A Scholar's Affection

4

The initial shocker faded after a month, but the insults didn't cease. Slate didn't mind so much, since he's been getting less than Hansiel was. ("He is but a Red, so it is normal.")

Even if Hansiel had gotten less disparagement, he was taking it pretty badly.

"Slate." Hansiel said, lying on Slate's bed as Slate was writing an essay for school. "How do you handle taking all those mean things said?"

He shrugged. "I guess I don't really care what people say about me. It's just their opinion on the facts. They call it disgusting, but I think it's fine, even if it is unusual. Besides, they're stupid for thinking that you're stupid because you even talk to a Red for any reason but criticism. You just can't help it if you think someone's interesting. The color of your wings, eyes, and hair don't change who you are, much less identify your personality and filter your social life."

"That sounds like some quote-worthy stuff right there."

"It is, huh." He laughed and looked at him. "I may not care of what they say about me, about us, but I sure as fuck care if someone even points at you and calls you a 'traitor to your kind' because of something as this stupid-ass stuff."

"I do, too."

They smiled at each other for a moment. Slate blushed as he said his first "I love you."

Hansiel smiled. "I love you, too."

As months passed, nobody really cared anymore. It was old news. They dismissed it. School passed. Initially, they grew up over time.

Finally, they had to say goodbye.

Slate was sitting on Hansiel's bed, uninvited. Hansiel was surprised, but by the look on Slate's face, something bad was going on.

"Hans."

"Yes?"

"I'm moving away. My dad has business in another place far away. The connection won't digitally reach, so we won't be able to talk anymore."

Hansiel stepped back, not believing his ears. "Can't you stay?"

"I really can't. But maybe you can come?"

"I-I can't! I have a life here!"

"Leave it, then! You can come with me and start a new one!"

"Why don't you?"

"Family business."

"Can't you leave it to your brother?"

"Do you think I haven't tried?" The make-up started to run down simultaneously with his tears of sadness. "I wouldn't leave you if I had a choice, and here, I don't! I have to get into this dumb business!"

Hansiel stood there, depressed. He decided to speak after a while of deciding what to do. "When do you leave?" He questioned sternly.

"Next week."

Hansiel grabbed Slate's wrist, not wanting to waste another second. Another second without him. Another second without his cold judgment yet warm expression. Another second without the feeling of love.

The taller man grabbed his significant other by the wrists, diving him into the bed, and they kissed. It was as passionate as if they'd never get to get this moment again, as they would most likely not. It was their last week to be together like this, so they decided to enjoy every little piece of it together. Every fleeting moment they had left, because they would never get it back again.

He wanted an abundance of Slate's love. Lips against lips, tongues at war. Need of each other increased, never wanting to let go.

After an ardent time of love, Hansiel next to Slate in the bed. "We could both run away, you know. We could run away together like criminals. We could live in motels while we work at whatever. Nobody ever has to know."