Eclipse
The night was long and warm. Quiet.
The day had gone along quietly; exactly as he had intended it to. The paperwork was done by Ayangaâs hands - The assets of their home, all of the financial accounts under his name, the lease to the house, how to handle Sakanoue and the Uyagir. His name on all of it⌠All of it, written neatly by the Xaelaâs hands and tucked into a special box hidden away where only Câtolemy could find it.
- - -
Silver, Gold and Black all stared across the vast emptiness of their home; an endless sea of flowers in the middle of a valley, protected high by rock walls. Their hidden oasis. No attention was paid to the cracks across their person, how their porcelain-like bodies seemed to crumble and crack with each step they took. No, that wasnât important. Preserving this place in time, to remember what it was and had been was the goal - one they would not fail.
- - -
Câtolemy had smiled and pulled his husband away from the lingering pull of responsibility - away from everything that could cut them deeper than it all already had and the both of them fell into a pile of softness and warmth, a distraction away from it all. There, they spoke quietly amongst one another, barely touching yet so close at the same time. Soft embraces were exchanged, senseless distractions to have a normal day. One last, normal day. He smiled. He laughed. He fell still when finally the warmth, tea and snacks had caught up to him and left them both too sleepy to do anything else. He fell asleep, comforted by the presence of his feline mate at his side - though Câtolemy knew that rest would only be brief before something willed him to be up and handling more things before the final day.
Ayanga always had something to do. Always.
- - -
Within, each iota of time was spent collecting their world together. Every flower. Every ray of light. Each blade of grass. Every rock. Every drop of water. All of it was deconstructed like the pieces of a puzzle - pulled inward and stored in the palm of their hands. Along with the deconstruction of his inner world came the deconstruction of his emotional and mental state. There would be far too much on the line and if he was not careful, he would undo all of their hard work should one emotion happen to take him too intensely when he couldnât stand it anymore. He would not risk it, could not risk it. Silver and Gold merely smiled.
Theyâd lived long enough.
- - -
The hours ticked by in minutes and those minutes by in seconds, each moment categorized and stowed away in his conscious mind with the precious passage of time.
Only when the moon was high and his husband had fallen asleep for the night did Câtolemy finally unravel from his shell. Only then, did he excuse himself from bed to step outside, to close the door to their home and breathe in the chilled air of night and bathe in the light of the moon shining so fervently overhead. Only then, did he allow himself to weep to the intensity that heâd wanted to for what seemed like days. All of the pain, all of the distress, all of the clawing insanity that he felt gouging its way through his chest every time he looked Ayanga in the face fell out of him in a mess of bitter, chest rattling sobs and bile that splashed across dark stone. His grief was gripping and his madness was intense, shackling him with maddening strength and clutching down on his throat until all that could come from him were broken whimpers.
The dam had popped another hole, to express some of the mounting pressure - only for the hole to be filled in once he simply could not cry any longer. It would make some space, give him a little bit of wriggle room and a buffer that could protect his heart until he was ready to address all of⌠this. All of - of the pain, the insecurity, the terror, the desperation, the anger and all of the insurmountable distress that heâs held tight to his chest for months now. A pressure valve had opened, only momentarily and was shut tighter than it had been before. Nothing would come in and nothing would come out. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
There would be nothing.
- - -
A rocking motion, back and forth, a gentle sway in the warm breeze. A laugh, a sharp retort and the most suffering sigh.
There was nothing left behind in the wide, unending expanse of blackness but a small box. A plain white box, sealed with silver and gold ribbon.
- - -
Câtolemy spent the night watching Ayanga sleep; observing the details of his mate and etching them into what little he had left of his memory - writing a story of images that would tell a tale his words could not. So, now, his own gaze drifted over his visage, casting delicate sweeps across his blue-tinted profile. It made him happy to note the knit between his brows had eased slightly - it only ever did in his sleep. Eyes of pearl white traced his long nose, smooth cheek, and sharp jaw. The pale of his eyelashes. The hill of his soft lips. How his crimson eyes would stare into him as if there was little else in this world worthy of his gaze than the Miqoâte in his vision. He knit it all, precariously, into place in his mindâs eye.
Full lips curved into a smile as a tear drifted down his skin and soaked into the pillow under his cheek. The final part of him that clung to his humanity took one last look over the man that held his soul in his palms, ensured that the ties he made to strengthen their bond were rigid and enforced⌠and then he let go of the leash.
He would remember. If he did nothing else, if he had nothing else, if he was nothing else.
He would remember.















