[What a terrible, dreadful burden love is. Lobelia can finally understand a bit of Vergilius' reluctance to let others in close to his heart. Committed to the idea of never letting this man go and following him from one hell to the next, Lobelia never truly considered what it might feel like to lose him.
This is the cost of love, isn't it? This potent, nascent fear that may never leave him. There may come a day when Vergilius goes somewhere he can't follow, and when that day comes, the pain will be immeasurable. Even knowing that, will Lobelia love him any less? Will he cut the cord between them and favor a lifetime of loneliness over the promise of a broken heart?
...Lobelia sucks down a ragged, shaking breath. One after the next after the next between kisses that he eagerly returns. A lifetime of tears can't easily be staunched, but he wants to hear every word Vergilius speaks. All of them, such treasured things, even without his favored conchs on hand to record them for posterity. Fleeting as life is, perhaps it's only natural that the potency of Vergilius' words are fated to fade in time.]
...I'm going to hold you to that, Vergilius. Remember that your life is mine, and mine yours. So long as I have you, I won't be afraid. Rather... I won't let that fear win.
[All he's ever wanted was a love that wouldn't quit. He had that once and destroyed it. Never again. I'll never again repeat my mistakes. Love is worth more than happiness, the pain well worth bearing.]
[Unfortunately, there is a reality here inherent to their age - at some point, Vergilius will have to leave this world first. Even if he takes care of himself, there's not much they can do to change that. But perhaps, even without that, there's always a risk. Loss will happen. They cannot live forever. Whether its tomorrow, or ten years from now, or half a decade down the line, it will end.]
[But at least their hearts can bloom together for a moment, and partake in each other's company, and that's all they can do.]
[He kisses over the other's face, drying up those tears. As much as it is a surprise, he doesn't think he particularly wants to see them on Lobelia's face again. Better a wrinkle of the nose or a pout than this.]
[Lobelia's happiness is now his responsibility too.]
[Those vivid red eyes crinkle, something gentle within those piercing lights.]
[Blessedly, those tears subside under the warm, calloused touch of Vergilius' hands. How can he continue to cry when he has all the assurance in the world that he'll be taken care of? For now, Lobelia would rather celebrate what they have now than mourn an uncertain future.
Whether they have decades, months or days left to be with one another, Lobelia will treat each like the last and the first. Never again will he make the mistake of letting someone he loves slip through his fingers. Never will he hurt Vergilius... unless he wants that. You know, because he's a bit of a freak.
Drawing in a long, deep breath, Lobelia straightens up and smacks his cheeks. Happy! He's happy!! No more spilling tears. Once a smile spreads across his lips, it's impossible not to let loose a jovial laugh, snatching up Vergilius' hands to squeeze them tightly in his own.]
That wasn't so hard, was it? You're a naturel, Vergilius! A true poet if ever there was one.
[He's not used to compliments. He probably will never be fully used to them. Lobelia will just have to try his darnedest to make him at least start tolerating them. They have a whole life together just for that.]
[He lets out a little tired sigh, but tinged with fondness, as the man grasps his hands. There's a smile. No more tears. No more if he can help it.]
....It was very hard. [He admits.] But I...don't regret saying it.
[Vergilius will get used to the torrential downpour of Lobelia's compliments... eventually, probably. For the time being, he'll warm him up slowly and try his best not to embarrass him on a regular basis, tempting as it is.
His grin only broadens, idly swinging their hands back and forth between them.]
Je suis fier de toi. It means more to me than I can express through words alone... ah, but that was your point, non? Actions are just as important.
[He's learned something(?) It's a Christmas miracle.]
[He nods, eyes flitting to the other's face, staring down at his lips. He's hearing the words, but they don't register quite yet. He's too distracted by the urge to bend down and kiss him again.]
[So he does.]
Mm. [Another sigh, yet he's not pulling back.] What was that?
[Is someone distracted? He won't make his observation too obvious by giving it away with a laugh, but Lobelia leaves that kiss with pursed lips, fighting to contain it. Hehe. Hehehe.]
What indeed? You know how I detest those who don't pay attention to my words, Vergilius. Why don't you give me another kiss while I decide whether it's worth repeating myself?
[Lobelia can't contain his mirth under that deluge of kisses, peals of laughter pushing past his lips. It's so rare that Lobelia's laughter rings without a single trace of malice behind it, but he's nothing if not happy right now. Happy, happy, happy. He squeezes Vergilius' hands in his own like the precious treasures they are.]
Oui, oui! I'll have to do my utmost to learn from your example, won't I? Ah, but I have much to learn, so teach me well! S'il vous plaît!
[It's his turn to steal a kiss, much too pleased with himself when he does. Kisses are better than murder? It's more likely than you think.]
Of course I am! Still, it would be foolish of me to claim that I know all there is to know.
[insulting his intelligence smh.................. but there's nothing in particular he needs Vergilius to do for him. Time and exposure will aid in understanding the man and his particular brand of affection, just as it has with understanding him in general.]
Mm... I am, without a doubt. [Lobelia knows this for a fact, but saying it aloud really drives the point home.] Je n'ai jamais été aussi heureux.
[Sometimes turning it off and on again really is the solution. For what it's worth, Lobelia is always happy to help Vergilius reorient his heart... so long as he'll simply respawn afterwards, that is.]
Heheh! You'll have to learn more of my language, won't you? I said that I've never been happier.
[And it feels like something neither of them deserve, and yet here they are. Slowly releasing Vergilius' hands, Lobelia folds him into an embrace once more. This time, his grip is certain and strong, no trembling to be felt.]
And yet it's as real as you or I. Dreamlike as it feels, I intend to make the most of it.
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This is the cost of love, isn't it? This potent, nascent fear that may never leave him. There may come a day when Vergilius goes somewhere he can't follow, and when that day comes, the pain will be immeasurable. Even knowing that, will Lobelia love him any less? Will he cut the cord between them and favor a lifetime of loneliness over the promise of a broken heart?
...Lobelia sucks down a ragged, shaking breath. One after the next after the next between kisses that he eagerly returns. A lifetime of tears can't easily be staunched, but he wants to hear every word Vergilius speaks. All of them, such treasured things, even without his favored conchs on hand to record them for posterity. Fleeting as life is, perhaps it's only natural that the potency of Vergilius' words are fated to fade in time.]
...I'm going to hold you to that, Vergilius. Remember that your life is mine, and mine yours. So long as I have you, I won't be afraid. Rather... I won't let that fear win.
[All he's ever wanted was a love that wouldn't quit. He had that once and destroyed it. Never again. I'll never again repeat my mistakes. Love is worth more than happiness, the pain well worth bearing.]
I love you, Vergilius, from now unto hell.
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[But at least their hearts can bloom together for a moment, and partake in each other's company, and that's all they can do.]
[He kisses over the other's face, drying up those tears. As much as it is a surprise, he doesn't think he particularly wants to see them on Lobelia's face again. Better a wrinkle of the nose or a pout than this.]
[Lobelia's happiness is now his responsibility too.]
[Those vivid red eyes crinkle, something gentle within those piercing lights.]
I love you, Lobelia, from now unto hell.
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Whether they have decades, months or days left to be with one another, Lobelia will treat each like the last and the first. Never again will he make the mistake of letting someone he loves slip through his fingers. Never will he hurt Vergilius... unless he wants that. You know, because he's a bit of a freak.
Drawing in a long, deep breath, Lobelia straightens up and smacks his cheeks. Happy! He's happy!! No more spilling tears. Once a smile spreads across his lips, it's impossible not to let loose a jovial laugh, snatching up Vergilius' hands to squeeze them tightly in his own.]
That wasn't so hard, was it? You're a naturel, Vergilius! A true poet if ever there was one.
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[He's not used to compliments. He probably will never be fully used to them. Lobelia will just have to try his darnedest to make him at least start tolerating them. They have a whole life together just for that.]
[He lets out a little tired sigh, but tinged with fondness, as the man grasps his hands. There's a smile. No more tears. No more if he can help it.]
....It was very hard. [He admits.] But I...don't regret saying it.
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His grin only broadens, idly swinging their hands back and forth between them.]
Je suis fier de toi. It means more to me than I can express through words alone... ah, but that was your point, non? Actions are just as important.
[He's learned something(?) It's a Christmas miracle.]
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[He nods, eyes flitting to the other's face, staring down at his lips. He's hearing the words, but they don't register quite yet. He's too distracted by the urge to bend down and kiss him again.]
[So he does.]
Mm. [Another sigh, yet he's not pulling back.] What was that?
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[Is someone distracted? He won't make his observation too obvious by giving it away with a laugh, but Lobelia leaves that kiss with pursed lips, fighting to contain it. Hehe. Hehehe.]
What indeed? You know how I detest those who don't pay attention to my words, Vergilius. Why don't you give me another kiss while I decide whether it's worth repeating myself?
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[Yeah, sure, another kiss for him, capped off with a little pleased huff.]
Actions and all that. [One more kiss for good measure.] They're important.
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Oui, oui! I'll have to do my utmost to learn from your example, won't I? Ah, but I have much to learn, so teach me well! S'il vous plaît!
[It's his turn to steal a kiss, much too pleased with himself when he does. Kisses are better than murder? It's more likely than you think.]
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[But sure. He's already taught him, he'll teach him again. Even with kisses. Put down the sword, kiss a Frenchman. All in a day's work.]
[There's a happy rumble in his throat at the kiss, like a big cat purring.]
Hey. [A pause, if just to brush nose against nose, holding the other's hands gently.] Are you happy?
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[insulting his intelligence smh.................. but there's nothing in particular he needs Vergilius to do for him. Time and exposure will aid in understanding the man and his particular brand of affection, just as it has with understanding him in general.]
Mm... I am, without a doubt. [Lobelia knows this for a fact, but saying it aloud really drives the point home.] Je n'ai jamais été aussi heureux.
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[LOBELIA HAS CHANGED!!!!!]
[Or basically, they made each other worse and better. At this time, holding Lobelia, Vergilius would say he feels better.]
[Funny how having your heart pulled out will change things in your life.]
I have no idea what you just said. But I'll take that especially as a resounding "yes".
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Heheh! You'll have to learn more of my language, won't you? I said that I've never been happier.
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[A little pause.]
Good. [That's good. He's happy. He's also happy. It feels so strange....] Ah. It feels like a dream.
[This feels too good to be true.]
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[And it feels like something neither of them deserve, and yet here they are. Slowly releasing Vergilius' hands, Lobelia folds him into an embrace once more. This time, his grip is certain and strong, no trembling to be felt.]
And yet it's as real as you or I. Dreamlike as it feels, I intend to make the most of it.