these days, credence got lost in maps.
what simple drawings they were, but what vastness they represented – all the ink trails, all the ridges, all the bends and curves. oftentimes, he loved to trace one path with a single fingertip and see where it led him: a lake or a peninsula or a mountain or anything. the map credence had opened now was the one he’d been poring over the most, a drawing that showed mount olympus.
there were many paths credence had charted ahead.
the one most traveled carried him towards, of course, his father and his pristine kingdom, a birthright to him. it was the place the storm within credence longed for in a homesick way, oh so wistfully. it would find a home there, the storm, he knew it.
the other road led to dark places, such as the dreadful underworld again, or another abyssal region. to lands that light could not reach and the sky could not dome over. he could already feel how trapped he would be there, a caged bird singing from behind bars, yet he would not falter. he never allowed himself to.
but, before, he never feared any road because there was always someone by his side.
now, he was all by himself.
he tossed the map aside, letting loose a groan through his gritted teeth. “being fucking melodramatic again,” credence muttered – to his heart that twisted and writhed. to his yearning that he should had cut loose a long time ago. but the single thread this yearning used to hold on? it was made of steel.
then, a sharp tap against his windowpane, making his eyes snap towards it. credence frowned. “gideon, use the door next time, you asshole.” from his bed, the storm witch rose bemoaning, silk robe trailing after him as he made for the window and lifted up the glass. credence thrust his head out, sighing out a “what do you w—” but the words died upon his lips.
for a moment, he was a statue frozen in time.
someone was there, but it was not gideon.
unbidden, the memories came, cascading across his head like golden light. he saw shattered remains of a wooden, life-sized bull being broken by an incandescent glaive. he saw two figures tumbling down a hallway, giddy and ecstatic. he saw the steam of the hot springs, delicious against his skin but none so comparable to the press of lips down his neck. he saw rivers of fire, and hellhounds, and dark smoke. he saw gold, gold, and gold.
credence didn’t mean to, but he surged down. every muscle in him moved on their accord. his eyes tunneled, set on a singular face, one he thought he would see only in dreams and memories now.
and when he was close, he slapped xavier cortes. hard.
so hard that the sting of it made his own palm ache.
the pain didn’t last long though, for credence was pressing his mouth against the other’s the very next second. for he was kissing him. it was a thunderstorm, it was a wildfire. if this is all a dream, he thought, at least let me hold him again before i wake up.
at least let me look at him properly for the last time.
before anythign else, xavier cortes’ brilliant, over-active brain hyper-focused on the name gideon. was this the gideon they had lost? that they had sent on to elysium during the underworld trial? or was this a new gideon, come to take and cherish credence in a way xavier could not?
his mind - though faster than your average demigod - was stopped short, his breath caught, his heart skipped at the sight of credence effortlessly gliding along the winds down from the window.
he had learned new tricks - of course credence would have as well - but the sight of the man who held xavier’s heart flying freely was breathtaking, to say the least.
the next thing he knew, for his mind never worked quite right around credence, was flesh scraping against his cheek. the distinct thought of ‘oh gods my glasses’ crossed his mind before he remembered he didn’t wear them anymore. and then his lips were bombarded by the other.
it was such a quick, extreme rollercoaster of emotions that xavier could feel the sting of tears behind his eyes, but his hands clenched the other’s waist, pulling him closer, bodies trying to coalesce together they were so close.
he stayed in this moment for as long as he could. he knew when it broke there wouldn’t be this easy passion again. the mirror of trust had been shattered - he could never put it back together the way it had been again.
but he had to breathe at some point.
he pulled back, eyes searching the other’s face for anything and everything. re-memorizing the lines and creases and dimples and flecks of color in his eyes.
