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Caleb rouses with a soft snort at the sensation of his book slipping from his hand. He had been drifting in and out of sleep, something he finds himself doing most afternoons nowadays. The armchair is so comfortable, its cushion molded to his body after so many years of use, that it is difficult to escape the lure of a midday nap. He fumbles to place the book aside without bothering to mark the page; his focus may be in decline, but at least his memory is as keen as ever.
Maike, curled atop the blanket tucked over his lap, seems pleased for the company. He pets her absent-mindedly, feeling her dull fur between arthritic fingers and the rumbling purr that vibrates through her body and across his knees. She’s an old girl too. His last one, he thinks.
The gentle breeze wafting through the nearby window coaxes his eyes closed again. It carries with it the soporific sounds of rustling leaves and buzzing insects in the garden. Caleb tips his head back and breathes deeply, ready to continue drowsing.
Before he can drift off again, a muffled thump in the hall draws his attention. Essek must have returned from the market.
“Did you just get back, Schatzi?” Caleb calls out. “I nodded off for a bit.”
The sharp inhale from the doorway prompts him to look up, and he immediately does a double-take. Essek stands there with his hands clasped over his heart and wide eyes fixed on Caleb. Caleb’s first impulse is to examine himself for something amiss, but no—it is something about Essek that is not right.
He looks… older, somehow.
Much older.
His white hair, while still immaculately swept up, seems more brittle. His cheeks are slightly sunken, his jowls sag. Even from across the room Caleb can tell there are fine lines at the corners of his eyes.
He starts to struggle to his feet, Maike giving a disgruntled meow as she is dislodged from his lap.
“Essek—what—what happened?”
Essek hurries to his side and eases him back into the chair. “No, don’t get up,” he soothes. “Everything is okay.”
He kneels before Caleb, his movements slow and careful as he lowers himself, and smooths the blanket over his lap again. His eyes never leave Caleb’s. From this close, the wrinkles framing them are more apparent, as are the puffy bags beneath them. Caleb entwines his shaking hands with Essek’s and realizes that they are frail, the veins prominent and the skin crepey much like his own. His stomach drops. Essek is too calm about this.
“What did you do?” Caleb asks around a lump in his throat.
This was no accident; he knows this much by the look on Essek’s face. Did Essek purposefully alter his lifespan to match his own? Caleb’s mind races trying to think of what sort of spell Essek could have used to such a drastic end. His palms start to tingle and go cold. He thought they were past this—that Essek had accepted—he thought Essek understood—
“Everything is okay,” Essek repeats in that too-calm voice, stroking Caleb’s hand with a bony thumb. He looks intently into his eyes, his gaze as steady as his voice. “Caleb, I am visiting you from the future.”
Caleb freezes and searches his face, looking for a lie that he does not find.
“How old…?”
“I am just into my eighth century.”
Looking over Essek again, he realizes now that Essek’s clothes, too, are different. They are in the same colors and sharply tailored fit that he ordinarily fancies, but a cut and style Caleb has never seen before, and in a lustrous fabric with an impossibly tight weave. He twists his hands into the front of the tunic and pulls Essek closer with a small oh!
He runs his hands over Essek’s face, his hair, over his shoulders and arms, and back to his hands. Essek still wears the onyx drops Caleb gave him for his 150th birthday, but there are new piercings in each ear. A pale scar crosses his left palm. The fragrance he wears is not the same as the scent that permeates one of the pillows on the bed upstairs. His eyes beginning to well with emotion, Caleb brings Essek’s hands to his mouth to kiss.
“Oh! Look at you!” he cries. “You look very good for your age.”
Essk chokes out a laugh. “Thank you.”
Caleb is too overwhelmed to express what he is really feeling: shock, amazement, relief that Essek would live to 700, gratitude that Essek would manipulate time just to see him, and, above all, love—a massive burst of love for this handsome elderly drow kneeling before him.
“Am I dreaming?” he asks.
“I would ask myself the same question, as it is a moment I have dreamt of for many, many years,” Essek replies. He sounds almost in disbelief, staring awestruck at Caleb and clinging to his fingers as if he may disappear from his grasp. “But no, this is very real.”
“How long do we have?”
“I shouldn't be back for nearly an hour. I took a detour to buy your favorite apple tarts from the bakery.” He pauses, then adds, “I’ve just ruined the surprise, so you better put on a good show when I return.”
“I can do that,” Caleb chuckles. “You still remember this, even after five centuries?”
Essek smiles and rubs gentle circles into his hand. “I think about you a lot, my love. I never had your mind, but I’ve tried my best to commit as much of you to memory as I could.” He reaches up to trace the angles of Caleb’s face. “It’s strange, the parts that become blurred with time. To see you in full clarity after so long took my breath away.”
“I wanted you to move on. I wanted you to—” Caleb chokes on his words. He’s not actually sure he wants to hear that Essek found someone else, at least not just yet. That stabs at something inside almost as much as the thought that he didn’t. “You had a good life?” he asks instead. He cups Essek’s cheek and runs a thumb along the lines bracketing his mouth.
“Yes,” Essek replies with a soft smile that creases them. “A very good one.”
Caleb blinks back grateful tears. For Essek to have lived a good, long life is all he could ask for.
“So…” He takes a deep breath to steady himself. “You learned how to move through time. That is remarkable. Is this your own spell?”
A self-satisfied smile brightens Essek’s face—and, oh, if that isn’t the face of the man he fell in love with. “It is. It took a couple hundred years, but I figured it out.”
“And here I thought you had abandoned all interest in such matters. What else have you used it for?”
“Only this. Only you.”
Caleb’s heart leaps.
“You spend centuries crafting a revolutionary spell to bend time to your will, and your first trip is to see a smitten old man?” Essek merely smiles wider. “What will you use it for next?”
Essek shakes his head. “I never made a plan beyond this. To be honest, I will likely destroy my work. I scarcely trust myself to use this magic responsibly; the risk of abuse, even accidental, is too high.”
“That is a lot of effort for something you will destroy.”
“It is,” he murmurs softly, “but if getting to be with you here and now is the sole usage of my spell, then it will have been more than worth it. I will have gotten everything I wanted out of it.” Essek runs a finger along Caleb’s cheek and up to tuck a strand of silvered hair behind his ear. Caleb feels holy under his reverent gaze. “Besides, you are the one who showed me how the process of crafting a new spell can bring as much pleasure as its result.”
Caleb leans into his touch and turns his face to press a kiss to Essek’s palm in response.
“I’m surprised you aren’t curious to know how I did it.”
“Oh, I am curious,” Caleb says. “But I can’t imagine an hour is enough to distill years of ground-breaking research to either of our satisfactions. With so little time, I need to pick and choose my conversations. Let me make us some tea.”
“You stay put,” Essek tells him. “I’ll take care of it.”
Essek grunts as he starts to rise from his kneeling position, his aged knees stiff and creaking like Caleb’s own.
“Maybe you should let me do it,” Caleb can’t help but tease. “It looks like you’re struggling, old man.”
Essek gives him a withering look and flourishes his hand in an elegant somatic gesture. The gravity around him lifts and pivots his body easily upright.
“I can handle myself just fine, young man.”
His imperious tone sends a thrill through Caleb’s body as much as ever.
Through the sounds of the kettle being filled and cabinets being opened, Caleb wonders if he did in fact doze off in his chair again. But he twists and pinches his hands and knows it cannot be anything but real.
When Essek returns from the kitchen with two steaming teacups, he waves a hand and floats the ottoman over to be able to sit as close as possible to Caleb. As soon as he takes his seat, Maike approaches and inspects him with uncertainty. She puts her front paws up on the edge of the ottoman, her eyes wide.
“Oh, Maike! I’ve missed you too!”
He lifts his hand to let her sniff him, then turns it to scritch her cheek. She seems to accept this version of Essek, leaning into his fingers and hopping into his lap. He takes the cat into his arms and cradles her like a baby, the way she only permits Essek to do. It is from this moment that Caleb feels certain that this is truly Essek and not an imposter.
Essek looks around. “Where is Auster?”
“Auster?” Caleb asks. He cannot imagine why Essek would expect there to be oysters on hand.
“Ah,” Essek says sheepishly. “I must have misremembered the sequence of events.”
Caleb prods him further until he concedes.
“Sometime soon, you are going to find a kitten while out for a stroll,” Essek explains with feigned exasperation. “And against all my protests, breaking all your promises not to bring home any more strays, you are going to convince me to keep him.”
“You must have named this one,” Caleb says with a fond shake of his head. “‘Oyster’... You are terrible at naming cats.”
“It is a very appropriate name for him, you will see,” Essek sniffs.
Caleb grins. “I shall have to take more walks and try to meet him soon then.”
“You should. They’re good for your health, and I loved our walks very much.” Essek is quiet for a long moment. “In the end, I was very glad you convinced me to keep Auster. He and Maike were such a comfort to me after you passed.”
And Maike…
Maike is already getting up there in years. For her to outlive him…
“Does this mean I will go soon?” he asks in a small voice.
Essek shakes his head. He places Maike on the floor and takes Caleb’s hands again.
“I’ve revealed enough already. But we have some time. It is… For me, no amount of time could be enough. But we have some time, and it is good.”
He emphasizes the last word in a way that mollifies Caleb’s worries. Caleb nods and takes this in quietly.
“Are you scared?” Essek asks, his own voice small now.
The question takes Caleb by surprise; Essek always avoids the subject of death. It is something of a point of contention between them. He wants to be practical about the inevitable end of his life, but Essek finds it macabre—or, more likely, upsetting—to discuss. Decades away from the Dynasty does not undo an upbringing in a society where death is impermanent and its people are effectively immortal, he suspects. But after several centuries, Essek must have seen enough loss to be able to voice such a question.
Caleb exhales slowly. “No. I am at peace with it. I feel ready. I’ve been fortunate to have had as long a life as I have. One full of so much more love than I perhaps deserved.”
Essek sets his chin in protest.
“You deserved it all and more. My love for you could not be contained by your lifespan. It endured—it still endures. The flame has never flickered. How many times over the centuries have I wished I could go back and express it to you more fervently, the depth and intensity of my love?”
The vehemence in Essek’s voice rocks him. Caleb swallows hard, feeling pinned by Essek’s unwavering gaze.
“You’re here now, aren’t you?”
“I suppose I am.”
Essek wets his lips and opens his mouth as if to speak, but no more words seem to be able to come. Instead, his hands tighten around Caleb’s, and he looks into his eyes with a desperate fervor.
“I feel it,” Caleb whispers. “All of your love.”
He leans forward and presses his forehead to Essek’s. They remain there for some time, their eyes closed and noses brushing against each other. Essek’s breath over his skin is halting, as if he is trying to hold back a sob. It’s comforting to be close to him like this, breathing in the same air and feeling the gentle warmth of his exhalations. Caleb’s heart swells with tenderness at the familiarity of it. With his eyes closed, this could be any one of a thousand moments they have shared. He remembers them all. He’s sure that Essek does too.
Eventually Caleb pulls back and breaks the silence.
“While I am not scared for myself, I am scared for how my death will affect you,” he says carefully, a thumb brushing over Essek’s knuckles. “I’m so grateful to have you, but I feel like a burden. I hate that you’re stuck here taking care of me.”
He expects Essek to object, but Essek doesn’t, so he continues.
“I worry that you are giving up too much for me. There’s so much out there for you… Please, tell me you were okay. Tell me that you will be okay.”
Essek glances aside and does not respond for several breaths.
“I did not come here to lie to you, so I won’t,” he says softly. He hesitates, then picks up his teacup and slowly drinks from it. Apprehension prickles at Caleb, but he waits for him to gather his words. The pause draws on long enough that for a moment Caleb thinks he won’t answer. When Essek finally lifts his gaze, Caleb is struck by the plaintive look in his eyes. “At the time I couldn’t comprehend why you kept trying to push me away. I understand now.
“I didn’t realize how limited I had made my world. I shaped my life around yours, and as age required your world to become small, so did mine. You tried to tell me this all along, but I couldn’t see it. Then, when you passed, all that you had filled in my small world was replaced with grief—and you, my light, my life, had filled everything, so all at once my entire world was grief. It was… hard. As you knew it would be. I floundered without you to anchor me.”
The thought of Essek in pain because of him hurts him to the bone. This is exactly what he wants to avoid. Caleb opens his mouth to beg forgiveness, but Essek holds up a hand. “Please, allow me to finish.” He nods and holds his tongue.
“It wasn't easy. But as I built up my life again, my world was able to grow around that grief. The grief didn’t diminish, but the space it occupied didn’t feel so insurmountable. I swam in it often, but I was no longer drowning. It took time, as you once reminded me. I saw you everywhere—in every incantation, in every splotch of ink, in every frayed sweater, in every star. And it hurt for a while. It broke my heart each time. But one day I suddenly realized that I found this to be a comfort—that I was carrying you with me through the world.
“Yasha helped me come to this realization. She was of invaluable support, as was Yeza.”
“Yeza?” Caleb asks, surprised. While their relationship could be described as courteous, the two had always maintained an understandable distance.
“Indeed,” Essek smiles gently. “He had mourned Veth, once. There was a time when he had to face the prospect of a long life ahead without her. He understood very well how I was feeling. We became close. In fact, I ended up residing with the Brenattos for over a year while I found my footing.”
“I would not have expected that,” Caleb says. He can scarcely picture Essek living peaceably under Veth’s roof; if anything, she has gotten more spirited with age.
“Nor did I, but I am immensely grateful for it. To this day, I still have exceedingly clever halflings showing up on my doorstep for dinner or some arcane favor.”
Amusement flickers across his face. There are stories there, Caleb thinks. But Essek’s brow furrows as he continues.
“If I could make a request for the sake of my younger self…” He glances down at his teacup, the pad of his finger tracing the curve of its handle, then back to meet Caleb’s eyes. “Please, Caleb. Please don’t push me away anymore. You think I will regret staying with you. You've made that clear. You fear I will be wasting my best years caring for and mourning an old man. And maybe so. But I had tenfold years to build anew. There is a lot in my life to regret, but never when it comes to you. This time is not a waste if it’s with you, and it hurts me that you cannot accept that. Let us enjoy the time we have together, with no misgivings. I swear to you, I will be okay.”
Caleb finds he cannot speak past the tightness in his throat. There has been a desperation in Essek’s eyes. A burning need to take in every last fragment of the man sitting in the chair before him, to consume and memorize every inch of him. He stares at him as one might stare into the night sky with the prescience that the stars will soon blink out and change its landscape forevermore. Caleb wonders what it is like to look into the face of what has been mere memory for longer than it was ever material. He hopes he lives up to it. All he wants—all he has wanted for years—is for Essek to be happy. For that, he can acquiesce. He nods, and watches the tension run out of Essek’s shoulders.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks, when his voice returns to him.
Essek’s breath hitches, his pupils going wide.
“Of course. Always.”
He sets his tea aside and starts to lean forward, but Caleb moves his hand into the same somatic gesture Essek had used before. His hands don’t move elegantly anymore, but he has enough experience casting it that his clumsy fingers can still manage to complete the spell. Essek does not resist, laughing lightly as Caleb lifts him from the ottoman and moves him to lie across his lap.
Essek wraps his arms around Caleb’s shoulders and looks at him with adoration in his eyes.
“I missed this,” he breathes.
Caleb captures his lips, a hand coming up to cradle Essek’s jaw.
It is no different than kissing the man he kissed just this morning. Essek slides his hands through Caleb’s hair and deepens the kiss.
They continue for some time, kissing sweetly and deeply and lazily in turn. Caleb loses himself in the soft movement of Essek’s mouth over his, in the heady push and pull of tongues and lips. He and Essek—the Essek of this time—don’t kiss like this so frequently anymore, and he makes a mental note to draw his beloved into his lap more often. His senses are saturated with Essek: with the delicate fragrance of his perfume, with the floral tea that lingers on his tongue, with the covetous hold of his fingers tangled in Caleb’s hair. At one point he tastes salt and realizes that Essek is crying. When he tries to pull away, Essek clings to him and presses more insistent kisses to his lips until they melt together once more.
After a while, Essek draws back with a sigh.
“I missed this so much,” he says again, resting his forehead against Caleb’s. Caleb wipes away the tear welling at the corner of Essek’s eye.
Essek’s face is so different from the one he knows intimately, yet wholly familiar. Caleb considers the creases at the corners of his eyes, the loss of elasticity in his cheeks, his cheekbones more prominent than ever. Elves show little sign of aging until very late in life. He wonders how Essek, vain and always fastidious in his appearance, feels about it. He wonders if facing his own mortality is what prompted Essek to come to him.
“Are… are you scared?” he asks.
Essek tenses in his embrace, his fingers stilling where they were running over his collarbone. He releases a tremulous breath. “Yes,” he admits with a swallow. “It’s strange—I spent so many years expecting death to come for me.”
His voice trails off and his eyes drop to Caleb’s shoulder. Caleb shifts Essek in his arms to let him tuck his head in the crook of his neck and Essek goes gladly, pressing himself close. They must be a sight, Caleb thinks, two old men curled up like this. “And now it feels more certain?” he prompts softly.
“It’s not that I didn’t fear it before, but I was resigned to it. I had reconciled myself to it, even as I outran it. And then I was more preoccupied with your mortality, and the mortality of all my friends and loved ones, than I was with my own.
“But, given time, people forget. They die, or life moves on. It's laughable now to think of how much I once agonized over this, but even those with long lives and longer memories do not dwell eternally on the past, it turns out. They stop caring about the disgraced former Shadowhand Essek Thelyss. Their attention turns to imminent threats and wars and grievances. Who cares about an injustice from centuries past when there are more pressing concerns? Why spend resources chasing down a suspected traitor, when the allegations remain unproven and he has already done you the favor of exiling himself? And so, given time, I stopped feeling the specter of death over my shoulder.”
“That’s good,” Caleb whispers, squeezing Essek to him. “That’s what we’d hoped for.”
“It is,” Essek agrees. “I’ve been able to live the last couple centuries freely, more or less. But it also means that I fell out of the habit of thinking of death as an impending certainty. Now that it looms around the corner again, I find that I… I am scared.”
“What are you afraid of?”
Essek feels so fragile in his arms, like an ancient scroll liable to crumble into dust under too heavy a breath. He hasn’t seen him vulnerable like this in years. Caleb cradles him protectively, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of his head.
“I keep wondering, what happens to a traitor and apostate?” Essek’s voice is barely audible as he admits his apprehensions. “I was never punished in life for my crimes. Have I done enough good to make up for the damage I caused? Will my soul be able to reach yours and the Nein’s and those of all I have loved in whatever afterlife awaits us?”
“You’ve never liked the unknown,” Caleb muses, stroking Essek’s hair. “Or things outside your control.”
A sober huff of laughter skims over his throat. “Too true.”
“It must be difficult to face finality after a lifetime dedicated to possibilities,” he murmurs, and feels Essek sag against him. “I don’t have an answer for you. I’m not sure anyone does, save perhaps the Raven Queen herself. But I believe you have, and I believe you will. If I am to have faith that I will be able to reunite with my parents, then I must trust that you will be granted the same absolution.”
“You are a better man than I, so I have no doubt that you will. You dedicated your life to atonement, to changing the system that engineered your sins, whereas I… I just ran. Six centuries of cowardice.” Essek burrows his face into Caleb’s neck. “Your reassurances are comforting, but I wish I possessed your certainty. Some days the fear paralyzes me. That’s why I used this spell, why I came here to see you. I needed to see you one last time before—”
Essek cuts himself off with a choked sob. His shoulders tremble, and Caleb clutches him tighter to his body. What could he say that wouldn’t be at worst a lie, at best an empty declaration of hope? Essek is looking for more than hope. He holds him there, a hand soothing up and down his back, until Essek inhales shakily and composes himself.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t come here to burden you with the melancholy of an old man,” he mumbles against Caleb’s skin. “This should have been a happier reunion.”
Caleb shakes his head and finds his voice rough with emotion. “There is nothing to apologize for. I want to help carry your burdens, as you have always helped me with mine. You know that. I only hope you have someone you can confide in from your own time.” He gathers the courage to ask what has been on his mind from the start. “Do you? Have someone? Did you ever find love again?”
“Yes,” Essek replies gently, quietly. “It took time, but I did. A few times.”
Caleb closes his eyes and exhales, his chest twisted up in envy and relief. The twinge of jealousy ignites a deeper pang of guilt—this is what he wants, what Essek deserves. But a small, selfish part of him grouses that it’s not fair that someone else gets to watch Essek grow old. He swallows that part until he feels its burn dissipate and says with full sincerity, “I’m glad.”
“It wasn’t always a love that lasted, but this one has. He has been good for me. We’ve been good for each other.” Essek pulls back and looks into Caleb’s eyes. “It has never been the same as it was with you, but I don’t think anything could be. Not lesser, per se, but never the same. You were—you are a singular man, Caleb Widogast. To this day, so much of who I am is because of you.”
Caleb is overcome with awe, his mouth dry and his heart full. What has he done to deserve being so loved, so cherished across more than half a millennia?
“Does this bother him?”
Essek makes a face and does a little gesture that Caleb is not sure he’s ever seen from him before. The evidence of a life lived beyond him becomes clearer in that small, off-hand motion. “I haven’t expressed it to him as such, but he recognizes how important you were to me. He is also a widower, so the sentiment is not so foreign to him. He has been supportive of me coming here.”
He is relieved that Essek would find someone who understands him, and feels a whisper of affection for this stranger separated by time. “I would like to meet him.”
“You would like him, I think. You’re very alike.”
“Is he also a wizard?” Caleb’s lips quirk up into a wry smile.
Essek throws his head back and laughs, and Caleb gets the sense that this is a joke he has heard a thousand times before but has yet to tire of. “Alas, he is not! But it is my experience that the heart takes us where we least expect.”
“Like bringing you to me,” Caleb says with warmth blooming in his chest. He twines their fingers together and raises Essek’s hand to his mouth to press a lingering kiss to his knuckles.
“Like bringing me to you,” Essek responds. He tips his chin up to kiss Caleb again.
The meaning of something Essek had said earlier dawns on Caleb.
“So, when you said you understand me now…”
“Indeed,” Essek confirms with a nod, his expression thin. “I have also worried about the effect my passing will have on him. It isn’t something he hasn’t coped with before, but still. I worry. I try to be gentle on myself, having been in his position, and remembering how much I had wished you would be gentle on yourself.”
Caleb pities this man that he will have to mourn Essek—something he himself has never had to do—after already suffering a dear loss before. If he is an elf, he has perhaps experienced an expected amount of grief, though that must make each one no less heartbreaking. If he is a shorter-lived race, all the more pitiable.
“I look forward to being introduced in the afterlife.”
Essek shrugs, a small, tight movement that suggests a greater tension lurking behind it. “That is unlikely to happen. He is consecuted and plans to return to the Dynasty after I pass.”
Caleb’s eyebrows fly up, and Essek smiles feebly at his shock. “Like I said, the heart takes us where we least expect.”
The sound of the turning latch at the front door interrupts the moment and turns both of their heads.
“I’ve stayed longer than I should have,” Essek says hurriedly. He looks back to Caleb, his expression heartbroken. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“I know.”
He grabs Caleb by the face and kisses him desperately, like a drowning man grasping for a lifeline.
“I hope—I hope I will see you soon.”
The tears he had managed to stifle now stream freely down his face, and it cuts Caleb deep to realize that Essek may have to grieve him once more. He brushes the tears away, blinking back his own and letting his thumbs sweep tenderly over Essek’s cheekbones.
“You will. You will. Don’t hurry back to me, Schatz. Enjoy your time, and after we will have eternity.” He kisses Essek one last time. “Now go. I love you.”
Essek stands shakily, and Caleb isn’t sure how much is from clearly stiff and aching joints, and how much from the adrenaline of despair. The sounds of his other-self are in the hallway and coming closer. He performs a quick incantation, the somatics taking on a shape wholly foreign with intricacies beyond all of Caleb’s cognizance. In the final moment before closing the terminal somatic clause, he mouths to Caleb, “I love you”—and is gone.
A beat passes before the events of the past hour all hit him at once. Caleb breathes deeply, trying to steady his heart and trembling hands before Essek—this Essek—can see. The rushed farewell has left him thoroughly disoriented, as though shaken awake in the middle of an intense dream. He scrubs his hands over his face, inhaling sharply through the nose. Maybe that’s all it was. Maybe it was nothing but a tremendously vivid and potent dream.
And yet, if it were a dream, there would not be two teacups sitting atop the side table, as real as anything else in this room. He picks up his cup for want of something to do with his hands, and realizes he’d never drank from it. The tea is cool enough now to down the whole thing at once, and he does so.
“Hello, love. I thought I heard you talking to someone.”
Essek walks in, a placid smile on his face. He stands in the same spot the future Essek did scarcely an hour past. It’s like seeing an echo—or a ghost, except that between the two of them here this man will be among the living for centuries to come. In the eyes of the future Essek, he must have been the ghost.
“Just the cat,” Caleb lies through his racing heart.
Essek crosses the room to place a featherlight kiss upon his brow and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear fondly. On an impulse, Caleb grabs him around the waist and tugs him into his lap to press a poorly aimed wet kiss to his face.
“Caleb!” Essek laughs. “What are you doing!”
What is he doing but trying to give Essek as much love as he can muster for what time they have left? He doesn't want to break Essek’s mood by saying it outright, so instead kisses him again, this time finding his mark.
Essek indulges him briefly before breaking away with a bemused smile. “What’s gotten into you? Let me put away the shopping first.”
He climbs out of Caleb’s lap, going so much more easily and more gracefully than his other-self did mere moments ago, and smooths his hands over his clothes. His face is flushed and bright with a dopey, almost embarrassed, grin that makes Caleb’s belly flip.
Turning, Essek spots the second teacup on the side table. “Are you sure we didn’t have a guest?” he asks, picking it up and raising an eyebrow.
“That was yours from earlier.” This isn’t a lie, technically.
Essek frowns and examines the cup. Seeming to accept Caleb’s explanation, he tips it back and drinks the cold remainder of his future self’s tea, then brings both empty teacups back to the kitchen. As soon as he crosses the threshold, Caleb releases the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
“By the way, I have a surprise for you,” Essek calls from the next room.
Caleb’s eyes crinkle as he smiles and prepares to put on a show, as he was asked to do.
“Oh? What is it?”