One Common Point

III. The End

Anthony didn't look back. Mort did. He waved at the kids. He cried a bit. Arthur waved as well. Anthony refused to turn around. His team stood silently holding their salutes until the carriage was out of view.

It would take a whole week of travel to reach Vimmoli, a walled city nearby. Mort had lined up a job as a school teacher. Anthony had yet to decide, he still had a fair amount of severance to burn through before he had to work again.

He flinched when a hand gently tapped his clenched fist.

"It's still a few hours until we reach the hostel." Mort said, squeezing his hand, "We're going to be fine."

Anthony forced half a smile and nodded, relaxing imperceptibly. Mort patted his hand and then turned to Arthur, "Have you heard much about the factory there?"

They carried on a conversation easily enough. Arthur would be the new floor manager when they arrived. Both of them kept looking at Anthony though, waiting for him to crack just a bit, to let himself relax for a moment, he never did though.

Anthony crawled out of bed in the middle of the night. The hostel was small, the owner was an old woman who barely looked up from her book long enough to hand him the keys to their suite.

He brushed his hand through Mort's silk hair splayed across the pillow. He felt guilty, all of this was his own fault. He walked out to the balcony and looked at the stars. He'd known this would happen. He hadn't known he knew, but it was clear from the fallback plans he relied on to get them here that he'd known this would happen. His brain had outplayed his heart.

He wrapped his hands around the iron railing. Fall was coming and the metal was cool to the touch. It rattled as his hands tightened around it. Anthony was furious. He was angry at them, all of them, every person involved including himself.

He glared at the moon, his whole body tense. He stayed like that, rage shaking his form, until he swore the sky was beginning to lighten and only then did he crawl back into bed, firmly on his side and forced himself to close his eyes. He replayed the events in his head, those that had led him to this moment until the church bell ringing woke Mort up.

Anthony sat up and his lover reached over and patted his cheek, "It will be fine, my love. Tomorrow, try and actually get some sleep."

The house was beautiful. Manicured lawn, a well made porch with a swing, all of the rooms tastefully decorated. The majority of their things had already arrived and sat in the living room as instructed.

"Let's-" Mort trailed off as Anthony immediately began organizing their things and taking boxes to their designated rooms.

Arthur patted his shoulder and went to the kitchen, Mort following after a moment. Anthony didn't sit down again until well past midnight. He and Mort would share the master bedroom, his office down the hall. Arthur's rooms were on the other side of the house near the dining hall.

He stared at the plate of food Mort had left out for him. He ate mechanically, scanning the note his lover left placed on top. He made it halfway through the meal and then he was up again. The door slammed behind him and upstairs Mort flinched awake.

"Tony..." He closed his eyes, a few stubborn tears trickling out. He had lost his home too, his people, mother Joan, the kids, Silas, but he had not lost it the same way Anthony had. Mort had chosen to come with his lover, Anthony hadn't had the option to stay.

In the morning, Mort and Arthur shared a quiet breakfast. Anthony had passed out on the living room couch and they were careful not to wake him. The paper arrived just as they were finishing and Mort left it on the table near Anthony before he and Arthur left for work.