Chapter Text
Gale wakes up to his dreadful notification sound at the break of dawn. They're taking the hobbits to Isengard! He makes a frustrated sound as he grabs his phone and checks the time. It’s five in the bloody morning on a Wednesday. Elminster might be a brilliant man and a respected author, but he's never been good at remembering time zones.
He also hasn't reached out to Gale in almost two years. Not since Gale made it clear he wasn’t going to work on any of his novels for the foreseeable future.
Gale, I know it's been quite some time, but I have the most wonderful news. Call me as soon as you can.
It’s me, by the way. Elminster.
😃
There's no way he can go back to sleep after this. Gale groans, ignoring Tara's meows of protest before she snuggles back into her usual spot. He walks to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. No, coffee. He needs something stronger. Depending on what Elminster says, he might need to add in some whiskey.
They did not leave on the best of terms. Gale was so entranced by Mystra's charms at the time that quitting writing all together somehow seemed like a reasonable idea.
God help him, does he know they broke up? Mystra and him were close at some point, but not after she left his publishing house to focus on her own work. She’d have no reason to contact Elminster unless she wants to gossip.
Gale jumps in place and punches the air, forcing himself to get excited about a phone call that might just ruin his entire day. Or week.
The old man picks up at the second ring. Damn it.
“Hi, Elminster.”
“Gale, my boy! Oh, it's so good to hear from you. It’s been so long, how have you been? Is America treating you well? I haven't been to New York in years. I should go again, wonderful food. Wonderful clubs, too!”
Gale quickly tries to decide which questions he's going to answer. “I've been well, thank you. This city is, well, different. Exciting, but I'm not sure I'll ever get used to it.”
“How's Mystra? It's been so long since I had a nice chat with her! Lovely woman. Just remind me not to get on her bad side, ha! She can be quite ruthless.”
He pulls his phone away from his ear to check the call time. Twenty four seconds of peace. That's a new record for Elminster.
“Err, Mystra and I aren't together anymore. As of... almost six months ago, in fact.” He pauses. “I have no idea how she's doing.”
He hears Elminster clear his throat. “Well! I’m sorry to hear that, Gale. Forget her, she's not why I called after all. Ahem! Now, have you heard of an app called Tiktok?”
Gale quirks an eyebrow. Where could this possibly be going? “I... Yes, in passing. I don't really use any social media. I think I still have that Twitter account you made me open that I haven't touched in months.”
“Forget Twitter! Tiktok is where you reach the youth, and somehow you have, much to my surprise. About five months ago, my secretary found a video on the app from a fairly popular booktoker— err, that's someone who reviews books on the app, I've had about fourteen meetings about the damn thing since it became this important in the publishing business — the booktoker absolutely raved about your series, Gale! The Chronicles of Astarion Ancunín are a hit with the youth! Why, there must be hundreds of videos about the series, Gale! You should take a look for yourself and see, you have quite the sudden, rabid fanbase who are desperate for more of him. And-”
“You want me to write another book.” Said Gale, sounding far more dejected than he intended to.
“Precisely! Come on, Gale. It’s exactly the incentive you needed. It'll be good for you, and you'll be able to quit that damn teaching job. Heaven knows why you took it, I remember when I tried to teach back in Cambridge and let me tell you—”
Gale holds back a sigh. He puts his phone on speaker and allows the man to ramble on for a bit while he thinks. He hates to admit it, but Elminster is right. This is a great opportunity for him. A new audience, new opportunities, perhaps a bit more fame. It sounds incredibly tempting. He's had the outline for the fourth book collecting dust in his notebook for a year now. Not a day goes by where he doesn't think about opening his laptop and finally trying to write something, but each day that passes only increases his anxiety. What if it's not good enough? What if it doesn't live up to the expectation? What if he's lost his touch?
Then there's Silos. If he quits, will he be able to spend more time with the young man? Their relationship could go public if he quits, but it wouldn't be difficult for people to figure out that he's been dating a former student. It could put both of their careers in danger, couldn't it?
“—but I won't bore you with any more details. At least not without a pint! Now, Gale... will you at least consider it? I'll have my secretary send you the links of the videos she's found. I hope they serve as motivation, at the very least.”
Gale stares at the wall in front of him.
“Hello? Gale?”
“I'll think about it. I’ll reach out to you once I've made my decision. Take care, Elminster.”
He hangs up before the old man can pester him further.
---
There are far more useful things that Gale could be doing during his personal crisis. He could be responding to his emails, he could be grading his students’ final short stories of the year. He could be rereading the outline for what was going to be his next book. Hell, he could be in therapy right now, talking through his worries with a professional who could guide him in the right direction, if we really want to be delusional.
Instead, he's balls deep inside the prettiest man he’s ever met, which feels far more preferable than dealing with any of his problems right now. How can he think of anything but the way Silos’ long nails dig into his back? Silos moans his name in a way that makes nothing else matter but making sure he makes that same breathless, gorgeous sound again and again.
“Gale. I can feel you getting close. Ah.” He whimpers, pulling him down by his necklace for a desperate kiss. “I-I am ovulating. Finish on my chest. Please.”
Gale's eyes go wide, struck with the sudden animalistic urge to cum inside Silos and breed. God help him. He grits his teeth and pulls out from the man's pretty hole, as instructed. Gale straddles Silos’ chest as he strokes his cock over the man. He gasps when the cum coats the young man's small breasts before he collapses back to the sofa. Silos rushes to sit on his lap without a moment's hesitation. “Needy little thing...” Gale mutters, holding his lover by his waist. “You're this insatiable yet you still manage to find a way to blue ball me.”
Silos looks smug. “I am covered in your seed, am I not?” Gale responds by licking his chest, running his tongue against Silos' cute breasts, his hands trailing down to grab at his ass. Silos gasps then laughs. Gale could listen to the man laugh for the rest of his life. “Gale, por favor. I will get a wipe, wait right here.”
Gale places a hand on his stomach and leans back on where he sits, closing his eyes in an utter sense of peace he can't find anywhere else.
“Would you like a cup of tea, Gale?”
His eyes shoot open. Silos can make a good cup of coffee, but he cannot make tea. “I'm quite alright, thank you!”
He hears Silos rummage through his kitchen. Moments later, he brings a glass of water instead. Silos sips on his own glass and walks around his room. The windows aren't covered, but he either doesn't care or hasn't noticed. Maybe he's a bit of an exhibitionist.
Silos wastes little time after his orgasm to start looking through his things. Gale is still trying to catch his breath as he sits up to watch him look through his bookcase. Silos tilts his head to read the titles of his books. Gale leans back against the sofa and allows his eyes to scan the young man's back, his arse, his long legs...
“I have wanted to look through your books for a while.” He says, as if right now were the perfect opportunity to do so. Knowing Silos, he probably means it genuinely. “I am embarrassed by how many I know nothing about.”
Gale waves a hand dismissively. “Please, there’s no shame in that. That only means I get to introduce you to so many. Pick whatever catches your eye. That shelf is for classic gay romance, some modern ones sprinkled in. The next is for some of my very old texts. Aristotle, Ovid, Aurelius, Sophocles. All the classics. I haven't read most in years, if I'm honest.”
Silos pulls books seemingly at random, skimming through them as if considering each option. One makes him pause.
“You can read latin?” Silos shows him one of his books.
“Ah, yes. I studied it years ago, though I'm a tad rusty, but I do love Catallus’ work.” He sits up. “Are you familiar with his work?”
“The name is vaguely familiar, but I was never a big fan of poetry. I find it to be too metaphorical. Besides, I am in STEM. I have a natural disdain for the humanities.” Silos says with a carefully placed laugh meant to make it clear he’s being facetious. Gale is incredibly charmed by it. “How long ago did you study latin?”
Gale clears his throat. “Um... twenty years ago? I was still in uni.”
He sees a hint of a smirk form on Silos's lips. “I do not know latin, but the words are vaguely recognizable. Which poem is your favorite?”
“It's cliché, I know, but Catullus 5 is my favorite. It's gorgeous and romantic, and I'm a sucker for romance. I think everyone should read it at least once." Gale chuckles.
Silos walks towards him with the book in hand, his finger tucked neatly into one page. He straddles his hips and looks down at him with a gaze he cannot read. Gale can't help himself from leaning forward and kissing the soft skin on his stomach, his hip bone, his navel. It's been a long time since he’s had any sort of refractory period. He'd usually be falling asleep by now. Instead, he's aligning his cock with the entrance of his student's tight cunt. He watches Silos slowly lower himself further and further. The young man's brows furrow. His breath quickens. His lips curl into a smirk.
“At least once, you say?” Silos opens the book against his chest. Catullus 5. “Read it for me. I want to understand it.” He says, breathless.
Gale would say that there's virtue in being stuffed full of cock whilst trying to understand Latin poetry, but not with the intent of understanding Catullus. Perhaps with Catullus 16... “Of course. Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love–”
Silos holds up the book against his chest with one hand, using the other to grasp Gale's shoulder and squeeze hard. “No!” He gasps. “In Latin. Read it out for me in its original language.”
Gale grabs Silos by his hips, holding him steady as he starts to bounce on his lap. “I-I don’t need to read it. I have it memorized.”
Silos throws the book over his shoulder. Gale would usually be aghast with horror at the act, but he's far too distracted by the sight of the pretty man on his lap to care. “Yes. Yes! Keep going!”
He begins reciting the poem to the best of his ability. Silos may not understand Latin, but he understands the thrusts of his hips, the dozens of kisses he leaves on his skin after each line.
His lover's lips crash into his own the instant he finishes the poem. Gale can feel Silos tightening around his cock, his thighs tremble. All the constant sex has made Silos far more comfortable with the sounds he makes, — and God — they are delectable. Gale thrusts his hips up in time with Silos’ hips. The young man yelps and cums, gasping curses in Portuguese. He grabs the man by his hip, trying to stop him before it's too late. Silos doesn't budge. Instead, he buries his face into Gale's neck, shuddering as his professor's cum fills him up.
"I thought you wanted me to pull out." Gale says against Silos' curly hair.
"Hmph. The bodega downstairs sells plan B." Silos replies, his voice muffled by Gale's skin. "Must you ruin the moment?"
Gale chuckles and moves Silos’ hair out of the way to kiss his neck. “Like I said, insatiable. I'm getting too old to go another round, my love.”
Silos breathes heavily. “N-No, no. I don’t need any more.” He says, though Gale doesn't believe him. Especially considering Silos immediately grabs a lighter and a cigarette. Gale takes one for himself and says nothing.
The two smoke in comfortable silence. Neither of them wanted the other to continue their bad habit, so they made a pact to only smoke when they're in each other's presence. Silos has been worse at trying to quit than he has, though Gale has tried to quit at least four times before.
“Porra. I apologize, I... You make me not think straight.” Silos mutters.
“Oh, I sure hope I don't.” Gale runs his hands up and down his lover's smooth back. “I'll get you one in the morning as I get our coffee. Don't worry about it tonight. I won’t ever judge anyone for not wanting children.”
Silos takes a long drag of his cigarette. “That is a question I refuse to ask myself until after my career is well established and secure. But it is not entirely out of the question.”
Gale smiles fondly, allowing his imagination to wander despite the fact that he knows it's a foolish idea to continue the subject any further. A child, a family. Gale has never been quite sure if a life like that would suit him, he's never had the opportunity to entertain the idea with any of his past lovers. All his relationships before Mystra were far too short. And Mystra... She always avoided the subject, never once giving him a straight answer. Any question regarding their future was shot down or ignored immediately, unless it was on her turns. ‘I wish you could move to New York with me’ always took priority to ‘Have you ever considered moving in together?’. Always ‘Gale, could you close the laptop and focus on us?’ and never ‘I'm sorry, I've been working too hard. I forgot to answer your email or return your calls for weeks.’
Gale breathes heavily. He hates how much he's thinking of her lately. He knows there’s no longing in his thoughts, only frustration. Frustration that he never had a chance to fix things, to leave on good terms, to take a stand for himself. Even at his happiest, thoughts of her ignoring him returned. Gale worshiped her like a starving dog, she never even offered scraps.
A cold hand rests on his cheek and jolts him from his thoughts. Silos tilts Gale’s head to face him.
“Are you alright? You seem... distracted.” Silos asks.
Gale shakes his head. “Ah, sorry. I started thinking about work. Speaking of, I forgot to ask, did you turn in your final?”
The lie works perfectly. Gale feels the weight of it at the pit of his stomach. Silos huffs. “I turned it in first thing this morning! I made sure that I could finish it before I came here. It would feel odd working on my final for your class here, of all places.” Silos looks away. “Have you read it?”
“Not yet. I was going to start first thing tomorrow. But, if you're truly so eager...”
With a few clicks on his laptop, the young man's project is printed out in a matter of seconds. “Why don't we read it together in a warm bath?”
Silos hesitates. “Perhaps this is unwise, you will be biased. I do not want it to seem like I am influencing my final result.”
Gale pulls him closer. “On the contrary, my dear, I'm sure you won't mind it if I scold you.”
He can feel Silos burning at his words, a soft eager smile forming at his lips. “I thought you were too tired to continue.”
“The rest of my body is, but my hands and my tongue are more than happy to continue.” Gale offers the man his hand and gestures to the restroom. “Come, you can read it while you sit on my lap.”
Silos takes his hand and laughs, following to help him prepare for a bath. The sight alone is the one thing that keeps him from thinking about Mystra for the rest of the night.
---
Gale forces his eyes open as he clicks on the first link of the email Elminster's secretary sent him almost a week ago. The old man texted him twice asking if he's gone over it already. He couldn't put it off any longer.
From: [email protected]
Mr. Dekarios,
As requested by Mr. Aumar, I have attached our favorite reviews and fan made art for your most recent series, none of which are over three years old. He hopes that if you will not take his words into consideration, perhaps you will listen to those most eager to see more of the Astarion Ancunín series.
Goodreads Reviews: X, X, X, X
Amazon Reviews: X, X, X, X, X, X, X, X
TikToks: X, X, X, X, X
You are more than encouraged to seek out further reviews than the ones listed above. We kindly ask that you do not discuss anything pertaining to your next book on social media for the time being.
Thank you,
Aumar Books and Publishing
Jennevelle Hallowleaf Gonzalez
📎FanArt1.jpg 📎FanArt2.png 📎Fanart3.png 📎FanArt4.jpg 📎FanArt5.png
He isn't sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn't this.
The reviews that were sent to him are all written by young, passionate fans unlike his previous typical fanbase, which used to skew older and male. He had hoped that the Ancunín series would have a more diverse fanbase — everyone loves a sultry, devious vampire, right? — but almost every review mentions that they found the book via social media, or it was recommended by a queer reading group or, his personal favorite, by one reader who found explicit art of his character and wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Last time he checked, his book was sitting at a comfortable 4.2 out of 5 stars. It's now up to 4.7. Gale's heart skips a beat.
Despite his best judgment, he skims over the two and one star reviews. There are a few with valid criticisms, Gale admittedly could have treated a few of the darker, more sensitive plot points with a bit more care and research, but most seem to be annoyed that the series is more explicit than his usual work. He doesn't bother reading the homophobic drivel, he doesn't count those as valid reviews in the first place. He already decided in his first draft that Astarion ends up with the valiant Wyll Ravengard anyway.
He clicks on the videos next, at least not before grumbling that he has to make an account to even watch them. He decides to go ahead and make a proper author account for himself, just in case he's asked to promote things in yet another social media he'll eventually ignore. He picks the nicest photograph of himself he has as a profile picture, one that Silos took of him when they visited the MoMa not too long ago. Most videos are just spoken reviews from booktokers, each one varying in quality and engagement. Gale isn't sure what to think of the last one, which features a very handsome person dressed as Astarion dancing with a knife and staring sultrily at the camera. Most of the comments seem to enjoy it, at least. Gale shuts the video off quickly, he doesn't want to feel sexually attracted to his own protagonist.
The fanart is wonderful. Gale had received and seen art of his novels before, but seeing new art never fails to make his heart flutter excitedly. Each artist drew his characters a little differently, but the important staples remain. The vampire's pale skin, white hair, gaunt body, and sharp, handsome smile is present in each lovingly crafted piece of art. One even has Astarion and Wyll kissing, an act which they had yet to do in the actual novels. He chuckles to himself. That fan will be very happy indeed.
Gale froze. Is he really doing this? He can't possibly make a proper decision right now, not when the rush of validation and fame is getting to his head.
He closes his laptop and sighs. Tara takes the opportunity to jump up to lay on his chest, purring happily as he pets her soft fur.
“Are you trying to comfort me?” Gale asks.
Tara says nothing, of course, but she looks up at him with large eyes. ‘Master Dekarios, surely petting me is far more important than whatever human nonsense you're worrying about now. Books can wait, emails can wait. I cannot.’ He imagines her saying. She yawns and closes her eyes once more. Wait, she wouldn't know what an email is, would she?
Gale shakes his head. She's right, he can't make this decision right now. There are so many more things he has to consider. His job, for starters, wouldn't give him any time to focus on his writing until summer break. His finances should be alright, he’s started to receive larger royalty checks as of late thanks to the series' newfound popularity, but he’d be barely scraping by without his current salary, which isn't as much as he'd like it to be to begin with.
He bites his lip. What would Silos think? Would he support him, or would he stop seeing him altogether if he's no longer his professor? The young man is so attracted to his position and their difference in power. But, surely, that's not the only reason they're dating, right? Maybe not anymore, at least.
No, the man loves him. He loves him. He would never leave him for something as trivial as a slightly ruined kink.
Gale holds back the urge to fix himself a drink. He has work to do, for God’s sake. He has an excellent job at a prestigious university helping young students achieve the same dreams he managed to fulfill. He has a lovely boyfriend, a decent apartment, and a good score on Goodreads. He left off his last series with an open ending, open enough to be considered finished if he never comes back to it. That way, he can’t possibly ruin it. That way he can’t lose what little respect as a writer he has left.
Then why does he feel so damn empty?
---
Winters in New York are just as magical as the films made it seem. The roads are covered in disgusting, icy sludge. The harsh cold makes it difficult to enjoy going outside. The sheer amount of tourists and constant events make traversing the city even more difficult than usual. But, for once, Gale can spend the holidays with someone he loves. Being in love makes even the sludge outside his doorstep and the loud honking from the cabs below feel magical.
Being a PhD student, Silos doesn’t have the sort of long winter break that Gale does. Thankfully, his professors mercifully gave him the week of Christmas off, most likely because many of them are celebrating with their own families or taking advantage of the holiday season. Both Gale and Silos were raised Christian and Catholic respectively, and despite the fact that both of them no longer identify as such, they quickly made plans to celebrate the holiday together. It’s been ages since he bothered celebrating Christmas properly, beyond just sending gifts to Mystra and his mother. This year, however, he bought a small tree, put up some lights, bought Tara a festive little red bow, and his new favorite Brazilian songs have been playing nonstop from the speakers in his living room.
Silos said he would be slightly late, as he promised his family he would call them on Zoom to celebrate the day together, even if he already spent all of Christmas Eve already speaking and drinking with his family nonstop. Gale was included in the festivities as well, Silos’ mother continued to insist that he drank more coconut rum as she asked the most invasive questions possible that Silos was forced to translate, despite the fact he later learned the woman spoke perfectly fluent English. Seeing Silos stutter and flush with embarrassment as his mother quickly guessed Gale was his professor was worth the bombardment of questions, even if Gale's heart stopped working for what felt like an eternity before he realized Mrs. Rios didn't care.
He hears the doorbell ring right as the clock strikes four. For Silos, being late means arriving right on time. Being right on time means arriving ten minutes prior. Being early means arriving half an hour early. Being late? Well, Gale doesn't think the man has ever been late for anything.
He greets Silos with a kiss, helping him carry the turkey inside. He watches as Silos quietly places his gifts into Gale's stocking and underneath the tree. Gale smiles fondly.
“You look wonderful, my dear.” Gale says, kissing Silos’ bare shoulder as he takes off the man's coat. He always forgets to take it off when he comes in. “Please, sit. Dinner's almost ready. Where did you get this turkey?” Gale has seen Silos try to cook firsthand. He might be the smartest man Gale has ever met, but even perfect people have to be bad at something. For Silos, cooking is one of them.
Silos sits and pours himself a glass of wine. “A Puerto Rican woman in my building does catering for Christmas. She asked if I needed anything else, and I told her my British boyfriend was making Brazilian food for dinner. She seemed so scared until I told her you are also Greek.”
Gale laughs. “I barely speak Greek! My family mocks me relentlessly every time my mother and I go to visit and try to speak it. I tried downloading duolingo, but I can never quite keep up with it.”
“Those apps never work. Besides, you told me you wanted to practice your Portuguese.”
“Sim!” Gale says confidently. “Eu practicando... err... a lot!”
Silos smiles as he sips his wine.
The table is set with far too much food for just two people. His mother would be proud, he thinks. Turkey, Brazilian potato salad, yorkshire gravy, figgy pudding, christmas rice, and, at Silos’ request, roasted brussel sprouts, which Gale hates but the young man somehow loves. Gentle jazz plays through the speakers. Their glasses klink in the first toast of the evening. Tara rolls around in her bed in pure ecstasy as she plays with her new catnip covered toy.
It isn't until Silos takes his first bite of his dinner and moans with pleasure that Gale decides this is the best Christmas he's had in a very, very long time.
Halfway through their meal, between light conversation, Silos yawns loudly. He covers his mouth, looking slightly embarrassed.
Gale laughs. “Are you tired already? You better stay awake, you promised me we would watch The Fellowship of the Ring tonight.”
Silos shakes his head. “No, I am fine. Today has been very long.”
“Please tell me you got some rest before coming here?” He asks.
Silos hums. “I drank a large coffee before coming here. I had a video conference with the head of the Physics department from the University of Tokyo I could not miss. Physics stops for no one, not even Papa Noel.”
“You didn’t tell me you had a call with the University of Tokyo. Is the head helping you with your thesis?” Gale asks carefully.
Something odd crosses Silos's eyes. A pause, a sense of doubt. The young man looks down at his drink for a moment before taking another sip. “In a way, yes. But we can discuss this another time. Let us focus on Christmas.”
Gale freezes before the figgy pudding reaches his lips.
“Well, now I can't possibly focus on Christmas with that looming in my mind.” He says with a nervous laugh. Silos doesn't give him the mercy of answering with a reassuring smile. Why would he? He's too busy staring at his potato salad. “Silos, darling. Tell me what's going on.”
His boyfriend looks at him, face serious and unblinking. “Cornell’s theoretical physics program is good, very good. But it is not as challenging as I want it to be. I have been considering the option of perhaps finishing my work in another university. It will be difficult, it will push my work back a year, but my advisor says it is completely possible with my credits and with the university's approval.”
Gale sets his utensils down and laces his fingers together, resting his chin on his fingers as he thinks of what to say.
“What schools are you considering?”
Silos pauses. “Tokyo, as I mentioned. Munich. Stanford. Cambridge. Tsinghua, if the University allows it. But I am still undecided. Which angers me, I do not like the feeling of indecision. Again, we should not talk about this now.”
Gale looks at him with big, pleading eyes. “Silos... please. Tell me what you're feeling.”
The young man closes his eyes. “I have always known what I want, always, and I have stopped at nothing to achieve my goals, but now I am... overwhelmed by the routes that I can take to achieve it. I feel blessed by fortune, but now I am torn between my dreams. Or you.”
The playlist stops as its last song plays. Silos glances at it and lets out a small laugh, despite the tension in the air. He stands to walk towards the window. “It is so silly, is it not? I always mock characters in movies who let go of their dream for the sake of a new relationship, yet here I am. All I ever wanted to be is a respected scientist, and I can still be one here, but I will live forever wondering if my career would be different had I gone somewhere else. But where would that leave us? You have a career here, you are a respected professor. I cannot ask you to upend your life for me.”
Silos looks over his shoulder. “Now you see why I did not want to talk about it.”
Gale can't stop the guilt that's starting to fill his entire being like an overflowing glass of water under an open faucet. As if Silos' internal conflict were somehow his fault.
Yet, it is.
His first love forced him to quit his dreams and move to an entirely new city without once thinking of his feelings, their future. Now, Gale wants nothing more than to quit this life and follow Silos to the ends of the earth, but does Silos deserve it? Should this brilliant young man feel so strongly about him? Silos deserves better than him. Better than a depressed, middle aged man with a mid-life career crisis.
Gale clenches his first. What happened to him? He used to be so ambitious. He was just like Silos once. He would toil day and night writing his books, sending letters and drafts to so many publishers, making a dozen calls a day as their publishing date came closer and closer. He was writing and creating because he loved it. Because it's all he ever wanted. He wants to be in love and he wants to create.
“Gale? Are you alright?” Silos asks with a worried tone.
“I...”
He swallows, unable to find the words.
Forget deserving anything! Silos is offering him this opportunity on a silver platter. He wants it. He wants it so badly his chest hurts. The desire is so overpowering he hasn't realized he's speaking until his voice cracks.
“I bloody hate my job. I hate it. I never wanted to be a professor, I never wanted to grade other's writing. I was an author, a bloody good one at that. New York City is a lovely, incredible city, but it's not mine. It's not home. I miss my mother, I miss making art, I miss telling stories. I only came here because... because of her. Because I allowed her to tell me what to do, she made me feel like I wasn't a wholly realized person unless I did everything she said. Then the one moment I acted out of her control, she left me here like a dog on the side of the street.” Gale covers his face with his hands. “The more I speak, the more I feel like I'm mirroring my past mistakes, except I'm becoming her. I don't want to hold you back. I don't want you to stay here because of me. I want to follow you wherever you go. Anywhere. Tokyo, Brazil, bloody Moscow for all I care! I want to be with you and I want to write again. Nothing else matters to me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”
He's babbling now. He names cities and mutters apologies between his sobs. Silos leaves the room and returns with tissues and what must be a terrible yet comforting cup of tea. He doesn't calm down until he feels the man's cold, slender hands on his lap. Gale uncovers his face and sees Silos kneeling in front of him. He takes Gale's hands.
“I did not realize you hated it so much...” Silos says. “I am disappointed in myself that I never noticed, and heartbroken that you didn't tell me.”
Gale blows his nose. “I didn't want you to worry about me and my silly mid-life crisis. You already have so much to worry about, you're becoming a doctor, for God’s sake! And here I am whining and making things about me because I want to leave my prestigious uni job to write fantasy books. It’s quite pathetic, really.”
“Making art is always a worthy endeavor.” Silos says sternly. “We both want to do what makes us happy. At the very least, this narrows my options.”
“How so?”
“Well, now I have to decide between New York, Munich, or Cambridge.” Silos laughs fondly.
Gale feels his heart race. “God, you'd move to England with me?”
“If that is the route I go, yes. I do not want you to feel forced to live in a city that does not feel like home.” Silos pauses. “But I want you to be prepared for the possibility that I stay here in New York. I make no promises.”
"Well, I do have a bargaining chip to offer, so to speak. My family home is not too far from Cambridge, and I would be more than happy to move back in with you. There is, however, a slightly terrifying condition…"
Silos tilts his head.
"My mother still lives there."
The tension clearly leaves his lover's shoulders. Seeing Silos laugh makes his heart swell in the best way, it finally calms him enough to bring him back to reality. Here, in his mediocre apartment, with the most beautiful man he's ever met, who's offering to move in with his family. Gale hasn't believe in god in a very long time, but the kiss they share is enough to remind him of divinity.
"I have a complicated mother as well, I am sure it will be fine." Silos wraps his arms around Gale's neck. "And I have until the end of the academic year to decide what I would like to do, though it would be easier if I put in the application by next week…"
He can already see the calculations around Silos' head, the furrowed brows and distant gaze make it clear that the young man is already envisioning a timeline. Possibly even cataloguing a list. Gale places a hand against his cheek, "Darling, it's Christmas. We've had enough pondering about the future."
"You are right." Silos says with a sigh. "Besides, I have yet to fulfill my holiday promise to you."
Gale perks up. "You actually purchased the reindeer horns and the tail?"
"Yes. But that is not what I'm referring to." The young man gestures at the television. "I promised you we would finally start that trilogy you will not stop talking about. Unless you want to skip it and move to bed…"
As tempting as the offer is, Gale jumps at the mention of the movie. Silos has been putting off Gale's offer to watch Lord of the Rings for months now under the belief that he's going to detest it, or find it far too unrealistic. Clearly, the sex is just a ruse to distract him enough to skip the movie once more. Gale will not stand for it! "Let me make some tea and coffee! I have the extended editions of each one. Don't worry, it's only three hours and fifty minutes long!"
Silos says nothing as he settles into the sofa, silently pouring himself another glass of wine.
—
After quite the rambunctious night filled with Tolkien trivia, alcohol, and unusual sexual roleplays, the pair decided its best it they have a quiet morning inside. Gale had made coffee for the two of them as Silos showered. The near perfect morning of domesticity was ruined the instant Silos found his printed out manuscript, the one he was going to read and edit by hand—an old habit from his earlier writing days before he relied on his computer to check everything for him. He had been chipping away at it for weeks, both re-reading it to remember what the hell his plan was, and editing scenes that he no longer enjoyed. It isn't ready, far from it, but it has enough to suggest that he is actually working on a new book.
Silos holds it up, already fifteen pages into the first chapter. "This is your next book? Is the draft complete?"
"I'd say it's about half the book, but it needs a lot of work. Not quite worth reading yet." Gale says.
"May I continue reading it?"
He settles into bed beside the other man, wincing. "Well… it's not my best. And you don't like fantasy, you don't have to force yourself to—"
"I forced myself to watch those… hobbits last night. I do not mind reading your work. On the contrary, I enjoy it far more than other fantasy works." Silos says with a comforting smile that he reserves just for Gale. He never bothers to comfort anyone else. "I can reserve my opinions if you prefer…. but I could assist with any grammatical errors?"
At that, Gale chuckles and reaches inside his bedside table for a red pen. "Correct away, Mister Rios."
Silos leans back into the headboard, focusing his attention on reading. As he watches the young man quickly underline sentences and flip through the pages—a speed reader, of course he is—Gale finds himself growing nervous with each passing minute. Its as if his mind is trying to convince him that Silos is one paragraph away from throwing the manuscript to the side and declaring it as unreadable rubbish.
He pulls out his tiktok app, desperate for some mindless distraction, and lights a cigarette.
Gale scrolls through his phone as he smokes in bed, trying his best to distract himself as his partner reads beside him. He has long believed that one should never smoke inside of their own bedroom, if his mother knew what he's doing she'd kill him, but if he allows himself to look at Silos' unreadable expression right now, he might throw up from the nerves alone. It's all in his head, of course. Silos has said nothing about the novel but the occasional hum or head tilt, which is usually accompanied by him asking a question on the series' lore. Gale is embarrassed to admit that he had to look up his own series' fan-made wikipedia page to remind him on the finer points of the story he abandoned for years.
Two excruciating hours pass before Silos is done reading. He sets the manuscript on Gale's lap before cuddling closer to him. Small, slender hands snatch away his phone before he can pretend the weight of his work is not laying on top of him, filled to the brim with corrections.
"Surely my grammar isn't that terrible." Gale mutters, flipping through the pages only to find multiple notes written in the margins in bright red ink. Some are corrections on scientific plot points that are incorrect, some are actual grammatical corrections, but the end of each chapter ends with a small list of things Silos enjoyed or found could be improved.
"No, it is not. You are simply nervous." Silos grabs the cigarette from his fingers as well, taking a drag for himself. "I like it. I would like to read more as you work on it."
Gale perks up. "Do you mean that?"
"When have I ever been dishonest on the things I do not enjoy?" The man's hands rest against his chest, stroking the dark, curly hair that covers it. "I like it. I think your readers will like it. You should finish it. It would make you happy."
When he says it, it all sounds so simple.
Gale kisses the top of his head. "I shall for you, darling. I promise."
It is that simple. If he wasn't so infatuated at the moment, he could curse the world for not allowing him to meet the other man sooner.
Silos gives him a coy look. "I do have one critique, if you are interested."
"Go on."
"The sex scenes should be longer. They were too quick to properly arouse me, or they faded to black as the scene ended. Ravengard does not seem like the sort of character to ignore foreplay." Silos bites his lower lip. "Especially when he's written by such an experienced author…"
"Ah, I see." Gale sets the manuscript to the side and turns to face the young man. Large hands slide to his lower back, tempted to move lower and grab what's his. "Would you like to offer me some inspiration?"
"Of course, Professor."