Dried leaves and chilly winds blew around the land of Verendus on the last day of courtship between the two individuals nestled on the sofa, all bundled up as they shared their warmth. Enjoying the cozy atmosphere brought by the season’s change and the presence of one another. It was estimated that snow will fall and blanket every nook and corner of the country quite early this year. Windows growing misty during the evenings along with the visibility of one’s breath in the outdoors was testimony to this. It won’t be soon before winter comes and sweep the homes of every citizen preparing for the season where scarcity of resources was inevitable.

The wood burned, crackling under the fire’s searing touch. Briar’s attention solely focused on the flames dancing before them, unable to feel the sorcerer’s eyes trained on him the entire time as they sat there in silence. The incident of Castriel close to drowning has brought out many great things to light, but most of the young master’s feelings for him. Unexpected and sudden, the sorcerer was sure he was dreaming that day when they embraced and shared a kiss on the beach. However, what brought elation and more intrigue was what he saw as he sank down onto the ocean floor—brighter than the sun and the flames engulfing his wooden boat. The ocean is warm and welcoming even at its deepest depths.

I want to ask him, yet at the same time… Castriel stiffened when Briar then met his eyes, heart leaping in its cage at the beautiful smile sent his way. The shade of blue in those irises is the exact color of the ocean’s heart. Pulling the young man closer to him by the shoulder, Castriel cleared his throat.

“Briar, I have a question.” He started, suppressing his brows about to pinch together. Castriel swore those eyes sparkled whenever he spoke the young man’s name, knowing fully well the affection the other held which wounded him whenever he had doubts. Briar Solentine was a man who had a wardrobe of skeletons and ones he didn't want to show. It would be ungrateful of him to pry, especially when he was the one who saved his life from being claimed by the waters. “I was wondering… H-how does apple pie sound for this afternoon?”

I want to ask him, yet at the same time, I don’t want to hurt him or cause a bothersome rift between us. Not when we are doing better than where we started. He hasn’t even questioned why the boat caught fire…

Nuzzling his cheek against the shoulder of Castriel, the young man grinned. “Delicious. Why? Are you planning to make one?” The stiff form of the sorcerer did not go unnoticed by Briar, hand rubbing the arm around his shoulder in an attempt to ease the blond despite not knowing what may have caused such uneasiness. But he did have a hunch as to why, one he didn’t like at all—pushing down at the back of his mind, labeling it as paranoia.

Castriel hummed, relaxing as he tucks a stray strand of dark blue hair behind Briar’s ear. “Yes. We have lots of apples and the caretaker can give me the other ingredients I might lack. Do you want to, though?” Observing the other’s expression, trying to see if there were any significant changes or the littlest sign of rejection, Castriel held his breath as Briar merely stared at him.

The sorcerer’s question was answered when Briar leaned in to plant a kiss on the blond’s jaw, smiling. “Of course! It’s apple pie and will be baked by you, why wouldn’t I?” Giggling at the relieved reaction of the museum curator, Briar pointed at the kitchen. “I could help you slice the apples right now.”

The sorcerer stood up, nodding at the offer. “I’ll get the basket from the storage then.” Watching the blond leave, Briar’s smile faltered a little. Exhaling deeply, he averted his gaze back to the fireplace, attention on the fire flickering. If he were to tell anyone he didn’t have doubts about his relationship with Castriel despite knowing he loved the man, he would be lying to himself.

I’m aware we feel mutual, however… To what extent? Biting his thumb, Briar sat there in deep thought. The month was almost over and December will greet them tomorrow with the sun up in the sky. He also had to make a decision as soon as he gets back home. Such thoughts have been circulating in his head the whole time. However, what was bothering him was whether Castriel truly liked him as much as he does. The fear of an affection obtained at an early stage dwindling was not common—Briar knew better than to force a person to commit forever. Icarus was an example.

What if Castriel doesn’t want to see me anymore after this courtship? What if he changes his mind?

In the middle of slicing and peeling apples, more and more questions surfaced in his mind. Distracting him at times that even Castriel took notice of it, concern was written all over his face as he told the young master to sit down instead of exerting himself in case he was tired.

What would await him back home? Would he be losing the two men he held dear? Somehow, he didn’t want to leave just yet and spend more time with Castriel. What was indeed waiting for him there—immense heartache and sorrow perhaps. With how Icarus’ mother promised to wed her son to a count’s daughter, Briar wished he and the Lir’s weren’t neighbors for once. He wished he wasn’t bound to a curse. He wished he could love Icarus as freely as the nephilim could have soared the skies. He wished he didn’t have doubts about whether Castriel truly loves him and isn’t marrying him out of pity.

“Briar?” Castriel walked off from the oven where the apple pie was still under immense heat, the aromatic scent wafted around. Yet it wasn’t enough to have the young man shift his thoughts to a brighter perspective, descending faster than a flightless bird tossed into the air. “What’s wrong—”

“I don’t want to…” Briar glanced up from the ground where he tried to keep his tears from escaping, but such a feat was difficult. “I don’t want to go yet. Castriel, let’s stay here! I don’t want to go back to that town and see Icarus…” Trailing off, the young man covered his face, lips quivering as a sob threatened to leave his throat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be behaving this way—not when this is our last night together. I understand if you don’t want to marry me after this or even remain friends.”

The emotion behind the sorcerer’s irises was unreadable but was far from disapproval. He then knelt to the ground, hand enveloping Briar’s as he whispered. “There’s nothing to apologize for. Briar, please don’t cry… I hate to see you in such damp spirits—why do you say you don’t want to go back? What’s the matter? Whatever it is, I shall make it all right. I give you my word.” Raising the young man’s face by the chin, Castriel smiled. “Tell me, darling.”

“I… I’m afraid you wouldn’t want to see me anymore the moment we part ways.” Briar admitted softly, pulling his gaze away from Castriel’s, and decided to stare down at his fiddling fingers. “I-it terrifies me that I’ll be losing someone I love again.”

“Nonsense.” Castriel chides gently, wrapping his arms around the weeping young man and tightly embracing him in reassurance. “That won’t happen at all. I love you too much to let you go—I’d be a fool!” Suddenly, the sorcerer pulled away to press his forehead against Briar’s, wiping the teardrops on the smooth cheek. “Marrying you would be a dream come true and a chance I won’t give up for anything. If you will have me…” He then pressed a kiss on the young master’s hand, remaining eye contact. “Briar Solentine, will you be my husband?”

༻❈༺

“Isn’t he here yet?” Margareth sighed, fighting back the urge to bite her nails as she paced around the living room. Kingsley remained quiet, standing behind her in patience. Patience running thin, the lady of the house then went out and stood by the front door. The heels of her shoe clicked against the wooden panels of the floor softly as she hugged herself. The first taste of winter blew its icy breeze against her, urging her to walk back in to take her coat from the rack when the sound of horse hooves captured her ears.

“Aunt Marge!” Briar waved at the lady awaiting his return by the front door accompanied by the butler. Seeing her nephew, Lady Margareth clapped her hands excitedly as the carriage halted in front of the house. Exiting his ride, Briar ran up to her in glee before he was welcomed into her arms, the lady hugging him tightly. “I missed you, Aunt Marge. Have you been doing well?”

“I missed you too, my boy.” Kissing her nephew on the cheek, she pulled away to raise a brow in curiosity. Shifting her gaze from Briar and to the sorcerer who then climbed out of the carriage, hands full with the young master’s luggage. “What took you so long, though? I expected you to arrive yesterday morning! Did something occur on your way here?”

“No, not at all,” Briar responded, tone giving away his hidden exhaustion but still beamed in obvious happiness to be back home. “I have good news to tell you, but Castriel and I haven’t had any dinner yet. Would it be all right if we discuss it over a meal? He and I are famished.”

Kingsley stepped forward to help the museum curator in taking Briar’s luggage. Grinning at the sight of the lady, Castriel presented himself with a bow after he removed his hat. “Good evening, Lady Margareth. I do apologize if we have come too late for Briar wished to stay longer in the villa.” Ignoring the pout on Briar’s face, he chuckled. “Please do accept my token of apology.”

Taking the basket that held an apple pie, Lady Margareth hummed in approval. “Very well. Come on in, it’s cold out here. I’ll have Kingsley whip us up hot soup and steak.”

The buzz of returning home, tales to tell, and unpacking gave more energy to Briar than he expected. Dozing off on the train back to town proved to be beneficial as he was rather much more energized than the sorcerer who opted to read the entire trip, yawning on the way to the Solentine household. And as Briar stepped out to the garden to see what may have changed, he couldn’t stop himself from gazing up at the Lir household a few feet away from him. At the sight of it, Briar exhaled lightly.

Icarus wasn’t inside, he knew that. Off to be a soldier at the palace and will be coming home when the snow starts to fall. And other than his family, he might be welcomed by his future wife soon on his birthday. No space left for Briar to cherish and occupy in Icarus’ life, no matter how small it is.

And Briar had to accept that. He had to, yet just when he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him due to how dark it was, Icarus emerged from the garden’s darkest corner with a look of desperation and surprise.

“I-Icarus?” Briar couldn’t believe the nephilim was home, much less standing in the garden and not at the palace which was located far away. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be…” Voice fading into the silence of the night made bearable by the crickets singing their nightly tunes, he watched in trepidation as Icarus approached him. Grass crunched under his boot as he made his way close to the young master. The corner of his lips curled up faintly. Paying no heed to his aching knees and back while waiting for his friend’s return.

Briar was now home and that was all that mattered to him.

“Briar…” Icarus whispered, reaching out to embrace his friend but stopped. His eyes widened upon realizing what he was about to do. Clearing his throat, he then spoke. “I’m glad you’ve arrived safe and sound. I was beginning to worry your new suitor whisked you off without warning.” When he heard no reply, Icarus furrowed his eyebrows. “Is there something wrong?”

“You shouldn’t be here.” The young master mumbled, refusing to meet Icarus in the eyes, and remained staring at the ground. “Icarus, you should be at the palace doing whatever a soldier should be tasked to do. Not waiting out here in the dark or what. What if your mother finds out?”

“My mother is busy with more pressing matters.” Icarus simply replied, uncaring of what his family might think when he deserted his post upon learning Briar was returning from his trip. “What’s important to me is that you’re here. I was worried something might have happened to you since your hom—”

“Why are you tormenting me like this?” Briar’s interruption caused the nephilim to raise his brows. “I thought you wouldn’t want to speak to me again. After you broke my heart that day, saying you will never love me… Why would you play with my heart like this? Saying you’re glad that I’ve arrived safely… Waiting for me… Why?” Head shooting up, Briar’s teary eyes narrowed themselves at Icarus. “Why won’t you let me move on?”

Sighing, Icarus then pulled the young master into his arms and held him there despite the futile attempts from Briar, who wanted to break loose. It then dawned upon the nephilim that he was hated and not needed—heart aching and twisting in his chest at Briar’s words. Hurting more than the punches he received as the young man continue to resist.

“Stop it, Briar.”

“Let me go!”

“Briar, just listen to me—”

“I don’t want to!”

Forcing the young man to look up, Icarus held him by the jaw and gazed at him intently. Briar halted his struggle and stared back, tears rolling down his cheek at the image of Icarus’ worried expression. He didn’t know what to believe in anymore. Just when he had found the happiness he wanted and deserved from Castriel, here was Icarus doing the exact opposite of what he said that day.

“Briar, listen to me… please?” Words uttered like a prayer, Icarus’ green irises continued to capture Briar’s blue ones as they stood there in the garden, the same place where they first met and parted ways. It made Briar shed more tears. The way he was being held right now, Icarus demanding his undivided attention—Briar wished it was out of love.

The nephilim winced at Briar’s tearful face, unable to bear the image of it burning into the core of his eyes and his soul. He didn’t want to see Briar cry; it was the last thing he wanted to witness. Caressing the young man’s cheek, Icarus was about to lean in when the sound of footsteps grew louder.

“Briar?”

The nephilim straightened his spine at the sight of the intruder who interrupted his moment with Briar. Not bothering to put any distance between him and the tearful young man in his arms despite being in the presence of someone else. But to Briar, it mattered and immediately created distance between them. His whole face burned red and up to the tips of his ears. This made Icarus’ chest tighten, stunned at the action but remained still.

“Oh, good evening, Sir. You must be Icarus Lir.”

“And who might you be?”