[ Khun Aguero Agnis stares dumbstruck at what he's just seen, at what he's just heard. For a moment or two he even wonders if he's heard correctly, heard forever in the entirety of it's meaning and not just impassioned whispers and lovestruck fantasies. But he sees it in the warm coral reflected in his blue, hears it in his voice and the outstretched hands before him. This isn't fantasy at all, but somehow reality.
He had hoped of course, that Tatara would like the ring, that it would give him some comfort and yes that he would see it as an offering of his love because that's exactly what it is. Weeks ago when the idea first popped into his head, before they had begun dating, he had the thought to give Tatara a ring enchanted for his protection. But then he had gotten swept away in the bright lights of the fireworks they create together, and by the time he thought of the idea again, he knew that giving his boyfriend a ring would have to be special. And maybe he was a bit uneasy about offering something that had such a distinct romantic message, especially after their talk on the couch. But then after the way they had fallen together post Northern mission, he had realized that it was something he wanted to do regardless. For Tatara yes, but also for himself—it felt right.
So he had hoped to see that vivid red again, the red that reminds him of a secluded grassy field at dusk and the first night they had made love laced with sugar. But that's all he had hoped for, because hope simply isn't something he really does. It's not part of him in the same way that he's spent all of his life searching for that missing part of himself: a reason to struggle and actually live. Ironically, he had understood Tatara's answer more that night than he ever let on because he was exactly the same. Indifferent to what happened in his life, to himself, until Maria came along. And it hurt, both because he really couldn't fault Tatara for it but also because he believed (now more than ever) that he deserves to live, to shine.
It wasn't the time to talk about it then he had decided, but it's always been in the back of his mind. He knows their time is coming up (he was in some way awfully amused when everyone else seemed to realize recently what's been on his shoulders for weeks). Every now and then the thought would get itchy and he'd push it to the side: not yet, not yet, not yet. He'd know the time when it came and this he had resolved to himself except—he really had no idea at all, did he?
Just like when they first met at the bath, when they shared their first kiss over coffee, and even that night on the couch when Tatara had asked him to stay when he was already justifying to himself that he wasn't needed. Tatara always surprises him in the best of ways, always shows him a light and brightness he can't even imagine, let alone entertain the thought that it's real.
And he'll never, ever, forget that Tatara reached out first. ]
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He had hoped of course, that Tatara would like the ring, that it would give him some comfort and yes that he would see it as an offering of his love because that's exactly what it is. Weeks ago when the idea first popped into his head, before they had begun dating, he had the thought to give Tatara a ring enchanted for his protection. But then he had gotten swept away in the bright lights of the fireworks they create together, and by the time he thought of the idea again, he knew that giving his boyfriend a ring would have to be special. And maybe he was a bit uneasy about offering something that had such a distinct romantic message, especially after their talk on the couch. But then after the way they had fallen together post Northern mission, he had realized that it was something he wanted to do regardless. For Tatara yes, but also for himself—it felt right.
So he had hoped to see that vivid red again, the red that reminds him of a secluded grassy field at dusk and the first night they had made love laced with sugar. But that's all he had hoped for, because hope simply isn't something he really does. It's not part of him in the same way that he's spent all of his life searching for that missing part of himself: a reason to struggle and actually live. Ironically, he had understood Tatara's answer more that night than he ever let on because he was exactly the same. Indifferent to what happened in his life, to himself, until Maria came along. And it hurt, both because he really couldn't fault Tatara for it but also because he believed (now more than ever) that he deserves to live, to shine.
It wasn't the time to talk about it then he had decided, but it's always been in the back of his mind. He knows their time is coming up (he was in some way awfully amused when everyone else seemed to realize recently what's been on his shoulders for weeks). Every now and then the thought would get itchy and he'd push it to the side: not yet, not yet, not yet. He'd know the time when it came and this he had resolved to himself except—he really had no idea at all, did he?
Just like when they first met at the bath, when they shared their first kiss over coffee, and even that night on the couch when Tatara had asked him to stay when he was already justifying to himself that he wasn't needed. Tatara always surprises him in the best of ways, always shows him a light and brightness he can't even imagine, let alone entertain the thought that it's real.
And he'll never, ever, forget that Tatara reached out first. ]