There was silence as they stared at one another, it felt as if the statues were warping around the weight of their matched gaze.
Paul and Leo glanced at one another, but before they did anything, Charice took a step forward.
With each step, Michael felt his mind numb and gut churn - his heart flipping with every deep breath.
Adrenaline was released under dire circumstances, yet now he could feel it spilling into his veins.
He had been thinking for hours, Jeremy's critique and Willow's advice has cracked, then infiltrated the gaps between his logic. And now, despite such intense focus, he felt every plan slip between his fingers.
Charice was before him now, looking up with those soft, tender eyes full of vigilance and a mixture of fear, concern, and empathy.
'Fuck. Even now?' Michael's eyes flickered to the floor, then to the side, but the gravity of the Consort's subtle breathing pulled them back.
Michael would have told Paul and Leo to leave, and he nearly did, but the second he was about to do so… He realized that was not his choice to make.
"…"
The silence was agonizing. He was meant to speak, to say anything at all, but he could simply not.
Rain began to fall, not pour, not patter, a weak, barely existent dribble of moisture – as if that was the only way the world could embody Michael's cracking composure.
Charice, finally, looked away with a nervous shudder.
'…I-Is he going to say anything? Maybe I should send Paul and Leo away…'
He motioned with his hand, "You guys go rest okay? I'll be… Fine." He gulped softly before saying "Fine" – as if he doubted it.
Paul and Leo looked at Michael, and with a flicker of purple in their gaze, quietly nodded. They knew what he had to do, everyone did.
They were alone, and water weakly framed their somber, stoic expressions.
"I… Owe you an explanation, Consort." Michael finally said with closed eyes, akin to a pair of curtains.
"Why I did what I did, and…" He seemed to gather strength, a quiet crack in his tone, "…An apology for the pain I caused."
Charice nodded, playing with the hem of his sleeves, his toes curling and uncurling on the wet marble beneath him. His eyes flickered pink, but Michael's remained closed.
He spoke for an untold time, the weight of his sacrifice laid bare first.
He missed his wife, any hope for a legacy or dynasty of his name, their home. He feared waste of it all, the fact that it was all for nothing haunted him.
"I pushed and pressured you, because I was scared." It was a tough thing to realize, yet tougher to admit. "But only now I realize that… You were scared too, just forced to hold it. But I…"
He then sighed, looking up at the pale, silver moon, its rays soothing his weary eyes, as if unsure how honest he could be.
"Michael…" His voice softened, longingly, "…Please, be honest."
Charice nodded, gripping his sleeves tighter in an anxious brace.
Michael opened his eyes.
"… I do not regret pushing you." Michael admitted, his halberd shaking from the force of his grip, "But I regret hurting you… I do truly believe I saved lives by making you act sooner, even if it hurt."
His teeth gnashed in his maw, eyes closing once more, "But I feel so fucking bad anyway." He relaxed his grip, taking a deep breath of the cold, night air.
The echo of the city's day could still be felt, the aftertaste of life, joy, hope, it tasted strangely like mint. A rejuvenating scent
He then spoke of the ritual, of his anger at Charice after the meeting.
"After you refused a divine item, one that would make your existence more survivable to me and anyone else sensitive to your power, I couldn't be polite anymore. Your actions were so…!"
His voice turned angry, for just a split second, long enough for Charice to flinch, and give a long, guilty sigh.
"I'm sorry." He quietly muttered, but Michael's next words stole the air from his lungs.
"I'm sorry too." It was a strangely intimate feeling, apologizing and hearing those words stumble from one's mouth.
Charice's heart swelled with affection as his entire body relaxed. Those words were all he needed, because Charice knew Michael was a good man at his core.
These words lingered, until they no longer did.
"…As I was saying," Michael started again, and Charice's hands moved to play with his hair in turn, "Your lack of action was… Painful, both literally and emotionally. I was lying to my colleagues about your lack of, uh... divine action, but they apparently knew all along."
He chuckled, dryly, "Observant fuckers…" After another sigh, he continued, "So I snapped, and walked away. And not long after, you called for me again, about the ritual."
Michael paused for a second, thinking if he should mention Willow now, but he decided not to with a soft shake of his head. It was a motion that made Charice stiffen.
'This is my… No, our moment. I will think about her later.'
"I thought you would run away, hop around the ritual pointlessly. So I didn't tell you everything." Michael felt that strange hollow sensation at his heart, as if something had eaten away at his soul.
He could feel it begin to fill.
"The first drug I gave you was meant to be nothing more than a simple test, of your body's reaction but also of… You. To see if you weren't just faking your sudden desire for change."
Charice took a deep breath, jumping in.
"Michael I… I prayed the day before." He muttered, and Michael paused, "I went to the peaks with Abra and… I felt the world melt away until Abra snapped me out of it. I thought I could handle it and I wanted to… Impress you, e-earn you maybe? I don't know…!"
His hands tangled in his hair, pulling at them a little too harshly as he looked to the floor.
"…I wish I knew." Michael mentioned, the rain growing into a steady, soothing symphony. The soft pattering of rain filled the air.
Charice gave a weak smile at his words, no longer pulling his golden locks.
"I was shocked that you responded so… Easily, your body was so much more sensitive than I thought I- I failed to expect it, but I also knew that if we stop right then and there, there may never be a next time."
Michael ran a gloved hand through his hair, feeling the rain spill onto his cheeks. Or was it tears? Maybe both, neither of them could tell.
"So I pushed you into more, I don't think even I realized what I was doing back then, what my fears were, I was just doing the thing that felt right. And when I saw your… Hollow eyes and… Limp body I knew how bad things had gone."
He gulped, walking to the railing and gazing down into the gorge at the cold, dark depths.
"I knew it was too late to stop then, if I did nothing, you would die from an overdose. I would have murdered you, and felt like a hero for it."
He smirked, remembering Willow's exact words.
"So I made your dying body swallow another drug, placed you on the pedestal, and waited. When you woke up, I felt such immense relief that I didn't kill you, that you were… Fine." He spat at the word "Fine" with his tone.
"So Consort…"
Charice walked to his side and also leaned on the railing, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. "Charice." He reminded, "I am Charice."
"… So Charice, when you asked me back then, I couldn't answer because… I never searched for that answer before. I didn't know, and I couldn't apologize because… I felt right."
It all felt right, correct, necessary. Not evil or violating.
And a part of him still didn't. Most of him didn't. But he at least understood what went wrong, and that it is his fault. His burden to bear.
It was quiet. Charice thought deeply about his Chosen's words, asking himself an important question.
The rain grew heavy.
"…I didn't hate you. I… Should, really! A weirdly stubborn part of me wants to slap you with all the power I have to bear but…"
A shuddering breath is all he took before finishing.
"…Weirdly enough, despite everything, the only thing I hate is…"
"…Consort- Or rather, Charice I-"
"-Shut! Just shut… Don't talk okay? I need, I need space. I need… I need to be someone else right now."
His eyes flared pink, like a pair of magenta-tainted suns, and dimmed back to his usual, pristine blue.
"I understand why you did what you did. I also… Know why I did what I did. So let's… Never forget what we have both done."
Charice turned to face Michael, holding his hands with his own.
"I failed you as a leader, wounded you, left you feeling betrayed, scarred you… I know, as the Consort, the kind of failure I am."
Michael blinked, is that what Charice thought? That he was a failure? Sure he made mistakes but the successes couldn't just be ignored so easily, right?
'Is… That the message I've been conveying this entire time?'
That Charice was a failure, that he was some worthless thing? But that isn't what he meant at all!
"Charice that's not-"
Charice's hand tightened until they were bony white, like a steel vice. It pushed Michael into silence just barely long enough for Charice to push his way into the conversation again.
"I'm alright, once I find Maximus it will all be alright. It will be so." He nodded to himself, reassuringly, as a pink mist ran between his hairs, soothing the burning sensation Charice felt in his scalp.
"And you… You hurt me too," Charice said pointedly, and for a second, Michael felt that crushing weight of the Consort's power looming over him like a tsunami – drowning his soul for a second too long.
"You… Fricked up. That feeling, of swallowing something while my soul went away…" He rubbed his neck with a frown, a frown full of sorrow and grief. "I will never be able to forget it, or ever forgive you for it."
He looked up, seeing Michael's conflicted eyes, and let go of his hands, cupping his cheeks instead.
He held eye contact. And Michael did the same.
"So let's be honest, okay? From now on. No more silly feelings being hidden, no more goofy choices behind our backs. Let's try, together, to be okay."
And as Michael nodded, there was no confusion between tears and rain anymore. Even as pattering turned to intense rainfall, Charice's crystal-like tears stood against the night, his sobs loud and unrestrained as he hugged Michael.
Michael hugged back, feeling his gated mind give way to a feeling of pure, unrestrained relief and pity for the man he quietly swore to protect better.
Michael didn't cry, but he allowed his hands to hold Charice close.
Maybe one day, together, they would be okay.