(no subject)
If there was one thing that Cecil had never hoped to see was the sight of his beloved’s dull, silver hair that contrasted greatly with Cecil’s still lively one. The rebel was no longer looking his youth as he had grown and looked older. He was aging, yet Cecil was stuck in a standstill. Looking at him, he felt like his world was shattering because he knew that eventually, he was going to lose him. He was in his forties and yet he looked not a hair older than nineteen. At times, it would be awkward; Firion was human. He was human and beautiful with his aging looks and kindly voice.
He was human and yet, Cecil feared for his death. As he grew older, he had grown ill and it was terrifying to think about- The White Mages could not work on something like this. Give medicine? Yes, they could, but they could not get rid of whatever that had infected his beloved Firion and more often than not, the male would be bedridden and looking antsy just lying there.
It was not uncommon to see the king sitting next to his bed, ignoring his duties and having someone else do them for him just so that he could keep Firion company. He didn’t know when the rebel would… would cease to be, so he wished to be with him at every waking moment- he didn’t care if he was ill, the king would kiss him still. Gently, as to not strain him, and with as much love as he could muster.
His hand would grip the tanned male’s strong, aged ones and he would squeeze at them as well, the male backing away to gaze at him before to the sky outside through the window. “It is almost midnight.” He said softly, and Firion chuckled. “Waiting for new year?” His voice was barely a croak, weak and stuck within his throat and Cecil felt his throat tighten.
“Yes, I wish to spend it with you.” “But you always have-“ “And they were always special.” A smile came upon his lips, obviously amused by Cecil’s almost naïve declaration, and he sat up to kiss him himself. The King was surprised, but he did not argue to it as h straightened up to try and balance the rebel better and keep him from feeling pain.
Then, it was just him holding the other, holding his aged and worn body, feeling his warmth for as long as he could and his attention was transfixed on the window as the sky finally became darker than it could have ever been.
“Happy new year.” His voice was soft, and he felt weak arms circle his body before it went limp in his arms.
Happy new year, and may you be with your friends at last, Firion.