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The church was an asylum for the lost. All of the souls that never knew home, all of the ghosts of people and entities who didn’t have a place to go. They all wandered around the half-empty building, the echo of their broken vocals bouncing off the walls, the stained glass letting the light of the moon in. They conversed with each other, laughed and cried, all of their beings mixing with each other, chaos filling every inch of the temple.
Ash was no longer lost though. He was exactly when he wanted to be— in a tailored suit, standing on the wooden panels of the chancel, next to the altar table. The air around him was suffocating, waiting for his one and only. Some voices whispered to him, raspy and dangerous, but he couldn’t make anything out of them. They were just the souls of the resurrected, or the ones Ewron seemed to talk with. That at least was his guess, with the amount of times he heard his blade talk to himself, or yell to the void in his sleep. To sum it up, the noises didn’t surprise Ash in the slightest. He just stomped from one foot to another, fixing his hair with a confident swap, tapping his shoes anxiously.
The moon prided itself on the sky for a long time by now. Where was Ewron?
The ritual won’t work in the daylight, how could Ewron be so frivolous?
That was a stupid question; out of all people on the island, Ewron was one of the messiest and least punctual of all of them. Still doesn’t change the fact that Ash hoped that for this one night he will abandon his tendencies to be late; but in vain. So the man kept looking at the light entering the temple through the glass, observing the various colours and shapes it took, listening to the quiet squeak of the wood beneath him, as he restlessly paced in place. The strong, sickly sweet smell of white lilies that stood in a bouquet in the middle of the altar made Ash even more nauseous, polluting the air as it became more and more stuffy. Ash tried to take a deep breath, but he couldn't even fully inhale the oxygen when a loud squeak echoed through the church
The heavy, timber doors gave out a loud yell, as if they begged for mercy to the person who decided their fate. Ash felt his breath shorten. The entire temple became quiet, as if all of the entities, even all of the furniture, the old materials that barely stuck together; it all held his breath for the entrance of the man in the doorframe.
His ginger, reddish hair fell onto his face, contrasting with the sterile, white colour of the dress he was wearing. It was full of laces and decorations— he looked like the bride of everyone’s dreams— at least Ash’s ones. Ewron’s voice filled the whole temple as Ash stared at him, the doors shutting quickly with a loud thud.
“Here comes the bride, skurwysyny (motherfuckers)!” He yelled, while gracefully stomping towards the other man. Ash just fixed his blazer and tie, not taking off his eyes from Ewron.
There were no adjectives that could describe the raw emotion Ash felt as he looked at the man in white. His hair like wild fire, his face covered by his usual cocky smile that Ash just wanted to kiss off of his stupid face, it was all more magnificent than any painting in any museum. Ewron was art in every one of his breaths, in every step and the blink of his eye. He was the oxygen Ash breathed, he was the light navigating Ash through his meaningless ‘till this day existence. It gave him a reason— an incredibly divine reason, to stay alive.
“Didn’t expect you to wear a dress, I don’t think that was the dresscode,” Ash teased, holding out a hand for Ewron in a helpful gesture.
“Someone has to wear the dress in our relationship, Ash, and it will certainly not be you,” He took the palm of Ash, as the man brought him closer. “But if you wanted to, you could. I’m sure it would look stunningly hot on you.” He whispered, a shiver running down Ash’s spine. He just laughed the sensation off, shaking his head at Ewron’s words, as the assassin drilled holes in his head with his gaze. Ash’s eyes met back with Ewron’s, and the church fell quiet once more.
The pair bathed in the light of the moon as if it was their natural habitat, as if they lived and fed off by the darkness and stars, as if celestial bodies gave them the energy to survive. Ewron caught Ash’s waist in a desperate hold, scanning the man up and down.
“You don’t have to wear a dress though, you’re already breathtaking,” He panted into Ash’s ear, out of breath, like he tried to demonstrate his own words to him.
The other Assassin just used this time to inhale every part of his blade, to explore every part of his body with his eyes and hands, sliding them through his arms, waist, hips and back, as if he was about to turn into dust in this second.
Ewron didn't stay indebted for long, quickly returning the favour. They travelled each other's bodies and faces, almost entranced, the surrounding temple not stopping them in the slightest. After all, they met here to celebrate their love, to sign it, and to fuse their souls. There was no shame to behold– there was no human in sight– only the embodiments of the dead, whirling the dust of this old place. Even if there was anyone else, it certainly wouldn't stop them.
As Ash put his hands on Ewron's arms for the second time, he aimed his gaze into his Blade's, all of the rapid movements stopping, as if they never existed.
“It’s time,” He muttered, still staring deeply into the unexplored seas of Ewron’s eyes. They shined with an unknown feeling, something Ash wasn’t able to crack yet. They scanned his body with an intimacy that Ash never experienced before. They were starved and thirsty, hunting their next prey. They were analysing his whole body as if he was the next victim.
Ewron’s head nodded slightly, as he took a knife into his hand from the altar, leaving Ash’s body cold from his absence. Their vision kept crossing as the blade landed in Ewron’s hands, the cold metal shining like the stars in the faint lightning of the unlit building.
They fought with their stares, when the icy surface made contact with Ewron’s calloused skin on his hands. A sharp hiss left his mouth as he slid the knife across his palm, the skin splitting open, revealing the insides of it, a trickle of blood running down his arm, single drops of it falling on the perfectly white material on him. Ash’s gaze followed the blood, enhanced in the flow of it, its perfect shade, the way it elegantly formed its way out of Ewron’s organism. He almost didn’t feel the moment the blade made contact with his own skin, a familiar stream of the red liquid falling off of his own hand. It didn’t matter. The sting was nothing in comparison to the beauty of Ewron in that moment.
Ash felt a sharp burn as Ewron took his wounded hand in his own, the entities breaking their sacramental stillness, wandering around them as if they were a truly incredible object in a museum, the whispers of them surrounding them from every side. Ewron didn’t care. He kept staring at Ash, as if he was the only figure in this whole room, as he uttered the promises.
“I, Kamil Ewron, vow to you, my faithful assassin, my body and soul. I pledge myself to be on every one of your calls, and to be a man who you’ll trust till your final days. I dedicate my life to you— my service, and my blade. I promise to fulfill my only goal in this pathetic life, which is to kill everyone, with you,” He recited, as if he learnt the speech long beforehand. An expectant look fell on Ash, waiting for his vow, the whispers around them transforming into cries.
“I, Ashswag, vow to you, Kamil Ewron, my body and my soul. I pledge myself to you, my dear blade. Every one of my breaths is yours– my heart shall not beat, if not alongside the one inside you. I make a promise of mass destruction, leaving out you and me, as my life, in itself, has no point if not braided with yours,” Ash tightened the grip on Ewron's hand, a dull yell leaving his throat at the burn. A smile crept up on his face.
He was officially one with Ewron, their souls pledged to each other forever. The fondness made his heart swell, and the hunger for the man in front of him made his breath disappear
“May I kiss the bride?" Ash playfully questioned, Ewron's response only a nod of agreement.
That was all that he needed.
His lips crashed violently with Ewron’s, giving the kiss an insane pace. Ash was no longer scared of anything, and he definitely wasn’t scared of the desire that filled the entirety of his body, from the up of his head to the tip of his toes. He just took what was now his, exploring the inside of Ewron’s mouth with an equal excitement as he explored his body with his hands.
Ewron didn’t slow down as well. He caught the tempo quickly, embracing the man’s face in his hands, playing with the dark locks falling on Ash’s cheeks.
The beings around them seemed to sense the energy coming from the duet, the cheerful yells filling the whole temple. Their own souls were now linked, dedicated and dependent on each other. Now, there was no Ewron without Ash, and no Ash without Ewron— and that's just how the men liked it.
Ewron separated their lips in desperate need for air, earning a lost look from Ash, his pupils travelling over his mimic desperately. They were both panting, their lungs begging for a moment to breathe. Ash’s fingers came up to touch Ewron's face again, gently smoothing out the skin on his cheeks, now covered in the blood from Ash's hands, dried and rough to the touch.
“You're so fucking beautiful, Ewron" he whispered to him, still carresing his cheek.
"We are beautiful.”
Silence followed the confession, the yells quieting down, the chaos transforming into a hushed, calm tone. The wails of the dead were drowned out by a nightly song, just like the pair was drowning in each other's eyes– Ash, in a salty, deep sea, Ewron in the chestnut colour of his assassin's irises.
As the song originated from the spectators of the ceremony began to resemble a sweet melody more than an unorganised child choir, Ash hesitantly brought out a hand for Ewron to take.
“May I have the first dance with the bride?"
Ewron’s gaze lingered for a second on the assassin's palm, as he then took it, a smirk on his face. Ash’s mouth involuntarily went up alongside as he made a step towards his blade, catching the man's waist in his hold. Ewron adjusted his position too, and before they could think about it, they started swaying to the music of the dead.
The colorful light of the stained glass fell on them, while they moved with more and more elegance and confidence. Ewron spun Ash around from time to time, admiring his figure from every angle, leading them away from the altar towards the middle of the church. They hoovered among the benches and religious statues, spinning and swaying to the melody of their own, smiles engraving on their faces. For then, they were eternal— infinite.
God glanced at them curiously— a pair of lost souls, now dependent on each other, bathing in their sin and covering themselves in the dirt of it. But they were happy— because it was their sin. And if what they had there was immoral or wrong, it would remain fine, as they could split the blame like a delicious wedding cake, a proof of their undying devotion.
There was no longer a sin of Ewron that wasn’t a sin of Ash, i vice versa.