Browtober

There are certain things that are better left unsaid. Azazel knows that better than anyone, and he thinks about it often as he meets with Basil. Their mutual acquaintanceship is a mystery to his own common sense - Basil is a strange browbird, too good-natured by far and quite often more silly than not. He pens romance novels, for heaven’s sake. If it weren’t for his duties as an archivist, Azazel probably wouldn’t have taken an interest in him at all.

But Basil has more than a passing fancy in him, and Azazel knows that, despite Basil’s poor attempts to keep it a secret. He’s always flirting and gently teasing in a way Azazel is familiar with, but the genuine way he asks after Azazel’s wellness is less so. He’s kind, always finding little gifts or a drink to share, looking at him with warm, affectionate eyes when he thinks that Azazel isn’t looking.

There’s a part of him that likes that. It’s nice to be appreciated. The way that Basil wants him is sweet and saccharine as candy, as comforting as a warm drink on a brisk autumn day. It’s almost cute to watch him shy away when he thinks he’s overstepped, though Azazel recognizes it as the flinch of someone who’s been hurt for putting his heart on his sleeve before. He is soft on the inside, and scarred, but still willing to show that kindness.

Azazel isn’t, but sometimes, even just for a moment, he wishes he could. For that reason, among many others, he doesn’t tell Basil about his hunt for the girl. It isn’t a secret, not really. Basil is just a soft-hearted fool, and he wouldn’t understand the way Azazel’s blood burns with the need for vengeance. He might even try to get Azazel to turn away from that path, and that would be an unacceptable outcome. There is a dark, hungry rage in his chest, yearning for the day he finally finds that princess.

Because Basil has been kind to him, and because he’s unwilling to show that kindness in turn, unwilling to let go, Azazel doesn’t tell him. He doesn’t mention that he’s noticed how much Basil cares, and he certainly doesn’t mention how much he likes that. To cough to any of that would cause a shift, and things are better as they are now. Azazel is the cold and distant handsome stranger, and Basil is the yearning dreamer on his coattails. That’s what’s best for both of them, and that’s the way it shall be.

And yet. And yet. They spend an odd night together where Basil brushes the hair from his face and kisses his forehead and something strange flutters in Azazel’s gut. Not guilt. Not shame. A desire to confess, above all else, to be laid bare and seen by someone else for the first time in more than a year. If he told Basil all his secrets, and Basil offered his in return… That might be a life worth having.