thinking about og! Cale Henituse who had someone he called home—something more than a friend and more complicated than a lover—and no one knew. Maybe they live somewhere in the forest, just a little out of Weston and it's a humble place they own but it's home in all the ways the estate hasn't felt like since Jour died.
To the world, he is a lout and a drunkard and heap of good for nothing.
To them? He's the sun, moon and stars all at the same time. Within their embrace is the closest he feels to being complete.
Maybe he vists them secretly almost daily, maybe it's just a weekly type of thing, but it's a consistent part of both their routines.
You wait a week, and then two, and then the two weeks soon turn into months of waiting. You hear all sorts of strange rumours going around about your beloved, but surely they are just that—baseless rumours, right?
You wait for him to seek you out because he's always the one coming to you, and when he doesn't show up for six entire months and the rumours begin to shift into something terrifying, you venture out of the comfort of your home in hopes of seeing him in the city.
You make eye contact with him for seven, painful seconds, until someone bumps into you and you stumble forward into his arms. He catches you—the soul might be different but his body knows—and he stoically asks you if you're alright. You stare at his brown eyes, the ones you used to get lost in anytime he came over and refused to leave your side until the late midday hours the next day. Into eyes that used to sparkle with something nearly holy whenever he looked at you.
The same eyes look at you now, indifferent and void of recognition. Something in you snaps and instinctively, you realize a truth no one else would ever think of.
The words leave your mouth before you can control them.
"You're not Cale. What have you done to him, stranger wearing his face?"
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