The Burden of Breaking Hearts

Diana

The water's temperature was perfect and the faint smell of roses was even better. Darion sat in the tub with his legs crossed, making space  for another set of legs. Hernon sat across from him, reading through the book of elemental magic he'd picked up.

"This seems easy enough," Hernon said, setting the book aside on a chair he'd brought in earlier. He rubbed his hands together. "Okay. Reach out, feel the magic, draw the heat; simple." He closed his eyes and held his hand above the water, ready to extinguish any flames that may run amok.

Darion waited for something happen--for heat to radiate from the man's hand, for a spark to appear; something--but nothing ever did. He could see that the other man was getting frustrated, furrowing his brows at the lack of a fire. Hernon snapped his fingers like he saw Darion do, yet nothing happened.

"Why isn't it working?" Hernon asked. He gave up trying to summon a flame and returned to the book. "I'm doing exactly what the book is telling me to do!"

"You can't learn magic from a book," Darion said.

"Isn't that how you learned magic?" Hernon asked.

"Yes, actually. Let me rephrase that. You can't learn magic from a book alone." Darion's mind was searching for the words to explain what he meant. Hernon was looking at him, waiting to be told what to do. Darion never saw himself as a teacher, but here he was trying to teach someone how to summon fire in a bathtub. 

"When I was learning magic, I could read any book of spells I wanted, remember all the potions and all the words, but nothing would work unless I allowed my fascination to take control. By that, I mean that I summoned with emotion, not my mind. I had loved the fact that magic was something I could control and that feeling of control is what made me happy and is what allowed me to cast spells and whatnot. And as you may have noticed, sometimes I get... angry and I try to use that as well." Hernon was silent for a moment, looking at his hand. If Darion were to be honest with himself, he was embarrassed. "Don't listen to me; that probably didn't even make any sense."

"No, I get what you mean," Hernon said. "I'm just trying to find what that means for me."

Darion could only think of one emotion that could even come close to describing Hernon.

"Have you tried love?" he suggested. Hernon absently smiled at the suggestion. He looked back up at the man across from him.

"I haven't, actually." Hernon bit his lip in thought for a second. "Do you think you could help me with that?"

Darion rolled the idea around in his head, wanting to help, but not really knowing how to. Suddenly, the solution came to him.

"Come here." He opened his arms for Hernon. 

The water lapped against the side of the tub as the man moved into Darion's firm--yet nurturing--arms, getting as comfortable as possible. Darion leaned forward, settling his mouth close to Hernon's ears. A  chill ran through Hernon as the other man began to speak.

"Close your eyes." He obeyed. Darion's voice resounded like a deep rumble in Hernon's head. "I want you to think of love; what it means to you, when you've experienced it in your life, and I want you to hold on to these thoughts."

Hernon couldn't put "love" into words; not even for himself. He could think of when he'd experienced it in his life, though. Bedtime stories and kisses on the cheek from his mother began floating around in his mind--he never knew how much he'd wanted to go home until that moment. His thoughts shifted from nights with his mother to days practicing his archery with his father.

"Is there a warm feeling in your stomach?" Darion asked, his voice seemingly distant. Hernon could feel the warmth. He nodded. "This may not make sense, but I want you to direct that warmth from your stomach to your hands and then imagine the warmth as fire."