Traum

[Träume erschüttern]

xxi.

To Danveur, he was the man who had given and sacrificed everything for him yet, he still denies what was obviously the fact that he has secretly grown to love him more than anything else.

And that man was no other than Evan Orphens. The man from when Danveur was a mortal, way back into the forgotten past of his. He was a son of a catholic nun, and completely the perfect match of what Danveur appears and seems to be. He was a God sent creature with thick flowing tufts that resembles the sun and eyes akin to the colour of the deep blue sea. For him, he was different amongst the people that craved for his attention and the only successful one to wound him up to the point that he no longer knows himself.

He made him like men.

He was utterly inimitable and Danveur would sacrifice anything just to rewind the time and go back to the past. To tell him they were doing nothing wrong, that they would be together.

But he was long gone and Danveur was overly behind.

"He could have been with me," He said lowly, mostly to himself but the other man on the couch tutted, indicating that he heard him.

"My, my, even if you stayed, you two wouldn't still be together! He was the son of a religious believer." Exclaimed Thomas, flicking his cigarette with one delicate wrist. "It's been a long while, Danveur. Let it go,"

"I already did," He answered back, unsurely.

Though Danveur was always alone and shielded with barriers in a world only him could understand, Thomas was the closest thing he could call a friend from the seas of wearisome companies. He became an ally of some sorts, directing him and guiding him in which path he should take after all the fuss that happened between them. They were both affiliated with most things that they do. They were the same kind after all, Danveur was just a breed and Thomas unknown. He never talks much about himself.

"No, you didn't. You may have moved on from loving him but I can still sense regret. You regretted the fact that you left him behind."

"I was terrified at that time," He admitted after a stunned silence at last, emerald eyes dull with mixed emotions that he shouldn't possessed. "I didn't know how much he meant to me until-"

"He was gone. You were too obsessed with the idea of running away." Thomas provided curtly, cutting Danveur off. He stood from the armchair cackling deviously as the devil he was and made his way towards the door, slamming it firmly close after he'd gone out.

xxii.

Danveur was sitting very still for a lengthy moment, the rim of his eyes red in exhaustion and stress. He was at the edge of the bed, his legs slightly parted and his back hunched forward. On his hand were remnants of crushed paper and tobacco leaves, and the smell of cigarette lingered in the air. He was gathering pieces of his vivid dream.

From the outside, everything seemed tranquil, the soldiers that weren't dead and those who were injured were peacefully taking their nap.

But what was that all about? Why a conversation with Thomas about Evan?

With steady firm eyes, he looked at the ajar cabinet door below his bedside table, winking at him and inviting him to come towards it. He slowly stood, walked, and bent, reaching for an antique pocket watch deep inside.

He must have been hynotized and out of himself.

Once his hand made contact with it, realization plunges like a mass of frozen debris inside him and he jerked backwards until his feet tangled with the blanket draping over his legs, causing him to fall on the floor.

"No," Danveur mouthed. "I can't, this is ridiculous."

But he can, and without further adieu, thrusts his hand back and pulls the pocket watch. Its silver chain dangled wildly and it caught the moon's light, showing off flashes of silver that danced around Danveur's glossy green eyes.

He held the thing close to his chest where his heart had long once been beating and made a face of utter defeat and grief that only him could witness. Him and the picture inside which belongs to the late Evan Orphens.

xxiii.

"You know," Danveur said momentarily and stared at Evan, his green eyes vibrant and stunningly beautiful under the bright light. They were in the middle of the garden, picking ripe fruits and appreciating different varieties of flowers. "I don't quite trust myself with decisions."

He paused, running his fingertips along the outline of a yellow primrose and the other lad reddened, concealing a smile but terribly failing. He was silently agreeing with him but he wanted no offense. Danveur let him and returned the gesture halfheartedly.

He remembered he spotted an Arbutus a little earlier and he gracefully spun on his heels, cleanly plucked one making sure that the stem was not too long nor not too short. He faced him once again and with movements as delicate as a gentleman could be, pecked the flower and tucked it in his partner's lapel. "Thee only do I love," He said.

Evan's smile stretched furthermore and he took something from his basket. It was a lilac coloured Ambrosia.

"Your love is reciprocated,"