Caerulum (BL)

[three]

Cyril wakes up gasping in the middle of the night with Aeton breathing steadily by him. His partner's sprawled on his back, one hand slung haphazardly over Cyril's shoulder. It's the same hand that was clinging to his leg in the nightmare and Cyril feels a wave of fresh nausea at the memory.

He stumbles to the bathroom and throws up.

The dreams started over two months ago, during the two-week lull where the military had signed him up to their latest project. He had written them off as a product of his subconscious, but couldn't stop ignoring them once Older Cyril started predicting events and statistics before they happened. His counterpart claimed he was from the future and that he had invented a machine to send his consciousness five years back.

They were going to have a war and Aeton would die protecting him right after it began. Older Cyril wanted to find out how to prevent Aeton's death but more importantly—why he'd chosen to die in the first place.

It would be better to enter a mental institution at this point, but Cyril didn't dare to wait. What if his counterpart was telling the truth? He only needed to hold out until the fated day passed. According to Older Cyril's memories, the war would start less than a month from now. If he took Aeton far away before then and didn't come back...

Putting problems to logical solutions suited him better than panicking, anyways.

—

The next morning, Aeton wakes to an empty bed and has a double take before he smells coffee from the kitchens. He wanders out and sure enough, Cyril is sipping from a cup on the couch.

He looks tired, Aeton frets, but he puts on a cheerful smile and walks over to boldly kiss his spouse on the forehead

"Mornin'! Ya hungry fo' breakfast yet?"

Cyril sips quietly as he looks up at him. "What are you making?"

"I was thinkin' pancakes," Aeton tries. "We dun hav' any milk, but I can still manage."

"Okay."

Hearing Cyril so docile makes Aeton feel strangely affectionate. Was this how all husbands felt about their newlywed wives? He can't resist ruffling Cyril's hair and planting a second kiss on his cheek, neither of which Cyril rejects.

I must've died an' gone straight t'Heaven, Aeton decides as he whistles a cheerful tune in the kitchens.

They have a blissful breakfast with more stolen kisses before going to get Aeton's passport done. While Cyril waits in the reception area, a phone call comes in from General Peyton. With a frown, he sets it to audio only and finds a secluded corner of the building to take the call.

"What is it?"

"Dr. Cyril, you're not at work today?"

"I took a leave of absence. Did you not check with HR?"

"I did. But something urgent's come up and we'll need you back at the labs."

"Postpone it for two weeks," Cyril replies. "My husband and I are going on vacation."

"You can't possibly think of leaving at a time like this! We're at the most critical part of our presentation—"

"I don't work well under prolonged stress," Cyril finishes. "Goodbye."

He hangs up. With the encryption he's installed on his tablet, they shouldn't be able to track him now, especially after he tossed the old SD card in the trash.

Half an hour later, Aeton emerges with his Special Persons expedited passport and Cyril hauls him straight to the airport.

"In a taxi?" Aeton raises his brows when Cyril hails one from the streets. "Dontcha like yer drivers more, Cyril?"