Deuce threw the book “Curses and Diseases” down on the table, cursing under his breath. He looked over to his friend, Ace, who was covering his mouth in shock. Deuce slumped down where he was sat in a chair in the corner of the library. “You seem worried.”
“Dude, the hell? ‘Course I’m worried! Are we sure that’s what you have? We could keep looking-“ Deuce doesn’t think he’s seen Ace this scared before. Even after all that’s happened, he’s never really been this freaked. Ace’s usually not one to worry over things that don’t directly involve him. It’s nice to know he cares, Deuce guesses.
“No point. The symptoms are exact, and I can’t imagine there’s a lot of diseases that involve puking bloody petals.”
“Well, do you actually like someone?” Ace has a sense of urgency that isn’t usually seen on him. That being said, Deuce, didn’t want to tell Ace anything. Deuce just chalked it up to not wanting Ace to worry, but he already was worrying. Inevitably, Deuce caved.
“…Yeah.”
“Who?” Ace was right in front of Deuce’s chair now, leaning over him with both hands on the arm rests, having gotten up from where he was sitting across from Deuce. Deuce laughed at that, earning a displeased look from Ace.
“Sorry, sorry. It’s just that I would’ve punched you for asking that question if this were any other situation. But.. uh. I love Sebek.” Deuce spoke uncharacteristically bluntly. After thinking it over for about five seconds, Deuce decided he’s past the point of really caring who knows. He might as well preserve some kind of dignity. He’s already going to die, why should Deuce care who knows? Ace, with the look he’s giving Deuce, apparently disagrees with that logic.
“…Deuce, I’m not just gonna let you die because of that minty lightning rod not loving you back. Okay?”
This is my Deubek fic ✨ feel free to read and tell me what u think
Pairing: Deuce/Sebek
Warnings: character death, angst, f to literally every first year
In which Sebek realizes time sucks
What color were his eyes?
The sounds of leaves rustling reached Sebek's ears as the young man sat calmly in his seat, his eyes drifting over the red roses, the black thorns that had curled around the garden.
He had planted the roses himself, hoping to grow big green bushes of red roses. However, nothing in the Valley of Thorns seemed to grow so splendidly, and he could only make do with a bushful of thorns, littered with red buds.
He took a sip of his drink—coffee, extra sweet. Sebek had never liked coffee too much, but one too many cafe outings with a certain human had gotten him accustomed to the flavor, although he couldn't say he adored it.
A sigh escaped Sebek's lips and he set down his cup, his eyes drawing towards the seat across from him. Closing his eyes, he could recall a vivid scene, a garden full of red blooms, and a man sitting before him, wisps of his blue disheveled hair falling over his eyes. The man looked to be much older than him, perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties, although there was a delicate charm about him that captivated many.
This man was none other than his former classmate and current lover, Deuce Spade.
He recalled Deuce smiling as he always had—and Deuce's smile was quite pretty, or so he recalled thinking so—and laughing over a cup of coffee. Deuce always did like the drink, perhaps a little too much even.
He recalled himself hesitating, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, "Hey, Deuce. Does it...bother you?"
Deuce blinked, tilting his head as he rested his cheek against his palm, his tone gentle, "This again? You ask me that every week now, you know." He smiled, ruffling Sebek's hair, "You're fae. I'm human. Our appearances aren't something that can be helped, and I don't love you any less for it."
He pulled his hand back, laughing softly, "If anything, I should be the one asking you that. I'm growing older by the day...all my officer work has given me wrinkles you know?" He gestured jokingly to his face, "At this rate, when we go out together, I'll be asked if I was your grandpa."
"N-no!" Sebek raised his voice, "I don't...I...Deuce, you look just as good as before. You'll always look good." He furrowed his eyebrows, a prominent frown upon his lips, "Don't say that…"
"Sebek, I didn't know you were so romantic." Deuce teased, "But I'm just joking." The smile on his face faded, and he trailed his fingers along the rip of his half empty cup, his voice quieting down, "I guess I haven't been taking this as seriously as you want me to."
A sigh. "You know, one day I won't be here anymore."
Sebek began to fidget with the handle of his cup, his fingers turning white from gripping it so tightly, "...We don't have to talk about that if you don't want to."
He'd been trying to bring it up for months, yet he supposed a little part of him didn't want to accept the truth.
"No. We can talk about it now." Deuce hummed, "I don't know when's the next time I'll be able to talk to you so leisurely, so now is as good of a time as ever." Deuce did dabble in quite a dangerous profession, he never knew when was the last day he'd live, and Sebek knew that.
"One day I'll be gone, and when that time comes…I don't want you to feel burdened." Deuce continued. Before Sebek could respond, he said, "You can live for hundreds of years while I might not even live to 90. The world is full of people…Sebek, if one day I am gone, I want you to know that it's okay to love someone else. It's okay to move on."
The fae sharply inhaled, "That's what you want to tell me? I won't love anyone else. I won't, ever. You can't make me." He looked to Deuce, as if begging him to not discuss this further, "I don't want to love anyone else."
"You don't have to, but I want you to know it's okay." Deuce shook his head, "You deserve happiness. Even if it's not with me."
Sebek recalled arguing with Deuce often afterwards about the same subject, time and time again. With each visit, Deuce seemed to grow older, more worn out.
He was sipping on coffee again, his voice a little hoarse, "You should've seen Ace the other day. A headful of white hair. I told him he was gonna bald out one of these days."
A constant reminder that all of them were growing older—all except Sebek. The fae smiled, and glanced down into his cup, his drink reflecting a green haired man, no older than his early twenties. He felt a little self conscious, "I wish I could've seen it."
Deuce laughed, "I'll take a picture for you next time. You should really come to our gathering next year, Epel and Jack keep asking for you." His smile grew dimmer, and his fingers traced upon the rim of his cup again, a bad habit, "Epel...doesn't have much time left."
Sebek's blood ran cold, "So soon?"
"Hm...well." Deuce could only look down, "Not that soon."
Oh right. They were all...really old weren't they? Only to Sebek did it seem like they had only been in class together a year ago, doing stupid things, getting into trouble.
"I...didn't realize." Sebek could only mutter. "I'll come next year."
Deuce merely took Sebek's hand in his, rubbing his knuckles comfortingly.
Sebek recalled next seeing Epel through a picture frame, upon a white table as the people around him, people who looked much older than him, shedded silent tears, surrounding a coffin decorated with white roses.
He couldn't recall much of what happened next. Only that the years passed by in a blur, and that loss soon grew familiar to him. Jack...Ace...Silver...everyone around him began to leave.
Eventually, even Deuce too, left him. But even then, Sebek found he couldn't recall his last words to him, he couldn't recall their last moments together or how old Deuce was then. He couldn't remember.
On most days, it was okay. He could function well enough to work, to do his job. On other days, he would lay in bed, crying himself to sleep, although the comfort of the cushion below him just reminded him of his former sleepy companion. Malleus and Lillia had told him that it would get better, that it would get easier, but it never did, not really. At least that was what he thought at first.
But that was hundreds of years ago.
As time passed, he grew to realize that perhaps they were right. The coffee in his cup had grown cold as he spaced off. And he frowned, perhaps he should've iced it.
His gaze landed back to the seat before him, the seat that Deuce used to occupy hundreds of years ago.
His memory seemed to gradually fade as time passed, and he trailed his fingers over the rim of his cup, a bad habit that he'd developed from somewhere he couldn't recall. He could faintly remember the warmth of Deuce's laughter, and the feel of his fingers raking through Sebek's hair. He could barely remember the flush of Deuce's cheeks, and the way his hair fell over his face as he spoke, his words falling upon deaf ears now that Sebek could no longer recall his voice.
The wind picked up once more, caressing through green locks like a familiar warm hand, and Sebek hummed softly, a small smile graced upon his lips as he mused to himself, his thoughts drifting off to Deuce once more, the person he once loved, the distant memory he had surely romanticized beyond recognition.
#the amazing digital circus
#lana del rey
#iron lung
#artfight
#photography
