10. Before tears flow again from sadness
Dalton only stared at me for a long time. I also stared intently at his odd eyes.
What was reflected in his eyes was me, but I couldn't erase the feeling that he was recalling someone else.
His eyes, blinking slowly with a blurred focus, trembled faintly. He had apologized repeatedly, yet he was undoubtedly doing something he would have to apologize for again.
Dalton must be recalling his dead lover. That lover who made a vain expression resembling mine. Otherwise, there was no reason for his eyes to suddenly become sorrowful.
"Dalton, do you want to cry?"
I changed the form of the question slightly and asked him.
"...No."
He lied obviously. However, I didn't want to argue why he was lying. I expressed my opinion indirectly this time too.
"Turns out you were a sunflower, not a libertine. It seems impossible for me to learn debauchery from you."
"Good grief."
At my words distrusting him, Dalton let out a scoff. Is a scoff considered laughter too? The sadness that lingered in his eyes was fading.
Watching Dalton scratching his cheek awkwardly, I suddenly recalled the words Arwin said at the masquerade ball.
'Dalton wants to have what I possess. But he seems to lack conviction about something.'
What Dalton wants to have.
I even recalled the words Dalton said last night.
'I think I smell what I was looking for from you.'
It seemed there might be some unknown connection between those two statements. Of course, it might just be my excessive speculation.
"Dalton, you said you were looking for something before. Did you find it?"
"Ah, that?"
"Yes."
Dalton narrowed his eyes and looked at me. Then he raised his index finger and placed it on his lips.
"Secret."
He spoke as if he didn't want to tell me, but something that couldn't be expressed in language was showing in his eyes.
Dalton's eyes, which were curved languidly, became sharp in an instant. That was by no means a gaze tinged with frustration. Rather, it looked like a gaze full of satisfaction.
A gaze seemingly having discovered something beyond just satisfaction. Dalton was clearly a person who truly couldn't lie.
Arwin caught a cold.
To think Arwin, who seemed distant from illness, caught a cold. I imagined what kind of cold an indifferent man would catch.
Runny nose? Cough? The image of the expressionless Arwin sniffling was hard to imagine.
I was convinced the cause of his cold was the storm Dalton struck. No other reason came to mind at all.
I wanted to resent Dalton. No, in fact, I was already resenting him. I resent him much more than when my expensive dress got wet.
I headed to Arwin's room, picking up my pace. Because, surprisingly, the person assigned to nurse him after the doctor left was me.
Was it divine arrangement? Or was it just a coincidence?
Either way, I was a little excited by the fact that I could see a new side of Arwin. It was an excitement that didn't match the fact that he was lying down with a cold.
Knock, knock.
I knocked a couple of times, but there was no response from inside. Since Arwin was originally a person who didn't answer, I entered the room without hesitation.
As soon as I entered the room, a distinctive smell of a cold was detected. It was a humid smell that tickled even the tip of my nose.
Closing the open door quietly and walking a few steps forward, he came into view. Arwin. Repeating his name in my heart, I approached the bed where he was lying.
Arwin was lying dead silent, turned on his side. Such an appearance gave a different impression from usual.
He was someone who boasted an overwhelming presence wherever he was, but today's him was, how should I say... reminiscent of a small animal. A very small animal in need of parental care.
Whether he had fallen into a deep sleep, his eyes were closed. His cheek, pale to a pitiful extent, and his motionless face somehow reminded me of a dead person.
If not for the hot breath he spat out occasionally, one could mistake him for really being dead.
I carefully placed my palm on his forehead. His forehead was hot enough to make my thoughts of a runny nose or cough feel meaningless.
There were several options, but the answer was a fever.
I lowered my hand slightly from his forehead and stroked his cheek gently. It seemed his cheek had become quite gaunt in half a day.
Was he this sick even when I was buried in the feast of lavender?
I regretted the fact that I hadn't known he was sick a little earlier. Furthermore, I felt sorry for the fact that I liked looking at the lavender alone. Though Arwin wouldn't know my apology and regret at all.
At that moment, Arwin's lips, which I thought were asleep, opened small.
"My head hurts too much."
His voice had sunk heavily as if it would submerge into the deep sea soon. I answered him, gathering the hand that was caressing his cheek.
"It's because you have a fever. Does it hurt a lot?"
"Yeah."
Only then did he open his closed eyes slightly and look up at me. His eyes were much more languid than usual.
"Surely... this isn't your first time catching a cold, is it?"
It was a question that came out inadvertently. Should I say I felt like it might be?
No answer returned from Arwin. I thought the meaning of the unreturned answer was affirmative.
Oh my god. A cold caught for the first time in his life. How does Arwin define the feeling of that unfamiliar illness?
Intending to read his thoughts, I bent my posture and peered intently into Arwin's face. He stared at me, barely blinking his eyes.
Thanks to lying on his side, the tips of his black hair naturally flowing down onto his forehead were minutely wet. It was the result created by sweat due to the fever.
His appearance wet with sweat approached me stimulatingly as always. Because it reminded me of his wet appearance seen on that hot night in the past.
"May I kiss you?"
That suddenly blurting out was my sincerity.
Of course, I didn't say it solely because I was mesmerized by him. It was also said with the intention of me taking away the energy of the cold dwelling in him. Of course, the former reason was much bigger.
"...."
Arwin stared at me intently for a few seconds as if gauging my sincerity, then reached out.
His hot hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him. I helplessly fell into his embrace. His embrace was incredibly hot.
I dug deep into Arwin's embrace. Then, his lips, which had touched me time and again, cast over my lips. His touching lips were hotter than usual.
It seemed the heat staying on Arwin's forehead had come down to his lips. His heat crossed over to my lips and flowed into me.
His heat reached the point of heating my body. My body became hot quickly as if suffering from a serious fever.
Arwin drove me to the point where I couldn't reorganize my breathing. It was a kiss without leisure, unbelievable for a sick person.
Our bodies became close to an irrevocable extent.
Arwin's body touching mine was still hot, but my body had also become as hot as Arwin's. It became impossible to distinguish whose body was hot originally.
As the kiss with him deepened, and as our bodies adhered closer, greed to live arose in me.
It was a greed that made the fact that I had known since childhood I would die early feel meaningless.
The fact that I wouldn't be able to feel his warm body temperature soon made me somewhat sad. I hugged his body tightly, hoping only that tears wouldn't flow.
Arwin pulled his lips slightly away from me and looked down at me. Whether because he was sick or due to the aftermath of the kiss, I don't know well, but his black eyes were strangely relaxed.
He moved his pale lips small.
"Your body is too hot."
"It's because the Marquis's body is hot."
At my answer, Arwin frowned slightly and said.
"...Do you regret?"
Regret about what is he talking about?
Kissing you? Me coming to love you?
Whatever it was, I didn't regret it at all. It was a question not worth asking.
However, if I had to pick just one fact I regret, I could pick one. It was the fact that I couldn't have him even a day earlier.
If only I could turn back time, I would have confessed to him early on. That I want to have your night.
I answered slowly.
"No."
As soon as my answer finished, Arwin tilted his head and kissed me briefly. It was a light kiss contrary to the deep kiss that drove me just a moment ago.
"My head feels strange, I can't do anymore."
"...."
"It's too hot."
I don't know for what reason Arwin's head became strange and hot, but I confessed to him a desire that grew bigger than the craving to live at this moment.
"If I want more than this, will your head become hotter?"
It was a question that didn't suit a sick Arwin at all.
But I wanted to feel him more. Before tears flow again from sadness.
Amidst the quiet silence, Arwin's heartbeat was faintly heard. I brought my ear closer to Arwin's chest.
I thought the heartbeat of Arwin, who said he had two hearts, would be special. I wondered if the two hearts would pump, and those sounds would tangle like off-beats.
Contrary to my expectation, Arwin's heartbeat was just ordinary. It was a calm sound maintaining a steady rhythm.
However, the beating of his heart was stronger than anyone else's. It was fierce enough to pop out sooner or later.
I thought that strong beat might be the only evidence proving the two hearts.
Arwin, perhaps very exhausted from the communion shared with me last night, was asleep without even making a breathing sound. I listened to the sound of his sleeping heart for a long time.
Listening to someone's heartbeat was a very wonderful thing. Listening to the strong sound proving life, I felt like my heart would also beat forever.
When I felt that way, I could forget my death for a moment. I wished this time, where I could forget the painful fact, would be eternal.
I wished this time breathing the same air in the same space as Arwin would not end.
However, there was nothing eternal. Time, having lost its braking device, continued its flow, and soon Arwin tossed and turned a little.
It seemed he woke up from sleep.
"What are you doing?"
Arwin asked me in a quite clear voice. It was a voice where the energy of the cold that troubled him all day yesterday wasn't felt.
"I'm listening to your heartbeat."
I pulled my face away from his chest. But Arwin's strong heartbeat continued to linger in my ears. I remembered that sound.
"My heart?"
Whether Arwin wasn't completely awake, he had his eyes half-open. Lifting his eyelids again seemed only arduous.
I watched without missing anything as his long and straight eyelashes blinked slowly. Then I say.
"Do you really have two hearts?"
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