For The Love Of Talent

Anthony replied softly, "I remember you. You were always alone. You watched the others from the sidelines."

Aziraphale let out a small, bitter laugh. "My father...well, let's just say he wasn't cut out to be a father. Maybe I wasn’t the son he wanted." 

He lowered his head into his hands and continued, "From a very young age, I learned that talking was useless. Asking for anything was pointless. Even crying wasn’t tolerated."

"Was he violent?" Anthony asked cautiously, fearing the answer.

Aziraphale slowly shook his head and replied, "He never laid a hand on me. But his words were just as hurtful as if he had."

Aziraphale lifted his chin and met Anthony’s gaze for the first time since he started speaking.

"He never thought I was good enough. He criticized my sensitivity, my gentleness, my weight, and the fact that I loved to read. In short, he criticized everything that made me... me. When you left, it got worse."

Anthony’s throat tightened; he felt guilty for not having noticed, even though they were just children. 

Aziraphale continued, "Then, as a teenager, he found out that I was attracted to boys." After swallowing several times, he continued, "From then on, everything became an excuse to belittle me even more. He used it to justify his relentless, petty attacks on me. That’s when I started saving every penny I could so that I could leave as soon as possible. I did just that when I turned eighteen, leaving only a letter for my mother and never looking back."

Anthony gently placed his hand on his friend’s knee and felt a slight tremor beneath his palm.

"It must have been so hard," he murmured. "Leaving your home, your mother..."

Aziraphale shook his head. "It wasn't a home. It wasn’t until I came to live with my grandfather that I knew what it was like to have a home, a place that felt good to come back to. He was my mother's father and didn't like my father, which is why my mother had cut ties with him. Aside from the time I spent with you, I spent the best years of my life with him. He never judged me when I came out to him and always encouraged me in my life choices. I never tried to see my parents again. Little by little, I healed with my new life. Now, I am who I am, and no one holds it against me. No one who matters, anyway."

After a moment of silence, Anthony said gently, "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you."

Aziraphale shook his head. "You don't have to be sorry. You couldn’t have done anything differently. We were just kids."

Anthony replied, "Maybe, but you didn't have to go through all this alone. I can't undo what you went through, but I would like to do something now. Would you let me do what I would have done if I’d been there and known what you were going through?"

Aziraphale nodded, a puzzled look on his face. "Go ahead."

Anthony came closer, wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, and held him close.

He whispered into his hair, "I would have held you in my arms and held you close until you felt better."

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around his friend’s waist and laughed softly. "That might—or at least could have—taken a long time."

"That's fine with me."

Aziraphale snuggled closer to him, and they sank into the couch together.

Anthony said softly, "You can be proud of the life you've built for yourself, of who you were as a child, and of who you've become. I’m proud to have been, and still to be, your friend."

Aziraphale swallowed before replying in a muffled voice against his friend’s chest, "Thank you."

They remained embraced in a comfortable silence for a long time, with Anthony occasionally stroking Aziraphale’s hair and back.

Then, Aziraphale felt Anthony hesitate before asking softly, "Have you ever had anyone in your life?"

Aziraphale lifted his head and replied, "No, never. Just one-night stands or flings, just to scratch an itch. Nothing long-term."

Anthony asked, genuinely curious, "By choice?"

Aziraphale replied with a self-deprecating air. "Yes, because there’s no guarantee the person won’t change. My mother used to tell me that before I was born, my father hadn’t always been... like that." 

He sat up, forcing Anthony to let go of him. Rubbing his hands together, he added, "I sometimes wonder if it’s my fault. If I had been different, maybe he would have remained the man my mother knew. Maybe it was something in me that made him become—"

He couldn't continue because Anthony had placed a finger over his mouth.

"Oh, no! Don't finish that sentence. What your father became has nothing to do with you. You’re not responsible for how he saw things or how he saw you. You were just fine the way you were, and..." He grabbed his friend’s chin, lifting it toward him and forcing him to look at him. "... you're just fine the way you are now. You’re still the kindest person I’ve ever met. The little boy I remember... he has grown into an amazing man."

Aziraphale’s shoulders tensed, and he shook his head. "I don’t…"  

"It’s the truth. The other teachers, the students, everyone I know who knows you, can’t stop praising you. Those are the people you need to believe," Anthony insisted, his warm fingers against Aziraphale’s skin. 

"As for me, I can show you. I can show you how I find you amazing."

His thumb gently brushed against his friend’s lips, drawing a small gasp from Aziraphale who whispered, "How?"

Anthony leaned toward Aziraphale, his warm breath brushing against his face. He pressed his forehead against Aziraphale’s and asked in an almost reverent tone, "May I?"  

Aziraphale swallowed, locked eyes with Anthony, and whispered, "Yes."

Anthony’s lips brushed against Aziraphale’s in a hesitant gesture, a delicate exploration that gave Aziraphale the chance to pull away. But he did not take the opportunity. On the contrary, he parted his lips in a silent, unmistakable invitation.

The kiss quickly deepened, shifting from a timid question to a passionate affirmation. Anthony’s hand slid down Aziraphale’s cheek. The tip of his thumb traced the line of his jaw before burying itself in the light curls at the nape of his neck. Anthony pulled Aziraphale closer until all distance vanished, then his lips seized Aziraphale's lips with new and insistent fervor.

Aziraphale’s hands wrapped around Anthony’s neck, his grip tightening as if he feared that, if he let go, the dream would fade away. Anthony returned the kiss with equal intensity. 

Anthony seemed determined to dispel any lingering doubt in Aziraphale’s mind. He made the kiss linger, again and again, barely giving Aziraphale time to catch his breath before claiming his lips once more. He poured all his devotion, admiration, and affection for his friend into it. 

When they finally parted, they remained entwined, foreheads touching, panting. The silence was broken only by their ragged breathing.

Anthony didn’t pull away. His hand remained firmly on Aziraphale’s scalp, his thumb tracing small, gentle circles on his temple. His gaze remained fixed on Aziraphale’s.

"Do you believe me?" 

His voice was breathless and tinged with a sincerity that tugged at Aziraphale’s heart. "Do you believe me when I tell you that you’re an amazing person?"

After swallowing several times, Aziraphale whispered, "I think... I think I'm starting to believe you."

Anthony smiled and said, "That's good, then," as he leaned in again. This time, it wasn't for a kiss, but rather to bury his face in the crook of Aziraphale's neck and hold him close. 

Aziraphale opened his mouth several times, but before he could say anything, Anthony sat up, gently kissed his forehead, and said softly, "Whatever you were going to say, if it’s an apology, it’s not necessary. You don’t have to apologize."

Aziraphale shook his head and laughed softly. "Don’t jump to conclusions. I wasn’t trying to apologize."

Anthony raised an eyebrow.

"Well, maybe a little, for my crying and all." Seeing Anthony begin to protest, Aziraphale continued, his voice dropping a notch as he grew more serious. "But most of all, I want to thank you. For your comfort, but also for being you all those years ago. For being that memory that kept me going. You say you weren’t there, but you were, always there, like a force pushing me forward. You’re amazing, too, you know."

Overcome with emotion, Aziraphale leaned forward and gently kissed his lover, their lips meeting in a more tender embrace than before. It was a blend of joy and gratitude and a feeling that was far too premature to name yet undeniable in its intensity. The kiss lingered until they had to catch their breath again.

Aziraphale pulled back slightly, then snuggled up against Anthony again. They sat in silence for a long time, simply being. 

After a moment, Aziraphale asked softly, in a barely audible voice, "Anthony, the two of us now… where do we go from here?"

Anthony slumped back against the plush velvet sofa. He had planned to finish preparing his lessons, but he was lacking the motivation. 

Across from him, Asa sat in his armchair. He had started reading, but he’d set his book aside long ago and was now staring blankly into space. 

Suddenly, wanting to break out of the lethargy that had engulfed them both, Anthony sat up and asked, "Want to play a game of chess?"

Asa looked at him and shook his head. 

"No, I want to play a game where I have a chance to win."

Anthony couldn’t help but let a small, smug smile spread across his lips. Some time ago, he’d found an old chess set among his clutter-hoarding lover’s accumulated things and challenged him to a game. It turned out that Asa had bought it more for its decorative value than for his love of the game. He knew the basics, but Anthony had been playing for a very long time; his mother being an avid player. So he understood his lover’s reaction. 

He replied with a chuckle, "Be my guest."

Asa stood up and walked over to a small chest of drawers in the corner of the room. Intrigued, Anthony watched him rummage through the drawer for a moment.

"Found it!" Asa stood up straight, turned around, and showed off his find with a triumphant air.

He walked back to Anthony and placed a checkers set on the coffee table.

Anthony glanced at the board, then looked up at Asa. His expression was a mix of amusement and mild skepticism. 

"A checkers set?" Seriously, Asa?"

Asa crossed his arms stubbornly and retorted, "We're going to play checkers. If the game isn't challenging enough for you, then we're not playing."

Anthony laughed, leaned forward, and gestured toward the coffee table with a sweeping, theatrical motion. 

"Go ahead, my angel. I wouldn't want to stop you from winning. Go on; let us have fun."

Asa hummed with satisfaction, pulled the armchair closer to the coffee table, and sat down across from Anthony. He began arranging the pieces with meticulous precision, causing Anthony to raise an eyebrow. Maybe this won't be so easy after all.

The first few minutes were lighthearted, punctuated by the soft clatter of pawns moving across the board. Anthony played with a relaxed, almost distracted ease. He was convinced that he could steer the game toward a stalemate or an honorable defeat, which would flatter Asa’s ego. But little by little the atmosphere changed, and Anthony realized that the game was far from won either way.

Unlike during their previous chess match, Asa was perfectly at ease and confident. He was methodical and patient and watched the board with piercing eyes.

With his fingers hovering hesitantly over a red pawn, Anthony murmured, "This isn't your first game."

Asa replied with a hint of smugness, "I've probably been playing this game as long as you've been playing chess with your mom."

Anthony moved a pawn, feeling a sudden, intense rush of adrenaline. He watched Asa maneuver a black pawn diagonally with absolute confidence, slipping through his defensive line with remarkable ease. When the pawn reached the edge of Anthony’s side and touched the pawn twice, crowning it with a second pawn to symbolize its third king, Anthony felt his breath catch.

"Even in a game of checkers, you manage to surprise me again." 

Anthony couldn’t hide the wonder in his voice. 

With no other choice, he moved his last available pawn and watched Asa’s face as he considered his next move. A slow, radiant smile spread across Asa’s lips—the same smile that had made Anthony’s knees go weak six months ago when he accepted his invitation to dinner. He knew then that the game was over.

In three quick, ruthless moves, Asa swept the board, capturing Anthony’s last pawn.

"Checkmate," Asa murmured, even though the term didn't apply to checkers. 

Anthony shook his head with a smile and said, "I have to say, I’m blown away."

Asa tried not to let his satisfaction show, but he didn't quite succeed. Anthony couldn't bring himself to hold it against him, though. He was also perfectly capable of recognizing talent when he saw it. 

And then, there was something incredibly endearing, even alluring, about the look on his lover’s face. 

The gloomy atmosphere that had hung over them before their game had vanished completely, and Anthony no longer wanted to play, or rather, he wanted to play something entirely different.

He stood up in one fluid motion, walked around the coffee table, and, before Asa could pick up a piece to start the next round, he was there. He leaned over Asa for a moment, noting the surprise in his eyes, and then simply sat down on his lap.

Asa let out a small, surprised laugh and instinctively rested his hands on Anthony’s waist to hold him back. Anthony wrapped his arms around Asa’s neck, his fingers digging into the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

"What's gotten into you, my dear? Need some comfort after losing the game?"

In a slightly hoarse voice, Anthony replied, "I can’t help it. You’re absolutely irresistible when you win."

He leaned in and trailed light kisses along his lover’s jawline. When he reached his lips, he whispered, "I like you so much that I've decided never to win again."

Asa’s laughter caught in his throat. He tightened his grip on Anthony’s waist and pulled him close until there was no space between them. 

Asa whispered playfully, "So the winner is..."

But he couldn’t finish his sentence because Anthony leaned in, and their lips met in a slow kiss, despite the palpable energy bubbling within them. Asa’s hands clung tightly to Anthony’s hips as the kiss intensified.

Anthony’s fingers dug further into the nape of Asa’s neck, holding him back as if he couldn’t bring himself to let go. Asa’s hands roamed over his lover’s back.

When they finally pulled apart, they were breathing heavily, their foreheads almost touching. A heavy silence settled in.

Anthony let out a shaky sigh. A smile played at the corners of his lips, and a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. "Want a rematch?"

Asa, his eyes half-closed, still savoring the taste of his lover on his lips, laughed softly. He placed a tender, lingering kiss on the corner of Anthony’s mouth before replying, "I’m afraid your kiss has rendered my brain incapable of thinking, Anthony. I can't think straight enough to make a move on this chessboard."

Anthony leaned back against Asa, resting his head on his shoulder. He felt Asa’s hand slide up his back and into his hair. He let out a sigh of contentment.

"Then let’s just stay like this."

Asa hummed, and they stayed that way, entwined on the large armchair. They listened to the rain pounding against the windows and silently agreed that this afternoon, which had begun under gloomy circumstances, was ending in a thoroughly satisfying way.

_________

Still not beta'd (because I want it so)

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable fan fictions Masterpost : here

Asa didn’t recognize Anthony’s voice as he spoke those words in a monotone. Then he continued, "I thought you'd be entertaining. But actually, you’re just boring."

Seeing his beloved's face wear a mask of coldness and detachment while he spoke those cutting words broke Asa’s heart.

He wanted to reason with him, to beg him.

"Anthony, don’t say that! Don’t leave!"

But the words got stuck in his throat as Anthony walked away without looking back.

Asa woke with a start, gasping for breath as his heart pounded.

He blinked rapidly to adjust to the dawn light filtering through the bedroom curtains.

His heart leapt in his chest.

The spot in the bed next to him was empty.

He rolled onto his side and brushed the spot where Anthony usually slept with his hand, but the sheets were cool and untouched. Staring at the empty space, his usual insecurities rose to the surface, and the memory of his nightmare clung to him.

He called softly, "Anthony?"

He strained his ears and heard the clatter of dishes, the beep of the kettle, and a voice humming. Little by little, his nightmare and its remnants faded away as he heard footsteps approaching. Finally, the door opened quietly, revealing Anthony.

It was a dreamy sight: his hair tousled, loose sweatpants slung low on his hips, and an old, baggy, faded T-shirt.

He was carrying a tray loaded with two steaming mugs of coffee, the aroma of which was already wafting toward Asa. On the tray was a plate piled high with pancakes and other things Asa couldn’t see from where he was sitting.

"Oh shoot, you're already awake! I was hoping to surprise you! How long have you been awake?"

He set the tray on Asa’s lap, and Asa looked in amazement at the thoughtfully prepared breakfast spread, which included all his favorite foods.

He shook his head and said in a slightly hoarse voice, "Not for very long."

Looking up at Anthony, his gaze lingering on his lover’s face, Asa asked, "All this for me? What’s the occasion?"

A shy, wry smile spread across Anthony’s face. Then, his lover leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"It's actually for us. Because today..."

Asa gasped when he realized the date and finished Anthony’s sentence: "We've been together for six months."

The thoughtfulness of the gesture was the last straw in the whirlwind of emotions swirling through Asa. A tear rolled down his cheek before he could stop it.

Anthony’s joyful expression immediately turned to concern. He took the tray and set it gently on the floor. Then he climbed onto the bed.

Kneeling beside Asa, he wiped the wet track on his lover’s cheek with his thumb and asked softly, "Hey, hey, what’s wrong, my angel?"

He brushed his lover’s hair back, cupped his cheek, and added, "Talk to me, please."

Asa leaned his cheek against Anthony’s hand and said in a slightly hoarse voice, "I just had a nightmare, the kind that feels real, you know. Sometimes in nightmares, you know it’s a certain person, even though they don’t physically look like that person. But this one felt very real. You were telling me that I was boring and that you were leaving me. I know that’s not true. I know it. But the contrast between that nightmare and your current kindness made me a little emotional. Sorry for ruining the moment."

Anthony shook his head and replied, "Don't be sorry. You haven't ruined anything. You feel what you feel, and you’re sharing it with me."

He traced Asa’s lips with his thumb and continued, "But even if it's a nightmare, let me reassure you. Look me straight in the eyes, listen to what I’m saying, and believe it. You’re the least boring person I’ve ever met. The things you do, the way you think, the way you move... I get thrilled every time I know I’m going to see you..."

He pressed a kiss to Asa’s forehead and nose before brushing his lips against Asa's. Then he continued, "These past six months with you have been more exhilarating than all the years before I met you. I’m not about to turn my back on you and walk away...ever."

Asa let out a trembling, relieved laugh and grabbed Anthony’s hand, which was still on his cheek. He brought it to his lips, pressing a long kiss into his palm. Then he said softly, "Thank you for always telling me what I need to hear. These last six months have also been the happiest of my life. I’m glad you found the courage to step through the door of the bookshop and meet me."

Anthony leaned forward and captured his lover’s lips in a kiss that was gentle and reassuring at first, but which quickly deepened. He pressed his lips against Asa’s tenderly and determinedly, as if to persuade him, while his tongue traced the edge of Asa’s lips, inviting a more intimate dance. Asa’s hands slipped into Anthony’s hair, pulling him closer and the kiss lingered until a rumbling sound forced them apart.

Asa blushed, put his hand to his stomach, and Anthony burst out laughing.

"Boring? Absolutely not, my angel."

He jumped out of bed, picked up the tray from the floor, and placed it on his lover’s lap. Then he sat down beside him again, and they both leaned against the headboard.

For the next hour, there was no more talk of nightmares or insecurities. Only the clinking of cutlery, Asa’s moans of delight with every bite of pancake, and Anthony’s with every sip of coffee could be heard. Their laughter and conversation were joyful and carefree.

Asa realized that the nightmare was just that—a nightmare—and that, while it had perhaps revealed a hidden fear, that fear had been wiped away for the moment.

He loved Anthony, and he was deeply loved in return.

He took a big bite of another pancake and said, with his mouth half full, "You know, your pancakes are delicious but you made a lot.

Anthony chuckled softly and said, "My mom always said it's better to make too many than not enough. Worst case, there'll be some left for tomorrow."

"I could get used to this, you know."

Anthony wiped a crumb from the corner of his lover’s mouth with his thumb before pressing a kiss to his lips.

Then he whispered, "I'm counting on it."

_________

Still not beta'd (because I want it so)

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable fan fictions Masterpost : here