𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗗, 𝗨𝗡𝗪𝗘𝗗 [ 𝘊𝘰𝘳𝘱𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘹 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 ]
𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 8
"So, before you go
Was there something I could've said to make it all stop hurting?
It kills me how your mind can make you feel so worthless"
—ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏ ʙʏ ʟᴇᴡɪs ᴄᴀᴘᴀʟᴅɪ
CHAPTER 7
The marriage must prevail.
"MIKHAIL, my sister is visiting today..." M/n said quietly, his voice muffled by the bite of hotdog-stuffed pandesal he was chewing. His eyes lingered on his phone screen, reading Liezel's message for the hundredth time.
Mikhail turned from the stove, the flickering flame casting light on his worried expression. "So... this might be it, huh? The answer we've been waiting for?" he tried to joke, his tone light, but it didn’t reach M/n.
M/n stared blankly.
"Mikhail... I'm scared. I have a really bad feeling about this." Mikhail turned off the flame and walked over. He didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he took M/n's hand gently and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles.
"Hey... whatever news your sister brings, we’ll figure it out. Together."
M/n looked down at their hands, then whispered,
“But what if my parents still refuse? What if they force me to go back? What if they already made the arrangements?” His voice cracked near the end.
Mikhail’s hand stilled. He clenched his jaw for a moment, then loosened it with a breath.
"Then I’ll stand beside you," he said quietly. "No matter what. I won’t let them take you away from me." M/n scoffed bitterly.
"You say that like it matters. They don’t even know you exist, Mikhail."
Mikhail's shoulders slumped slightly. The truth of it burned more than he expected. If this ended with M/n marrying someone else, what could he do? How could he watch M/n walk away into someone else's arms, bound by duty, not love?
No. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.
"If I have to fight for love again, then I will," Mikhail said. His voice, though soft, was filled with steel.
M/n blinked, then reached for Mikhail’s hand, clutching it close to his chest. “I don’t want to be with anyone else, Mikhail... I want to be with you.”
Mikhail’s heart squeezed at the honesty in those words. He reached up to caress M/n's cheek, gently brushing away the shadows under his eyes. “Then you will be.”
A heavy silence passed between them before Mikhail smiled faintly.
“Do I need to dance you again to calm your nerves?”
“What?” M/n yelped as Mikhail pulled him to his feet. “Mikhail, wait—!” But Mikhail had already twirled him, laughing when M/n tripped over his own feet.
“Mikhail!” M/n scolded, trying not to smile.
Mikhail clumsily guided their little kitchen waltz. “Ah, there it is. That glare. If I can’t make you smile, I’ll at least make you mad.”
“You’re so insufferable...” M/n muttered, though he didn’t stop him. He let Mikhail lead, falling into the rhythm of mismatched steps and low laughter.
“Tell me,” Mikhail whispered, spinning them slowly. “Did you enjoy the last time we danced?”
“Every second of it,” M/n answered honestly, his voice softer than before.
“Still anxious, or shall I keep dancing until your fears disappear?” Mikhail dipped him suddenly, catching Lucien by surprise. M/n's breath caught. One arm instinctively wrapped around Mikhail’s neck while the other clutched his sleeve.
“What if I said I’m still a little down? What then, charming?”
Mikhail chuckled and pulled him up, pressing a kiss to his lips before answering.
“Then I’ll just have to love the fear out of you.”
M/n melted into the kiss, his fingers curling into Mikhail’s shirt as the tension slipped from his shoulders. The kiss deepened, slow and desperate, like the world was threatening to fall apart and this was their anchor.
Mikhail guided M/n onto the kitchen counter, never once breaking the kiss. He stood between his legs, their foreheads pressed together as they caught their breath.
“You taste divine,” Mikhail whispered, his lips brushing against M/n's. Lucien snorted softly.
“Cheesy.” “And yet, still true,” Mikhail grinned. “I really adore you, darling.” M/n's cheeks flushed.
“That nickname is worse.” “Hmm... then what should I call you? Sweetheart? Love? Or maybe... N/n?” Mikhail teased, his hands gliding up M/n's waist. M/n turned redder, swatting Mikhail’s chest.
“M/n is fine. It’s more bearable.” “Oh, alright then, Love~” Mikhail said with a dramatic sigh.
SMACK!
M/n landed a playful slap to Mikhail’s head. “Idiot! Instead of messing around, help me clean the house before Liezel gets here.” Mikhail rubbed his head, laughing.
“I’m taking this as a sign you’re feeling better.”
“Shut up and finish your breakfast.”
“As you wish, my darling.”
Another ink mark popped on M/n's cheek. But behind the annoyed facade was a small, real smile. The kind that said: With you here, I can face anything.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
THE sound was gentle. Too gentle, for what it carried.
M/n's breath hitched. He reached for the doorknob with a heavy hand, already feeling the weight of what awaited on the other side. He opened it slowly.
“Ate…” he said, trying for a smile. “It’s nice to see you again.”
But the warmth in his expression withered almost immediately.
Liezel stood there, unmoving, eyes glassy as if she wasn’t really here, like her mind was somewhere else entirely.
“Ate Liezel?”
His voice was quiet, unsure. But it was enough to jolt her.
She blinked rapidly and straightened her shoulders.
“O-Oh! Um… yeah. It’s good to see you too…” Her voice was airy, forced. It scraped against the silence.
M/n stepped aside, and she walked in stiffly, pausing when her eyes landed on the coffee table. A fresh platter of pandesal sat waiting.
“I’m guessing you made that?” she said with a weak chuckle, desperate to grasp onto something, anything normal. M/n gave another nod, even softer this time. “Y-yeah…" Lie. Mikhail had made those this morning.
M/n couldn’t tell her that. He couldn’t even think about him right now.
They sat down on the couch. The cushions gave beneath them, but the silence that settled between them was unbearable. Dense. Suffocating.
M/n stared at his hands. They wouldn’t stop trembling. He tried wringing them together, but the cold in his fingertips wouldn’t fade. Liezel sat upright, hands clasped in her lap, her fingers pale from how tightly she held them. She kept her gaze low. It felt like an execution chamber. M/n couldn’t take it anymore.
“So…” he said quietly. “What did they say?”
His voice was the sound of a man walking into his own funeral. He already knew the answer. but still, some part of him prayed for mercy. Liezel bit her bottom lip, eyes still fixed on her lap.
“They… they refused,” she finally said. “They’ve already made arrangements for the wedding.” M/n stopped breathing.
“You’ll be going by… tomorrow.” It felt like something inside him cracked. Not violently. But slowly. Like porcelain splitting under pressure, delicate and irreversible.
Of course he knew it was coming.
But not this fast. Not tomorrow.
A dull thud came from upstairs. A floorboard creaking. Mikhail had heard. Of course he had. M/n could practically feel the way his presence hovered at the top of the stairs, watching from the shadows. Liezel rushed to continue, as if she could undo the damage by speaking fast enough.
“B-but—they did make some adjustments. Do you remember Giselle? Giselle Velarde?” M/n lifted his head slightly, brow furrowing.
“My... childhood friend?” Liezel nodded slowly.
“Yeah… She’s the one you’ll be marrying.” M/n's stomach turned.
“Mom said… she thought it would be easier for you. If you married someone familiar. Someone you used to like. Someone kind.” She paused.
“To… accommodate you. After everything that happened with the others.”
To accommodate you. As if that made it okay.
M/n stared at the floor. His voice dropped to a growl.
“How is that any better?” Liezel blinked, confused.
“I… I thought you didn’t want to marry someone who only wanted your money. But Giselle, she’s good. She’s not like them. You liked her, didn’t you?”
M/n looked up. Something inside him snapped.
“Ate Liezel…” he said, voice trembling.
“I’m in love with someone, okay?! I don’t want to marry anyone, I want to be with him!” Liezel froze. Her lips parted, and for a moment her face lit up with genuine shock.
“You… love someone?” she asked, voice rising faintly.
“W-who are they?” M/n hesitated. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe because saying it aloud made it more real. More dangerous. But he nodded.
“Yeah. I love someone.” Liezel’s eyes brightened with something hopeful.
“Is… is he here? I heard the floorboards creaking upstairs.” M/n followed her gaze toward the railing.
“He is,” he said softly.
“We both live here. But he’s… not someone Mom and Dad would ever approve of.” Liezel’s excitement dulled. She stared at him with a quiet understanding.
“Ah… he’s… okay.” She looked down again, assuming the reason. Of course, she must be thinking. He doesn’t have status. Or title. That’s the only thing that would matter to their parents.
“May I… at least know his name?” she asked gently. M/n hesitated only a second.
“…Mikhail Beaufort.” Her eyes flicked up. Not in shock, but in realization. She heard the way M/n said it. The tenderness.
“What a beautiful name…” she whispered.
“I take it he treats you well?” M/n's lips tugged into a faint smile.
“He does.” But then it vanished.
“That doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that I don’t want to marry someone else.” His voice hardened. His hands balled into fists in his lap. Liezel sighed, voice weary.
“M/n… I understand. But what can we do? Without our parents, we’re powerless. They hold everything.” M/n shook his head slowly, hollow.
“I… I don’t know…” He was unraveling. He felt it. His chest was too tight, like there was no room for breath. Liezel hesitated.
“There… might be another way.” M/n looked up. She wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Mom said… If you just give them an heir… they’ll leave you alone after that. You’ll secure the lineage. And then—then they’ll let you have your freedom.”
Freedom.
The word echoed like a scream in his skull.
Freedom, for the price of his body. Of his name. Of his sanity.
He could never live like that. Not really. Not with a stranger. Not after being with Mikhail. Not after being loved, truly loved.
But if that was the only way…
If it meant being with Mikhail after…a life with Mikhail…
Maybe it was worth it. Even if Lucien wouldn’t be whole anymore. He stared down at his trembling hands. Liezel spoke again, barely above a whisper.
“I know it’s not ideal. But from where we stand… I don’t think there’s any other option.” M/n didn’t answer. His mind was spiraling, his thoughts crashing into one another.
If I give them what they want… just one thing… maybe they’ll leave me be.
Maybe I can come back to Mikhail. Maybe we can have something, anything, peace.
But no. Mikhail will be here. Alone. While I’m out there—playing husband. Playing father. Living a lie while he waits in silence.
Mikhail has suffered enough. He deserves better than a ghost.
“I… I guess there’s no point in saying no, huh?” M/n muttered. His voice was tired. Liezel sighed deeply.
“Unfortunately… yes. We’ll pick you up tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. M/n sat back on the couch, barely breathing. His world was unraveling by the hour.
M/n thought it through. Freedom, for him and Mikhail.
Liezel stared at M/n for a long moment before quietly rising from the couch. She gathered her bag, movements stiff and reluctant. Her voice trembled as she spoke.
“I’m sorry, M/n… I know this wasn’t what you were hoping for. I’ll… I’ll get going now.”
She glanced at him one last time, pity softening the edges of her expression and then her gaze drifted up the stairs. Just past the bannister, she spotted a figure partially hidden behind the wall.
She didn’t say anything. She just nodded to herself, as if understanding something unspoken, then turned and walked to the door.
The soft click of it closing echoed through the house like a final verdict.
M/n stayed on the couch, motionless. The moment she was gone, something inside him unraveled. The weight he'd been carrying alone for days suddenly became unbearable.
His breath hitched and then broke. He buried his face in his hands as sobs tore out of his chest. Tears streamed down his cheeks, fast and relentless, like a dam finally giving way. He cried loudly, helplessly, as if the grief had been clawing its way out of him and had finally found the crack.
From upstairs came the sound of hurried footsteps.
Mikhail rushed down the stairs, barefoot and breathless, and dropped to his knees in front of M/n.
Without a word, he wrapped his arms around him.
M/n clung to him with everything he had, fists curling into Mikhail’s shirt like he’d disappear if he let go. Like he was trying to pull Mikhail into his chest.
“It’s not real,” M/n gasped. “Tell me it’s not real… tell me it’s just a bad dream—please…Just lie to make me feel better...” Mikhail held him tighter, his own hands trembling. He wanted to lie. He wanted to say it was just a dream. But he couldn’t.
M/n's voice cracked again. This time, it was raw and broken.
“Mikhail…!” It wasn’t a cry for help. It was a cry for salvation. A desperate, hopeless plea for Mikhail to stop the world from pulling him away.
And then, something in M/n's sobs faltered. He looked up, and saw tears on Mikhail’s face, too.
“You… you heard everything…” M/n whispered, stunned. Mikhail didn’t answer, he didn’t need to. The tears said enough. He had heard. Every word.
M/n collapsed into his arms again, sobbing harder. “What am I going to do?! I don’t want to marry someone else—I can’t!” Mikhail’s heart shattered. Because he knew. He knew that pain.
The pain of being told your love isn’t valid. The helplessness of knowing that no matter how hard you love someone, the world can still take them from you.
He stayed quiet. Because he had no words. No plan. No solution to escape the reality they need to face. He was just a corpse, breathing on borrowed time. A being that didn’t belong in this world, who couldn’t offer M/n a future.
What could he possibly do?
“I don’t want to leave you, Mikhail!” M/n sobbed, shaking. “P-please… I can’t lose you too…” Mikhail pulled him close, so close their foreheads touched and let their tears fall freely together.
And in that silence, in that grief, Mikhail could only offer the one thing he had left:
His presence. He stayed. He held M/n as he broke apart. Because even if he couldn’t fix anything… He could still be the arms that kept M/n from falling.
M/n's cries had softened, but his grip hadn’t loosened. His face was buried into Mikhail’s shoulder, and his tears had soaked through the fabric of his shirt. His body trembled with every breath, fragile in a way Mikhail had never seen before.
Mikhail held him through it all, stroking the back of M/n's head with a shaky hand. If he could take this pain from M/n and carry it himself, he would.
If he could rip open his ribcage and place his heart in M/n's hands, proof of his love, of his vow. he would.
But he was just… this. A mere corpse. A walking tragedy, tied to a world that never gave him a chance.
“M/n,” he whispered, voice raw with emotion. “I’m here. I’ll stay. I won’t leave you. not now, not tomorrow, not ever.” M/n didn’t respond right away. He only curled in closer, as if trying to disappear into Mikhail’s warmth.
Eventually, he lifted his face just enough to look at him, eyes swollen, lashes wet, cheeks stained red. Even like this, he was the most beautiful thing Mikhail had ever seen.
“You’re all I have,” M/n whispered. “You’re the only thing in this world that’s ever felt like mine.”
Mikhail blinked back tears and gently cupped M/n's cheek, brushing his thumb beneath one eye. “And you’re all I ever wanted...” M/n's eyes flickered to his lips, then to his hand.
“I wish we could run away,” he murmured. “I wish we could just… disappear. You and me. Somewhere no one can touch us.”
Mikhail smiled faintly. “If I had a heartbeat, I’d give it to you. If I had time, I’d spend all of it with you.” His voice broke.
“But I can’t give you forever, Mikhail. Just the time I have left before they take me away.” M/n leaned in then, pressing their foreheads together again, their noses brushing. His breath hitched softly.
“I’ll be with you,” Mikhail whispered. “Every single second...” A moment passed,
Then M/n tilted his head slightly, and Mikhail kissed him. It was soft, barely a breath, so gentle it almost wasn’t a kiss at all.
But it held everything. The grief. The fear. The love that bloomed between sorrow and silence. Mikhail kissed him like it was the first and last time he’d ever get to.
And M/n kissed back like he’d found the one place in the world he could finally collapse into.
When they pulled apart, their eyes lingered. Mikhail tucked a loose strand of hair behind M/n's ear and whispered,
“I'll wait for you...I'll wait for you until you come back to me...” M/n smiled through the ache, tired but thankful, laying his head against Mikhail’s chest once more.
“Mikhail you have suffered enough...” Lucien bitterly reminded him. Mikhail's eyes held the pain to his past, the things he endured for his love, M/n doesn't want to give the same pain.
"M/n...I'd do anything to be with you...even if i have to wait for a thousand years, i will. if i have to do what i did back then just to be with you, then so be it" Mikhail had a determined look on his face. It made M/n break even more.
"Mikhail..." He whispered, tears threatening to fall once again.
"Just promise me not to forget me...please" Mikhail pleaded. And in that moment, They prepare for tomorrow’s cage. the remaining time they have before M/n will go.
They want to spend their limited time with each others presence, a quiet love in a broken world. And the simple, painful miracle of still holding each other.
Mikhail and M/n spent the afternoon basking in each other's presence, trying desperately to make their last day together feel like forever.
Every laugh, every touch, every word was an attempt to hold time still, to steal just a little more of what was left. They cooked, they teased, they loved, pretending the sun wouldn’t set on the life they’d built in secret.
They were deluding themselves, of course. But that didn’t matter. For a few precious hours, everything felt normal. It felt like home.
Mikhail helped M/n try to make Sinigang, though his face betrayed him the moment he tasted the soup.
“Hurk—! I—It's g-good!” Mikhail choked out, face contorted in a grimace.
M/n raised a brow, arms crossed as he rolled his eyes.
“It’s too sour, isn’t it?”
Mikhail shook his head so fast it was almost comedic.
“N-No, it’s—”
“Then I guess it needs more sampalok mix—”
“NO—!” Mikhail blurted, lunging for the packet with mock horror. M/n couldn’t help but laugh.
Mikhail and M/n ate lunch together, They sat down to a peaceful lunch, the warmth of the sun pouring through the window as cicadas hummed lazily outside. No words were needed—just the soft clinking of utensils and the quiet comfort of knowing they were not alone.
“It’s very sunny today,” Mikhail said thoughtfully, sipping from his glass. “Why don’t we water the flowers?”
M/n narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “And let you ‘accidentally’ soak me with the hose again?”
Mikhail pouted. “It was not my fault! The snake did it!”
“Sure, sure,” M/n replied with a smirk. “Let’s blame it on the snake.”
Outside, the garden was alive with blooms and butterflies. The flower pit, once just a dream, was now full of tender green shoots. Mikhail gently tucked a blooming flower behind M/n's ear, brushing aside a stray strand of hair with soft fingers.
“You’re so adorable, Irog,” he whispered.
M/n blushed immediately, trying to hide his flustered face. “What nonsense are you spewing now?”
“You’re very adorable when you’re mad too,” Mikhail chuckled, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.
M/n huffed, arms crossed. “I hate you.”
“I love you too,” Mikhail said with a smile that reached his eyes.
M/n mumbled under his breath, cheeks red.
“I love you too...”
Mikhail and M/n lay sprawled across the grass in the garden, breathless with laughter, dirt smudging their clothes and cheeks, the faint scent of soil and crushed flowers lingering in the air. M/n turned to Mikhail, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Oh! You know what? Let’s take a picture.” He jumped to his feet and ran back inside the house, leaving Mikhail blinking in confusion. When he returned, he held his phone in his hands. Mikhail tilted his head.
“A picture?” he repeated, curious. His brows furrowed slightly as M/n knelt beside him, already opening the camera app. M/n grinned.
“Yup. Smile!” Before Mikhail could react, the shutter clicked, and his face was captured mid-bewilderment.
“Huh?! How did it do that?! Isn’t it supposed to be a huge piece of equipment? With tripods and cloth and all that? It’s even colored!” Mikhail gasped, pointing at the glowing image of them on the screen. M/n chuckled.
“It’s a phone. It does a lot of things. Too many things, honestly. Erm… It’s hard to explain. But c’mon, pose like this.” He lifted two fingers into a peace sign.
Mikhail obediently mimicked him but squinted suspiciously at his own hand.
“This is number two, M/n.”
“It’s modern slang, just go with it,” M/n laughed as he snapped another photo.
“Now, do this, it’s a heart.” M/n formed a finger heart between his thumb and index finger. Mikhail’s eyes widened.
“How curious…” he murmured, awed. He copied M/n's pose with childlike fascination, and M/n snapped the picture.
“Okay, one more,” M/n said, stretching out his hand to form half of a heart in the air.
“You do this side.” Mikhail mirrored him, and their hands joined, forming a perfect heart between them. M/n took the photo and showed it to Mikhail.
“Tadaa! It’s a heart,” M/n beamed. Mikhail looked at the image with such wonder, as if he were seeing magic.
“They’re all... in here? All these memories?” M/n nodded softly.
“Every smile. Every moment.” For a second, Mikhail said nothing, merely staring at the screen. Then his eyes lit up with his usual impish glint.
“Oh! I want to do a pose too.” He tugged M/n close, excitement dancing in his eyes. M/n laughed and lifted the phone again, adjusting the angle.
“Alright, ready? 1… 2…” “3!” Mikhail finished, and before M/n could even blink, he leaned in and pressed a soft, sneaky kiss against M/n's cheek.
The camera clicked. M/n froze, heat blooming across his face.
“Y-You sly corpse…” he muttered, voice half-scolding but full of warmth. His cheeks were flushed red, lips twitching with an involuntary smile.
Mikhail and Lucien had spent over an hour sprawled on the couch, deep into an intense game of Monopoly on Lucien’s phone.
“Puta! I landed on your land again!” M/n groaned, his head falling back against the cushion.
“Pay up, dear,” Mikhail teased with a smug grin, clearly enjoying his brief reign over M/n's misfortune.
With an exaggerated sigh, M/n tapped his screen and handed over the virtual money. “Robbing the poor, huh? Shameless.”
“Just good business,” Mikhail hummed proudly.
Later, karma struck.
“Oho~ What’s this?” M/n smirked as Mikhail’s token landed directly on his overpriced property.
“Pay up, dear.” Mikhail’s eyes gleamed mischievously.
“Can I pay with a kiss instead?”
“No,” M/n replied flatly, not even glancing at him. Mikhail dramatically clutched his chest and leaned back.
“Heartless.”
Lucien rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at his lips.
Mikhail and M/n spends the evening making dinner, which is giniling.
Mikhail took charge at the stove, stirring the pan with practiced care while M/n stood beside him, slicing carrots and potatoes with surprising focus.
“Here,” Mikhail said after a few
minutes, scooping a spoonful of giniling. He held it out towards M/n's lips.
“Taste it. See if it’s good enough for you.”
M/n leaned in and took the bite, humming thoughtfully as he savored the taste.
“Mmmn… it’s good! I like it!”
His eyes sparkled with sincere approval, and Mikhail couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him.
“Then I guess it’s enough,” he said, flipping off the stove. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint your royal tastebuds.”
Mikhail and M/n sat together at the dinner table, quietly enjoying their meal. The stillness of the evening wrapped around them like a warm blanket, interrupted only by the gentle chirping of crickets outside. The simple clinking of spoons against ceramic filled the space between them, comfortable and unhurried.
“Mikhail?” M/n spoke softly, his voice just above a whisper.
Mikhail looked up, eyes gentle. “Yes, love?”
M/n's cheeks tinged pink at the nickname, but he brushed it off with a small shake of his head.
“Would you… like to go outside with me later? I want to see the stars with you.”
Mikhail smiled warmly, pausing to look at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.
“There’s no need to ask, M/n. We can do anything you want.”
M/n's heart fluttered. He lowered his gaze, smiling to himself before digging back into his food with renewed delight.
Mikhail and M/n spent the night beneath the stars, lying side by side on a patch of grass in the garden. The moon hung low, bathing them in silver light as the cool breeze whispered through the leaves.
“I’d love to see a constellation someday,” Lucien murmured.
“They’re rare,” Mikhail replied, eyes fixed on the vast sky above,
“but not impossible.” M/n pointed up at two bright stars nestled just beneath the moon.
“Then we could claim our own constellation… right there.” Mikhail turned to look. M/n continued, voice soft,
"Those will be our stars, the Beaufort and the Percival stars. That way… when we’re apart, you’ll still have something to find in the sky. And maybe… if you stare at them long enough, it’ll feel like I’m right beside you.” Mikhail smiled. soft, but bitter.
“You speak like I'm already leaving.” M/n sighed.
“I promise I’ll look for them. I promise I’ll come back.” Sadness crept into his expression, casting a shadow over his features. Mikhail noticed and let out a quiet chuckle, though his eyes betrayed the ache in his chest.
“Why are you getting all sappy now?” he asked, sitting up and glancing down at M/n. Lucien followed, folding his hands in his lap.
“Why wouldn’t I be...? I’m scared that if I close my eyes… tomorrow will come too fast.” Mikhail looked into M/n's eyes, those shimmering blues that always reminded him of peace and sorrow all at once. Without a word, he stood and gently reached for M/n's hands, pulling him up.
“Mikhail?” M/n asked, confused. Mikhail stepped close and placed one hand on M/n's shoulder blade, guiding the other to his own. A familiar pose. A dance.
“I did promise, didn’t I? That I’d dance with you whenever you felt this way,” he said softly, smiling despite the heaviness in his heart.
M/n blushed, eyes darting away. Mikhail began to move slowly, the rhythm of an imagined waltz carrying them across the garden, surrounded by moonlight and stars.
“If tomorrow takes you from me… then let this night be ours,” Mikhail whispered.
They swayed under the sky, the world falling away. For a fleeting moment, it was just them.
“Let’s pretend it’s us getting married tomorrow,” Mikhail added, voice strained with emotion.
“Dancing like newlyweds would... just for tonight.” M/n's heart clenched. He wished with everything in him that it could be true. That they could have peace. That love could be enough.
“I want to dance with you, shower you in affection, cook for you, hold you, kiss you…” Mikhail said as he gently twirled M/n,
“…but alas, that will have to wait.”
“I want all of that too,” M/n whispered as he was dipped, his breath caught in his throat.
“And if I must fight for us to have it… then I’ll give everything I have. Let me fight for our love, just like you.” Mikhail slowly lifted M/n back up, guiding their lips into a soft, tender kiss. It lingered, sweet and aching before deepening into something more desperate, more real. They parted only to breathe, foreheads touching.
“The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” Mikhail asked, still gazing into M/n's eyes.
“It is…” M/n murmured.
“The moon is indeed beautiful.”
And he kissed Mikhail again, gentle, and full of longing.
Later that night, they curled into each other in M/n's bed, arms wrapped tightly around one another. The world outside continued on, unaware of the love blooming in quiet defiance.
The night passed faster than they wished. And frankly, they hoped it could have lasted forever.
Liezel: I'll pick you up at 1 o'clock in the afternoon, you have a meeting with giselle before the wedding.
THIS was it.
The day M/n had feared, The day Mikhail would once again be left behind. And no one, not even the stars they’d claimed, knew how long this parting would last.
Mikhail stood silently by the door, watching M/n fold clothes with shaking hands. Every item packed away was another tick of the clock, another second slipping through their fingers.
M/n lingered over everything he packed. Shirts were folded and refolded. His toothbrush was picked up, then placed down again before being stored away. It wasn’t forgetfulness, it was denial. a stubborn denial. As if moving slowly could stall fate, could freeze time where it stood.
Mikhail said nothing at first. He understood. His heart was breaking too, but he had promised himself, he would not cry. Not this time. M/n needed strength now, not grief.
“I packed the sweater you like,” M/n muttered, trying to make his voice sound casual. Mikhail smiled faintly.
“The one you gave me the first time we met? With the ripped cuff?” “Yeah.” M/n nodded, zipping the bag shut.
“I figured… if I wear it, it’ll feel like you're hugging me.” Mikhail walked over quietly and took the bag from M/n's hands. Their fingers brushed briefly. It was such a small touch, but it sent a shiver through both of them.
“Thank you,” Mikhail said softly.
“For everything.” The two stood in silence for a moment. The air was heavy, as if the walls themselves didn’t want to let M/n go.
—HONK!
A car horn blared from outside, muffled only slightly by the manor’s thick stone walls. M/n froze. It was here. The life he didn’t want was knocking at his door.
He turned his gaze to the window, where the outline of a black car sat still against the gravel path. His chest tightened. His vision blurred. Mikhail stepped forward.
“I’ll walk you out.” Together, they descended the grand staircase, each step an echo, each echo a countdown.
When they reached the front door, M/n paused, hand resting on the doorknob. The oak felt cold beneath his fingers. He turned back toward Mikhail.
“I have something for you,” M/n whispered, pressing his phone into Mikhail’s hands. Mikhail blinked.
“Your phone?” M/n nodded, trying to smile through the sadness.
“I removed the password. It’s got our pictures, The ones we took when we were in the garden…” he chuckled weakly.
“And your favorite games are still on it. I figured… if you’re ever bored or lonely, it’ll help.” Mikhail stared down at the phone, swallowing the lump rising in his throat. He traced the worn edges of the case with his thumb.
Before he could speak, M/n slipped the ring off his finger. The same fake engagement ring that had started their entire mess.
“Stupid little thing,” M/n muttered.
“It was supposed to keep you away… but now I want it to bring us back together.”
He reached for Mikhail’s hand and gently slid the ring onto his finger.
“I want to make sure that when I return… we can start again. No more pretending. No more hiding.” Mikhail's breath caught in his throat. He stared at the silver band now sitting on his finger. It was cheap, scratched, nothing special, yet it had never meant more than it did now.
“I—wait,” he said suddenly, fumbling into his coat pocket. He pulled out a neatly folded letter and something small and white origami sampaguita. The petals were crisp, intricately folded, and delicate in his calloused hands.
“I know you can’t take the whole vase with you…” Mikhail said, voice tight with emotion.
“So I made this. It’s not perfect, but I figured… it’s something you can keep with you.” M/n accepted both with trembling hands. He pressed the flower to his chest.
“And the letter?” Mikhail gave a sad smile.
“It’s everything I never got to say out loud. Read it when… when you miss me.”
M/n nodded wordlessly. Then the tears came.
“I’ll miss you so much…” he choked out. His voice cracked.
“God, I’ll miss you—your smile, your voice-.” Before he could break down further, Mikhail pulled him into a fierce embrace. His arms wrapped tightly around M/n's back, holding him like he was something precious, fragile, irreplaceable.
He buried his face in M/n hair, breathing him in, memorizing the scent sun that always lingered around him.
“I’ll wait,” Mikhail whispered into his ear.
“No matter how long it takes. I’ll wait. Just… please come back. Come back in one piece. Come back home.” M/n nodded into his chest.
“I will. I promise.” Then, one last kiss. It was soft, yet desperate. A kiss that said everything they couldn’t find the words for.
When they pulled apart, M/n forced himself to smile. He had to be strong too. For both of them. He opened the oak door. The afternoon air was brisk, scented faintly by the garden’s dew. The black car idled at the edge of the path, waiting.
M/n's shoes crunched against the gravel with every step. The manor behind him felt impossibly distant, even though he hadn’t reached the car yet.
He stopped before opening the door and looked back one last time.
There, in the second-floor window, stood Mikhail. Hands resting on the glass. Watching.
M/n placed his palm against the car, reluctant to open the door.
M/n took a deep breath, tossed his bag into the back seat, and climbed in. The door shut with a final click that felt too loud in the stillness.
Liezel was in the front passenger seat. She glanced at M/n through the side mirror.
Her eyes softened when she saw his face, but she didn’t say anything.She didn’t need to. She saw it too, the silent figure watching from the window. She didn’t need to speak to understand.
As the car began to roll forward, M/n leaned his forehead against the window. His blue eyes stayed locked on the manor, on the window, on him.
Mikhail didn’t move. Neither did M/n, until the manor was swallowed by trees, and all that was left was the ache in his chest.
“We’ll be staying at a hotel first,” Liezel finally said, her voice soft.
“Then… there’s a scheduled meeting with Giselle tonight. Mom said it’s meant to help you two ‘get along.’”
M/n gave no reply. He simply closed his eyes. And held the letter and the flower tightly against his chest. As if they were the only thing keeping his heart from breaking apart.
M/n looked at the letter on his hand, he remembered Mikhail immediately. he carefully unfolded the paper and looked at the elegant handwritting.
_______________________________________
To my beloved M/n,
I’m not sure how to start this letter without wanting to run after you. By the time you read this, you’ll be far from the manor. Far from me. And everything will feel too quiet.
I tried to be strong. I told myself that if I survived years waiting for you once, I could do it again. But now that I’ve held you in my arms again… now that I’ve kissed you and heard your laughter echo in these halls… I don’t know how I’ll bear it.
Still, I meant what I said. I’ll wait.
Even if the seasons change a hundred times. Even if my bones turn to dust. I’ll wait for you, Lucien.
loving you has always felt like breathing, Natural. Necessary. Unavoidable.
You stepped into my quiet world like sunlight through old curtains, and suddenly I was no longer feeling dead… I was living. Because you existed.
How cruel, that everything reminds me of you. And yet… how lucky I am, that I had something worth missing at all.
If I could pluck the stars from the sky and stitch them into your name, I would. But for now, I leave you this letter. I hope it brings you the same comfort your presence gave me.
Promise me something, my love: When the world feels too heavy… when you feel like you’re being swallowed by duty and expectation, Look up. Find our stars.
Remember the night we danced barefoot in the garden, pretending the moon was ours. Remember the way I held you like the whole world could fall apart and I wouldn’t let it.
Because I won’t. I won’t fall apart. I won’t forget. I’ll wait. No matter how long, no matter the pain, I will wait for you. And when you return… I’ll be here. Ring in hand and my heart wide open.
So go, my love. Be brave. Be brilliant. And come home to me safely.
Still yours,
Mikhail
_______________________________________
M/n faltered.
Each word he read dragged him deeper into the weight of his sorrow. By the time he reached the last line, the dam broke. Silent tears slid down his cheeks, warm and trembling, leaving behind the trails of a grief he couldn’t contain. He already missed him. Gods, he missed him.
He wanted to feel Mikhail’s arms again, wrapped around him like a promise. But now, there was only air. And the letter. And the unbearable silence of distance.
M/n didn’t make a sound. He just crumbled inward, wiping his tears as fast as they came, desperate not to let his sister, or anyone, see him like this. Weak and vulnerable.
Clutching the letter to his chest, M/n curled into himself, as if by pressing hard enough, he could absorb Mikhail’s lingering warmth from the paper. As if holding the inked words close could replicate the feeling of being loved, being safe.
The car ride to the hotel remained shrouded in silence. Neither he nor Liezel spoke a word. Outside, the view changed far too quickly. The winding forest path bled into pavement. The quiet, untamed trees were replaced by glass towers and neon signs. The city rushed toward them, the same city M/n had once known, but now felt entirely foreign.
Before he could process it all, the car slowed in front of a pristine, towering hotel. It was modern, sleek, and sterile in a way that stung. The architecture was all clean lines and polished edges, nothing like the warm, creaking charm of the manor he had just left behind.
The staff opened the door for him. Lucien stepped out slowly, his legs heavy, his eyes tired. Inside, the hotel’s cream-colored interior greeted him with soft lighting and a red carpet that tried and failed to make the place feel less like a polished cage.
Liezel walked beside him into the lobby, where the quiet murmur of elegant music filled the air. M/n didn’t even glance around.
“I’ll check us into our room,” Liezel murmured. He nodded, unmoving, barely present. Minutes passed. She returned with a keycard and a tired smile.
They stepped into the elevator, the music even quieter there, almost mournful.
“We’ll be sharing a room… if that’s okay.” Liezel’s tone was casual, but M/n caught the way her eyes didn’t quite meet his. She wasn’t just being thoughtful. She was under their mother's orders, there to watch him. To make sure he wouldn’t run.
M/n didn’t reply. He just walked ahead, his feet carrying him down the hallway on instinct, his heart somewhere else entirely. The room was cozy. The walls were soft beige, the lighting warm. But none of it felt like home.
None of it felt like Mikhail.
DICTIONARY SECTION:
ATE — Sister
IROG — Sweetheart
PUTA — A curse word that means 'fuck' or 'shit'.
ARCHIVES:
—A promise ring symbolizes a commitment between partners, often as a precursor to an engagement, or a sign of a deep, monogamous relationship
—Pandesal, also written as pan de sal or pandisal, is a staple bread roll in the Philippines commonly eaten for breakfast. It is made of flour, yeast, sugar, oil, and salt.
—Sinigang, sometimes anglicized as sour broth, is a Filipino soup or stew characterized by its sour and savory taste.
—Sampaguita, or Jasminum sambac, is a white, sweet-smelling flower that is the national flower of the Philippines.
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