The Burden of Breaking Hearts

That Night

Darion's eyes snapped open. He was laying in one of the beds, covered with a blanket. No, not a blanket, he realized after further scrutiny, Hernon's cape. Darion flung the cape off him and jump to his feet, searching for the man who knocked him out. He wasn't there.

He could feel himself growing angry, rage boiling up inside of him, waiting to be released. Flames licked the tips of his fingers, dancing across his palms. He's never been so embarrassed before in his entire life. He was about to kiss the other man, he actually trusted him, and then he was deceived. He should've seen it coming--he did see it coming--but he allowed his emotions to take a hold of him instead of escaping the other man's weak pin.

Never again.

Breathe. he thought to himself. Anger wasn't going to help him at the moment. He thinks of Diana and the fire inside of him is doused, the flames on his hand extinguishing themselves. Darion's eyes drift to the cape on the bed. He snatches it up.

***

Hernon sits at the bar swirling his drink around, waiting silently. He couldn't stop thinking about Darion and the way he looked after he kissed him, the feeling of their lips fitting together. Darion wasn't like anyone else Hernon had ever met.

A door slammed open and Hernon didn't even have to check to know it was Darion. His cape returned to his neck, the speed of its flight pulling him to the floor. Hernon scrambled to his feet, attempting to preserve his dignity.

Darion stood illuminated in the glow of torches next to the entrance. His stride was powerful and angry as he stalked towards Hernon.

"Now that we've gotten to know each other, can we just sit down and talk--" Hernon was cut short as Darion grabbed his throat, slamming the man onto the bar. The wood groaned under the force as Darion leaned forward.

"I'm taking you to the queen right this moment," he growled. Hernon's eyes widened as flames reached up into his eyesight originating from the hand around his throat; the heat was manageable but increasing every second. "You should be happy you're still alive."

Through desperate gasps for air, Hernon spoke. "I never imagined you to send innocent people to their deaths." He made sure to make eye contact; he felt the connection before, maybe it could help him now. Darion's eyes flickered yet his grip remained strong. Then all at once he removed his hand and turned away. Hernon gasped, giving his lungs what they so desperately needed. He coughed a few times and rubbed his neck where he was held.

Darion clenched and opened his fists as he tried to get his anger under control. The flames once again extinguished themselves.

"I'm sorry about knocking you out like that. I just needed a public place for us to speak in concern for my life; I guess that didn't really work out." He sat back down on his stool and took a swig of his drink.

Darion took the stool next to him and faced Hernon. "You have until I tire of hearing your voice," he said. Hernon could tell this wasn't a full threat, but it wasn't empty either.

He began telling him the truth about what happened that night.

***

The doors emitted a bone-tingling screech as Hernon pushed through into his favorite tavern: the Moist Maiden. Although no one looked his way--much less greeted him--Hernon felt at home in a space welcoming to him and everything that he is. His first stop was going to be the bar, but he instead walked right into someone.

"Sorry about that," Hernon said. "I'm clumsy both drunk and sober." He looked up at who he was apologizing to. The face was shrouded in shadows by a hood looked to be pulled up as far as the material would allow. He waited for a response but none came; they just stood there in silence for a bit before stalking off to a booth.