“Clotho.”
By all logic, after a close call with one of the king of Hell’s servants today, I should be exhausted, wrapped deep in the warmth of sleep, but I hear the longing in his murmur and see the look on his sleeping face and I suddenly feel bitterly wide awake.
I feel as though part of me should respond to his cry, like my soul should be reaching out to grasp at the faint call of the name that was once her own, but there is nothing but a painful clenching in my very human, very mortal chest.
He says her name only once.
It only takes that one time to break my heart, and that thought only makes me feel worse. Hue loves me – I know he does – so deeply and profoundly and truly. He loves me for me and I know that, he has proved it time and time again, and yet hearing this one word stirs up a rumbling quake of insecurity in my heart. I have heard want in Hue’s voice before but not like this – never quite so impassioned, so murky and pained. Logically, I should never be feeling this way; I thought I had come to turns with my past self. But I turn my back to Huedhaut in bed and try to settle under the covers but all I can think of is her name in his voice ringing in my head over and over again every second like a clock of steel and glass ticking in my head. Unable to sleep, I spend the night gazing up at the stars through Hue’s ceiling, distracting myself with the tales of the stars, of Cassiopeia and Andromeda, of the eagle Aquila, of the great hunter Orion, until the sun peeks shyly through the night sky.
It takes all I have to maintain this ruse, and still I know I’m not doing a particularly convincing job. Despite airily promising Hue that I would visit as often as possible, for two weeks I stay away from the mansion, tiring myself at work by pulling in hours of overtime in an attempt to wear myself out enough that I don’t have to wallow in this miserable, swaying insecurity. It feels stupid and meaningless to be so negatively affected by something like this – to feel jealous of someone who is almost my own self, essentially – and yet I can’t seem to just get over it or even bring myself to talk to Hue about it. I know I’m employing a dangerous tactic; I would be more surprised than not if the wisest man in the heavens hadn’t realised from the very next day that I was avoiding him.
True to my expectations, the minute I step inside the mansion to pay a quick suspicion-easing visit, I am only mildly startled by the tall man leaning against the doorway, waiting for me. His stance and expression are casual, at ease, but under the calm surface, I see his muscles tensed and impossibly still, like a hunter about to pounce on its prey. My heart leaps into my throat and I feel myself shake, partially due to sun-bright excitement at simply seeing him and partially due to sheer anxiety. He smiles slowly and I feel my feet rooted to the spot. His smile is, as always, jaw-droppingly stunning as the bright moon on a clear August night, but I can tell by his dark, murky eyes that he is stormy in mood; this is a god whose wrath is beautiful but dangerous, like midnight seawater washing in peaceful waves but raging with dark currents and turbulent eddies below the surface.
“Well then,” he says, sounding amicable. I know better. “Am I privileged enough to hear the reason why you’ve been avoiding me?”
Some part of me knows I can never really lie to him – he reads me far too easily – so I open my mouth to try to be honest with him but suddenly, I feel a sharp tug on my heart; it seems to tell me that the last thing I want to do is reveal to him my petty jealousy. I smile instead.
“I haven’t been avoiding you,” I lie stubbornly, as though I haven’t been spending sleepless nights staring blankly at the stars, wondering which constellation I have taken from her, the one he loved and loves so much. “I’ve just been having a tiring time at work, that’s all.”
He reaches out absent-mindedly to touch my cheek, but I automatically flinch in response, for fear that he’ll foresee some future where he figures out my lie and that I’m so deeply insecure over a goddess he loved – a goddess whose stars rest in my very own eyes. But even as I pull back, I immediately know that Huedhaut can sense and has known for a while that something is bothering me between us that I’m not telling him. My brain races to come up with an excuse but it’s so hard when I see a look of hurt flash across Hue’s normally unreadable features. He looks so deeply irritated that I subconsciously take a step backwards.
“I-I’m sorry,” I stammer, taking a risk to try the one thing that might distract Hue from my awkwardness and change this tone between us. “It’s just that… well, it’s been a while since we… you know…” I feel the heat rise to my cheeks due to both the fact that my lie seems so blatantly uncharacteristic and the nature of the lie itself. “I’m worried that if you touch me, I’m going to want you to keep going but I’m just so tired.”
Hue’s eyes darken as his expression turns intense, and I realise that his annoyance is so strong that he isn’t thinking logically enough to see through my fabricated excuses. At this point, he seems more determined just to feel me in his arms first than to clear up any misunderstandings. “Then just relax and let me do all the work,” he murmurs, trailing his cool fingers along my hipbone, voice deep and sultry and dangerous; everything about him makes me shiver. My eyes flutter shut in anticipation and I lift my face as if to meet a kiss, but then I suddenly hear his voice saying her name rumbling through my head again and my eyes snap open. I pull back.
“I’m sorry.” I apologise again, pulling away from him and casting my eyes on the ground so I don’t have to recognise the look of displeasure on his tragically beautiful face. “It’s late, I should get home.”
Hue grabs at my arm. “Allow me to escort you home, at least?”
“Look, I – I really need to get home, okay?” I find myself snapping at him. “It’s literally just back through this door. Thanks Hue, but I just want to be alone in my room right now.”
Biting my lip, I wrench my arm out of his grasp, turn away as fast as I can and slam the door behind me, leaving Huedhaut too stunned to chase after me.
Home seems quiet and lonely when I burst through my front door, locking it behind me. I sink to my knees, quaking as I bury my face in my hands and cry in shallow, shuddering breaths. After two long weeks of not seeing Hue, of falling alone into the cracks of deep, terrible insecurity, it seems overwhelming to have seen him and all his anger and hurt, especially when I know I am the cause of it and yet still cannot gain a handle on this seismic anxiety. I wonder why I can’t just be honest and admit my feelings instead of engaging in this self-destructive behaviour, and then I realise it’s because all along, maybe I have still been holding onto this deep-seated, paralysing fear that he still sees her in me, that he loves me because I have her constellation burning in my otherwise painfully human eyes. My heart feels like a dark, dead burden in my chest, made of cracked earth and weighted stone.
I brew myself a cup of tea but when I take a sip, it tastes bitter as my own emotions and only makes me think more of Hue. Blankly staring into my teacup, it takes me far too long to register the ripples running through the hot liquid as being too vigorous to simply be caused by my tears. Then, deep rumbles and creaks fill the air against the whining wail of car alarms being set off and immediately, I feel a hollow sinking in the pit of my stomach as I recognise the telltale signs of a major earthquake; through the glass doors of my balcony, I see tall apartment complexes sway to and fro like feeble tree branches in the wind. Curling up as small as I can physically fit myself underneath the table and clinging hard to its leg, I feel the ground below me like a junk boat on choppy waters and my breath comes in short, fearful puffs. My cup spills its hot liquid onto my floor and it follows after, rolling to the ground and smashing into dust and shards. Everything loose around me is shaking; my glassware and ceramics clatter angrily against each other and all of the cupboard doors swing and rattle open and shut like they’re possessed.
I know that I’m supposed to keep hiding under my table until the aftershocks subside but some stupid part of me wonders if I can wish hard enough, dash out of my door and make it to the mansion in time. Against my better judgement, I swallow hard and make a dash for it, but just as I’m about to reach my target, another wave shakes the ground and I trip at the same time as my bookcase topples, shattering ceramics and crashing in front of my door just as I reach it. A searing pain like I’m being split apart striking the back of my head is the last sensation I feel before I black out and hit the ground.
I awaken in a soft motion like I’ve been deep underwater and have been slowly drawn back above the surface. The light around me is so pure and bright that everything seems empty and white as I try to blink past the glare. A gripping fear wraps itself around my heart when I realise I must have died, until excruciating pain in various parts of my body rises to the fore of my senses. I cough weakly and a burning shoots through my torso, almost sending me back to sweet unconsciousness.
“I see you’re awake.”
I focus my bleary eyes on an imposing figure standing over me and it takes me a while to realise that I am in fact in Zyglavis’ room in the heavens.
“There was an earthquake on earth and you were injured substantially,” he explains. “I suppose you understand why you’re here.”
The realisation sinks into me like the deep ache that pulses through my bones. “It was me.” A hoarse whisper is all I have the strength to summon.
“That is correct,” he says tersely. “This is not the first time a catastrophe like this has happened. I cannot let you live if you are always going to be in such turmoil that the earth is affected.”
My heart clenches as I think of the irony of it all: the goddess gave all of herself to protect the earth, Huedhaut agonisingly tore the stars out of one of his eyes to save her soul, and here I am for the third time, responsible for the imminent destruction of the world.
“Why… did you save…,” I manage to force out before losing my energy again.
Zyglavis appears conflicted as he answers, “Because I could not take your life without the permission of my king and my friend.”
Oh gods. Tears spring painfully into my eyes.
“Hue,” I whisper, wracked with guilt, and as if on cue, Huedhaut storms through Zyglavis’ doors, burning with godly wrath.
He looks as if he is about to turn on Zyglavis in fury but then he spots me, teary and blinking weakly but very much conscious, and it seems like all of his energy is instantly drained. He reaches my bedside and drops to his knees, reaching out to clasp my hand tight. I wince at the sting and he immediately looks down to find bandages wrapped around my palm. He pulls back the covers and sees almost my entire body swathed in bandages.
“She was struck by a large vase on the back of her head, and landed on top of crushed glass and ceramic shards,” Zyglavis explains, looking chagrined. “The large part of a heavy bookcase pinned her down. I had to extract each and every piece of earthenware and glass from her bloodied wounds and I bound her injuries, but there is nothing more I can do now. Sort out your problems or I will be forced to take action.”
Despite his clinical words, I am struck by Zyglavis’ unexpected kindness as he leaves the room to give us space to talk, but nothing hits me harder than the look of sheer agony on Huedhaut’s face.
“What did I do,” he whispers roughly, his voice breaking as though on the verge of tears, “for this to happen?”
He keeps his hold on my hand with a soft grasp and his other reaches out to wipe my tears in a gentle caress. What little breath I have is stolen away by the sorrow in his midnight eyes.
“It’s my fault,” I say, trying to ignore the pain in my chest that surges with every breath I take and every word I speak. “I was in turmoil and I caused the earthquake. I should have told you how I was feeling from the start instead of letting it get this far, but…” I struggle hard to sit up but Hue steadies me.
“Don’t move.”
“I’m sorry, Hue, I’m so sorry.” I can’t stop my tears from spilling over my cheeks.
“Why are you apologising?” Hue admonishes me but his tone is so loving that it leaves me wondering why I ever had any doubts.
“It was the goddess,” I finally admit after weeks of anxiety and suppression, but my heart feels like it’s breaking and tearing my chest apart as I confess. “I heard you call her name in a dream and I somehow got it into my head that you’re only with me because of her, and of course I couldn’t tell you that because I was just being petty and jealous and insecure over something that shouldn’t have bothered me.”
I close my eyes briefly, worn out from my slow confession.
“Never invalidate your feelings.” Hue strokes my cheeks, my hair, any glimpse of uninjured, bare skin he can find, and his look of deep worry is replaced with a gentle smile.
“It’s true that sometimes I see her death in my dreams. It was one of the most painful moments I have ever experienced, but now I can’t imagine anything more painful than losing you… you’re the one I love. She may have been my past but you are not a replacement; you are my present and my future. Believe me: I knew her and I know you, and I can definitively say that you are categorically your own person and I love you for it … although I suppose I did not know you well enough to have prevented this from happening to you.”
Hue’s smile is tinged a little blue with sadness as he lets my cheek rest in his palm. “Don’t cry, my love. I’m here with you now.”
It is only wrapped in his unconditional comfort and love that I drift off back into a deep and restful sleep.
The next time I remember opening my eyes is days later and, miraculously, I feel almost as if I’m completely well and everything was just a bad dream. My vision gradually focuses and as I stare into a clear, sun-warm sky, I realise that I am awakening in Hue’s bed. I turn my head slowly to see Hue at my bedside, busy with research and paperwork. He starts and looks up when he sees my movement and his tense expression melts into a smile so transparently relieved that I feel my heart leap in my chest.
“Are you properly awake?”
“Yes, Hue –“
“How are you feeling?” He reaches out tenderly for my cheek and I nuzzle softly into his palm.
“Better,” I say hesitantly. “Did that all really happen? It seems like just moments ago that I was in such excruciating pain but now it feels as though everything was just a nightmare.”
“Yes, it all happened. You’ve been asleep for a week.” He sighs. “You really are cruel, you know? You opened your eyes briefly a few times and got my hopes up, but just went right back to sleep. But you were healed, by the mercy of the king. He holds you in his high favour,” Hue says with a wry smile. “I suppose I should be wary of that.”
My limbs feel leaden but I reach up to hold Hue’s hand against my cheek, relishing the feel of his cool fingers.
“Hue, I’m sorry I let things get so out of hand,” I say sorrowfully, my cheeks flushing as I remember everything he said as I was lying, half-conscious, in Zyglavis’ bed. “Everything you said to me when I was hurt – I knew all that, rationally. I don’t know why I got so jealous and I don’t know why I avoided you and couldn’t just tell you. I swear it’s not like me.”
“It’s my fault,” Hue says. I frown in confusion. “It turns out that I didn’t at all save you from that run-in you had with the king of Hell’s servant – he cast a curse on your heart and I didn’t realise. That’s why you were experiencing such extreme negative emotions and couldn’t say anything. I should have known something was wrong. I suppose I was just scared that you really didn’t want to see me.”
I place my hand over my chest pensively, feeling where I had lost to such tugging insecurity.
“Of course it’s not your fault – who could have known?”
I sit up in bed, wrapping my arms around Hue’s waist and holding him tight. He feels so solid, so stable and real in my arms and I wonder what I have done to deserve someone like him; I wonder what I have done to deserve to find such great love in every life I’ve lived. I bury my head in his chest and inhale his cool scent and suddenly, tears are welling up in my eyes and I’m shaking against the solidness of his body.
“I was so scared, Hue,” I sob. “I was so scared I was going to die and would never see you again, that I would never be able to tell you again how much I love you. All my petty insecurities just seem so insignificant next to the thought of losing you.”
Hue strokes my back and my hair until I’ve cried out my worries and then he pulls back to smile at me so gently and beautifully that I fear my heart may break all over again.
“Don’t you think I know how that feels? I can’t stand the thought of losing you; you know as well as I do that I’m so in love with you… or did you just want to hear me say it again?” He chuckles and I blush at his soft teasing. “Honestly, so much for being rational – you drive me mad with love.”
He kisses my tears away and then presses a kiss against my lips that feels like sunlight warming my skin. Our kisses feel like the moment you breach the surface of a lake to come up for air after being underwater for far too long, dreamy and slow-moving and desperate all at once. I look into his eyes, dark and crystalline and filled with unending love for me, and I suddenly realise that Clotho and I aren’t so different after all: no matter what body I take, human or god, I know deep within me that my soul has and will always love this man in front of me for as long as these stars burn bright in my eyes.