment, his eyes searched Ruven’s, a truth bubbled to the surface which he had been avoiding for far too long.

“You crave to be by me, Faelar?”

His mellifluous voice, akin to the sweetness of honey, resonated with an inquisitive undertone. Faelar’s name rolled effortlessly off of his tongue as if it was meticulously crafted to be spoken from his flawless lips. Tension grew in his lower abdomen, a manifestation of his accumulating uncertainties about the near future. The situation was entangling, as if he was prey snagged in a spider’s web, and Faelar found himself caught in the middle. Torn between affirmation and negation of Ruven’s reassertion, he found himself unable to formulate a response. Though the words were originally his own, they assumed a peculiar nuance when uttered by Ruven. Faelar grappled with the challenge of articulating a reply to the query, struggling to face the position he weaved himself into.

“I….”

Ruven chuckled, the sound leaving his lips as Faelar merely watched. Pink dusted his cheeks, darkening to a red as Ruven’s gaze lingered along the terrain of emotions that danced in his eyes. The delicate hue on his face carried the secrets of a silent confession; one that revealed itself with each passing moment. An imaginary barrier separated the two, visible to only Faelar and his troubled thoughts. This was no longer a friendship, no, it was more than that. Faelar, despite his agitated mind, was able to deduce that much.

“I wish you could be honest with me. There is no point to shy away from being direct. Your compelling poetry allures me, yes, that much is true. But, is there shame in saying it briefly?”

To Faelar, the words that Ruven was referring to were anything but shameful, but his mouth simply could not choke them out. It was as if long tendrils that were laced with thorns tightened themselves around his throat, depriving him of the capacity for verbal expression. His throat burned as if flames were hungrily eating away at his vocal cords, robbing him of all the words he longed to speak. His hand reached for his throat, clutching the organ as if it was his last breath. Faelar abruptly sat up from the ground, the seemingly barbed grass digging into the back of his head. His shaky, left hand instinctively reached for the ground to support his weight. As his palm met the grass, the grass pierced his palm as if it were a million needles, searing pain rattling through his bones. He attempted to draw a breath, choking on the air itself while attempting to remain conscious. Faelar, despite his attempts, could not regain his composure. The tranquility and presence of mind he typically expressed was slipping between his fingers, and it was all on display for Ruven to watch. If he dared to say, he might have been the last person Faelar wanted to see this.

“Oh, Fae, come here.”

Ruven’s arms wrapped themselves around Faelar’s trembling body, his head resting on Faelar’s shoulders as Ruven’s tender fingers drew shapes along his back. Silent tears streamed down Faelar’s eyes, running down his flushed cheeks and dripping off his chin. Not wanted, not welcome, yet he still wept. The moment he had shattered, he felt as if the world had ended then and there. Contrary to his initial belief, the world had indeed not ended and seconds turned to minutes of thick silence, occasionally broken by Faelar’s soft sobs. Ruven extends a hand, reaching up to cup the side of Faelar’s face, feeling the warm skin against his palm. Their eyes meet, and Ruven hesitates. The space between them had notably become much smaller, and a longing feeling seemingly lingered the longer that feeling was unaddressed.

“Ruven…I…apologize you must see me like this.”

His words were met with a swift bat to the face, Ruven’s hand lightly hitting the side of his cheek. Eyebrows furrowed, Ruven clenched his fists as his eyes frustratingly stared at Faelar, eyes darting in multiple directions, unable to accept the apology. Or, more accurately, unable to accept the fact that Faelar had apologized for such a thing.

“That’s not something you…apologize for. You are being ridiculous. It’s your feelings! You can’t control them.”

“Normally I am able to, but this time I am being an inconvenience to you by expressing myself in such a way.”

Ruven glared at him, heaving a sigh as he realized the genuine nature of Faelar’s response. It was as if the man had no rudimentary understanding of emotions. It should not come as a surprise, though. Faelar had been apathetic since the day he had met him, possessing a similar aura to that of a wall.

“I wish you could hear yourself right now.”

“Perhaps you could open my eyes and help me understand the error in my ways?”

The conflict persists in Ruven’s eyes, while Faelar sees nothing amiss. Ruven hesitates, steadying himself with a deep inhale, expelling the air in his lungs while scooting towards Faelar, the two dangerously close at this point.

“Perhaps another time.”

He is met with a nod, Faelar’s fingers reaching up to his face and wiping the residual wetness of his tears that lingered on his skin. Seeing he had missed a spot, Ruven wastes no time as he takes care of it for him, a smile gracing his elegant features while doing so. Faelar appears surprised at the gesture, his light blue irises widening, but does not show any sign of protest. A simple gesture, yet one filled with genuine care that was conveyed through the sheer tenderness of it.

“I love you, Ruven.”

Their eyes lock as Ruven tilts his head at Faelar’s euphoric expression, eyes seeming to drift off into another universe as he gazes at Ruven. Instead of longingly staring into each other’s eyes, like they had done this entire evening, Ruven lets a chuckle slip out, fingertips brushing Faelar’s chin as he leans in. A gasp is elicited from Faelar’s mouth as their lips meet, quickly silenced by the kiss as his eyes flutter shut. Ruven leaned in towards the kiss, towards Faelar, melting into the sensation before processing what he had done. Slightly hesitant, Ruven chooses to pull back briefly with a hesitant expression as he presses his hand on Faelar’s chest, in fear of his disapproval of the action. Contrary to Ruven’s worried thoughts, Faelar cupped the side of Ruven’s face and tilted his head, pressing a kiss onto his lips. His hand ran along Ruven’s skin, Faelar’s cold fingers tracing his jaw, firmly pressing on the lower jaw as he kept him in that position. This time, Faelar had leaned into the kiss, desperately wanting this moment to last forever. Was this truly what love is? Something unexplainable, transcending the ability of words that Faelar could articulate. At this moment, it felt as if a part of his puzzle was complete, a part of his heart filled with something he did not realize he craved all this time. Perhaps now he could understand why Ruven caught his eye, among many others that swam in the ocean of life. He was always meant to be with him, the stars had entwined them from the beginning. Finally, Ruven had pulled back and left Faelar leaning forward ever so slightly, a sigh leaving Faelar’s lips. Before Faelar could answer, he could not find his voice. Words simply would not formulate, his body rebelling against itself. Nothing seemed right about this. He was never supposed to fall for Ruven. It was against the very nature of himself. Faelar vowed to never love, to never feel affection towards an individual. Doing so would bring them both down into the depths of the abyss. His life could easily slip between the crevices in his fingers and he would not only pull himself down to hell itself, but he would pull Ruven into it as well.

Ruven was the problem and the solution. He knew all too well that was the case, yet still insisted to be by Faelar. It felt like Faelar was cheating his way through life. No deity would have willingly blessed Faelar the angel that Ruven is. Yet here he was, lips pressed against the person he never deserved to ever have his eyes gaze upon him.

Frustration tugged at his heart, strings threatening to snap at any moment. There were so many others who Ruven deserved, and yet he was the chosen one. Words struggled to form in his mouth, the sour words he wanted to say were silenced by his own willpower. His body felt as if it was actively rebelling against itself. Ruven seemed to notice and placed a finger on his damp lips, blinking slowly, almost hesitant to say anything.

The action was enough for Faelar to have fallen then and there. His tender finger gently nestled on his lips, pressing onto the skin with slight force. Even if Faelar wanted to speak, he couldn’t. It was as if Ruven had cast a spell on him, silencing him along with his troubled thoughts. Faelar reached to take Ruven’s arm off of his lips. This was wrong. It was so wrong in so many ways, and he wanted to tell Ruven before it was too late. Before they both had gone far too deep into the entangling depths of romance. The two knew that this would only bring more complex circumstances, yet neither of them gave way to those looming consequences.

Faelar opened his mouth, lips parted as if he was about to speak. However, no words accompanied him. It was at this moment he understood what it truly meant to be speechless. A calming hush elicited from his lips. It was his doing, Faelar was certain. Ruven had left him dazed, entranced by his mere presence. He had pried open Faelar’s heart with his own two hands and discovered the key to unlock his shielded heart. Ruven’s eyes gleamed with guilt, or so Faelar observed. The voice in his head screamed for him to run, yet something told him to stay by his side. Forever.

Ruven seemed to eat away at his confidence, knowing he shouldn’t, yet does so anyway. He had clear intentions to dig deeper into Faelar, discovering more than what is on the surface and etch his name into his memory.

“I love you too, Faelar.”