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The eyes.
That's what gives it away first.
She looked up from her cup of melting ice cream, meeting Cassius’s own and giving him the most radiant of smiles, and it took all the self-control Cassius had to not wince from the sheer radiance of it. Instead he vouched to just look back down at his own too-expensive cup of sugary goodness. Mint chocolate chip sitting across from Rocky Road.
Head movement a bit too fast and flustered. Face pointing down, shyly refusing to make eye contact.
Perfect.
Playing the part of the flustered and bashful partner. And now, Cassius was free to subtly look around and find out what the inferna was going on-
She chuckles.
It's slow and relaxing and deep in her throat and low and- oh deus - Cassius’s shoulders drop without his meaning to.
How long has he even been alive for?
Years? Those were gone before you knew it.
Decades? Those just trickled by like the passing of water.
Centuries? Maybe more significant to anyone else, but to him they were still far too short.
Milenia? Maybe, but no matter how long it’s been – however long it may be – Cassius knows he will never find anyone else that could relax or scare or frustrate or just simply affect him like this.
It…has been too long.
He looks back up at her, and it's truly a picturesque moment.
An outdoor terrace, covered with white tiles and penned in by a white picket fence. Behind them lies the ocean, and even further back is the setting sun, framing the scene in a beautiful splash of oranges, pinks, and blues.
It’s all so…grand and big and beautiful.
But that's not what catches his attention. No, “Catches” is a bad way of saying it, it’s insufficient. She captivates and seizes and holds everything hostage. Everything that he could give; everything that he could have. He knows she’ll never let it go. He doesn’t want her to.
And for the first time in so, so long, he looks at her. Studies her.
Ŗ̵̢̧̡̧͍̣̘͙̘̞̙͖̫̻͉͎͎̗̻̗̬͚͎͉̪̮̹͓̦͈̲̗̘̲͇͕͇̮̠̯̞͚̇̈́̅͛̓̎̐̽̽͑͆̐͛͛̈́͂́̈́̀́̈̚͜͜͜͝ọ̴̡̨̨̨̧̞̜͖̹̘̬̮̗̦̬̖̬̗̱̟̝̤̫̘̯̩̪̯̯͉͈̯̳͈͙̔̾̉̈́̒́͑̏̓̌́̒̅́͗̄̄̇̏́̏́̋̎̑̌̓̐̊̚͘̚̚͘̚͝c̷̡̧̡̲̙͈͚̲̫͙̺̹̩̭̞̗͔̫͙͈̯̤̙̫̠̟̲̖̯͑̽̆̀͂͂̍̽̐͂ͅk̷̡̠͚͕͇͇̞͇̜͉͕̄͆̅̀̏̓̈̊̍͋̑͒̑̇̇̾̏͒͗̀͘̕͝͝͠t̶̡̢̧̹̳̳͙̖̱͙̙̳̜͚̙̰͚̰̖͕͇̲͙͙̜͇̜̳̼̠̲͕̫̻̯͕̝̞̍͊̓̓͑̑͑͒̊̿̅̈́͋͘͠͠͝ͅͅ
Everything about her he tries to remember, to commit to memory so that he could never forget again. But nothing he sees can stay. Everything he sees is fleeting, and the moment he tries to put them to thought, they blur and blend and nothing seems real anymore. Everything around him starts to spin. The colors, the shapes, the sounds, everything. Suddenly the floor feels a lot closer than it was. When did gravity stop working? Everything is muddled and spinning and…it just feels so heavy -
The eyes.
That’s right.
Those piercing amber eyes, able to cut through all the muddy madness and reach him. An unnatural shade, complementing Cassius’s own electric blue. Proof of their unnaturalness. So many have said so much about those eyes, some good, most bad. Cassius always thought they were pretty.
They never could’ve had a memory like this.
That’s right.
This is a dream. Just a dream. Just another perfect, blissful dream.
Cassius almost wishes he never had to wake up.
But of course, like all good things, this too must come to an end.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When he wakes up, Cassius knows only two things:
- It was still hella dark
- He was burning
He ripped off the blanket suffocating him, the force almost throwing him off the bed, and everything was just… too hot . It felt like everything was burning inside. His skin was covered in cold sweat, and he could vaguely register his skin freezing against the cold air, but he was still burning.
A different kind of heat started to trickle down his face, and he tapped a hand against his cheek.
It was wet.
He was crying.
He couldn’t remember why he was crying.
And that just hurt more.
His chest ached, like someone had just scooped up a part of his beating heart and abruptly left, leaving to bleed out on the floor.
Nearly two and a half thousand years does that to someone.
Especially when one hundred of those years was spent in self-imposed isolation.
Cassius had seen far greater men with far less time break.
How long would it take for him? He had tried to prolong it, he had to. He need to so he could hide out here, waiting in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the woods where the closest semblance of a road was over thirty friggin’ miles-
Wait. He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember what he’s waiting for. Why he’s still here. What- no, who was he waiting for? Does it still matter?
He had already destroyed any traces of himself, and it’s been far too long for anyone to still be around and remember him, let alone know where to find him. No one remembers him.
Cassius feels strangely hollow.
He needs a walk.
~~~
Usually his days are pretty relaxed; he can go out and do whatever he wants, given he gets his chores out of the way, of course. But having to gather wood and food and take care of only one person still leaves a lot of free time. He always found it relaxing before, how he had so much time. Now it just feels empty.
A breeze passes by and he realizes just how cold it is outside.
He left his jacket back in the cabin, and he’s finally gone so far out he doesn’t recognize this part of the forest. When did he get here? When did the sun start peeking out from the horizon?
Then, a squawking sound bursts from under a bush. It’s loud and obnoxious and starles a few birds perching in the bare branches of the trees towering above.
Cassius approaches. What kind of bird makes such a racket while on the groun-
It’s not a bird.
It’s small and covered in dark fur. Something in the back of his mind vaguely registers that it’s late March, and bear cubs are rarely alone.
This one wasn’t.
A growl sounds from behind, and Cassius is right between a mother and its cub. The mother is clearly hostile and growls heavily, granting him a chance to run.
But Cassius is tired. So, so tired.
And if he were to die here, who would know? Who would care?
It’s not like he can die by other…more natural means anyway, and at least now these guys can be fe-
“GET AWAY YOU MOTHE-”
The rest of that statement is drowned out by the sound of multiple bullets planting themselves in a nearby tree.
The bears scatter, and Cassius is just left standing there, like the stupid fool he is, just standing there letting himself be eaten -
“Are you okay?”
Cassius takes a deep breath before responding.
“Yes.” It’s short and curt and probably a bit rude, but Cassius can’t find it in himself to really care. His voice is a bit scratchy and raspy from years of disuse.
“No, no, no. Are you okay ?”
Cassius finally turns to take a look at the first human he’s talked to in years…and promptly forgets all other trains of thought.
Those eyes. Bright, glowing, amber eyes.
“No.”
~~~
Apparently Cassius’s “savior” has a penchant for ice cream.
He’s a well-built man with orange hair that matches his eyes who barely beats Cassius’s own height, and introduces himself as Roger, a local park ranger. And he insists on taking Cassius to a “nearby” ice cream store half an hour away.
Cassius starts to ask him why would there be a park ranger walking around in the middle of the woods with a loaded shotgun at six in the morning, but Roger just redirects them to the counter for dessert. Cassius questions why a ice cream store would be open at nearly seven in the morning
“So…I’ll take a large Rocky Road, and… a medium mint choco-chip.”
Cassius raises an eyebrow.
“Don’t be like that, you just…seem like a mint kind of guy,” Roger throws in a wink, “Comon, let’s go sit outside. They got a pretty nice view on the back patio.”
He goes to pick up the deserts and heads to the door, with Cassius following behind in tow.
~~~
It’s beautiful outside.
It’s that time of the day where dawn just passed by, so the sky is filled with a brilliant bright blue and big fluffy clouds.
The patio is covered in worn and cracked white tile, and a similarly old and decrepit fence is all that protects any wandering customers from the edge of a cliff. Although it doesn’t seem like the fence could do much protecting. A strong gust of wind could probably blow it over. Beyond the cliff that the store and patio lie on is the sea, and Cassius can hear the cries of fishing seagulls.
It’s also really cold, given that they are right next to the sea, and strong breezes keep blowing Cassius’s hair right in his face.
Roger just laughs at the sight, and Cassius almost pouts in annoyance, but stops himself and settles for a glare instead.
Another strong gust of wind forces him to shiver against his will, and unfortunately, Roger takes notice.
In one smooth motion, Roger sheds his thick winter coat, plops it on Cassius’s shoulders, and then flops himself onto a chair, already digging into his cup of sugary goodness. He doesn’t say anything.
Neither does Cassius.
The jacket is warm.
Cassius takes his own seat across from Roger, and the ranger wordlessly hands him the mint chocolate. A silent invitation.
Cassius looks up at Roger. His hair keeps swishing around due to the wind, there's a bit of chocolate ice cream smudged on his chin, and the desert spoon is sticking out of his mouth. But his eyes are filled with a warm… something , like a kind of muted smile. He’s bright. Brighter than the sun above them, and that look he gives Cassius fills him with more warmth than the jacket around him.
Cassius takes the cup.
It’s been years since he’s come out to any form of human civilization, and despite how cold it is around them, the ice cream is nothing short of heavenly , and Cassius almost moans with how delectable the desert is on his tongue. Not almost, actually. He does.
His face turns red and he just hopes that Roger either doesn’t notice, or that he just chalks it up to the cold.
Or that there is somehow a sinkhole right below his chair that takes this opportunity to graciously open up. That did happen before.
But there is only a light chuckle, something warm that reverberates through Cassius’s very being, and he realizes it’s his new favorite sound. Any kind of tenseness or nervousness melts away, and his shoulders involuntarily drop, now suddenly relaxed.
But… there was something… about this, wasn’t there?
How they would sit together, side-by-side and feeling the other’s warmth, or across the table so that the only thing they can see is each other.
How she would drag him out, and he would grumble, but she could just simply laugh and all of a sudden, everything was fine.
That’s right.
Her.
And now Him.
How did he forget?
“Rocky?”
Roger looks up.
“Yes?”
“...Who are you?”
“So… you don’t remember me?”
It was phrased like a question, but they both knew it wasn’t.
Cassius looked away.
“...Kind-of. Little things here and there. Like how you love to climb. You love pickles but hate cucumbers. Crabs interest you since they evolved at least five different times — and we were there to catch every single kind — but you can’t still stand actually touching one.”
Roger- no, Rocky’s eyes start to shine.
“How we hiked every single mountain range — although it was more of you dragging me everywhere — and you would have that same kind of… sparkle in your eyes. Your obsession with everything sweet, and- don’t get me started on when we first got chocolate,“ Rocky chuckles, “And how every time we went out for ice cream — and deus that was so many times — you would always get your Rocky Road and I, my mint chocolate.
“We spent so much time together, but you would always have to leave. But- “ Cassius’s eyes start to shine, filling with water that threatens to spill, “But, you… you would always come back. No matter what.
“How…how could I forget?”
Tears start falling freely down Cassius’s face, but it’s no match for the sheer weeping that comes from Rocky.
“That- that was beautiful .”
Cassius comes around the table to put a hand on the ranger’s back.
“Shhhh… don’t talk… you’re getting mucus everywhere…”
Rocky just starts shoveling bigger scoops of ice cream in his mouth, some of his tears and snot that streams freely down his face joins it, but Cassius just can’t find it in himself to be disgusted.
“You may be Roger, or Ellen, or Caleb, or Caroline, or Meena, or Ivo, or Brutus, or Ovidius…but to me, you’ll always be my Rocky.”
Cassius puts Rocky’s forehead to his own, and somehow Rocky cries even more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A couple hours later, Ricky, a horribly underpaid ice cream store worker, goes out to the patio just to check on Roger and the other guy that came out there earlier, just to make sure they haven’t either fallen off the cliff, turned this oneshot’s rating to a “R”, or both. It’s amazing how much any of those options happen.
Although if Roger was doing the second one, then he supposes that he would have no choice but to congratulate him. Although they weren’t particularly close, they did go to high school together. Roger was always that one guy who was all broody and stuff, and at least half the class was crushing on him hard (boys and girls included). Ricky, on the other hand, was more of a background mob character who used to be so god-dang jealous of him, but that was then.
Now, Ricky is in a good place. He finally has a job, a place, and a girl who’s willing to tolerate him.
Roger didn’t have all of that.
The ranger used to come in every month or so just to order the same large Rocky Road and brood over it while it melted. Occasionally, some chick or dude who thought they were hot stuff would come by and try to make a move, but Roger would always just completely ignore their existence.
On the days he was feeling extra broody, he would order a small mint chocolate chip too.
Those never seemed like happy days to him.
But now, with Roger passed out with his head on the other dude’s shoulder, the two of them somehow squeezing into the same tiny, wrought iron chair, Ricky notices something first.
Roger had obvious tear track stains and a whole lot of dried mucus stuck to his face.
He had been crying.
Ricky almost comes out to address Item Number 1, but pauses when the other man — the one with the funky but kinda cool electric blue eyes just lazily raises a hand at him and gives a thumbs up, accompanied by a gentle smile that has Ricky feeling diabetic.
He looks- no, gazes at Roger with such soft fondness Ricky can’t believe this is the same guy who walked in a few hours earlier looking like he wanted to murder someone.
Ricky looks back at Roger and realizes something: he’s smiling. Genuinely. Ricky has literally never seen Roger smile like this. All warm and fuzzy and happy like he’s a baby snuggling with his favorite toy. At most, Roger just makes a kind of crescent shape that’s just to be polite or nice, but this … this is something Ricky didn’t even know Roger could do.
Ricky stands in the doorway for a solid ten seconds with his jaw gaping like some kind of fish.
A bug almost flies right in before Ricky remembers stuff exists and that he’s still on the clock.
He contemplates calling up his own girlfriend to ask her to cuddle and gaze at each other fondly before remembering that yes, he’s still on the clock.
So he just settles for the next best thing: going back inside in a daze to finish the job he is still criminally underpaid for, then driving home to his own loving partner and showering her with affection like there’s no tomorrow.
But for now, he just leaves the two on the patio.
After all, they have plenty of time before closing hours when Ricky has to kick them out.
They could always have more time together.
~End~