Star Ocean: Till The End Of Time Fan Fiction ❯ Yaoi Ocean 3 ❯ Chapter Twenty-Three: Engaged ( Chapter 23 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Chapter Twenty-Three

Engaged

Fayt looked from Albel to Cliff. They were both sufficiently buzzed. He wondered if it were wise to wait until they were buzzed or if he should have told them earlier. No, if he didn't tell them now, they'd just be drunk later. Furthermore, tomorrow they might have a hangover, and then they'd be sober after that was over, so it certainly couldn't wait for tomorrow. Besides, it wasn't fair to them if he stalled. In fact, it hadn't been fair to have that delicious intimate moment in bed.

He took a deep breath, his hands perched around the drink he had only taken one small sip out of. Finally, he looked the two in the eye. Could he really go through with this? Could he really tell them this? His heart pounded, his palms sweat. He was so unbelievably nervous. Most people would be nervous, but his reasons for the nervousness were not that of most others. How does one confess to their lovers that they're getting married to someone else? Fayt opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. Guilt whelmed inside of him, resting like an anchor in his stomach, clenching around his heart in a vice grip. He clamped his mouth shut and took a deep breath. He swiped a palm across his clammy forehead. He had to say it. He had to.

“I…I'm getting married,” Fayt confessed, feeling all the guilt creep into his voice. The anchor in his stomach seemed to double in weight and it felt like a mountain had just crashed on his shoulders. The weight of the guilt left him crippled. He felt terrible suddenly. He had been living in virtual fear of this moment and its after-affects and now he was facing it.

Cliff nearly fell out of his chair. Albel stared at him as if Fayt had suddenly turned purple. “What?” he demanded.

Fayt gave them a helpless gesture. “I want to move on,” he choked out. He realized that his hands were shaking. Did he look as guilty and terrible as he felt?

“Who?” the Klausian said placidly.

Fayt looked down at the mixed drink, finding himself incapable of answering that question and looking at him at the same time. “Sophia,” he croaked. He flinched, as if expecting that the universe, upon seeing him so openly betray these two, should inevitably collapse upon him. When he looked up at Albel and Cliff, he felt as if he deserved it anyway.

The Glyphian took a deep breath. It wasn't calming. He counted to ten. He was still angry, so he recounted. He took another deep breath, determined not to lunge for Fayt's throat and throttle him, demanding to know why he would leave him and Cliff for Sophia. What did she have that was better than he and Cliff anyway?

He rose slowly to his feet and walked up to the bar. He spoke with the bartender briefly, handed over some money, and came back with a bottle of the Elicoorian equivalent of straight vodka. He pried off the lid and took a long swallow. He made a face, cringed at the taste and the feel of the hard liquor searing down his throat like so much molten lead, and took another long drink. He set the half-empty bottle down, feeling sufficiently drunk to handle the situation. Now if he tried to lunge at Fayt, he probably wouldn't be able to walk nor see straight enough to do any real damage to him.

Fayt glanced at the bottle, then at Albel. “You're drinking too much.”

To show how little he now cared about this statement, Albel guzzled the remaining half of the bottle. He set the bottle down on the table. It tipped over, but it was empty so didn't matter much. Albel gave him a very drunk glare—which meant an unsteady one. He also couldn't decide which of the four Fayts he was seeing was the real Fayt. He abruptly passed out, slithering to the floor. Fayt blinked in surprise and went to help him. Cliff shoved him away. “Leave `im there for now. He's fine,” he insisted. He glanced at his own drink, finished it, and went up to the bar. Fayt watched Cliff come back with another bottle, this one rum.

Fayt stared at him. “Is it so bad?” he asked. His voice sounded small to him.

Cliff stepped over Albel's limp body and sat down. “You've announced the beginning of the end. True, we only see each other every so often these days, but now it'll probably be never.”

Fayt looked aghast. “But you two are still…”

“Only two thirds of the whole,” Cliff said, and took a pull at the rum. “We'll drift apart without you. But really, Fayt, I guess you're right. Time to move on. Congratulations.” He finished off the rum and stared blankly into space drunkenly. Fayt sighed deeply and fell silent. Eventually, Cliff decided that perhaps they should go. He glanced at Albel, then got comfortable in his chair. Albel woke up in several more minutes. Still shit-faced drunk, Albel stumbled to his feet. He collapsed in his chair. He glanced around, looking for more alcohol, as one look at Fayt reminded him of why he was so drunk to begin with. Engaged!

He noticed that Fayt wasn't drinking his beverage. He stole it awkwardly and finished it for him. He handed it back to him and only missed the tab le by six inches. Fortunately, the cup didn't break when it fell on the floor. “I need another drink,” Albel muttered.

Fayt rolled his eyes. “Another” was not the word Fayt would have used. “You're drunk enough,” the Earthling insisted.

The Glyphian stared at the table for a moment, glanced at Cliff, and stumbled off to the bar again to order half of it. The bartender told him that he'd send over the shots in a moment, but he wasn't giving him nearly half of what he ordered. Albel was so drunk that he barely heard him and his mind only registered the words “shots,” “bring over to your table,” and “soon.” He staggered back to the table and dropped down into his chair. Or, that was the idea anyway. He missed and fell on the floor instead. He wished the floor would stay still instead of vault around so sickeningly.

Cliff asked him what he ordered. Albel replied, “Shots! Do ya like vodka?”

Cliff's eyes flicked to the empty bottle of vodka. “Not as much as you do apparently.”

Albel clambered back on to the chair. “Good. I ordered whiskey.”

“Chasers?”

“Are for weaklings!” he announced. “And brandy.”

Fayt stared at them. “What?”

“I ordered brandy too,” Albel clarified. “And some…” His voice trailed off as the waitress plopped three shot glasses on the table and filled them with whiskey. She made the mistake of filling Albel's first, followed by Cliff's, and they were both done with their shots by the time she filled Fayt's. She glanced at the glasses. “Again,” Albel insisted.

“Same here,” Cliff added. The waitress gauged their levels of drunkenness, shrugged, and gave them what they wanted. It wasn't her problem if they died from alcohol poisoning so long as the sober one of the bunch stayed to pay the bill and remove the bodies. Cliff also ordered a few appetizers. The waitress walked back to the bar. The two downed the glasses immediately and eyed Fayt's untouched glass the way a group of vultures eye a dying man in the desert. Fayt pushed the glass to the middle of the table with a finger. Albel and Cliff both lunged for it at the same time. Cliff, the less drunk of the two as of yet, grabbed it first, finished it, and slammed it back down on the table.

Albel stared mournfully at the empty glasses. Marriage! He signaled the waitress for more alcohol. She walked back with the brandy this time. Cliff snagged her sleeve. “No no. Mix a shot of brandy, a shot of whiskey, a shot of rum, and some vodka. Just give me that.”

Her eyes widened to the size of large coins. “Er, sir, here's your brandy.” She scampered off after filling the glasses, keeping the glasses away from the two drunk ones until she was finished filling them. The waitress and the bartender both ignored them until they had eaten at least half of the appetizers. Some of the effects of the alcohol cooled with the food and time and the non-alcoholic “vodka” the waitress gave them. They were so drunk that they didn't notice the difference.

They had two more rounds of shots, some beer, another round of shots, and then Albel passed out for the second time, falling to the floor gracelessly. Cliff had one more shot, then fell forward, unconscious. Instead of hitting the floor, Cliff went face-first onto the table. Their veins were certainly no longer filled with blood so much as liquor. Fayt rolled his eyes. Now what?

He glanced at the two unconscious bodies and decided to see if the barkeep had a room available. He did. Fayt stared at his companions, trying to decide how to get them upstairs. The barkeep left his post and helped him carry them upstairs and put them in separate beds. He found a couple buckets for them in case they woke and needed to vomit, and then the barkeep brought up a cot for Fayt.

In the morning, both of them had hangovers, threw up several times, and Fayt had to throw out the vomit; otherwise take care of them. When Fayt left to empty one of the buckets (again), Albel sat up, threw off his armor and sword, which he had slept all night with on, and slithered in to bed with Cliff. “I'm going to kill him,” Albel muttered, leaning his head against the Klausian. It felt good somehow, comforting. He wanted to be comforted. They both did, and neither could think of a single better person than the other to go to. The only other person was the cause of all of this.

“You don't mean that,” Cliff said.

“'Course I do,” he insisted. And then as an afterthought, “I'm not going to the fucking wedding.”

Cliff sighed, closing his eyes. His headache pounded like a mad drummer on ecstasy. “Hmm.”

“Fucking Sophia… Married!”

Cliff tousled Albel's hair affectionately. “If you must kill someone, kill Sophia,” he said half-jokingly.

Albel considered this seriously for a moment, then nodded once. “Good idea.”

The door opened. Fayt glanced at them, then put cold, wet cloths on their foreheads. He had a soup broth for them too. It took the pair half the day to recover. Afterwards, they wanted a couple shots “for the road.” The barkeep just shrugged and gave it to them.

Fayt felt like this was going to be a long day.

Back at the cabin, Cliff and Albel made their way into the kitchen and pulled out some wine. As if they needed more alcohol. “Don't have any champagne…” He poured three glasses and handed one to Fayt. “In… honour of your engagement. Drink up.” There was a slight sneer to his voice when he said the word “engagement.” Albel glowered at him from behind him; Fayt could feel his arresting eyes on him, accusing him of the worst kind of betrayal. Fayt knew he deserved it.

Fayt took the glass, looking into it but not drinking from it. He wished they wouldn't act like this. But he knew why. They were angry and hurt. Why wouldn't they act this way? But it was still hurtful to Fayt. Usually, announcing that you were getting married was a happy occasion. But to them, it was open betrayal. He should have expected nothing less, but he was still disappointed. He had expected this kind of behaviour from them, he knew. But he had hoped for better.

The Klausian and Elicoorian proceeded to drink the rest of the bottle. Fayt sipped at his wine quietly. The other two pulled out another bottle and went into the living room area. Albel gave Fayt a dirty, murderous look as he passed. The horrible things dancing through Albel's mind were evident in the single look. Fayt automatically backed up a step, the hair on the back of his neck rising in warning that he was in a potentially dangerous situation. He looked away. Maybe he should have told them just before he left. No, that wasn't fair to them, to deceive them and be happy for a few days, and then part with such news.

Fayt wandered into the living room after them. Albel was lounging in the armchair and Cliff was spread out on the sofa. Both of them made a point of not looking at Fayt, and busying themselves with finishing off their glasses.

Fayt stood awkwardly in the doorway, struggling to find a path through this tangled emotional mess. He needed to say something. He needed to try to make this right. Or, at least, do something to calm their anger. “Why are you so angry?” he said suddenly. “We only see each other a couple times a year. Isn't it only natural that we drift apart? Isn't it time we all moved on with our lives?”

“Fuck you,” Albel snapped. Apparently not.

Fayt backed up a step. His back hit the doorframe. “But…”

The Elicoorian hurled his empty glass across the room, shooting to his feet. It shattered less than a yard from Fayt's head against the wall, causing Fayt to cry out in surprise and jump with a start. He hadn't been aiming at Fayt; he had just thrown it. That it almost hit him was complete coincidence. “Fuck you!” He shook with rage. He felt like he'd been deceived and lied to. Fayt was getting married. Hadn't the Earthling been the one to confess that he might love them? And now he was throwing everything away for Sophia. “Go back to your own planet and marry Sophia. But don't come here again or I will kill you!”

Albel stormed up the stairs, trying to flee before he acted upon his threat. He slammed the door to the stairs and stomped all the way up them. Deep down, he didn't want to hurt Fayt. He wanted Fayt to hurt as much as he did or more, but he really didn't want to do it. Was that what “love” was? Did he love him? What a time to realize that! The second door slammed above them. Cliff flinched at the loud sound. Fayt's lower lip trembled. Upstairs, Albel leaned heavily against the door. Slowly, he sunk to his knees, staring down at the floor. Engaged. Sophia. Fayt, engaged. Do I love himtoo?

Cliff glanced away. Fayt started to go up the stairs after Albel. “Don't do that,” Cliff warned him. “He'll throw you down the stairs… if you're lucky.”

Fayt hesitated, then ran up the stairs anyway. He found the door locked. “Albel, please!” he pleaded, banging on the door. “Listen to me! Please! I don't want this to end this way!” Fayt threw himself against the door, but it was solid and it held up against him. He pounded on it uselessly. Albel's hands raised, covering his ears in an attempt to block out the sound. His fingers sank into his hair, his nails digging into his scalp. Why wouldn't he go away? “Please… Albel…”

Cliff shook his head sadly downstairs, taking a long sigh. He finished his glass. He knew this could be the only way it could ever have ended. Hadn't he known that two years ago when all of this began?

Fayt eventually began to cry as Albel continued to ignore him. Several minutes passed. The Earthling desperately tried to talk to Albel, who, if he said anything at all, said only “go away.” Fayt sunk down to the floor, trying the latch again. Still locked. “Please, talk to me, Albel!” he cried.

Suddenly, he heard the lock click. The door swung open. Albel glared down at him, seething with rage. He was shaking with it. He hadn't been this angry when, over two years ago, Fayt had left him back at Bequerel, still alive and wishing otherwise. Fayt got the idea that he was in danger and moved to get away from it. Albel grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, squeezing his throat. Fayt gagged, gasping for air. Albel picked him up. He was too angry to speak, too enraged to form coherent sentences. Instead, he let his actions do the speaking for him and tossed Fayt down the stairs. Albel watched Fayt cry out in surprise, and then pain as he landed on his side on the steps and rolled down the rest of the way, the full story down, over ten feet of stairs. Fayt crashed against the walls, trying to right himself and failing, tumbling down the steps. He slithered to the floor in what Albel judged to be a satisfactory manner. The door slammed shut again and locked. Cliff watched Fayt for a moment, then walked over to him. He picked the boy up. Fayt was sobbing softly, and more hurt emotionally than physically.

He carried him to the sofa and held him while he wept and whispered quietly about Albel, only a word or two here and there making sense. Eventually, Fayt fell asleep in Cliff's arms, too exhausted to do anything else. He laid Fayt down and cleaned up the broken glass on the floor. Fortunately, Albel had recently become an alcoholic and the glass had been empty.

Cliff glanced at Fayt. He pulled a blanket over the boy and crept up the stairs. He knocked on the door lightly, a gentle rap. “Albel, it's me,” Cliff said quietly.

He heard Albel get up off of what he assumed was the single sofa in the room. He listened to him walk over to the door and unlock it, step aside, and open the door. Cliff stepped through the doorway, closing the door behind him. Albel looked up at Cliff, and to Cliff looked like positively the most miserable thing in existence. Cliff took him in his arms. Albel leaned his head against Cliff's shoulder, letting him comfort him.

“Engaged,” he muttered softly. “Engaged.”

Cliff sighed, inhaling deeply of Albel's hair. He was upset too. But he had always sort of expected it. Albeit, he hadn't expected it from Fayt. He had more expected it from himself or Albel. Well, Fayt was probably just as likely as the other two if he thought about it. More so even; Sophia had always liked him and she was there with him. “I'm still here.”

“For how long?” His voice was flat. Listening to it, he never would have guessed how angry and saddened the other was.

Cliff felt pained, because he knew he could only stay for a couple more days. He suddenly changed the subject. “Did you love him?”

A slight nod against his shoulder. “I'm not certain… I think so.”

Cliff held him a little bit tighter. If he wasn't certain, then Albel could still recover. He wouldn't be so crushed as to dwell on this moment forever. He was still young too; he could move on. Cliff wasn't so lucky, but he wouldn't tell the other two about how he knew he felt. It would make the parting worse than it already was going to be. He had to keep it to himself.

Albel suddenly pulled away from him. “I need to be alone,” he said softly. He turned to go down the stairs.

“Come back?” Cliff asked him. “Please?”
He paused in the doorway. “I won't abandon you. I'm not like Fayt,” he said bitterly. He walked slowly down the stairs, disappearing from view. Cliff sat down heavily on the bed. He glanced at the pile of used tissue on the bedstand, and at the messy blankets stained with sweat and other things. Well, no matter what happened, he still had Albel… for however long that might last.

Albel paused at the bottom of the steps. Fayt was awake and sitting up. He was fiddling with his communicator. He had heard Albel's last statement and the pain it gave him reflected sadly in his voice. “… No, I need it today,” he pleaded into the speaker. A satellite had been put in place near Elicoor to monitor it, and that was the only reason Fayt could even make a call here. A long pause. “Tomorrow is the earliest?” Another pause, then a deep sigh. “All right. What time? … 3 o'clock. Got it. Thanks.” Fayt set the communicator down, hanging his head. “I'm leaving tomorrow. Sorry I can't leave sooner, but I'm stuck for now.” There was a sad, self-loathing tone to Fayt's voice. Albel didn't respond. “So… could you tolerate me for another night?”

“Don't talk to me,” Albel snapped. He breezed past him out the door. For the second time in his life, Fayt cried himself into a fitful sleep because of Albel. The first time he had that day had been for both Cliff and Albel, but this time only the Elicoorian. Cliff hadn't been so cruel… but he wouldn't be. He knew that he could still be friends with Cliff after he married Sophia. Albel was another story entirely.

Cliff “prepared” dinner by using the facilities onboard his ship and brought it into the cabin. While he had been gone, Albel had returned. The only evidence in this was that Fayt was staring at the door to the bedroom.

“Is Albel here?” Cliff asked softly. Fayt nodded dully. “Albel! Come down and eat!”
“No,” he responded immediately. Cliff sighed and set Fayt's plate in front of him on the coffee table. He left his own plate beside Fayt's and walked up the stairs with Albel's portion. He knocked on the door. “Cliff?”
“Yeah.”

“It's open.”

He pushed the door open. Albel was lying face-down on the bed and seemed to be trying to take up as much space as his petite body would allow. If the mood right now weren't so grim, he might have found it attractive or at least sort of humorous. “I brought you dinner.”

“I'm not hungry.”

“The only thing you've had all day is liquor.”

Albel didn't say anything to contradict or confirm this. Cliff sighed and set the plate down nearby him anyway. He went downstairs and brought Albel half a bottle of brandy. He had poured the other half into his own tall glass. He set the bottle down. Albel grabbed the bottle, but left the food. Cliff sighed and decided to leave him be for now. He touched the back of his lover's head in quiet empathy, trying to convey that he understood in that touch. He turned to go, but Albel snagged his wrist. He turned and looked down at him.

Albel looked like he wanted to say something, then stopped. He looked away and let go of Cliff's wrist. Cliff paused, waiting for the other to change his mind. He waited for half a minute and the Glyphian didn't move. He sighed resignedly and left the room.

Below, Fayt didn't so much as look at him. He seemed to shrink as much as he could into the couch, eating quietly, and finishing his meal quickly. Immediately, he left the room and went outside. He looked up at the sky. Albel really meant it when he told him not to come back. It wasn't because Albel had threatened him, but Fayt would try to respect his wishes that he never return. He closed his eyes, trying to imprint in his mind forever the way the air smelled here, the sound of the trees and the grass in the breeze. He opened his eyes and looked at the stars. Most especially, he had to remember the three moons and the placement of the stars. Somewhere in those stars was his own home. And from his own home, somewhere in the night sky was Elicoor II. He had to remember that.

He sat down on the porch, watching the stars. He didn't know how much time passed, but the door opened behind him. Cliff walked over to him and stood beside him for a time in silence. He set a blanket over Fayt's shoulders and let his hand rest on Fayt's blue hair briefly. As he turned to leave, Fayt finally managed to say something. “Do you hate me too?” he asked him.

Cliff shook his head. “Not really. I never thought it could last anyway.”

Fayt snorted an ironic laugh. “When we first started having sex, I thought that it couldn't last. For a while, I thought I must be wrong.” A small pause. “Guess not.”

Cliff wanted to say something, but what was there to say? Instead, he turned away and went back inside. Out of lack of anything else to do, he washed the dishes. He wandered around the living room for a bit, then decided that it was getting late and he might as well go to sleep. The upstairs bedroom was locked. He knocked. There was no reply, so either Albel had fallen asleep or wanted to be alone and hoped that silence was enough of a hint. Cliff knew where the key to the door was, but decided to leave the Elicoorian alone anyway.

It was a shame that that was the only bed in the cabin. Cliff found a spare blanket and curled up on the couch. When Fayt came inside, he slept in the armchair. His dreams were haunted by Cliff's silence and Albel's harsh, searing words.

Albel spent half the night sharpening and polishing his sword, and seriously considering how very close Fayt was at the moment, staring at the gleaming edge of the blade. His grip on the handle tightened and he rose from his position on the edge of the bed. Quietly, he crept down the stairs and looked at the two in the living room. He saw that both of them were asleep; Fayt slept fitfully and Cliff slept like a log on the couch and in fact only stirred briefly, then quieted when Albel pushed the door open the rest of the way. He waited until Cliff's breathing evened as he slipped back into a deeper sleep before stepping into the room.

The blade glinted in the moonlight streaming in through the windows. A light breeze ruffled his hair. Someone had left the window partway open, but it wasn't a cold night. He walked over to Fayt, recalling how, long ago, he had done this very thing before--very similar anyway. He had stood over him with his sword, and Fayt had been asleep. He should have just killed him then. He never should have let their relationship develop. Never should have… Oh, but there was nothing to be done about it now. How different things were now, compared to then. Oh, how things had changed. Should he…? He lifted the sword, swallowing hard, still undecided on the matter. He had thought that looking at the Earthling might tilt the scales in one direction or another; but it only seemed to make his decision more clouded.

He closed his eyes, thinking of every time Fayt had done something to him to hurt him. There was that time at Bequerel. Fayt's fault that he had been accused of treason. It was his fault that he had nearly died in prison. And now, after he had forgiven him for all that, put it behind him, and began a relationship of sorts with him, he was marrying Sophia. After all that, Fayt had given up.

Albel's grip on the sword tightened. Rage inundated his being. He glared down at Fayt. He wanted to kill him. How dare he plan to marry Sophia. How dare he. Images of Fayt with Sophia flooded his mind, tainted with hate… and hurt.

He lifted the sword higher, above Fayt. He would kill him. He couldn't let those images come to pass. Fayt and Sophia. Their wedding. I do. A kiss. Their first child. No. Absolutely not. He couldn't let it happen.

A hand wrapped around his wrist. Another arm wrapped around his stomach, pulling him away from Fayt. Albel felt his back thump against Cliff chest. Cliff held him close to him, keeping a firm grip on his wrist. “Don't do this,” he whispered. “Don't kill him because you can't have him.”

That wasn't why… The sword lowered. The point touched the floor. That was why. Albel hung his head. He couldn't believe he could be so outrageously jealous. Suddenly, all the fight died. He might have rebelled against Cliff and tried to kill Fayt anyway. But he no longer felt the volition, and Cliff had asked him not to. “All right.” He pulled away and went back upstairs alone. The door locked behind him. He angrily sheathed the sword and fell down on the bed again. He rolled onto his side in the middle of the big bed, alone. His legs curled up against his chest. Fayt, engaged.

He shifted a little, feeling the empty yawn of the large bed… a bed that was meant for three.

Cliff rubbed his temples. He could hardly believe that Albel had just about killed Fayt over this, and the same time, it wasn't that surprising really. Albel reacted violently to just about everything. This should have been expected. He sighed, sitting down heavily on the couch. He hung his head, burying his face in his hands. What could he do?

Fayt woke feeling sick. Not out of any physical illness, but mentally sick and emotionally scarred. He watched the dawn light slowly fill the room, too petrified of his dreams to try to sleep again. Dreams of walking down one path to see the path behind him close forever after he heard someone call out his name, but that person was lost with the path and he was alone. Dreams of running, chasing after Cliff or Albel and sometimes both of them, yet never managing to get close enough for them to hear him and they would disappear without ever once looking back at him. Dreams of pleading with Albel to understand, to not hate him, and dreams of Cliff's stony silence.

When the sun had completely risen, he slipped on his shoes and went for a walk. He wanted to look around Elicoor one lost time, and he wanted to be away from his nightmares. He had walked around a small forest path and walked back on the loop it took. He was staring straight down and nearly ran in to Cliff.

“Fayt, can we talk?” he asked him.

The Earthling looked up at the Klausian, a hopeless expression on his face. “Yes.”

“Good.” For some time, they walked in a sort of silence, the sound of a nearby brook and morning creatures stirring. Morning was a pleasant time, Cliff thought. “Do you know why Albel is so upset?”

“I'm leaving both of you for Sophia.”

Cliff sighed. “Part of it. He wants you, and you're leaving—forever.”
Fayt felt offended. “He told me to leave forever.”

“Only because he doesn't want to see you again after you told us you were marrying Sophia.” Cliff glanced up at the canopy above, watching the sunlight glisten on the morning dew in the leaves. “Why are you marrying Sophia? You said it was because you wanted to move on.”

Fayt nodded. “Yeah. Maybe some of it was pressure from our families, but I mean… We only see each other so often, and I want a real relationship.”

Cliff couldn't argue with that, so chose not to. “All right. Obviously, we can't work anything out. You're an Earthling, and I'm a Klausian.” He laughed. “That's almost taboo as it is. Also, we're guys. Add Albel into the mix, and we've got some major problems if we want to ever settle all three of us down on a developed planet... or even here for that matter. So, yeah, I see your point.”

“Do you hate me too?” Fayt wondered.

Cliff blinked and seriously considered this for a moment, then shook his head. “No. I understand. I'm not happy, but I'll live. So will Albel. So don't worry about it.”

He nodded. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

The path opened up back to the cabin again. Cliff split off and walked back to the cabin. Fayt took another path. When Cliff came inside, he found Albel in the kitchen with a hangover. He had apparently drunk the rest of the brandy sometime after the incident last night and was suffering the consequences of drinking on an empty stomach.

Cliff sighed deeply and gave him a pain killer for the headache and went to his ship to see about breakfast. As he was walking to the cabin with a large platter, Fayt happened by. Cliff handed him the platter and went back to get the other one. Fayt stared down at the food, wondering how he had suddenly become the serving boy, then shrugged and brought it inside. Albel was curled up on the couch with head pains.

“That's what you get for drinking so much,” Fayt reprimanded him. His voice had a teasing, almost playful edge to it as he attempted to make things a little less rough between them, as if maybe he could at least pretend that things hadn't changed. The dream was shattered fairly quickly; Albel hissed something offensive and rude at him, but Fayt ignored him. He sat down across from him. “I'm leaving in a few hours. I just wanted to tell you that if you ever change your mind about letting me come visit, you can always send me an e-mail.” Cliff had given Albel a communicator after the satellite had been put in place (and showed him how to use it). Albel kept it in a locked drawer in his room in Kirlsa under a fine layer of dust where it was disturbed from its resting place perhaps once a year—twice if Albel got particularly bored. Fayt knew this, but he was hopeful anyway. “I'd like to come back and see you again.”

Albel considered saying something rude, nearly said it automatically, then stopped himself just in time. He cleared his throat and said what was really on his mind. “Maybe some day.”

Fayt sighed in relief. Cliff came inside with the other tray and divided up plates and other such. They ate mostly in silence and Fayt helped Cliff with the dishes. Afterwards, Fayt went for another brief walk. He came back inside to get one last look around the cabin. It was nearing time for his taxi.

He got a call on his communicator informing him that it would be there in about half an hour or less. It was an hour early. Ordinarily, that may have been a good thing… but he didn't want to leave.

Fayt hauled his bags outside. That was a considerably shorter trip than he had thought it would be. Oh, well… Oh, well.

Fayt hugged Cliff goodbye and quietly requested that he kiss him one last time before he never could again. Cliff obliged him. The kiss lasted considerably longer than either had intended. Fayt was breathless at the end of it. He smiled up at Cliff, but the smile was tinged with sadness. He glimpsed Albel behind Cliff, standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

Fayt looked at him, his eyes pleading, but not saying a word. Albel looked back at him, his face impassive and his eyes shadowed by his hair. He turned his back to him and walked away. Outside, Fayt heard the sound of the taxi's engines. It had made good time.

“Albel…”

“Goodbye, Fayt,” Cliff said to him.

Fayt looked up at him. “Bye, Cliff.” He hesitated at the door, looking anxiously back at where he knew Albel to be, but the swordsman didn't come back out. “Bye, Albel.” Fayt hurried out the door, not looking behind him. He didn't see Albel walk back beside Cliff, and didn't turn to see them silently watching him leave

Cliff and Albel had gone to bed together that night. Neither were in the mood for words, so they let their bodies say goodbye forever. Some things the body says better than the mind.

When Cliff woke, Albel had vanished without a trace. His clothes, his sword, his armor, and his pack were all gone. Cliff didn't know why he bothered to search the cabin for him, or look outside for him. He knew he wasn't there and likely never would be again. He had left his key to the cabin sitting on the table, which meant more than any words could have. It was over and that was the end.

Well, maybe it was better this way. It certainly didn't feel better right now though. He felt pretty damn awful right now. He took his time packing up everything into his ship. He moved a box out of the way to make room for a bag. The lid slid partway off. He bent to replace the lid. He stilled as he realized what it was. The maid outfit. He picked it up off the floor, considering for a moment. He brought it back inside the cabin. He brought the flight attendant outfit and the fetish outfit he had for Fayt too. They had never got to that one, but he had put a lot of thought into it. Shame too; Fayt would have looked cute in the bunny outfit.

Oh, well.

He left them sitting upstairs on the bed. He shut all the doors to the house and turned off the generator, switching on the one that powered the security system and the shield. Nothing on this planet could break in without taking out a wall. And the place was so far away—who would be out here? He didn't care anyway. There was nothing here. It was just a place that they got together at. A place that was had been important, but now served no purpose. He sighed and left Elicoor II, probably forever.

Farewell, he thought..