And indignation from absence is asinine, but Altair feels the rapid, sharp burn of it, regardless of whether time stopped or flowed without remorse. He makes no sense: None of this makes any sense, to know that such a line rendered him useless. He must be weak, a man unfit to handle a matter that is not defend as lust nor fickle attraction—how all of this came to be within a short amount of time, after all the years Ezio has been with him, causes him to reconsider the fortress installed around himself after the fall of Al Mualim. He had chosen to turn a blind eye to all signs of emotional comfort, but the subtle flicker of the other man's gaze has him counting each breath.
Stop it.
He must stop.
But why is it that he himself seeks the scar upon that lip?
Eight.
Ezio, for the second time in his life, finds himself at a loss of words, at a border that could not be crossed once more with blunt lines and apparent maneuvers. Both of them have chosen to not seek each other—a desire for that platonic relationship above the cold grip of rejection could have been his excuse, denial and makeshift indifference for the latter. It is ironic that those around him already know of this predicament before he and Altair could radiate the strain of their plight. But he carries on, acknowledging hope to be the Grand Master's eyes upon him when he seemed not to notice, one day knowing that he would call upon it. He remembers the brief warmth of Altair's knuckles on his palm as he passes him a sword, the slightest tinge of sanguine heat on his cheeks, before they had awkwardly broke apart into the outer circle—yesterday seeming like a millennium ago. And now, futility had been strangled.
"Altair."
Those footsteps are all too loud, but he could not care.
"Altair."
Breathe.
"Turn around—turn around, Altair."
Do not run.
"Look at me."
He cannot hold back any longer.
"I have you now."
"Remove yourself."
He grasps a wrist that scorches the pads of his fingers.
"Say my name as I hold on, for I will not let you go."
Carpe (2/3) of [1/1]
Jurisdiction had no play in these waters.
And indignation from absence is asinine, but Altair feels the rapid, sharp burn of it, regardless of whether time stopped or flowed without remorse. He makes no sense: None of this makes any sense, to know that such a line rendered him useless. He must be weak, a man unfit to handle a matter that is not defend as lust nor fickle attraction—how all of this came to be within a short amount of time, after all the years Ezio has been with him, causes him to reconsider the fortress installed around himself after the fall of Al Mualim. He had chosen to turn a blind eye to all signs of emotional comfort, but the subtle flicker of the other man's gaze has him counting each breath.
Stop it.
He must stop.
But why is it that he himself seeks the scar upon that lip?
Eight.
Ezio, for the second time in his life, finds himself at a loss of words, at a border that could not be crossed once more with blunt lines and apparent maneuvers. Both of them have chosen to not seek each other—a desire for that platonic relationship above the cold grip of rejection could have been his excuse, denial and makeshift indifference for the latter. It is ironic that those around him already know of this predicament before he and Altair could radiate the strain of their plight. But he carries on, acknowledging hope to be the Grand Master's eyes upon him when he seemed not to notice, one day knowing that he would call upon it. He remembers the brief warmth of Altair's knuckles on his palm as he passes him a sword, the slightest tinge of sanguine heat on his cheeks, before they had awkwardly broke apart into the outer circle—yesterday seeming like a millennium ago. And now, futility had been strangled.
"Altair."
Those footsteps are all too loud, but he could not care.
"Altair."
Breathe.
"Turn around—turn around, Altair."
Do not run.
"Look at me."
He cannot hold back any longer.
"I have you now."
"Remove yourself."
He grasps a wrist that scorches the pads of his fingers.
"Say my name as I hold on, for I will not let you go."
No.
Not ever