Okay okay okay, Minos/Albafica for any prompts you want. Go wild
Just remember one thing: YOU ASKED FOR THIS.
29. one headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart
“They’re coming,” he said, and he said it quietly, said it like he knew the world was listening, because it was. Minos knelt beside him, hair pulled into a tight almost-braid with rose-stems he conjured up for him, dirt smudged against his nose and fear in his eyes. Albafica reached forward, wiping the dirt off with his thumb. Minos shifted forward, leaning into his touch, closing his eyes for the slightest bit of comfort at the contact.
Hells, he had never once thought that it might end like this, but now that he actually thought about how it could have ended, it was obvious, and he felt so stupid. What kind of Saint even did this? What kind would willingly walk into the arms of a black angel, whose only aspiration in the story was to tempt him away from his path?
Why the hell did he allow it to work? And so well?
“We can still get out,” Minos said, quietly, timidly, like he was sure Albafica would shoot down the thought. “We can still get away. Up into the clouds and disappear to my father’s kingdom.”
“I can’t fly.”
“I can. I know I can fly faster than he can, and yes, even carrying you I know I can.” Minos looked up at him, hesitant, pale violet eyes brimming with terror and a thin ribbon of defiance. This was his Minos, of course, and he knew better: when would he ever want to go down any way but swinging? Minos was brave, braver than he was, and he hated himself a little for being the weaker one, the more reserved of the two.
He did the only thing he could think to do, to keep himself together, to keep himself from falling apart at the seams. He leaned forward, and pressed his lips to Minos’, open and wet and needing the contact. Minos leaned right back into him, tilting his head, his own lips parted but never pushing too far. It was Albafica who pulled him close, fingertips tracing his spine, feeling Minos’ skin set itself aflame at the contact. The slight gasp when Albafica’s tongue slipped into his mouth, when Minos’ answered him.
They clung to each other, just for the moment, a moment they both knew might be their last. Albafica kissed him like he was drowning, and he was; Minos kissed him back like he knew he had already drowned them both. He was too absorbed in the kiss, his hands finding the nape of Albafica’s neck and clinging to it, almost suckling on his tongue, and he would’ve disliked it if it weren’t right now.
He felt the slight tremble of the ground before he could hear them, but it was enough to break the illusion. Enough to know their time was ending. Albafica broke the kiss, opening his eyes to see Minos’ wide, a thin trail of saliva still connecting them, Minos’ cheeks red and warm and still, somehow, handsome.
He didn’t think he’d ever be able to forgive himself, but he didn’t have to. His hand drifted from the base of his spine to the ground, reaching for one last piece of broken stained glass, ignoring the way it sliced through the softer parts of his hand. He slipped his free hand around Minos’ neck, as if to kiss him again. Minos leaned forward, his wings still resting on the ground like he had not a thought of flight.
Albafica grabbed the braid, tangled with roses, tilted him slightly back, and sliced his hair short, two feet of silver locks released from him. Minos turned to stare at his hands, eyes somehow wider, horror drawing over him like dawn over an unending night.
“Go,” Albafica murmured, dropping the glass shard, pushing him away. “You can fly. I’ll buy you time.”
He turned, rising from his knees as he did, staining his cape with blood as he drew it around him like a shroud. It was going to be, in just a moment. He kept his back to his lover as he heard him stifle a sniffle and take off into the night. It could always have been worse. It was only hair, only Minos’ silver locks that he’d always taken such pride in. It wasn’t his throat, like he’d been instructed.
He stepped out from the shadows, clearing his throat, just loud enough only he could hear. “These secrets die with me,” he called, unsurprised to find his voice steady. Dignity would always be the last thing to go, and he would cling to it even facing mortality. “He’s gone. You can do as you will… but I warn you, it is as much as loss for you as it is for me.”
They stood frozen, stood still. Then they laughed, but it didn’t hurt to hear the sound, cruel and brutal and entirely for him. His heart was already gone, sent on with a black angel under the cover of night, and Albafica didn’t have a care in the world for a damn thing else, and he thought he might just prefer it that way.
