The Return | Cricky [C]

- Interlude -

a/n: if you wanna skip, nothing in here is crucial to the story, but i wanted to do some stuff outside of chris' pov!

—

Asher laid in a bed made with the finest of sheets; a masterly crafted bed frame and richly colored curtains. It was exquisite. And it was exactly what he'd been craving, yet he couldn't enjoy it.

He grasped a bloody cloth he'd found in Ryan's belongings, tossed aside for the maid to clean up following a blood ritual. Asher wrapped it around his fingers tightly. He pressed it to his face, inhaling the sorcerer's cologne, blood, and sweat. There was a moment after that he swore he felt high, but it was more than likely his heartache bubbling up to the surface. The flash of old memories burned his eyes, blurred his vision.

"A totem." He massaged the fabric between his fingers. "Beau talked about it once, tryin' get me to open up. Me if all people. When you can't say the things you want to say to someone, pick a totem to represent them and speak to it. You'd find it ridiculous that I was actually listening to anyone's advice, let alone his." Asher's hand dropped heavily to his side. "No matter how far I run, the pain still finds me. He isn't you, but he still hurts like you. You fucking asshole." He choked on his last words. The dam broke, hot tears rushing down the sides of his face. It was only a few days here, he reminded himself. Only a few days.

—

Bruges, Belgium — A town of 13th century majesty, seemingly frozen in time. And, quite literally, frozen. The chill of winter and the charm of Christmas dressed the town in coziness. The cobble streets reflected endless ropes of string lights in every window, over every roof, tree and tent. A giant of a tree stood at the heart of a holiday market. Though it was an absolutely remarkable, romantic view, one Ville could write an album's worth of songs about, nothing outside this room could matter to him right now.

His head rested on Atlas's heart, bare limbs entangled beneath messy hotel sheets. Every twelve months, a single night to forget the unbearable burdens he carried. A single night to be the one cared for rather than caring for another. The comfort of someone that brought him safety, familiarity, and silence. Each year, when this night would come and he'd relax all his weight against Atlas, he'd realize exactly how tense he'd been. His purpose meant as much to him as his lover. He'd never complain or surrender, but a break was long overdue.

Atlas felt a tear so delicately upon his chest. He didn't tense, only simply reaffirmed his touch in Ville's hair. His voice was deep, dipped in the honey of an English accent. "Talk to me, my love."

A sigh shook from his chest. "Must we continue to do this to ourselves?"

"Something's changed?"

"Why must there be a change?" Ville questioned, "Can't I simply be lovesick?"

He replied, "I know your heart as I know my own. We've both accepted our sacrifice long ago."

"You're right. Something did change. One of your kind came to my world, and fell in love with one of my kind. I see you in that vampire so much, and I see myself in that demon. I see our love in them, and I see what could've been if the worlds hadn't come between us."

"My love," Atlas tightened his wrap around Ville, bringing him closer still somehow. "My love. It's a beautiful thing, isn't it? That someone else gets to feel what we do without compromise."

"They haven't been without their sacrifices either. That vampire, he can travel the rift now without consequence. He has the power to bring you to my world. He offered, and when I declined, he says to me so kindly, if it was only the rift keeping us apart, I would've found a solution long ago. But I didn't." Ville's fist balled up over his chest. He raised his head to look Atlas in the eyes. "I just accepted that this is the way things must be for us, and for the life of me, I can't understand why. Why did I do this to us? Why did I do this to myself?"