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- 08/13/2016
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Caesura - 3. Chapter 3
Noël sat behind Diarmad’s desk rolling a paperweight around in his hands: a perfect ivy leaf captured in glass─its beauty conserved forever─yet dead. The dark study felt oddly cold, deserted. Diarmad was touring the Seraei settlements up north. A trip he had originally planned to make during spring break, so Noël could accompany him.
Suddenly, quiet laughter bubbled up inside him, a strange sound in the empty room. It was either that or fall apart.
Kristof had done an admirable job of distracting him during the last weeks. Only once had he asked what was wrong. When Noël remained vague, he never talked about it again, instead he'd urged him to work on their presentation, and study for the upcoming exams until late at night.
Still, one night after a few too many beers, the open concern in his Kris’s eyes had finally broken down Noël‘s walls. He could not talk about his mate, the king of an alien species, but he could tell Kristof about the fight with his lover.
Kristof being Kristof, he commented the fact that Diarmad was not Noël‘s father with an ‘Ooops’ and a giggle, while making him hot cocoa, then decided they needed to do something nice to take Noël‘s mind off things.
“I have the perfect idea. You and I are going to Darryl’s party tomorrow!” He practically bounced in his seat.
“Nah… Sorry, Kris, but I’m not exactly in the mood for partying.”
“That may be so. At the moment. But there’ll be food, music, booze, and lots of silly people to talk shit about. Plenty of stuff to distract you. And if nothing helps, you can always get drunk.”
“I don’t know… What if Diarmad gets back and tells me to come home and I’m drunk?”
“Well, fuck’em!”
It took Kristof the entire next day, until Noël finally gave in and agreed to go with him. Fuck’em!
***
The party was at one of the frat houses and as Noël had half-expected, it was mostly jocks-preppy-girl-frat-boy society, but he’d figured as long as the music was loud and the beer was cold, he’d just have fun. With that thought in mind, he didn’t oppose when someone grabbed him by his arm and pulled him into a circle of dancing, sweating bodies.
Then Kristof was suddenly in front of him, whispering in his ear, “Feel the music, let it go.” They locked gazes until Kris closed his eyes, and started gyrating his body to the beat. Blond locks clinging to his forehead, he lost himself to the music, showing Noël how it was done. Noël watched him for a few moments and then slowly imitated his moves. Concentrating on his friend’s serene face, he gave himself over to the thumping beat, his mind went to another place, where no pain, no unanswered questions could reach him, only thump, thump, thump and empty, soothing space. His last clear thought was: ‘How much did I drink?’
Waking up entangled with another body in a too-small bed, Noël‘s mouth felt as if something had died inside, and he ached everywhere. Then Kristof lifted his head from Noël’s chest and looked at him with bleary eyes. Somehow, they had made it to Kris’s dorm room.
***
Noël still had a slight headache as he leaned back against the cold leather of the desk chair, its mechanism creaking an eerie sound in the empty study. He shivered. Simon had called him earlier, telling him Diarmad would be back soon.
***
“Come in.” Diarmad pointed at the chair in front of his desk. The paperweight was back at its usual place on top of a black, lacquered box, not beside the laptop, where Noël had left it last night.
Noël’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he had to clear his throat before he could answer. “Okay.” It was to sit in the visitor chair, the petitioner chair, not the comfortable sofa in the corner by the window.
“What I will tell you now is not up for discussion.” Diarmad’s eyes were fixed on a spot somewhere over Noël’s left shoulder. “I have come to realize that fate was wrong choosing you as my final mate.”
Noël suddenly couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. Whatever he had thought he would hear, it wasn’t that. “What?” For a while, Noël didn’t hear a word of what Diarmad was saying.
“…despair dictated my action. I believed my life was at stake, my people wanted─needed stability McGill could never provide, and I─never mind. Now that things have calmed down, I can see that it just took too long to find you. Centuries are between us, Noël. You have seen nothing, are at the beginning of your human life span. I have seen plenty, maybe too much.”
Noël leapt from his chair so fast it tipped over. “I am not human anymore! Remember? You made me Seraei!”
“You are right.” Diarmad’s voice was calm, almost detached, which riled Noël up even more.
“You watched me for eighteen years! Not exactly a spur-of-the-moment decision, wouldn’t you say?”
“I thought I was ill─”
“You weren’t ill! You were dying!” Noël paced in front of the desk, raking his fingers through his hair repeatedly, trying to compose himself.
“I am not sure about that anymore. I am actually more inclined to believe Moira McGill gave me something, poisoned me, made me weak, and I clung to the old lore. They were trying to force my hand into approaching you before your eighteenth birthday, doing something illegal to get rid of me without having to initiate war. ”
“That makes no sense, Diarmad! Listen to yourself! It’s a known fact that the king of the Seraei needs a third mate, his final mate. You needed me! Need me, can you not feel it? I balance you. You said so you yourself!”
“You are my mate. I thought I loved you. Now, I cannot help but notice the only connection we have is sex. It is not your fault you are so young and inexperienced, Noël. Or that Luis and Tristan failed to give you the depth I need. I should have anticipated this before I initiated the bond. I am the only one to blame.”
“What about the ritual? My blood would have killed you if you hadn’t loved me!”
“I believed I loved you, with all my heart. Obviously the ritual can only judge what we feel, not the actual truth.”
“You’re wrong!”
Then Diarmad turned his head and their eyes finally met. Noël’s breath caught. There was no apology, no regret in Diarmad’s gaze, only cold distance, and resentment. “It’s the only explanation. True love won’t die. Mine did. If the ritual really could detect the truth, it would have killed me that day.”
“No!”
Diarmad shook his head. “You might not see it today, but in time you will, and you will be glad to be free.” He rubbed the mark on his chest, an unconscious gesture Noël had learned he sometimes made when he was agitated and needed reassurance. “The bond cannot be undone, at least not completely. I’m sorry about this.”
“Diarmad! You will die without me!”
“For the unlikely event that I indeed need your presence to survive, I will hold no grudges if you decide not to see me after today. I believe there is enough time to find a suitable and able successor for me.”
“Are you out of your mind? I would never let you die! How can you even think something like this?” With tears prickling behind his eyes, Noël’s voice broke. “I don’t understand what brought this on, Diarmad. I know I love you.” Staring at his lover, waiting for something that never came, Noël finally sighed. “But I won’t force myself on you. As soon as I find a place in the dorms, I’ll be out of your hair.”
***
Simon stared at the suits, shirts, and pants still hanging in the closet. He turned slowly and saw it was the same with the dresser: Half-opened drawers still showed plenty of socks, boxer shorts, and tees. “Honestly, Noël? You said you’re finished with packing your clothes!”
“Those aren’t mine.” Noël came through the door of the bathroom, zipping up a toiletry bag.
“What do you mean, those aren’t yours. I saw you wearing these pants when─”
“I won’t take anything he bought me, only the things I had when I came here, my things.” He threw the small bag with much more force than necessary in one of the open cardboard boxes standing on the floor.
Simon raised his eyebrows. “Isn’t that a tad petty?”
Becoming rigid, Noël turned around. “Petty?” His hands clenched into fists as he narrowed his eyes. “You don’t get it, do you? He wants me out of his life! I’ve been a mistake!” Trying to control his temper by taking in a deep breath, Noël continued, “Do you think I want to be reminded of being a mistake every day I wear a shirt or a sweater he bought me? Use the phone he gave me for Christmas? Listen to the songs he put on it? It’s bad enough that I can’t get rid of the fucking tattoo.”
Simon wrapped Noël into his arms. Tucking his head against his shoulder, he stroked over Noël’s hair soothingly. “It’s okay, I understand …although… well, I understand.”
“Okay guys, I parked the car at the front door, the rear hatch is open so we can start loading boxes…” Landyn stopped mid-sentence. “Hey, everything okay?”
“Totally…”
Hearing Noël’s muffled answer against Simon’s shoulder, Landyn smiled ruefully. “Shit, sorry man, dumb question.” He scratched his head awkwardly and looked at the few boxes standing beside the door. “That’s all? Guys, what have you been doing this whole time? I thought you’d be done with packing by now. I can’t leave the car standing open at the front door longer than half an hour, and I already called Kris telling him that we’ll be over soon.”
“We’re almost done here. I only have to tape these two boxes. You can start with those standing beside the door.”
“But…” Landyn gestured around the room. Shelves were still filled with books, a brand new laptop was sitting on the desk, the dresser and closet were still full.
“That’s all he’s taking with him, there isn’t much space in Kris’ dorm room anyway.” Simon looked at his mate with a clear ‘don’t-ask-any-more-stupid-questions look’ on his face.
“But…”
Simon rolled his eyes. “Shut up, will ya darlin’?”
Between the three of them, they managed to carry the boxes into the waiting elevator in less than ten minutes. Noël briefly considered going to Diarmad’s study to say goodbye, but then simply closed the door of his room carefully behind him, placed his keys in the bowl standing on top of a small table near the front door, and left.
A big thank you to Lisa and Val for all your help and input. :)
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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