In Place of the Moon — Hadrian (Patreon)

His hand is buried in his pocket, fingers playing with the smooth edges of a translucent stone. 

Hadrian has never seen a stone like this before. He found it on the gentle shores of a small lake, crystalline waters shallow and calm and serving as an oasis in the middle of a vast, mostly dry plain. The shore was rocky, pebbles sharp and abundant, and Hadrian remembers cutting his foot when he took off his boots, but the cooling water was too tempting to resist. 

The day had been warm, almost unbearably so, and he remembers how he dove into the water, how heavenly it had felt. How, when he opened his eyes underneath, something shiny immediately caught his attention. Something circular and small, and, when Hadrian grabbed it, something that fitted perfectly in his palm. 

He'd emerge to inspect it, and he doesn't believe the Lord watches over him so closely as to grant him small, spontaneous gifts, but he believed then, that he was meant to find this stone. 

He still believes it. 

Hadrian keeps it inside his pocket ever since. He knows Alessa would call him a fool, and just the thought of having her know he has it is enough to make his neck burn with embarrassment. She'd call him a fool, and Hadrian would never deny that he is, but he doesn't feel like one when he looks at you. When he sees the sun shining in your eyes, making the irises seem almost translucent too, beautiful and precious, and one of a kind. 

Like the stone he carries inside his pocket. A special, glass-like stone that is the same color as your gaze. And if the thought of Alessa knowing is unbearable, the thought of you seeing it makes him want to throw himself into a hole. 

So he keeps it a secret, something only for himself. Something he finds himself studying, right before bed, watching how the candlelight plays with its surface. Something his fingers seek as absently and almost as frequently as they do his cross. He knows it's foolish, maybe even absurd, but this stone reminds him of you, and while it can never compare to the sight of your eyes, Hadrian feels as if he carries a piece of you nonetheless. 

His fingertips play with its smooth edge, but he doesn't do so with an absent mind. Hadrian purposely presses the stone, digging it into his palm because you're looking up, your eyes half-lidded, your lips spread in a faint smile, and he's never seen a stone like this before, but he's praying it'll help him handle the feeling that builds in his chest. 

Lord. 

But you are beautiful. 

"... don't you agree?"

Your voice rings in the quiet air, soft but slamming against him like a storm. Hadrian blinks, letting go of the stone as he's pushed to the present. And when you turn towards him, his neck almost breaks with how quickly he looks away. Hadrian can feel his cheeks warming, but he hopes the night is deep enough to hide the flush, just as he hopes you didn't notice him staring. 

Idiot.

"Hadrian?" you speak again, and he almost jumps when you reach over to tap his arm. 

Almost, but he managed not to make a fool of himself. Not quite yet, anyway. "Yes?" he says, meeting your gaze. You're smiling, although it's different from before. This smile is quirked to one side, sharper, and he knows you must have caught him after all because you lean over with the air of a predator.

"You weren't listening to a word I was saying, were you?" you accuse him, your eyes narrowed but smile growing. He shouldn't be so aware of how you keep your hand on his arm, but he is, and now his body is locked into stone. 

"I, uh." He resists the urge to scratch at his neck. You lift your eyebrows, daring him to lie, and Hadrian sighs because he wouldn't. "No, I'm sorry. I was distracted."

"Oh?" you say, tapping his arm again. Hadrian's hand curls on his leg. "I understand, this incredible view is so enticing, after all. Of course, you'd completely ignore me."

You sweep your hand in the air, encompassing the lands beyond. Hadrian grins, but he does you the service of looking out towards the night. When the sun shone from its throne in the sky, the view wasn't very interesting, to begin with. You're traveling a vast plain, dull and dry and yellow, with only the occasional lonely tree to break the monotony. 

After sunset, however, the plain is plunged into almost nothing but deep shadows. 

Almost. "Do you see that?" He points at a shape not far from here. It's darker than the darkness around it, and it rises like a broken tooth from the colorless earth. Hadrian's pretty sure it's a boulder of some kind. 

"I do see it, yes." Comes your answers, and he can tell by the barely hidden amused tone in your voice that you're willing to indulge him too. You do it quite often, indulge him in his jokes, no matter how clumsy they are. And you laugh, often. You laugh, and he's been addicted to the sound ever since. 

"I couldn't look away from it," he admits. "It's the most interesting thing I've seen in all my life." 

He's rewarded when you laugh. It's short-lived and subtle, but it still makes his chest swell with pride, and his cheeks warm further, and it even alleviates the sting of disappointment when you take your hand away from his arm. 

"You know, Hadrian, if anyone could stare at a shadow for hours on end, it would be you," you say, the words softened by the laughter still hanging onto your voice. Softened to by the way you smile when you look at him. "Like a puppy."

Your smile. The real reason he was distracted. 

"Cats are the ones who like to stare," he corrects you, only half aware of what he's saying. He'll say anything if it means you'll keep looking at him like you are. "Puppies just run around."

You quirk an eyebrow. "Do they, big man?" you ask, your voice lower, more of a drawl, and your eyelids get heavier, and you make that smile that isn't really a smile. It curls the side of your lips, almost mocking but never quite. A smile you wear whenever you use that tone. 

And he's never ready for it. Hadrian freezes, thoughts suddenly vanishing because he can't look away from you. You use it to win, he knows, and you always, always do. 

"I, uh." He hears his foolish mouth mumble. Lord. His cheeks feel as if they're on fire, and Hadrian knows he can't hope to hide his blush now. "Yes, they often- they generally do."

Your smile, that devilish, divine smile, curls further, and Hadrian can't bear it. "But you can call me whatever you like," he says. He's not sure what you were even talking about. 

There's a silence. "That's good to know," you say. He can't name what he sees in your eyes now, he can only feel his heart hammering in his chest. The air tastes heavy, too heavy, and Hadrian feels as if he's stuck playing a game where only you know the rules. 

But your gaze holds him captive as the night hangs like a rug between you. He feels almost suffocated by it, by you, but even the promise of Heaven's gates wouldn't make him move an inch away. He wishes you would say something. He wishes you'd put your hand back on his arm. He wishes he was bold enough to-

"I was saying how one should be wary." You break eye contact to lift your chin up and look out towards the heavens. "Of a moonless night."

There is no moon to bathe its cold light onto the earth, but the sky is overflowing with uncountable little stars. The sight would be breathtaking if their faint, twinkling light didn't illuminate your profile. 

The curve of your lashes, the lines of your throat, the soft slopes of your cheeks. Your skin seems to shine, almost, standing like a beacon from the darkness. 

His fingers touch a stone with no edges, stored deep in his pocket, and Hadrian doesn't question when he takes it out. He doesn't question when he opens his hand and exposes his palm to the night. 

The smooth, perfect stone sitting at the center. 

"Here," Hadrian says, never taking his eyes off you. You'd be breathtaking, but Hadrian doesn't have any breath left. It leaves him when you look down at his hand. When you look upon his secret. 

Father in Heaven. 

"What," you begin, but don't continue. You press closer, and your fingers brush his when you pick up the stone, your brows pulling together. "This is-"

"For you," Hadrian lies because it wasn't for you. It was for him, selfishly, secretly, shamelessly. It was for him, but now that he sees it in your hand, Hadrian can't think of a better place for it. 

You don't speak. You just stare at the stone, slowly turning it in your hands, exploring it with the tips of your fingers. Your eyes are downcast, and Hadrian can't begin to phantom what thoughts are going through your mind. 

That he's a fool, no doubt. That this is just a stone, something that belongs on the dirt and not with you, it's not worthy of you. It's not even worthy of being compared with the color of your eyes. 

Silence stretches, as well as the pit at the bottom of his stomach. Oh, no. His ears burn like twin flames, the silence like an iron hand closing around his throat.

Squeezing. Tightening. 

"You, uh." He has to break it. "You don't have to keep it. It was... it was something I found and it reminded me of you, but it's nothing. You can toss it, or-"

"Thank you." Your hand closes around the stone as you bring it to your chest. You look at him again, your eyes glinting with the stars, and Hadrian feels the world tip under his feet. "I- this is beautiful, Hadrian."

You smile then. Beautiful. "Thank you," you say again. 

He forces himself to speak. "You're, uh. You're welcome."

You give him one last smile before you turn away, but you're not looking at the stars any longer. You're watching the stone in your hands. 

Silence falls once again, but this time, it doesn't crush him. It feels light, boundless, it feels just like the warmth spreading in his chest.

Wanting to burst out. 

Hadrian smiles a smile that he knows is too wide, but he can't help it as he sits beside you, elbow almost touching yours. Maybe the Lord never did grant him the stone, after all, but Hadrian has no doubt that him meeting you was a gift. A blessing. 

One that he doesn't deserve, but one that he'll never dare to question. 

"Oh, and Hadrian?"

"Yes?"

You lean in, and soft, perfect, tender lips kiss him on the cheek. "I'll get you something too," you promise his wide, shocked eyes. "Something green."

And you laugh, then, at whatever it is you see on his face, but you lean into his side, and Hadrian is spiraling, mind falling into a void.

His arm goes around you, however, because he will never question.