It had been years. One too many. What time was this anymore? He had no idea. Things were not as they were.
The old knightly tavern was no more but ruins. Swallowed by nature. He wondered if their house still lie there. It was a sacred location was it not?
Though, as he neared the once well trodden cobble path his heart sank. The draconic statues by the doorframe were reduced to rubble. The house itself? Only the stonemasonry stood. Even still the upper floors didn't make it.
The doors though. Stood. Still attached to the frames. It seemed untouched by time. As it was the last time he'd seen them. He approached, metal boots clacking somewhat familiar despite the ferns engulfing his legs. The wind blowed by ominously. Beckoning.
He opened the double door, the wind stilling. He'd almost expected something there. No. No warm welcoming. No burst of warmth. Not even a hug.
A lone bench stood. Carved of the finest woods. His bench. Their... Bench. He came forward as if he was a spectre. Reminiscing on what had gone. It was engulfed in the green. From moss and rain.
His journey was at an end. He had found what he was looking for, right? No. He hadn't. He silently sat down on the bench. The soft crunch of the greenery didn't bother him. Neither the moistness.
His eye demanded rest. His journey wasn't over yet, was it.
That was until his eye had opened again.
"Timaeus?"
His eye shot open. "Critias!" He exclaimed, practically jumping out of his chair.
There he was. The blonde stood in the doorway to the ruins. His armour glittered in the sun's rays. He could have mistaken Critias for an angel, but the lack of wings confirmed he wasn't just seeing things.
Timaeus was frozen. A statue in the rubble. Critias, his medusa. "Timaeus..." He said in a softer tone, coming closer. He felt embarassed. He hadn't bothered polishing his armour in several days. The scuffs and toils of nature branded to him. Left for Critias's sunlike gaze to set upon.
Timaeus felt like a fallen angel stepping up to be judged at God's gates. He fell into Critias once they were close enough. Wanting nothing more than to leave everything behind for the other. Even if he were quiet, no amount of words could describe what he was willing to do for the other. It felt lustful and wrong... Yet Timaeus knew this was what he wanted.
Lucifer had tempted him to his demise at the hands of an angel. If he died at Critias's side, he would have no regrets. The silence he had said volumes but this piercing quietness explained everything. He needn't say a word. Critias felt the same, and he knew it.
Why would I have come all the way out here for him? Why would he have come all the way out here for I? He pondered, though the question was pointless as a dullen dagger. For, they knew the answer.
"Critias..." Timaeus whispered, opening his eye to meet his again. The other smiled softly. "We are together again." He added, returning the smile.
And so they stayed.