kayaras was the warmest shade of pink, welcoming tint of peony and dawn which so heartlessly spread itself across every feature.

dusk was not too far away, and it was winter.

night would reach the balcony rails on which he rested his head and though it did not have arms, it rooted and nestled between his pores until the sun was to rise again.

still for a long while, he leant his face back gently to face the crescent of the watchtower with the black feathers of it in a dull and frosted reflection that for a few moments faltered uncontrollably without much strain.

a cold hand cupped it’s skin, and took his tears along with it for the sake of not having done so before— or just to feel the thick layer of porcelain that wouldn’t ever have become so fragile this way.

it was held, it was caressed,

he had been cursed and he had been hit,

but never believed he would be told such a callous lie. something promising; words that sent bravery surging through his system enough to motivate thousands of men into walking a death parade. and if words capable of such a thing were so carelessly spoken to a child, no older than 10, then perhaps to be cursed was to be saved.

the mirror of metallic velvet was well justified, and well deserved, however this one was too weak to serve it. instead, he remained still, though his mind ran by an abundance of questions. questions that would never be answered, given he was too quiet to voice, and the wind blew far too wild at their heights.

despite everything, there was one flame that remained bright enough to stay with him until night passed, until his body became fine spades hung below the rails. he grazed his cheek, barely, as if he was too afraid to stain the blessing of light he was beginning to accept.

he had been.

‘kayaras?’ he called

‘don’t move, please wait.’

then the ringing of his steps became softer and softer the more he waited. this was what being old felt like. this was sitting out by the patio on the last day of summer and watching sylvia wander about the roofs of the residence. that, except it was white outside and he missed his companion just barely. maybe he had seen hamae for the last time a few seconds ago and missed the chance to hold him close before death in its purest form followed pursuit.

if it would bring warmth in even the smallest degree, his eyelids shut tight and his mouth pursed. a miracle to thank god for that he had the strength to still believe in peoples words at the peak of his destruction; that time in which he could think of nothing but the lies he’d been told.

hamae, are you still on your way?

will you reach with enough time to let me hear what you have to say?

yes, being old was counting your days with nothing to do in your weak body, being old was counting your seconds under winters unforgiving hands. he was becoming old fast, old before 30, and past the point of recovery.

how could this be? just a few days ago, he was the most handsome young man the locals had ever seen.

the heavens offered a fate kinder this time, and presented this one infront of kayaras soon enough to catch him conscious. the man was uncharacteristically clumsy in his movements when he tried to cover the hollowness ringed in red. hamae,

wont you speak to me?

it was clear this state was losing and will was not enough to hold it together anymore; he kept tending to the helpless gashes, silver memorised and at some point, began crying.

how come this one never showed such care when kayaras was still beautiful?

unsure of what to say, he picks his hand up and places cold fingertips on the others layers of dark clothing hung by the waist. hamae notices it and utters the sincerest of apologies over and over whilst covering the most of the injury he could and never stopped until he was sure of its revival. he never took his time, possibly because he wanted to embrace kayaras as soon as he could, possibly because he knew kayaras really didn’t have any chances left. today, it wasn’t his fault.

he placed a pair of tender hands behind his head and placed his face in the slight comfort of his chest so that kayaras wouldn’t hear the pitiful sobs forming in his throat.

this one listened carefully, and internally thanked hamae when he couldn’t block the sounds with just his chest.

the crescent began to sway again and encouraged hamae to look back up at kayaras. his eyes travelled downward in nothing but dearness and smiled. he smiled and cried in the others palms because despite all of his past shortcomings, hamae decided to stay.

‘kayao… kayao.. don’t smile at me.. i will become weak. do you want me to become weak?’

his hands went to cling on the softness of cracked skin that was his cheeks with yearning that could closely compare to utter despair.

yes, let your guard down.