“I hope I haven’t overstepped in asking you to stay with me tonight.” Rustica’s warm hands held onto Akira’s, and the gentle touch conveyed a millennia of fondness that Akira couldn’t even begin to translate on their own. “I would normally tend to my own loneliness on my own with a song on the piano or take a short flight up in the sky, but I had a nagging feeling that perhaps it would be worth it to spend my time with you.”

 

Akira smiled enthusiastically and squeezed Rustica’s hand back. “It isn’t too late, and I would love to talk with you. Is there something on your mind? If there’s anything I can do to help you, then I’m sure you know I’m all ears.”

 

“‘All ears’... What a delightful phrase, Master Sage. I ought to use that too,” the Western wizard chuckled. His azure eyes scrunched up in delight, and Akira noted to themself how princely he looked like. Truly a beautiful example of what nobility would look like: hair the same color of chocolate choux cream, a tranquil aura that attracted wild birds to sing their sweetest melodies to him, a heart filled with a love so pure that it made Akira think of the gorgeous fairytales they had heard in their childhood. 

 

“You mean well, Master Sage, but you can put your worries at ease.” Rustica’s calm voice broke Akira out of their thoughts. He beckoned for them to sit beside him at his tea table, and Akira gave a grateful nod. The bashful portrait hanging in his room blushed when Akira made eye contact with her. “All I wanted was someone to pass the time with. We can talk about everything or nothing at all; both are equally fascinating to me.”

 

Akira chewed on their tongue. It always felt like they could talk about anything with Rustica. He took their opinions with a calm smile and occasionally a word of nonsensical advice, but at the end of the day, Akira made sure to take Rustica’s words seriously. Even if they sounded like nothing more than the strains of a love poem in the moment, Akira believed that Rusitca’s conviction to his romantic ideals would ultimately manifest into truth.

 

Rustica, as if noticing Akira racking their brain to decide on a topic, squeezed their hands again. “Why don’t you tell me about your world, Master Sage? I love hearing about that mystical place you came from. The mechanisms you call ‘cars’ never fail to fascinate Rutile, so I’ve heard.”

 

“You want to hear about my world?”

 

Rustica nodded. “The wizards here are very eager to tell you all about this world, but I’d like to learn more about where you came from. I feel like it would help me understand you better, and I’m sure you miss your home terribly. Perhaps talking about it with me can alleviate some of that homesickness, even if it’s a little bit.”

 

Akira bit the inside of their cheek. “What about my world can I talk about?”

 

“Would there be anything from your world that you’d like to show me? Anything you think I would enjoy? I was rather delighted when I heard that your world has little luxuries like fine tea and music like we do here,” the brown-haired mage giggled to himself. “I love going about my day and finding things I think the ones I love most would enjoy. A rose in bloom for Shylock, a pair of dice on the table for Murr, rolls of expensive fabrics at the market for Chloe…”

 

Akira’s thoughts immediately flew to the idea of Rustica as a fairytale prince. “Well… Yes, I suppose there is something from my world that reminds me of you.”

 

“Care tell me what that would be?”

 

“There’s a story in my world that tells the story of a servant girl that turned into a princess and a prince who searched his entire kingdom in search of her,” Akira confessed. “It made me think of you and your search for your bride. I’m sure you’d be able to empathize with the prince.”

 

Rustica seemed mildly surprised. The moon glowed with dim melancholy in his decorated room, and the silver residue of light that kissed Rustica’s pale cheeks seemed reminiscent of magical dust. The wizard tapped his fingers against the back of Akira’s hands, and his blue eyes twinkled with a memory that even he seemed to be unable to fully conjure up. The same color of the mystery princess’ dress, almost—Akira felt like they could take that color, turn it into an apparition of the ocean, and drown in the waves.

 

“The girl lost both of her parents and was left with a cruel stepmother and two stepsisters. They worked her to the bone, and when the prince of the kingdom announced a ball, they forbade her to go. But the girl’s kindness and tenacity touched the heart of her fairy godmother, who helped her go to the ball, where she met the prince and fell in love,” Akira explained. Their voice was hushed, as if they were too afraid of speaking loudly, as if they were too afraid that they were speaking Rustica’s heart into a reality, as if they were too afraid that they would awaken something that had fallen asleep long ago underneath the depths.

 

“And were they married?” Rustica asked. Akira couldn’t detect any malice in his eyes, but they couldn’t describe the curiosity in his expression as just curiosity. The hint of desperation was unmistakable. The wind battered against his windows as if waiting for Akira to speak too.

 

“Not yet. The fairy godmother’s magic only lasted until midnight, and before she could tell him her name, she had to run away. She left a single glass slipper behind for the prince, and heartbroken, the prince searched the whole kingdom to find her. He did, eventually, and they were married then. There’s more to the story, but I think it’s a touching one nonetheless.”

 

“I see. What a beautiful story indeed,” Rustica remarked cheerfully. A bright smile flickered on his face like candlelight, and he gazed off into the distance. “I think I can understand why it would make you think of me. I’m touched to know that you would see me in such a touching tale. It makes my conviction all the more stronger.”

 

“Even if he didn’t know her name, he still knew that she was his soulmate and was touched by her kindness,” Akira trailed off. They glanced up at Rustica, offering an innocent grin. “I’d say that's exactly like you. I’m sure the prince held onto the beautiful memories of the little time he had with the princess and did everything he could to meet her again.”

 

Rustica sighed happily. “You said they met at a ball, yes? I wonder what kind of dances they must have danced, and I wonder what kind of conversations they must have had. Ah, Master Sage, you tempt me so. It makes me want to get up and dance too. If I were to extend my hand to you and ask you to dance in my room, pretending it was the same ballroom as the one in the story, would you accept?”

 

“Of course! I’m not your bride, but… if it’ll make you happy, then you know I’d do anything.”

 

The wizard stood up in a swift motion, and with the flourish of a seasoned gentleman, he held his hand out to Akira with a deep bow. “My dearest Master Sage, I may not own a palace nor have a grand orchestra that could play the most dulcet waltzes to us, but I have the heart of someone who holds the same conviction as that dear prince did. Will you feel and hear my request then, for a dance?”

 

Akira, holding back a small giggle, got up, and they slotted their hand in Rustica’s palms once more. “Yes! Take me away, Rustica.”

 

Without another word, the Western wizard eagerly swept Akira into a series of graceful twirls. Akira was far from being a dancer of the same caliber that Rustica was, but with careful steps and a gentle lead from Rustica, they quickly fell into a simple rhythm beside the wizard. Even if there were no sounds except for the soft cadence of their breaths and the yearnful howls of the night wind, Akira’s mind could imagine the scene they had only envisioned in movie theaters before their eyes. There was a magic that Rustica held normally; he didn’t need any magic spells or his birdcage to weave the most complex of emotions into Akira’s heart. Tearing them apart with thorns and piercing the shards back together all at once, Akira could only gaze into Rustica’s trusting eyes and twirl around the room with him. 

 

The decorative wallpaper melting into marble walls gilded with gold, the carpeted floor morphing into a polished ballroom floor, the ceiling sloping into a magnificent fresco with a million crystal chandeliers hanging off of it, the bustle of other attendees, the chatter of instruments as they played tune after tune for Akira and Rustica. Truly, this was the honesty of Rustica’s love for his bride, understanding that whatever connection the fairytale prince and mystery princess held in the fleeting moments of their dance was the same love that kept the wizard scouring the ends of this destitute world for centuries in search of his own bride.

 

Akira’s heart wrenched up in pain. 

 

“You’re so, so kind to me, Master Sage,” Rustica whispered, as if they would be the only one to hear his words. “Even if my love turns out to be nothing more than delusion, I want to believe that it’ll be memories like this that affirm to me that my love was a reality through my happiness. Even if it’s time for you to return back to your world, even if I’ll be left to wander alone again, even if the moon bests me at some point in time, I don’t think I’ll ever forget how happy I feel right now.”

 

Akira’s mouth felt dry. They wondered for a split second, if perhaps the gentleman knew. “Rustica, I-”

 

“Shhh, Master Sage. You must focus on your steps. We must do our best to make our first and last waltz the most picturesque to store away in our hearts forever,” Rustica reminded. The warm tone of his words made Akira want to cry—for Rustica’s ignorance or for Rustica’s conviction, they didn’t know. Happy endings in fairy tales were never what they appeared to be, and the poison of truth raised to Akira’s lips threatened to spill out but Rustica kept it at their throat, urging them to swallow it down for another stolen minute of feigned happiness.

 

“Tell me this one thing, Rustica. I know wizards don’t make promises, but… if you can, I want you to pretend to promise me this.” Akira squeezed Rustica’s hands for what felt like the millionth time that night. 

 

Rustica hummed, “What would that be, Master Sage?”

 

“I want you to be happy. I know that I’m nothing more than one small chapter of your long life, but I want to know that when I go back, you’ll be your same smiling self as you are now. I think something like that would be what I want most out of you.”

 

With a swoop of his arms, Rustica took Akira into an embrace. The sage froze momentarily before relaxing into Rustica’s chest, as the wizard cradled the sage. He held the back of their head, and Akira listened to the gentle rhythm of Rustica’s steady heartbeat. Even if they stopped dancing, the room and Akira’s heart still swelled with the grand motions and the emotions of the minutes before.

 

“I love you, Master Sage. I truly do. Take that as you will, whether you mean my love to be that of a bridegroom or that of a friend. If your happiness comes from my happiness, then I will dedicate all that I am to making that a reality. So please, you can set yourself at ease with me.”

 

Akira nearly sobbed into Rustica’s chest—his heart.

 

“I love you too, Rustica. That’s why I want you to be happy.”

 

A beautiful name. A beautiful tale of love.

 

The clock struck midnight.

​

 

(translation credits for the italics: https://healingbonds.dreamwidth.org/68170.html)