Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This page is just to say hi and that this book will contain:

• Fluff
• Enemies to lovers and other tropes like that
• Possible character death ??
• Anything else I forgot to put

Chapter Text

Frederick paused his work on the music composition, his gaze shifting from his cluttered desk to the novelist seated nearby. A gentle curiosity danced in his eyes as he contemplated the question that had been lingering on his mind. "Dearest," he began, his voice a soft melody that harmonized with the ambient sounds of the manor. "I have a question for you."

Orpheus, with a poetic grace, lifted his eyes from the worn pages of his journal and offered a faint, noncommittal sound in response. His lips formed a gentle "mhm?"—a subtle acknowledgment that invited further inquiry.

"You said Orpheus wasn't your real name, no?" Frederick's words hung in the air, imbued with a delicate curiosity. The composer set his pen down, turning his body to fully face the enigmatic figure beside him. He had no intention of pressing Orpheus for an answer, though; after all, "Orpheus" was the name he had chosen to present to the world. But a tender curiosity tugged at Frederick's heart, nudging him to seek a deeper understanding of the person he loved. 

Orpheus' expression rippled with a fleeting frown, a delicate sign of internal contemplation. Yet, instead of uttering a single word, he retreated into silence, his gaze dropping back to the pages of his journal. With a sigh as light as a summer breeze, Frederick acquiesced, returning to his work on the composition. He was perceptive enough to recognize a subtle signal, even without explicit words. Still, his eyes occasionally wandered toward Orpheus, drawn to the sight of his slender fingers delicately dancing across the page as he continued to write. Frederick couldn't help but notice that Orpheus, contrary to his previous observations, was now employing his left hand, a detail that had eluded him until this moment. He had always believed Orpheus to be right-handed, but perhaps he possessed the uncanny ability to traverse between both realms, a true embodiment of ambidexterity.

Frederick possessed an inherent talent for noticing the minutiae of his partner's being. From the ever-present, mischievous smirk that graced Orpheus' lips to the contagious joy that sparked in his eyes while playing games with Alice, he took note of each detail with a fervent dedication. He knew precisely how many steps it took Orpheus to journey from the dining room to the piano room—a precise count of one hundred and twenty-two, sometimes interrupted by meandering conversations or impromptu diversions. Late into the night, as the world slumbered, Frederick was privy to Orpheus' secret artistry, not in the realm of writing, but in the realm of drawing. With an unwavering devotion to his stories, Orpheus crafted each stroke with meticulous care, ensuring that every detail was perfect and each word resonated in perfect harmony. For Orpheus, nothing occurred without reason, and Frederick cherished that sentiment. The doodles etched alongside the rough drafts were visual guides, a symbiotic connection between words and images.

Occasionally, instead of doodles, Frederick discovered scattered lines of music. With a patient curiosity, he would decipher the chaotic bars and attempt to play them on the piano. They didn't always sound flawless, but Frederick discerned the raw beauty woven within. In fact, as he glanced down at his unfinished composition, he realized that he could offer assistance—a union of their artistic souls, each enhancing the other's craft.

Yet, Frederick understood that his understanding of Orpheus extended far beyond his artistic endeavors. He had witnessed Orpheus' laughter, a pure, unadulterated sound that caused him to cover his mouth, concealing the unique imperfection in his teeth. Frederick had grown fond of that endearing quality, often remarking on its distinctiveness. He had observed the small dimples that danced upon Orpheus' face when they conversed about the future, those enchanting crevices a testament to their shared dreams. And in moments of quiet intimacy, when Orpheus enveloped him in a tight embrace, Frederick felt a love that transcended words—a love that defied the bounds of time and space. Even in the hushed stillness of sleep or the simple act of sitting together as Orpheus engrossed himself in a book, Frederick could perceive the rhythmic rise and fall of Orpheus' chest, a steady reminder of his existence and devotion.

Frederick had never anticipated that Orpheus possessed an aptitude for observing the subtle intricacies of life—a characteristic he initially attributed to his partner's vocation as a writer. But in that hushed moment, as the silence wove a delicate web around them, Orpheus shattered the stillness with his unexpected revelation.

"I don't remember my real name," Orpheus confessed, his voice awash with a quiet vulnerability that cut through the air, reverberating within Frederick's heart.

Frederick's gaze lifted from his sheet of music, his eyes reflecting a mixture of empathy and understanding as they met Orpheus' own. In that instant, they both knew that the pursuit of a forgotten past held no importance. The beauty of their present, bound by an unbreakable love, eclipsed any need for answers.

Though Orpheus did not know his name, he need not to.

Chapter Text

Ada let out a small sigh as she looked through the paperwork on the clipboard. The name she saw hurt her heart; that's not his name. His name was Emil, not...

She shook her head and looked at the door in front of her. She took the key from her belt and unlocked the door. She stepped into the room, eyes on her husband's sleeping form. He hadn't moved since his... treatment the day before. She sat on the bed with him, moving his head into her lap and combing her hands through his hair. No matter how she touched him, he remained still, deathly still. 

Her fingernails lightly scratched at his partially damaged scalp, careful of every scar she had memorized by now. She knew every piece of the broken man on her lap by heart, and she's more surprised he let her than how easy it was to map each bump or bruise or scar out. 

It was long before they had been romantically entangled, let along platonically. It had been exactly six days since she had begun her work with him. He had been resisting treatment. Nothing was working, so, against better judgement, there began the new treatments with Dr Ada Mesmer. Though the majority of the staff counted on her downfall, the doctor was determined to make a difference with the boy sat in front of her. 

"I'm dangerous," he had told her one day. It was sudden. The room was silent before he spoke, "I'm dangerous and violent." 

"What makes you think that?" the woman tilted her head. Her brown curls were pulled back into a ponytail, unusual for herself, but she believed it looked more professional. 

"You've never harmed anyone, Elspeth. You're doing well here." 

His eyes stared at her blankly, "Emil." 

Dr Mesmer paused and raised an eyebrow, "Emil?" She leaned forward in her chair and tilted her head to the side. 

"I'd prefer... Emil," there was a light pause to his words and Ada noticed his hesitation, as if he were saying something wrong. 

"Right," she nodded, "Emil." 

The rest of the session was mostly empty small talk. Emil reiterated how he was 'dangerous and violent', but when Ada asked what he meant, he simply shook his head and repeated himself. With the past treatments, if the amnesia he had coming to the asylum wasn't enough, she was sure the rest of the staff had shocked the memory out of him.

In the present, Ada felt Emil start to stir and lightly pulled her hand back only for a moment, to let him shift. When he turned over, she caught sight of each self-inflicted scar on his body. Most were old, though some were recent. She felt herself cringe as she lost count at twelve on his left wrist. She kept her eyes locked on his thin, emaciated form. He wasn't being fed enough, she noted to herself. That was, she then reminded herself, for a reason, but that doesn't mean she liked it anymore. 

Emil tried to sit up on his own, groaning. Ada immediately assisted him, before undoing his straitjacket. The sounds of his bones popping in and out of their places made Ada wince slightly. As always, she ignored it to concentrate on getting Emil out of the restraints. They fell off easily enough after a few minutes, even with her shaking hands. Once freed from the restraint, she gently ran her hands through his hair, again careful of the scars.

She wondered, mostly to herself, what he had been before all of this. Maybe he was smart and recognized. Maybe he was kind and helpful. Maybe he was mysterious and tender. Maybe... so many maybes. All she really knows is -- no matter how silly it may be -- she wishes she were able to be there. If not to be there, then to at least break down the mental walls, to see what's left of him in his skull. There are a lot of things inside his head she wishes she could see, touch, and feel. She's sure there's things Emil, himself, would like to know. 

That's where most of his self-destructive tendencies come from: what he doesn't remember. Ada reaches down, taking a moment to lift her husband's shirt from his stomach. Her eyes wanted to blur to shield themselves from the gruesome sight of scars, most new but some old. Each was self-made, Ada assumed correctly. 

"I'm sorry," Emil mumbled, "but it's the only thing I can do anymore. Everything's so different when you're not here." 

"I'm not angry," she said. She pet his head lightly and watched as he laid back on her lap. His body returned to the still, lifeless form, with some light body jerks and twitches every once in a while. He had changed so much since he got here -- not for the better, though. His skin tone became paler, and he was thinner. Some of the scars from when they found him were healed over, but in their place were a hundred times more. Not to mention, he could hardly have a single coherent thought anymore. Ada looked over him. Her blue eyes were focused mostly on his movements, looking temporarily into his while he stared up at her.

She ran her hands along Emil's arm and onto his shoulder. Then he took and placed her hand onto his stomach, a strange gesture of safely. Ada rubbed where her hand was placed and yet, he remained still. Usually, when she did this, Emil lightly kicked his foot, something like a dog. Instead, this time, Ada received a rather quick and jolting head tilt. She stood up and helped the shell of her husband to get his straitjacket back on. As much as she hated it, it was for his own good. She leaned down and kissed him, before petting him again.

"Goodnight, Emil," she said, "I'll return tomorrow."

While finally walking herself back down the hallway, Ada finally felt herself break apart. Her emotions were flowing freely through her mind, and soon enough, they had turned into tears. He was dying. He was going to die in this place and there was nothing she was able to do to help him. 

Or...

Ada wiped her face and sniffled. Maybe, there is one way to save her husband. She glanced down at the handmade wire ring on her hand. It wasn't much, it was just a wire from a bed spring, but it was beautiful, and it fit her finger perfectly. Emil had spent so much time on it, she was sure. They could start a family, a large family. Exactly everything they've ever talked about, and they'll be happy. And so will the children, who would inherit Emil's strength, agility, and beauty. They would grow up together, learn to love each other, and live forever. 

"Mr Mesmer?" a voice broke her silence. She blinked and looked towards the door to see the young nurse standing before her. 

"Yes, hello," Ada forced a smile, "I'd prefer Dr Mesmer, though." 

The woman smiled politely, "Dr Mesmer it is, then. Can we talk in your office?" 

Ada nodded, and she walked alongside the nurse, trying to keep her mind focused. She would plan their escape later. 

"I've been wanting to talk about Miss Elspeth," the younger nurse sat down across from Ada at her desk. 

"You need not use the formalities with me, Emily," Ada lightly nodded to her, "but what about my patient would you like to talk about?" 

"Yes, apologies," Emily blushed lightly, "she seems to have developed a very strong affection for you." 

Ada blinked and leaned back, tilting her head in false confusion, "Affection? Is there any particular reason why she has such an attachment to me?" As much as the word 'she' about her lovely husband burned, she needed to lie. They were just playing pretend. 

"Well," Emily shifted uncomfortably in her seat, "it seems she is quite fond of you. A bit too fond, perhaps." 

"I see," Ada smiled softly, "how odd." 

Emily nodded and cleared her throat before continuing on, "now, the part that confuses me is that your treatment seems to be stalling." 

Ada silently raised an eyebrow and clasped her hands together against her mouth with her elbows on the desk. She nodded to prompt Emily to go forward. 

"Since your treatment is stalling," Emily cleared her throat again, "there's only one more form of treatment we can use." 

Ada felt her heart drop to her feet. Her mouth was dry, but she tried to swallow the lump in her throat, "a lobotomy is out of the question, Emily." 

"Dr Mesmer, Elspeth is—" 

"It's out of the question!" Ada snapped, before sitting back and taking a moment to calm down. She pinched the bridge of her nose, "Elspeth is fine. She is making progress. She's verbal now, you know." 

"Yes, yes, I know, she's verbal," Emily played with the rings on her fingers. 

"She's verbal and completely communicative," Ada repeated.

"Yes, I know," Emily stood up, "but your hypnotherapy isn't working anymore and a lobotomy would. It'd fix her pattern of combative behavior and sudden jolts. It also would solve the problem of her schizophrenia and add a certain amount of rationality to her behavior, which can lead to positive change in both her behaviors and her health. This would improve her overall mental status tremendously as well."

Ada frowned deeply, "I don't want this for *my* patient, Emily."

"And I understand that, but we need to do what is best for her," Emily calmly stood up and nodded to Ada before walking out of the room.

Ada sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose once again. She supposed that her escape plan would need to happen sooner rather than later. That's fine, she thought as she lifted her head up. She could do sooner.

She could do sooner.

Chapter Text

The sound of his own heart thumping in his ears was deafening to Frederick. His heart pounded like the beat of a bass drum, the sound echoing inside his chest. Was this real? Was he really going to be hunted down like some kind of wild animal? The thought made him feel like he was trapped in some sick, twisted game. The anxiety that had been building inside him like a dam threatening to break was now spilling out, wild and uncontrolled. His blood pumped frantically through his veins as he paced back and forth, his mind racing at a hundred miles an hour. 

The world around him was a blur, a chaotic mess of colors and sounds that made no sense. He couldn't focus on anything, couldn't hear or feel anything clearly. His body shook uncontrollably as he struggled to catch his breath. Panic was taking over, and he felt like he was losing his mind. 

Before he knew it, he crumpled to the ground, his knees sinking into the mud. He didn't care about the stains that would surely be left behind. All he could think about was the fact that he was going to be hunted like a wild animal. It was a sick joke, a twisted game that made him feel sick to his stomach. 

Orpheus looked over at Frederick's crumpled form, his heart breaking at the sight of him. He took a step forward, gently resting a hand on Frederick's shoulder. "Mr. Kreiburg?" he said softly, not wanting to startle him. Slowly, he pulled him up into a standing position. "I know you're scared," he said, his voice soothing. 

Frederick's face, once a portrait of stoicism, now resembled a grotesque mask of terror, his eyes bulging with fear like a hunted animal. He shot Orpheus a glance that spoke volumes, pleading with him to find a way out of this nightmare. "We're going to be hunted!" he exclaimed, his voice quivering with dread. "Like we're nothing more than game animals!"

As if on cue, the forest around them erupted with a cacophony of sounds, rustling leaves, snapping twigs, and the distant howls of what sounded like hounds. Orpheus instinctively tensed up, every muscle in his body coiled tight like a spring, ready to bolt at the slightest provocation.

"Humans are the most dangerous game," Orpheus muttered under his breath, cursing himself for the unintended comment.

Frederick's eyes widened with panic as he stared at Orpheus, his mouth agape with disbelief. "How can you not be panicking right now?" he asked, his voice shaking with terror.

Orpheus couldn't help but glance around nervously, his heart pounding so loudly in his chest he was sure it was audible. "Believe me, I am," he admitted. "But we have to stay calm. We have to think."

"How can we think when we're going to die?" Frederick's voice was almost a wail of despair, his voice cracking with emotion.

Orpheus reached out, gently brushing away a tear from Frederick's cheek. He felt a pang of sympathy for the man in front of him, who leaned into the touch. "We'll figure something out," he said, his voice firm and reassuring. "We're not going to die today. Not if I have anything to say about it."

Frederick sniffled, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Okay," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Okay." The tears may have stopped, but the fear remained, a heavy weight on both of their shoulders.

Orpheus reached out and took his companion's hand in his, his fingers intertwining with his partner's as he gazed into his eyes with an unwavering intensity. "Let's get the hell out of here," he said with a voice that rang with determination, a sense of purpose emanating from his very being. It was as though the entire universe had aligned itself in his favor, and nothing could deter him from his goal.

With a newfound fervor, the two of them set off towards the center of the so called "Map", their hearts pounding in their chests and their minds racing with the task ahead. The path ahead was shrouded in mystery and danger, and they both knew that the road to success was fraught with peril. Despite this, they pushed forward with a single-minded determination, their feet pounding against the ground as they moved ever closer to their goal.

Chapter Text

Myles's heart raced with the intensity of a thunderstorm, its wild beats echoing through his chest like the rolling sound of a timpani. His gaze was fixed upon Lucas, who stood before him like a tree growing from nothing, emanating a sense of invincibility and fearlessness. Myles stared at him with a newfound intensity, his eyes sparkling with a depth of love and adoration that he had never experienced before. His grip on Lucas's hand was tight and unwavering, as if he were clutching onto a lifeline amidst the tumultuous sea of his emotions. The way Lucas's hand felt in his was like a warm embrace, a source of comfort amidst the tempest of emotions that raged within him.

"When we make it out of here," Myles's voice trembled with emotion, his eyes focused on Lucas, "we're going to get married and start the family we've always talked about." Lucas's heart skipped a beat, and a giddy feeling of elation bubbled up inside him. He smiled, his eyes lighting up the dim room, as if all his wildest dreams had been granted.

"I thought you weren't ready," Lucas teased, his voice full of happiness. Myles's fingers traced along Lucas's jawline, his touch as soft as silk. "Coming this close to death changes things, my love," he whispered, and Lucas's heart swelled with emotion. They had been through so much together, and now, in this moment, it felt like all their hardships had brought them closer than ever.

Lucas looked at Myles with shining eyes, filled with love and affection, and Myles felt a surge of gratitude. He felt so lucky to have found someone like Lucas, someone who had stuck with him through thick and thin. They had faced danger together and come out alive, and now, they would face the rest of their lives together, as partners in every sense of the word.

As they held each other close, savoring the sensation of being alive and together, Myles's heart pounded in his chest like a wild beast trying to escape its cage. The fear that had taken hold of them all lingered in the air like a heavy fog, yet he knew what he had to do. He leaned in, until his forehead was touching Lucas's, and closed his eyes. His lips moved towards Lucas's, the soft and tender kiss that followed was filled with so much love and warmth that it seemed to melt away the icy grip of fear and uncertainty.

As they pulled away from each other, Myles's hand found Lucas's, and together they walked towards the open exit gate, slipping through it side by side. The sun was setting in the distance, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink. They were alone, surrounded by the quiet, stillness of the evening.

In that moment, the world around them seemed to fade away, and they were the only two people left in the universe. The faint sound of a bird singing in the distance was the only reminder that there was a world beyond them. They walked on, their steps in sync, the warmth of their hands intertwined. It was a moment of pure bliss, a moment where they both knew that nothing else mattered as long as they had each other.

With adrenaline still coursing through their veins, Lucas and Myles stumbled to a halt as they finally found themselves in a safe haven. In an outburst of emotion, Lucas leaped forward and wrapped Myles in an embrace so tight it could have crushed the breath from his lungs. Myles, laughing in elation, reciprocated the hug by draping his arm over the broad shoulders of the taller man. They stood there, basking in the afterglow of their triumph, reveling in the warmth and safety of each other's embrace. oooo

For a moment, they allowed themselves to forget the world around them again, to forget the weight of responsibility that came with their roles in the manor. With each other, they were invincible, and all was right with the world. As they made their way back into the manor, it was as if the clouds that had been obscuring their future had parted, allowing the sun to shine down upon them once more. 

With a newfound sense of purpose, they strode through the halls of the manor, their steps lighter than they had been in ages. The future looked brighter than ever before, and they were determined to seize it with both hands. They knew that as long as they had each other, they could overcome any obstacle. It was as if they had been granted a second chance at life, and they were determined to make the most of it.

Chapter Text

As the first delicate rays of dawn filtered through the heavy, nearly opaque curtains, the room was transformed into a haven of serenity and warmth. The symphony of bird songs outside seemed to weave a cocoon of tranquility around Norton and his companion, their melodies blending seamlessly with the gentle glow of the rising sun. The air carried a hint of a floral scent, a touch of lavender and vanilla that added a layer of softness to the room.

Norton, still lingering in the sweet embrace of sleep, shifted ever so slightly, his movements now imbued with a sense of contentment and peace. With a tender touch, he drew his companion even closer, creating a sanctuary of intimacy and comfort. His arms enveloped the man in a protective embrace, a gesture of love and security that spoke volumes without a word.

Norton's face nuzzled into the curve of his companion's neck, finding solace in the familiar scent that lingered there. It was a scent of home he'd never had: a home of love and belonging. It wrapped around them like a cozy blanket, warding off any lingering shadows of doubt or worry.

In this moment, bathed in the gentle morning light and surrounded by the harmonious melodies of nature, Norton and his companion found themselves in a haven of peace and love, where time seemed to stand still, and the world outside faded into insignificance. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated coziness, a sanctuary of warmth and affection that they shared, cocooned in their own little world of love.

In the hushed stillness of the morning, Norton's mind was a canvas painted with the vivid hues of their turbulent night. The tendrils of memory wound around his thoughts like creeping ivy, each recollection a poignant brushstroke that brought the scene to life once more.

The echo of Orpheus's declaration lingered in the air, a fragile confession that hung between them like a delicate thread. Norton could almost feel the weight of those words, heavy with unspoken truths and unyielding emotions. The warmth of Orpheus's touch, so familiar and yet so distant, reverberated through him, stirring a tumultuous symphony of conflicting feelings within his chest.

The accusing words that had flown between them in their heated exchange now seemed like distant echoes, distorted by the passage of time and softened by the light of a new day. Tears, shed in a moment of unbridled vulnerability, glistened like precious jewels in his memory, a testament to the depth of their connection and the fragility of their bond.

As Norton gazed down at Orpheus's sleeping form, his heart ached with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. The veil of secrecy that shrouded their connection, a cloak woven from the threads of society's expectations and their own insecurities, hung heavy over them. And yet, in this moment of intimacy and tenderness, he knew that their love was a flame that refused to be extinguished, a force of nature that defied all constraints.

Norton understood, in the quiet recesses of his heart where truths lay bare and unspoken. Orpheus, the high-class pampered cat, and he, the street dog, a stray fighting for scraps in a world that looked down upon him. Their love was a forbidden fruit, a delicate secret that they guarded fiercely, a fragile bloom that dared to blossom in the shadows of their separate worlds. And in that moment, as he stifled a laugh that threatened to escape, Norton knew that their connection was a flame that burned bright and untamed, a force of nature that defied all boundaries.

A subtle shift in movement stirred Norton from his reverie, coaxing his gaze towards Orpheus as he shifted in his slumber. The sight of the novelist's tranquil visage coaxed a tender smile from Norton, who gently brushed away a stray tendril of hair that cascaded over his brow.

In that fleeting instant, a profound question flitted through Norton's thoughts: what exactly defined their relationship? Yet, he swiftly dispelled the query, deeming it premature for such introspection. Instead, he focused on Orpheus, noting the serenity that graced his features, akin to a gentle breeze caressing his soul.

As Orpheus's heavy lids fluttered open, Norton's soft greeting unfurled like a lilting melody, "Mornin', mi cariño..." The warmth of Orpheus's smile, reminiscent of the morning sun, radiated tenderness and affection, stirring a deep yearning within Norton's heart. Orpheus, the enigmatic wordsmith with a dual nature of gentleness and ferocity, held Norton captive, his presence casting a luminous spell that ensnared Norton's very being. Norton realized that Orpheus shone like the sun at its zenith.

With a radiance that rivaled the sun's brilliance, Orpheus exuded kindness and love, despite the shadows that veiled his past. In this moment, however, Orpheus stood as the sun to Norton's moon, the one he longed to orbit, the object of his deepest affections.

"Good morning," Orpheus murmured, his voice still tinged with sleep, "thank you for staying, despite my request for secrecy. I know it must pain you."

Norton waved off the weight of their clandestine relationship with a crooked grin, "It's fine. We can be whoever we want behind closed doors, society be damned. After all, we're not dating, are we?"

Orpheus's response carried a hint of ambiguity, "We aren't not together."

Norton felt Orpheus's gaze trace his features, his finger delicately skimming over the old scars that marred Norton's arms. A comfortable silence settled between them as Orpheus continued his silent exploration, his eyes mirroring the path of his touch.

As the sun met the moon's gaze, a tender affection washed over Orpheus's countenance, "I believe I shall skip breakfast this morning. I prefer to spend this time with you."

"I have never been one for morning meals," Norton confessed with another smile, "so I'm more than content with that."

The two fell into a hushed tranquility once more as Orpheus closed his eyes, allowing Norton to draw closer, sensing the faint tremor that coursed through Orpheus as he exhaled. In that ephemeral moment, the moon felt as though it shone as brilliantly as the sun itself, casting a luminous glow over their shared universe of love and longing. Each glance exchanged between them was like a dance of light and shadow, revealing the depth of their emotions and the unspoken promises that lingered between them, like echoes of a melody waiting to be heard. Their bond, though hidden from the world, burned with a fierce intensity, a flame that refused to be extinguished by the darkness that threatened to consume it.

As they basked in the warmth of their shared affection, it was as though the very air around them crackled with the energy of their unspoken desires, weaving a tapestry of passion and longing that only they could understand. And in that moment, as the sun continued its ascent, casting a golden glow over their entwined forms, Norton knew that their love, he dared to call it, was a force of nature, a blazing beacon in the vast expanse of the universe, guiding them through the shadows and into the light.

The moon held the sun, deciding to fall back asleep with him.

Chapter Text

Emil found himself seated in the dimly lit room, the flickering flames of the fireplace casting dancing shadows on the walls like spectral dancers.  The steady tick of the clock reverberated through the chamber, a ceaseless drumbeat that pounded in his mind like a relentless echo.  Tick, tick, tick. Each sound seemed to drill deeper into his consciousness, stirring up memories he fought to suppress.

With a heavy sigh, Emil closed his eyes, seeking solace in the presence of Ada beside him.  Her gentle warmth radiated, a beacon of comfort in the midst of his inner chaos.  Ada, with her soft brown hair cascading like a river of silk down her back, exuded a sense of calm serenity.  As she leaned into him, her eyes closed in peaceful repose, she appeared like an ethereal oasis amidst the turmoil of Emil's thoughts.

Ada had always been Emil's rock, a steady anchor in the tempest of his emotions.  She had been the light that guided him through his darkest hours, a soothing balm for his wounded soul.  He had convinced himself that he loved her, that she was the missing piece to his fractured spirit.

Yet, as he gazed upon her now, doubt crept into his heart like a shadow.  Was it truly love that he felt for Ada, or was it merely a longing for the solace she provided?  The question gnawed at him, leaving him adrift in a sea of uncertainty and confusion.

The relentless ticking of the clock persisted, a constant reminder of the fleeting nature of time.  Frustration bubbled up within Emil, a desire to silence the mocking sound that seemed to taunt his inner turmoil.  He yearned to break free from the suffocating grip of his thoughts, to escape the shackles of uncertainty that bound him.

The rhythmic ticking of the clock continued, each tick punctuating the air like a drumbeat of turmoil.  The sound jabbed at Emil's already frayed nerves, amplifying the desperation that surged through him like a storm.  It was a maddening cacophony, a symphony of chaos that mirrored the turmoil of his emotions.

Amidst the chaos, Emil longed for a moment of clarity, a respite from the tempest of his conflicting emotions.  The clock, with its unwavering ticking, served as a cruel reminder of the inner conflict that churned within him, a ticking time bomb of unresolved feelings.

This sanctuary, once promised as a haven by Ada, now felt like a prison closing in on him.  The walls seemed to press in, suffocating him with their oppressive weight.  Emil couldn't help but draw a comparison to the asylum he once resided in, a place where physical pain was temporary.  Here, in this supposed paradise, the agony was internal and unending.

Tick, tick, tick.

The sound echoed through the room like a chant, a constant reminder of Emil's racing heart.  His body trembled with the weight of his emotions, the turmoil threatening to consume him.  Ada, sensing his distress, reached out to him, her voice a gentle beacon in the storm.

"Emil, are you alright?" she inquired, her eyes mirroring his own weariness.

Emil remained silent, his mind a whirlwind of unspoken thoughts.  Unable to bear the weight of deceit in the face of Ada's unwavering love, he found himself at a loss for words. And then, in a moment of brutal honesty, he whispered, "I wish we never married," the words heavy with regret and longing.

Ada's response was a silent pause.  With a gentle touch, she brushed away a stray lock of hair from his furrowed brow, her gaze filled with empathy.  "I know," she murmured softly, her voice a soothing salve to his wounded soul.

Emil's world blurred as tears streamed down his cheeks, the physical manifestation of the storm that raged within his chest.  Each tear felt like a heavy weight, pulling him down into the depths of his own despair and self-condemnation.  Despite Ada's comforting presence by his side, the sorrow that consumed him seemed to drown him in a sea of grief that clouded his every thought and emotion.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, the words barely audible amidst the suffocating silence that enveloped them like a heavy fog.  Ada's gentle touch brushed away his tears with a feather-light caress, a stark contrast to the coldness that gripped Emil's very soul.  Her soothing voice offered a sliver of solace, her lips pressing a tender kiss to his furrowed brow in an attempt to mend the broken pieces of his shattered heart.

Tick, tick, tick.

The unrelenting sound of the clock reverberated through the room once more, measuring out the moments of their fractured connection.  Emil's gaze shifted towards the timepiece, its hands moving with mechanical precision, ticking away the seconds of their fading bond.  The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air, suffocating the room with its truth.

Ada's eyes glistened with unshed tears, mirroring the anguish that clouded Emil's own gaze.  The silence between them stretched thin like a taut wire, their unspoken words hanging in the air like a tangible presence.  Despite Ada's efforts to bridge the growing chasm between them with her comforting gestures, Emil felt the void within him expanding, swallowing any remaining hint of connection.

As the clock's unyielding ticking persisted, a sense of finality settled over them like a heavy blanket.  The unspoken farewell lingered between Ada and Emil, a poignant parting that marked the end of their shared chapter.  In that fleeting moment of connection, they both understood that their paths had diverged irreversibly, leading them down separate roads of existence.

With a trembling hand filled with unspoken regrets, Emil reached out to Ada, his heart heavy with the weight of what could have been but never came to fruition.  The silence that hung between them felt like an insurmountable void, a stark reminder of the love that once blossomed but now lay shattered in the harsh light of reality.  Ada's whispered goodbye shattered the fragile thread that bound them together, her footsteps echoing into the distance, leaving Emil to grapple with the suffocating silence that enveloped him.

As the hands of the clock continued their relentless march forward, marking the passage of time that could never be reversed, Emil watched the final echo of Ada's departure fade into the empty room.  The ache in his heart resonated with the ghost of their lost love, a poignant reminder of the beauty that once colored their intertwined lives but now lay scattered at their feet.  And in that solitary moment, Emil understood that the echoes of their shared past would forever reverberate within the hollow chambers of his soul.

Chapter Text

Luca didn’t wanna wake up yet. They could hear the birds outside the partially cracked window, they could smell the breakfast the servants had prepared downstairs, and they could see the sunlight on their closed eyelids. Coffee and eggs, toast and jam, and whatever else was requested of them. 

But they could also feel the warmth of the man behind them, his scarred arms keeping them close. They could hear his lightly ragged breath against their ear, and could feel the warmth of it as well. They could smell the sweat from them being under three blankets, though Luca was glad Norton never asked about why they slept under so many.

And despite the occasional tensing up the fried nerves in their legs did, Luca couldn’t picture a better way to wake up. They just wanted a moment more with this man they loved. 

So, no, Luca didn’t want to wake up. Not yet, not anytime soon. 

They would have stayed like that forever if they’d gotten the chance, but that was cut short when Norton’s hand moved a bit too far up their thigh and rested on their hip. It sent a chill down Luca’s spine.

“G’mornin’,” Norton halfheartedly mumbled. And to be truthful, Luca almost didn’t reply. Almost.

“Morning,” their voice was scratchy and sounded half dead. They hated talking most of the time, because of the stupid lisp they had. But with Norton? They really didn’t mind it. Norton had a lisp too, even if it wasn’t as severe as their own. It made them feel good, they weren’t alone, “I don’t wanna get up.”

“Neither do I,” Norton replied and buried his nose deeper into their hair, “we can lay here a little longer.”

Luca smiled and rolled over to face their sleepy lover, “okay.” They kissed Norton’s lips then settled down onto his chest. They felt Norton’s hand slide up their leg, then over their hip, and tracing the huge lightning bolt-like burns on their back. Norton was always interested in Luca’s scars, and truthfully, they couldn’t blame him. They were curious about Norton’s, too.

“Do you have a game today?” Norton asked softly, pressing a kiss to Luca’s temple. His hand trailed further up the scarred side of their body, and they shivered.

“Nope,” Luca replied with a small hum, “I can stay in bed as long as I want.”

Norton nodded, relaxing once more, before his breath evened out and he fell back asleep. Luca tucked their face into his chest and let out a small hum.

Truly, they couldn’t think of a better way to wake up.

Chapter Text

Frederick blinked as he carefully poured the wine into two glasses. He hummed softly, almost cheerfully, the melody drifting through the quiet room. The first sip of wine warmed his throat, its smooth texture lingering pleasantly on his tongue. It wasn’t overpowering—just the right balance of flavor, enough to tempt him into another glass.

The soft creak of the door caught his attention. He turned to see Orpheus—his darling boyfriend. His perfect, loving, sweetheart of a boyfriend. His cheating, lying, bastard of a boyfriend.

“Good morning, my love,” Frederick greeted, his voice honeyed as he extended one of the glasses. A warm smile accompanied the gesture. “I’ve made you a drink.”

Orpheus smiled in return, thanking him as he took the glass. Frederick’s eyes flicked over him, noticing the faint scent of cheap perfume clinging to his clothes, the faint smudge of lipstick on his cuffs—a color Frederick would never wear, a smell he would never touch.

He watched as Orpheus drained the glass without hesitation, that same radiant, deceitful smile still plastered across his face. Frederick felt no rage anymore, no anguish. Only a deep, soothing contentment settled in his chest, as if all the chaos in his heart had been pacified.

Humming softly, Frederick poured himself another glass, letting the rich liquid swirl before sipping. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the manila envelope sitting on the counter. A stack of undeniable proof. Evidence of Orpheus’s infidelity. But he wouldn’t bother showing it now. What purpose would it serve?

Not anymore.

Orpheus’s hand moved to his temple, his brow furrowing slightly. Frederick leaned forward, feigning concern. “Ah? My darling, are you alright?”

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine,” Orpheus murmured, though his voice wavered. He offered a weak smile, one that Frederick observed with quiet satisfaction.

“Of course,” Frederick replied, nodding as though convinced. His gaze drifted to the empty glass in Orpheus’s hand. His tone remained steady, almost congratulatory. He hadn’t shouted. He hadn’t insulted him. He hadn’t even called a lawyer, though he could have. What would be the point? Orpheus would simply find another poor soul to deceive.

Orpheus suddenly stood, swaying slightly. His complexion had turned noticeably pale. Frederick’s expression remained calm, though his eyes glittered with something sharper. “What’s the matter, my darling?” he asked, reaching out to steady him. “You look unwell.”

“No… I’m… I’m not…” Orpheus’s voice faltered, his words dissolving into silence. He shot a glance at Frederick—eyes wide, filled with realisation.

Frederick smiled, his mask finally slipping to reveal a smirk. “Ah, did you think I wouldn’t find out?” he asked, his voice calm, almost amused.

“What did you…” Orpheus began, but the sentence was cut short by a violent cough. He pulled out a handkerchief, coughing into it. Blood blossomed against the white fabric.

“Your drink,” Frederick answered with a hum, swirling the remaining wine in his own glass. “I poisoned it. I warned you, didn’t I? I told you not to toy with my feelings.”

Orpheus’s mouth opened as if to argue, but he collapsed before the words could form. Frederick watched him fall, his smirk growing as the room fell silent once again.