Perhaps In Another Life [WMMAP]

11

cw//suicide

"You're getting married." He drawled, the question coming out as a statement instead.

He saw the other man stiffen, shoulders tensing as his fists clenched besides him. "I am." He said slowly, carefully, as if he was afraid to accidentally activate a ticking time bomb.

He inhaled, as if he just remembered how to breathe for the first time, before chuckling bitterly. "How long were you going to wait until you inform me about it from your own mouth?"

He merely clenched his jaw in return, not answering the question.

"I had to read it from the newspapers." He said grievously, making sure he could hear the pain and betrayal in his voice. "If you had told me, I would've ended our... arrangement a long time ago."

"You knew I loved her." He said, a bit defensively.

"And you knew I had feelings for you. I told you that before we started our little arrangement. I'm not a robot, Lucas. I have feelings as well! But you seem to have forgotten as I was merely a fuck toy to you." He sneered.

"You know that's not true." The wizard hissed. And he was right. It wasn't. He cared for him, stayed with him, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 him even though he had no obligation to.

He was right and he hated it.

He hated him. He hated his feelings. He hated that he loved him. He hated that he couldn't let go of him even if he wanted to. He hated that he was obsessed with him. He hated the marriage. He hated the princess. He hated the gods for being so utterly cruel to his feelings.

Ijekiel released a breath he didn't know he was holding, "Right." He said curtly, as if it didn't matter to him when it did. It 𝘥𝘪𝘥. 𝘏𝘦 mattered to him. Whatever they had with each other mattered to him.

But did it matter for the wizard? He didn't know. He barely talked about himself, much less his feelings.

"I'll be at the wedding." He said numbly.

"You don't have to."

He didn't respond and merely left the room, leaving the wizard alone. He wanted to turn back. But he couldn't. As much as it pained him, he just couldn't. He was afraid to break down infront of him again, just like how he always did when they had a misunderstanding.

It was always the same cycle. They spend time together, sleep together, either starts an argument, they take days away from each other until he comes back to him, begging for his attention, to bring him back like the pathetic man that he was.

Time and time again, he was always the one who wanted him. He was the one who always craved his attention. He was the one who always, 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 cried infront of him, so vulnerable, weak and fragile.

He hated himself for being those things.

Oh, sweet, talented and genius Ijekiel. He wondered what those people who thought of him that way would think once they find out that he was merely nothing but a man who craved another's affection desperately, as if he couldn't live without it.

Before he knew it, his pace fastened and he was bolting in the halls, wanting to get out of the suffocating place as soon as possible.

He hadn't notice the tears that escaped him as he ran past the servants who no doubt saw him in a vulnerable state. He would worry about his reputation later, what mattered the most at that moment was that he could escape from the castle walls, where he first met the red eyed wizard.

Memories flooded him ran and ran and ran, desperately trying to forget those as he gasped for air, feeling as if he was drowning with something preventing him from swimming to the shore.

He didn't know where he was going, completely forgetting about the paths of the castle he had long since memorised since he had met the princess for the first time.

He bumped to someone, hearing a feminine yelp come out of the person as he landed in his butt, the tears overflowing nonstop as he stared at the person he bumped into.

It was Jeanette, her beautiful naive cousin. She was about to apologise until she saw him, her blue eyes widening in alert as she approached him. "Brother Ijekiel," she gasped, "What's wrong?"

"I-" He started, but no words would come out, as if there was a huge lump in his throat that prevented him from speaking. "I-" He tried again, but his chest hurt so much that he merely choked out tears.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what-" He tried to say, but sobs were the only things that came out of his mouth. He was tired. He was so, 𝘴𝘰 tired that he merely wanted to disappear.

Away from the eyes of the public, away from his family and away from the wizard he oh, dearly loved so much.

"Shh, calm down." Jeanette soothed as she rested his head againts her chest. "Don't worry," She gently caressed his hair and before Ijekiel could realise what was happening, his brain refused to cooperate, so he leaned againts her more, not even bothering to wipe the tears from his face.

It was the day of the wedding.

Ijekiel had backed out from his promise of attending. Right now, every single person in the Obelia Empire went to the Palace to celebrate their beloved princess getting wed with the powerful magician of the tower.

So he was alone in the Alpheus Manor, all the servants of the house out for the princess's wedding.

He stared from the window, watching beautiful flowers being floated in the sky as loud cheers of the people reached his ears.

How happy they were - he thought - to have the entire empire right in their palms, everyone from full grown adults to children celebrating their wedding, with everyone loving the two new rulers of the empire.

He glanced at the jeweled blade placed on his table, with a Ruby placed at the middle of the handle as to remind him of the wizard's enchanting red eyes. He had gifted to him in his birthday for protection. Ijekiel insisted that he didn't need it, but was forced to accept as the wizard was very hell-bent on making him keep it. And who was he to refuse such a beautiful gift?

He lifted the dagger, admiring its sharp blade. He glanced at the Palace again, where the grand wedding was being held, before taking his attention back to the weapon.

He was tired of everything. He was tired of loving him and being hurt time and time again. He was tired of his responsibilities. He was tired of always crying because of an unfortunate relationship he had.

He inhaled as he pressed his finger againts the dagger's blade, perfectly wounding it as if it was merely bread. He stared at his bloodied finger, admiring the deep red color of his blood.

It reminded him of his eyes. His beautiful, enchanting red eyes he always seemed to see even in his dreams.

He wondered if he would be covered in the beautiful color of red once he stabbed himself with the dagger.

He began to unbutton his white shirt, tracing his chest with the sharp blade as it left trails of blood. With a final inhale, he lifted the dagger facing him, before pulling it roughly towards his chest, and darkness enveloped him...