Chapter Text
The dining room is noisier than usual. Laughs, complains, all banging on the table. Somehow, one topic of conversation led to another and now the main interest of the survivors lies in romantic stories, some tender and amusing, others painfully disastrous. There's not much they can do to pass the time at the manor, after all.
“Stand back, if we're talking about a man who is successful in love, we all know we already have a winner,” Kevin adopts an egocentric posture, pointing his thumb at himself, as he places his other hand on Martha's shoulder. The coordinator almost rolls her eyes and slowly pushes him away as if he were a dirty rag.
“It wasn't a competition,” the doctor quickly contradicts him.
“Ridiculous. I'm too good to fall into the nets of this ‘love’,” the lawyer affirms, crossing his arms and raising his chin. He is ignored by the others as soon as he opens his mouth.
“You'd better say you don't know how to talk to a woman,” Pierson points out.
“What do you mean? I could pick up anyone with the snap of my fingers. Besides, it's obvious you don't know how to talk to them either!”
“See, see? You just confirmed it!”
The lawyer becomes agitated as he realizes he is losing the argument, so his gaze travels from one face to another, until he focuses on a withdrawn young man who is immersed in the texture of the table, more interested in the imperfections of the wood than in the conversation of the group.
“Hey, Aesop!” Freddy mentions, pointing to the embalmer who startles out and immediately looks away. “Don't pretend I'm not here!”
“It's true, there's still a lot we don't know about our embalmer,” says the gardener, putting her palms together and tilting her head tenderly. “After all, we're all participating in this ‘Q&A’!”
“I never said I was participating,” Norton defends himself with an imperturbable countenance.
“Right, right! Aesop, is there someone special to you?” The mechanic doesn't think twice, overshadowing the prospector and hitting the gray-haired man with the question. “Or, maybe... is that person in this room right now?”
The embalmer's eyes lose themselves in the silverware and then in the fine crystal goblets, being able to observe his own reflection. His eyebrows are slightly crooked in embarrassment, making him look pathetic. He doesn't even know how to respond to a question like that.
“S-Special person...?” he articulates with difficulty.
But before Aesop can answer, the lawyer interrupts him: “No, no, impossible! He doesn't look at all like someone who is good with girls! I'm sure he would run away if one confessed to him, just like he does when he sees us.”
“That would be so sad...” Emma laments.
“Maybe things would work better if Aesop were more outgoing," Kevin adds. “Girls love interesting men who talk confidently and have a great sense of humor. You must make them laugh to win their hearts!”
“Isn't it more interesting when men stay quiet and mysterious?” the coordinator makes a strategic attempt to silence the cowboy.
“Okay, then I'll act quiet and mysterious for you!” Kevin chirps and Martha has no choice but to accept his failed plan, walking yards away from the cowboy.
“Well, well, guys... I think there's something in all of us that could be special to someone else, isn't there?” Helena suggests softly, calming the tension crammed into the atmosphere.
Despite the group continuing the conversation, Aesop has shrunk in place. He wishes he could leave his seat without arousing suspicion, but the last thing he could stand right now is to be reprimanded for leaving. Besides…
“They're not wrong,” he thinks. Due to the grim nature of his profession as an embalmer and his constant survival in society since childhood, Aesop considers himself inexperienced in the subject of love; something he doesn't know has ever been a priority for him. He is barely able to interact with others, how could he even have a partner?
“Helena is right,” agrees Eli, who is sitting at the other side of the table. “Appearing to be a different person would only hurt you by not being honest with yourself. There's nothing wrong if you're too expressive or reserved, in the end there will be someone who loves you just the way you are.”
Aesop raises his head to find the source of that gentle voice, fixing his gaze on the seer, who caresses the plumage of his owl, which closes its eyes in comfort. Eli was certainly asked a few questions as well, but he preferred to reserve any personal information.
“Still, someone like him surely has a lot of experience. He always knows what to say while still looking so cool. Plus, he never stops smiling, it's like nothing bothers him.” Right after, Eli meets the embalmer's eyes and as expected, his lips stretch, forming an endearing smile, the same one that causes Aesop to avert his gaze.
Soon, the embalmer's chest feels soothed, and, under the mask, a shy smile emerges, which is given to the seer.
There it is again, that strange sensation.
Hours later, the embalmer shows up in his room and takes a seat on the bed after running his hand across the sheets. As usual, it is cold.
Aesop adjusts his mask and looks at the moon from his window, which today embraces his shyness, blessing him with only half of its faces; however, that does not prevent the night from shining with a certain intensity, revealing the confines of the Oletus residence.
The embalmer feels so comfortable that his gaze softens. Part of him doesn't want to leave. Here he has met people he could call friends, even if they are sometimes annoying and keep invading his personal space. On the other hand, despite the moments of stress and adrenaline during the games, his experience at the manor has not been particularly bad, especially since there is one person who waits happily for him before he goes to sleep. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't excited to see him at the end of the day as well, after all Eli has become someone indispensable to the embalmer, someone who can pull a smile out of him without even trying.
Then, a feeling of distress invades Aesop.
“If we manage to escape from this place... Doesn't that mean we'll never see each other again?”.
From time to time he could write him letters, of course. He wouldn't have much to tell him, but his pen would express on paper every bit of his caring and longing for the seer; however, it doesn't seem enough to him.
“Maybe when Eli gets out of here, he'll go back to a place where he's happy. People must be waiting for him, maybe even... he already has a special person.” The embalmer, on the other hand, doesn't have someone waiting for his arrival at home. To tell the truth, there isn't even a place he can call home.
Until now, Aesop has always preferred to keep his distance from other people, so much so that not seeing them brought him immediate peace, yet with Eli it is different. Right now, he impatiently wishes that young man would walk through the door of the room and call him by his name. He wants him to enter his space, where Aesop has already prepared an exclusive place for him as his greatest friend and confidant.
The presence of the seer gives him a feeling of belonging. If a person could be a home, Eli would be his. But then...
“If he leaves...”
Aesop would have nothing left.
He loses his gaze on the ground and clenches his hands involuntarily, turning them into fists that show his dissent.
“I don't want that.”
Under the moonlight, the embalmer allows his honesty to flow and spill from his fingers, accompanying it with a confession that is thrown into the void:
“I don't want to be separated from...”
“Aesop.”
He startles, not knowing which way to look, trying to regain his stiffness after the scare. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't even hear when Eli entered the room.
“Good evening,” the seer greets him, but hesitates when the other doesn't reciprocate. “Are you okay?”
“Ah!” Aesop holds his gaze for a second, before dropping it. “E-Eli, good evening. Y-Yeah, I'm fine, you just... surprised me.”
“Sorry about that, I saw the door was open,” the seer says with an amused tone, taking a seat next to his companion and resting his hands on his sides. Brooke Rose slips off his shoulder, flying to the footboard of the bed just to take a nap.
Eli waits in silence until Aesop seems to be calmer, looks up to watch the sky from the window and then starts the conversation:
“The moon...”
“The moon looks very beautiful tonight...” Aesop steps forward, stealing the words from the seer’s mouth, “Right?”
Eli hesitates for a second and Aesop holds back a laugh. Rarely has he witnessed an Eli who has been taken by surprise.
“You know me quite well,” the seer mentions, pulling back his hood and adopting a more relaxed posture.
“I may also be starting to develop visions.”
“Oh, is that so? Then I should be worried.”
“Why?”
“Because then I won't be able to surprise you whenever I meet you.”
“Yes, your visions won't do you any good. You'll have to hide better.”
The seer lets out a choked laugh, agreeing with him. He has noticed it for a while now, but Aesop has become more expressive and confident enough to make small jokes between the two of them. But just when Aesop seems to have something else to say, silence seizes his words. Eli notices it immediately.
“Are you really alright?” The seer leans forward, searching the other's eyes.
“I'm fine,” Aesop shakes his head, “It's just that conversation with the others... It got me thinking.”
“The conversation about having a ‘special person’?”
“Yes. I haven't stopped thinking about it, but... I don't quite understand something like ‘love’.”
“You've never fallen in love with someone before?”
Aesop shakes his head: “No, I don't think so.”
“That makes sense.”
“Eli...” A determined look comes over the gray-haired man, although his words take a long time to be said.
“Yes?”
“Have you had... a special person?”
After a pause, the seer answers:
“Yes.”
“I see...”
“I had one.”
Aesop turns to look at him. If that statement has been shared in the past tense, it must not mean something good.
“I never told you the reason I came to this manor,” Eli nods to himself, decisive. This would be a good moment.
It is a fact that the embalmer knows very little about their friendship. Aesop had barely told a few details about his past, but Eli didn't usually talk about his life. Not that Aesop was going to press him, but he didn't want to miss the opportunity to learn more about him either:
“What happened?” Aesop asks.
“Her name is Gertrude.”
The other listens attentively to the beginning of a story that, although not spared from difficulties, sounds happy. Generosity has characterized the visionary from a young age, and he has maintained it to this day, regardless of misfortunes. Aesop even learns that they share more in common than he imagined, such as the absence of a father; but quickly the feeling of curiosity turns to regret as the story begins to turn pitiful.
Broken oaths, tragedies, financial problems..., guilt.
Eli had arrived at the Oletus manor full of hope, ready to resolve the torments of his life, only to stumble upon the misfortune of never being able to return to his beloved side, destined to be held captive in this place by a vile stranger.
When the narration of events concludes, Aesop wonders how Eli can keep smiling.
“Oh...” the embalmer automatically tries to make up for the bitter pill, looking for a solution for his friend. “I'm sorry. Maybe when you get out of here the two of you could...”
“No, it's all right, I've thought about it for a long time, and I concluded that it was for the best. It was me who caused her too much trouble. She deserves to have a long and happy life, even if I'm not there. I know she’ll be okay.”
“Does that mean that Gertrude is still your special person, even though you are no longer together?”
“I don't know how long we've been in this manor, but what happened with her was a long, long time ago. Back then, I even wrote her a couple of letters explaining the uncertainty of our future. So... I can safely say that it's something that has already being blown away by the wind, so my answer to your question is ‘no’.”
Aesop watches his own hands, rubbing the pads of his thumbs against his index fingers, sometimes exerting more pressure than he can notice. He feels guilty.
“I'm sorry, I made you remember something painful,” the embalmer apologizes, lowering his head.
“It's okay, it doesn't hurt anymore. In fact, I wanted to tell you this before, I just never found the right moment. It's something I hadn't mentioned in detail to anyone else.”
“Still, I apologize if it was invasive of me to ask if you had someone special.”
“I do.”
“It's not okay, I'm really sor... Huh?! You do?” Aesop closes the distance, staring at Eli, looking to corroborate what he just heard. “Just now?”
“Yes.”
The assurance with which the seer expresses it makes a strange feeling swirl in Aesop's chest. Perhaps it would be too much to ask him directly who this special person is. Although he would like to know every detail about Eli's life, Aesop prefers to keep it to himself so as not to delve too deeply into his privacy. Besides, there is something else that interests him more than anything else:
“S-So that's how it is... May I ask you another question?”
“Of course.”
“What's it like?”
“What's what like?”
“Feeling in love.”
Eli places his hand under his chin.
“Mmm... That's a good question. It feels... Warm,” he pauses, planning a better example to explain. “Imagine the feeling of being wrapped in blankets in front of the fireplace.”
“Yes.”
“You're about to fall asleep and it feels good, because it's the ideal place to be vulnerable. You can close your eyes, babble nonsense and rest. It's something similar,” before the embalmer tilts his head in confusion, Eli adds, “The presence of that person brings you peace and, like a gentle melody, their voice guides you to a safe place where both of you can be read like an open book, one that page after page wonders at you intensely, so much so that you wish it would never end.”
He continues: “Many times it's the first person who comes to your mind whenever you want to share something with someone, whether it's good or bad; after all, you feel heard, you feel seen. Even if your head is full of worries, you long for that person to be with you and, when you realize it, there is calm, because no matter what, you know you will be safe by their side. Their company is so precious to you that, when you feel lost... somehow, their existence helps you find yourself.”
As he fills in his mental list with each point mentioned by the seer, Aesop slouches in disbelief. A person who conveys security, someone he can always count on; someone whose company makes him forget the notion of time because listening to him and being listened to is the only priority. From the start, the only person who comes to Aesop's mind is exactly the same.
Eli Clark.
The suddenness of his discovery takes his breath away. He almost gasps in place, but struggles to remain still, as his eyes travel from one point in the room to another in less than a second.
“It's a misunderstanding, it's just a misunderstanding!”
“And, of course, this depends on each person, but you could also want to hold them closer, hug them, hold their hand, kiss them...” Eli continues. “Are you okay?”
Aesop has shrunk back, avoiding looking at his friend, making the seer wonder if his words have made the conversation awkward. Meanwhile, the embalmer desperately suppresses his shameful thoughts after imagining something even more improper.
No, impossible! He could never, ever, ever kiss Eli. The mere thought of it is enough to make his jaw tighten and his cheeks burn to an unimaginable level. How could he even think those kinds of thoughts about him?
“I can't disrespect him like that!”
“Yeah, just...” Aesop barely says because of nerves, hiding his face and adjusting his mask to calm down. After a while, he decides to continue, “I've never... kissed anyone, or done that kind of things...”
“Well, you don't have to.”
There is silence.
“Isn't it ridiculous?” The embalmer's voice is barely audible.
“Why do you think it should be?”
“W-Well, many have already done it more than once and say it like it's no big deal. If it's that simple, then maybe someone like me isn't... good for it.”
“Aesop.”
“Y-Yes?”
“Do you want to kiss someone?”
The question takes him by surprise. The embalmer returns his attention to the seer, forgetting that a minute ago he was unable to look him in the face out of embarrassment. Aesop opens and closes his mouth repeatedly, unable to organize his words to give an immediate answer. He lowers his head, his ears reddening. After a while, he comes to a conclusion:
“No.”
Eli smiles.
“That's fine. You see, everyone's experiences are different,” the seer explains. “You can go at your own pace, without forcing yourself to catch up with other people. Nothing dictates how or when you should live each moment or even if you should live it, so you can rest assured. You don't have to do things like that if you don't want to, not now or ever.”
Aesop's hands rest gently on his knees, accompanied by an exhalation from him. Aesop closes his eyes, relieved. He is so grateful for Eli's presence on occasions like these. After a couple of minutes in which the conversation drifts from triviality to triviality, the seer tries to find out how his friend is doing.
“Are you feeling better?” Eli asks and the other nods.
Despite the embarrassing topic of conversation just now, there is something about Eli's way of talking that always brings peace back to the embalmer.
“In fact, I've noticed something about you since we first met,” Aesop adds.
“What is it?”
“You always speak with great depth about others, no, even the way you refer to things is very passionate.”
“You think so?”
“Yes, like when you talk to me about the moon,” he mentions, directing his eyes to the window. “Sometimes you seem to talk about it as if it were a person.”
Eli laughs, shifting his gaze somewhat sheepishly. Then he imitates Aesop, observing half the faces of the imperturbable satellite in the night sky.
“You’re right. The moon is silent and calm. Just looking at it relaxes me. I know I can talk to it no matter what because it will listen to everything I have to say.”
As he speaks, the embalmer returns his attention to his friend, this time daring to contemplate his face, since Eli remains absorbed in the moon. He loses himself in the curve of his nose, moves down the philtrum and pauses just a bit to analyze the shape of his lips, before becoming alarmed and moving down to his chin as an escape from another intrusive thought regarding kissing.
Aesop sees him nod a couple of times to himself and then take a very small breath, as if preparing for something. Suddenly, the seer decides to seek out his companion's gaze with ease. Something inside Aesop is alerted when he feels the attention on himself, even though he cannot see Eli's eyes clearly; however, his need to avert his gaze is not as intense as before. He knows that behind that uroboros blindfold there is only gentleness.
Then Eli adds:
“You remind me of it.”
Aesop leans forward and finds it necessary to blink three times to make sure he has heard correctly, pointing to himself:
“... Huh, me? Do I remind you of the moon?”
Eli nods, turning somewhat towards the embalmer, closing the distance between the two.
“Aesop, you know...?” his delicate words slowly emerge amidst the stillness. “There's something I haven't told you yet, and I'd really appreciate it if you'd listen.”
Not only his face has become closer, but also his voice, which dares to dance in the embalmer's ears; the entire presence of the seer caresses the limit of the space that Aesop has destined for him and, although he has not yet crossed it, the sweetness that Eli gives off is almost palpable.
Suddenly, Aesop notices a light touch against his little finger, which immediately attracts his attention. He lowers his gaze, only to find Eli's hand now resting next to his own. The embalmer had held the seer's hand before, either to help each other during games or simply as an occasional friendly gesture; however, the recent touch feels different, more affectionate, shy; strangely intimate. There is a myriad of sensations swimming beneath the embalmer's dermis, that the last thing he thinks of is pulling away.
“Because I have a feeling that, if I don't say it now, then.... I'll keep quiet about it.”
At such close range, it's almost as if Aesop can sense the other's words against his face, through the mask.
“W-what is it?” the gray-eyed one asks in a whisper.
“I didn't tell you, but about my special person, they’re in this manor. We've known each other for a long time,” he tilts his head. “Can you guess who it is? Someone quiet and calm, that just looking at him makes me feel relaxed, someone I love to listen to and can always talk to no matter what.”
The embalmer swallows dryly. Part of him suspects the answer, the other wants to ignore it. His brow furrows in shock and his voice is caught in his throat, tied in a knot that forbids the passage of air.
It is obvious who that special person is. He knows, of course he knows.
“Aesop...” The name flows out of the seer's lips in a longing sigh.
But Aesop can hear no more. He has stood up abruptly, taking flight out of the room without a word. Even the owl is startled with shock. Eli has reached out his hand as he calls the young man, reaching for nothing more than the air in front of him; however, he does not intend to chase after him.
All that remains in the room is silence, an open door, and a shattered seer.
It doesn't take long for Eli's frustration to set in. He could have had a normal conversation with Aesop just like always and decided to ruin things completely. He brings both hands to his face, sinking into his regret with a loud exhale and wondering why he didn't just keep quiet. If his visions had shown him how badly the night would end, maybe he wouldn't have spoken up, but that not being the case, why did he have to overwhelm his best friend even so? It was to be expected that he would have that kind of reaction after betraying his trust when Aesop only saw him as a valued friend, nothing more than that.
Why didn't he simply keep his feelings to himself, as he had done for so long?
Aesop finally stops in the middle of the hallway after having run for what seems to him, an eternity. As soon as he leans against the wall, he notices something: He can't breathe.
His heart beats as loud as thunders in his ears, threatening to burst, so the young man is forced to remove his mask, praying that his body doesn't collapse on the floor and spread the deplorable maelstrom of emotions that even he doesn't understand. He brings one of his hands to his chest, clutching at his clothing, as if he wanted to reach into his own heart and aggressively squeezing it to force it to stop. The memory of Eli confessing his affection for him imprisons his mind. He is sure that, behind that blindfold that always covers the seer's eyes, was an extremely painful expression; but even if the embalmer wanted to apologize to him, it is already too late.
Only an hour ago he discovered that he didn't want to spend his life without Eli Clark by his side, and now he has no idea how to face him again. The others were right, they always were: Aesop really did run away after a declaration of love. So pathetic, so cowardly...
The embalmer exhales with difficulty, closes his eyes tightly and throws his head gently back, dealing with a pang of guilt as his memories swirl to a conclusion about himself:
He is definitely a terrible person.