He didn’t love him. Or, if he did, he had never said so in all the years they’d been together. Sappy confessions weren’t Sägan’s style. Tülay knew that. And he’d accepted it, hoping deep down that, maybe someday, Sägan would say it back when Tülay said “I love you”. He would’ve been glad for any kind of reciprocation, even if it was only a grumpy “Me too. I guess”. He just wanted to know that someone he valued so dearly felt the same way about him. Was that such an awful request?
. . . They were going to die today. The two of them had been through the process so many times that they could recognize the warning signs right away. They’d known for about two days already, and today was the last. Today was the day that everything ended. For them, at least. Tülay had left a letter for Dmitri and Axïs, one for Süra, and one for Alöis and Imbriel, saying everything that he wanted to say–it would be too painful in person. Just the thought of all of them made him want to cry. Again. And it made him wonder: would his next selves befriend them as he had? Or would they be like Sevrïn’s had been, and only offer a few tentative goodbyes before heading off on their own and never looking back? Would any of Tülay’s feelings remain in his next incarnations?
He turned his head to look at Sägan, who was laying on his back and looking up at the clouds. The two of them had been here all day, sitting under their favorite tree, on their favorite hill. So much had happened here that it felt right to end it in the same place, surrounded by flowers and under the clear, blue sky. They hadn’t even had to say anything to each other–they had just known. And now that they were outside and in the fresh air, Sägan seemed at peace.
But Tülay was not. His treacherous mind had decided to take this opportunity to torment him with the thoughts he’d always kept firmly locked away. Thoughts about Sägan and this partnership that, had he ever dared to brood on them at any time other than this, would have no doubt ruined the whole relationship. But, since it is all ending now, his mind reasoned, Why not think about it? Why not voice these thoughts and see what happens? What have you got to lose?
'Everything.' Tülay replied to himself, looking away from Sägan and up to the sky as a flock of birds flew overhead. 'It would make everything about us just one big lie. I couldn’t bear that.'
He’d known that Sägan didn’t love him. Not in the way Tülay loved him back. How could he? Sägan thought that love was just a fairy tale. Something only found in stories to give people false promises. But Tülay had held out hope that his lover would come to believe in time. If he just kept assuring the other male that he loved him, wouldn’t Sägan come to think that, too? Tülay had thought so, and had tried his hardest to prove to Sägan how much he mattered to him. And after all these years, did Sägan believe?
There was only one way to find out, he knew. But Tülay was hesitant, because he felt like he almost didn’t want to know the answer. What if all his work had been in vain? What if Sägan actually didn’t love him, like he suspected? He wanted to be full of optimism, confident that he was loved, but he couldn’t help but be unsure. Sägan wasn’t exactly easy to read–he’d hidden so much from Tülay; still was hiding so much. What if it their relationship really had been nothing but a lie?
A small pain started in his back, but Tülay ignored it, shaking his head and willing everything to just shut up. He took a deep breath, and gathered his thoughts, steeling himself.
“Sägan,” he whispered at last, turning his gaze to the other. “. . . Do you love me?”
Sägan, who had given his attention to the small Amon when he spoke, closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and flicked them back to the sky. He seemed to be thinking about what to say, but the length of his pause was enough to confirm what Tülay’s mind had already told him.
Well, there really was no point now, was there?
He opened his mouth to speak again (of what, he’d never know), but a wave of pain rippled down his spine, like a knife slicing him in two. He flinched, breath coming out in a harsh gasp of agony. This was it.
Suddenly, it didn’t matter that Sägan didn’t love him–Tülay didn’t want to lose him. He reached out his hand towards the other male, but his body swayed off-balance, sending him falling to the side. He tensed, expecting to feel himself crash into the hard earth beneath him, but, instead, felt the warmth of strong arms surrounding him. His eyes opened, staring up into Sägan’s face. His vision was blurring, whether from tears or the beginnings of body shut-down, he didn’t know. Probably both. All he knew was that he could barely make out his lover’s face, save for the dark orange-yellow eyes staring back into his. And he wished that time would stop, because there was nothing that he longed for more than to stay like this, safe within Sägan’s arms. He knew what came next, but he didn’t want it to.
“We’ll be reborn,” he began, tears sliding down his cheeks. “Our memories will be carried over to the next pair. But I don’t want to be!” he sobbed, hands gripping fiercely at Sägan’s vest, trying to pull him closer.
“I don’t want you to be nothing more than a vague memory, with no emotions associated with it! I know what happens to feelings like that–they whither away until they sink into oblivion! I can remember past lovers from past selves, but they strike no chord in my spirit. There’s nothing; absolutely nothing! I don’t want that for you! I want to remember!” his voice started to break, body trembling as the fire along his spine festered and burned.
“. . . I don’t want my soul to split so many times that the part of me that loves you dies!”
He was crying, desperately holding onto Sägan as though he were a lifeline. Inside, his head was full of so many thoughts that he didn’t know if he was saying them aloud or not.
I love you. Please love me. Please don’t forget me. I don’t want to forget you. I love you, always loved you, always will, please Sägan, Sägan, Sägan, Sägan–
And then he was gone.
