Klars (LarsxKirk)

15. Declaration

The next morning, Kirk gently stirs, finding himself in a warm bed, enclosed in the safety of the neat little hotel room. He blinks and opens his eyes a little wider, and he looks down to see his lover, Lars, who is peacefully asleep on his bare chest, a tiny, cute smile plastered on his sleepy face.

"Aww," Kirk whispers, gently running his fingers through Lars' hair. He's so, so grateful that he got to spend a whole night with Lars, without them getting interrupted, or torn apart in some way. Their night together had been so much better than anything he'd ever experienced, and his love for Lars had only increased as a result.

Kirk lies there for several minutes, not daring to move, as Lars doesn't ever shift in his sleep. After a night like he just woke up from, Kirk thinks that not even the most powerful army could tear them apart now. It was a night where they didn't even care if there were cameras in the room, or if James might've climbed three storeys and was peeping through the gap in the curtains from outside. They hadn't cared for the outside world - only for each other as their love grew stronger with every kiss.

After a while, Lars begins to stir, his soft, warm hands stroking Kirk's chest as he wakes. He murmurs a soft, contented, "Mmmmm," cuddling into Kirk further, before his eyes begin to blink open. It was as if Kirk was watching a newborn baby open its eyes for the first time, only to meet its mother's gentle gaze. But Kirk was watching Lars open those beautiful green eyes to greet him with the most loving glisten in his eyes, and a soft, sweet smile on his lips.

"Good morning, my love," Lars whispers.

Kirk grins, his hands cradling Lars' face with the most gentle touch as he replies. "Good morning, boyfriend."

Lars giggles and gives Kirk a soft kiss on his lips. After a moment of hesitation, he begins to speak with a soft smile. "Is it too soon?"

"For what?" Kirk questions, curiosity glittering in his eyes.

"To say I love you," Lars says calmly. "Because I really do."

Kirk's heart swells and a look of what could be mistaken as fear crosses his eyes. "You do?" He speaks almost inaudibly.

Lars, seeing Kirk's reaction, hangs his head and curls into himself. "Too soon," he says. "Sorry. I mean... forget it. I didn't say anything."

"But you did," Kirk prompts, starting to smile. "You said it. Say it again."

"No," Lars grumbles. "I don't want to."

Kirk raises his eyebrows and shuffles closer to Lars. "Why not? You said it just now. Say it again."

Lars whimpers and curls into a tighter ball, whining something that is difficult to make out. It sounded a lot like another "I don't want to."

"Fine." Kirk says, wrapping his arms around Lars and pulling him close. "If you won't, then I will."

Lars sniffs as he feels Kirk's hand start to stroke his hair. Despite Lars' sadness, Kirk smiles broadly down at his lover as his tender and loving words leave his lips.

"I love you, Lars," he admits. "If you don't want to say it back, I get that. But I love you, Lars, and never forget that."

****

"I want to shoot myself in the head and bury myself in the garden," grumbles James.

Francesca stops in the middle of the hallway and sighs, turning around to peer into the bedroom.

"James, baby, I asked how you were doing."

"I know, and I told you," he grunts. "I want to shoot myself in the head and bury myself in the garden."

Francesca sighs again and takes a few steps into the room. "Baby," she says. "What happened?"

James grunts, and then doesn't respond.

"Something bad?"

James grunts again.

Francesca sighs once more and perches beside James on the bed. She can tell something is wrong with James - something has been wrong with him for a long time now, and all she wants is for James to let her in so that she can help. However, she knows how stubborn James is, and can already see how hard it is going to be to help him.

Francesca takes a deep breath and then begins her attempts to coax an answer out of him.

"Baby... I need you to let me in, I want to help you."

She exhales as her husband ignores her again.

"James... this is hard for me. I can't take much longer of you acting like this. Jason's been calling me again and I only have him to believe."

James grits his teeth. "Don't listen to him," he grunts.

"He said you left him a note," Francesca continues.

James gulps and shifts uncomfortably. "No I did not," he says quietly. "Stop interrogating me."

"Well Jason has a note," Francesca tells him. "And he believes it's from you. He says what you wrote is quite..." She stops, trying to think of a word. "Insensitive," she finishes.

"Insensitive?" James repeats. "It was not... I didn't write a goddamn letter, I don't know what you're talking about, you have no proof, I didn't write whatever letter he possesses."

Francesca rolls her eyes. "James," she says calmly, "he said that if it was you that wrote it, and he was quite convinced it was, then I should know about it. He said it isn't something you should hide from me."

"I didn't write a goddamn letter!" James shouts. "Stop... stop believing everything that fucking liar says! He's telling lies, why don't you believe me?"

Francesca stands and looks down at James with a determined look. "Right then," she begins. "If you're convinced that letter really wasn't written by you, then I'm going to see what it says."

"No, please," James whines. "Please don't, I'm begging-"

Before he could finish, his wife had already left.

"No," he whines to himself. "No no no..."

If Lars and Kirk can be together, he thinks, why can't he at least confess his feelings to Jason? James stands, tears glistening in his eyes, and stumbles to the kitchen to find some sort of solace. He tugs the fridge open, snatches a beer, and, without anything to stop him, starts to drink.