#whatalchemy

Newton loved him. Loved him in that vivid, explosive way he had, loved him with a ferocity Hermann wouldn’t have thought possible, especially after all this time apart. Newton loved him without hope or gain for himself. Newton loved Hermann simply for being Hermann, even when he was infuriating, or awful, or embarrassing. He didn’t love Hermann for the way he made Newton feel, he didn’t love Hermann for the reflection of himself in his eyes. Newton loved purely, inasmuch as love — a churning miasma of a million different shades of other emotions — could be pure. Newton loved Hermann the way Hermann loved Newton.

Newton loved him. Loved him in that vivid, explosive way he had, loved him with a ferocity Hermann wouldn’t have thought possible, especially after all this time apart. Newton loved him without hope or gain for himself. Newton loved Hermann simply for being Hermann, even when he was infuriating, or awful, or embarrassing. He didn’t love Hermann for the way he made Newton feel, he didn’t love Hermann for the reflection of himself in his eyes. Newton loved purely, inasmuch as love — a churning miasma of a million different shades of other emotions — could be pure. Newton loved Hermann the way Hermann loved Newton. It was intoxicating. It was humbling. It was, frankly, overwhelming.

Newt’s least favorite thing ever was to feel stupid, and he felt stupid now. Worse, he’d done it to himself, and couldn’t blame a jealous, inferior mind the way he had when he was a kid, skipping grades like stones on a pond and inspiring hatred and derision everywhere he went. He consoled himself with the knowledge that if he had been an oblivious dumbass, at least Hermann had been ten times worse. What kind of bullshit was it, to break up with someone because you thought they’d break up with you first, despite the ridiculous, ass-over-teakettle, totally gross lovesick thing they’d said in the least romantic language on Earth?