Little Moments

It was entirely new to the both of them. This soft intimacy that they’ve never allowed themselves to experience before - either because of how they were raised or circumstances surrounding their jobs. Neither of them asked for this, but now neither of them were willing to give it up.

It was only between missions that they could indulge themselves. Or after a particularly rough battle that left them exhausted and with a need to make sure that the other was truly okay. Soft whispers exchanged under the gentle glow of moonlight shining through windows or from lamps burning low by the bedside. As if afraid that talking any louder would shatter their calm. Gentle caresses along skin, careful of any injuries and aches. Holding each other like one holds something irreplaceable: gentle, loving, adoring. Soft kisses exchanged so tenderly. The soft press of lips against lips, foreheads, cheeks, along horns and hands almost reverent in their gestures.

Rarely did it go any further. When the soft embers flared into burning infernos of passion. Both were wholly content in their gentle embraces. In the soft intimacy of something so new and fragile still growing between them. Something that both of them knew was worth keeping. Was worth exploring.

Was worth fighting for.

The press of foreheads as the space between grew smaller until there was none left. When it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began. Soft smiles with even softer gazes. Quiet vows exchanged as the moon set her tender gaze upon them. Promises of love, of devotion, of a future living outside of the shadows that clung to their every step.

And even when those shadows tore them apart for too many years. When letters dwindled into silence often unanswered. When heartache and loneliness coloured every passing day. Golden rings adorn their ears, partners to ones the other wore and a reminder of their vows. Those promises exchanged under the gentle gaze of the moon. A promise of two hearts entwined together forever.

A soul touched by demon’s blood crying out for his partner. Seeking for the one he called home yet despairing when leads went to dead ends time and time again. Until the spark of hope burned low into nothingness. He knew not where his home was, but still wished them the best. His wish carrying through lonely nights when the ache became a little too much to bear. When the sting of wounds on his body the only reminder that he was somehow still defiantly alive. When he threw himself into more and more dangerous missions just to feel the pulse stubbornly beating in his chest.

But when all things were said and done, when there was nothing to distract him from the cold aching hole where his heart used to beat in time with another’s, a piece of paper was carefully unfolded by gentle hands. Golden eyes taking in the last words he had from his home. From his heart. And once again, he found himself asking,

“What did I do wrong?”

A new day dawns once more and the infernal soul dons his happy mask, tucking that precious paper away where no one but he would find. A new day without his heart. A new day just doing his best to live until the next.

Wherever you are... I hope you’re happy. I hope you’re smiling. I’ll love you forever, my treasure. I hope we meet again one day.

.

.

.

And when that day came — when those lonely golden eyes met familiar verdant green, he felt a long dead hope flicker to life once more. The other was disguised but he could never mistake that face looking back at him.

“...Luka?”

His voice was barely above a whisper, but still it they heard it. A soft smile spread across a pale face, gaze tender as they looked upon him.

“That’s my Rossi...”