Embers of Sun and Flame (Fuegoleon Vermillion x OC)

Chapter 18 Pen and a portal

Night had fallen in the Crimson Lion Kings' base, but none found it easy to fall asleep; and still, they did, all but one. The Captain found himself either pacing back and forth in his room, or sitting in one of the arm chairs in his bedroom, staring into the distance.

He didn't feel fatigue weighing him down, but instead it was as if his entire body was restless. His bed didn't call out to him, asking him to rest after a long day. Instead, it stood there, reminding him of one of the previous nights; the scent of jasmine having already faded away, leaving no trace of it and only adding to his pain. He felt as if his heart had been carved out, shredded to pieces that now laid around in his hollow chest, pulsating with what little there was left.

I'm so sorry...He thought as he tried to climb in, curling onto the very same side she had slept in a few nights ago. He grasped onto the pillow that had once held her head, but felt no trace of her. It was only him and his memories. The image of her, sitting there, looking at him, imploring him to let her in and comfort him. Her eyes glittering in moonlight as her hand caressed his; her soft touch... the melody she hummed... and the way her hands wrapped around him; pulling him close. And he'd get none of it ever again. Please... I just want to feel close to you again...

And that was when a thought occurred to him, but he tried to shake it off. Thinking that he had no place to do so. He had no right, even if she was... gone. He shouldn't... But he wanted to. He craved it. Wished that he could need her again. Wished... that she could need him.

He sat up, letting out a sigh. I shouldn't... he thought, but still, he stood up and let the golden strings that were still clasping onto the fragments of his heart, tug him with. But... what if just for tonight... He let his legs carry him out of his room and to the door of hers, what had been hers. He stood there for a moment; feeling the absurd need to knock before entering. She's not there... she's not there... And yet, he knocked.

The sound was quiet and careful, almost as if the sound itself was asking a question other than "are you there". But there was no answer. No sound. No whisper. Only the same silence that tormented him, making his ears ring with the emptiness that now surrounded him. And the same silence greeted him as he pushed the door open to reveal the empty bedroom. Her bed was neatly made, her brush laying on her dressing table, and a bag hanging from a chair.

He closed the door and took hesitant steps towards her bed, pushing aside the covers that he had laid on top of her, climbing in; and as soon as he did that, he felt the scent of jasmine enveloping him. He wrapped his arms around her pillow, pulling it closer to his chest and breathed in her scent. I shouldn't be here... I shouldn't be in your bed...but I still feel you here. Please, let me sleep here for tonight. He closed his eyes, still seeing her image in his mind. I miss you... He could almost hear her voice. I love you... He thought, feeling the weight of his body melting away as he started drifting into sleep; finally feeling like he could do that. I love you...

---

He woke up next morning with his usual rhythm; lifting himself off the bed, even if he felt as if the weight of the heavens themselves rested on his shoulders. But at least he had managed to sleep, even if it was for a few hours; one fleeting moment. And so, he got up and pulled the covers back onto the bed, almost as if he hadn't been there, almost; closing the door behind him like a thief in the night before making his way back to his own bedroom to start the day. To start the day... And do what it entailed... Fulfil the responsibility he had as her captain: to inform her family of what had happened.

He went through his morning routine, just going through the motions, while being unable to shake the knowledge that the moment of him, having to fill in the notice of her death, drew closer with each second. The knowledge that he'd have to face the fact that she wasn't coming back, just as they almost had been them. Almost, but not quite. The very word "almost" washed away his will to eat, the will to smile; instead making him want to just stand still and grieve. But he'd need to do this. He'd need to. She'd want him to move forward. That's what he told himself, but it didn't ease the feeling.