The grand hall smelled faintly of polished wood and candle wax, warm but distant. Elior stepped in, shoulders straight, the polite smile in place, and Aevrin followed quietly behind him. His parents sat as if this were any ordinary evening, their composure effortless, practiced.
Elior moved toward them with that soft, controlled expression, the kind a child learns to wear when they know exactly what's expected. A mask. Perfect on the surface, hollow beneath.
Aevrin noticed it immediately. Not because it was new, but because it always appeared in this house. Every time. That same little mask hiding the real boy, the one he had once known—the one who could turn the simplest moments into light.
Elior's voice was gentle, careful. Words polished, measured. He was respectful, compliant—but not comfortable. Every gesture, every syllable, screamed distance.
Aevrin saw it all. The faint ease in his shoulders that didn't reach his eyes, the soft falter of his smile when it wasn't acknowledged, the invisible walls built around him in every familiar corner of this house.
Lady Seraphine lifted her eyes first, flawless in her posture, elegant, distant—but softened, for Elior.
"Elior, you're finally home," she said, her warmth measured, habitual.
Lord Alistair placed his glass down lightly, a smile brushing his features.
"Come, sit. You must be tired after the academy."
Elior bowed slightly, polite, practiced.
"I'm fine, Father… Mother."
Aevrin's chest tightened. Every tiny movement, every soft word from Elior—it was the boy he loved and had watched vanish behind polite masks. He had known Elior in ways this house never had, ways they could never understand.
Lady Seraphine's gaze turned to Aevrin.
"Aevrin, dear—it's been a while. You've grown even more handsome."
Aevrin inclined his head, calm.
"It's good to see you, Lady Seraphine. Thank you for having me."
Lord Alistair added, softly,
"You're always welcome here. You and Elior practically grew up together."
Elior's eyes flicked to Aevrin—confused. They hadn't. Not truly. But Aevrin only smiled that quiet, unreadable smile he always reserved for him.
Dinner passed in muted perfection. Plates gleamed, conversations polite, but to Aevrin, it was all background noise. He observed—Elior's hands moving gracefully, his polite nods, the brief spark in his eyes when speaking of trivial things. And how quickly it dimmed when unnoticed.
Aevrin's chest tightened. Every breath of Elior's, every measured word, every small unnoticed gesture—he cataloged them, treasured them, burned them into memory.
Because Elior… Elior was a light. A quiet miracle. Even here, in this hall of polished elegance, he was the only thing that felt real, alive.
Later, when the house had gone quiet, Aevrin moved. Softly, carefully, like he might shatter something just by existing. He opened Elior's door and slipped inside, leaving it half-closed behind him.
Moonlight spilled across the room, faint but enough to illuminate the boy lying asleep. Elior's breaths were soft, steady. His hair fell across his forehead in messy, perfect strands. Aevrin's lungs tightened, his heart thrumming violently in his chest.
He knelt a few steps away, hands hovering near his knees, not daring to touch.
"You really don't know, do you…" he whispered.
"You live like you're used to standing alone. You smile like you're used to handling everything by yourself. You sleep like you're afraid someone will disappear if you rely on them."
A slow exhale. His fingers hovered near Elior's forehead.
"And somehow… you still don't see how precious you are."
Aevrin's throat tightened. He lowered his head, bowing ever so slightly, as if offering respect to something sacred.
"I shouldn't be here… but I can't walk away either."
He looked at Elior again, really looked, and the warmth that coiled in his chest tightened, sharp and aching.
"That's the problem… you make people want to stay."
Quieter now, steadier, yet somehow trembling:
"You make people want to stand between you and the whole world. Not to own you… not yet. But to guard you. To keep you safe. To be someone you can lean on without thinking twice."
A pause. A fragile breath.
"I can't tell if I'm supposed to protect you… or worship you."
He bowed his head slightly.
"You don't need to know. You can sleep. I'll stay here. I'll keep watch."
A soft, sacred silence wrapped the room. Elior slept on, unaware, gentle, luminous. And Aevrin remained, unmoving, devoted, utterly consumed.
The Dream Collides with Reality
Kael stirred, unconscious at first, trapped in a dream that dragged him into the past.
The world shifted, darker than memory, older than sleep. Stone stretched beneath him like a graveyard floor, cold and echoing, swallowing every sound except one: Elior's uneven breathing.
Kael turned. The world narrowed. Elior lay pale, blood staining his lips, his chest rising in trembling jerks.
Kael's heart stopped. He fell to his knees, fingers hovering, afraid to touch, afraid to break what remained of reality.
But he did anyway.
And the moment he touched him, something detonated inside. Not sorrow. Not fear. But a violent, mind-splitting possession.
Elior was his. Not in this life. Not in the last. Not in the next. In every possible existence.
Behind him, Aevrin stood. Silent. Shaking.
Guilt loud without sound. Trembling hands. Unspoken confessions.
Kael's eyes locked on Elior, one hand cupping his cheek, the other gripping his fingers.
"You don't get to leave me," he whispered, a vow and a threat wrapped into one.
Aevrin fell to his knees. Silent.
Tears spilled, chest heaving. Not a word. Not a plea.
A shadowed figure loomed. Not a demon. Not a king. Something else. Watching, amused, confident in its cruelty.
Kael didn't flinch.
He leaned closer.
"Stay with me," he whispered.
"Don't you dare make me remember losing you."
Elior's lips parted.
A final exhale brushed Kael's jaw—warm, then fading, then… nothing.
Silence. Universe-shattering silence.
Kael didn't move. Didn't scream. Didn't collapse.
He simply lowered his head. Eyes burning. Stillness more terrifying than grief.
Aevrin's breath caught—his first audible sound—but Kael didn't acknowledge it.
Slowly, Kael lifted his gaze to the shadow.
No glow. No magic.
Just eyes so empty they gleamed.
"I'll tear reality apart for him," Kael whispered.
The dream imploded.
—by Aurea"I have watched you in silence, bled for you in dreams, and loved you across every shadowed world… yet even now, you remain the only light I cannot lose."