Archive of Our Own ^beta

The scent of freshly baked apple tart is still lingering in the air by the time Essek finishes his last bite of dessert. He puts his fork down with a sigh, a small smile hovering about his mouth. “You have outdone yourself this time, Widogast.”

“That is high praise indeed,” Caleb says seriously, “considering the quality of food that must be served in the Bright Queen's royal court, and in the noble dens, and—”

“None of them were your cooking,” Essek interrupts. 

“So it wasn’t the cooking that was good, but the fact that I cooked it.”

“Rest assured I am not in the habit of bestowing praise where it is undeserved.”

“Now you’re just patronizing me.”

“That is what you get for angling for more compliments,” Essek says. But he lets Caleb wrap an arm around his shoulders and press a kiss to his temple. 

A pleasant lull falls in the kitchen. Caleb has a fluffy cat in his lap, a belly full of delicious food, and Essek Thelyss’ cheek resting on his shoulder. If this is all he ever gets out of the rest of his life, he thinks through his drowsiness, he will be more than content with just this. His arm tightens around Essek, who peers up at him pensively.

“All jokes aside, the tart truly was delicious. I… I hope it was not too difficult for you to make.”

“It was, at first. Both the baking and the remembering,” Caleb admits. “But it was well worth it for you.”

“Flatterer,” Essek chides him, his lips twitching. 

“I mean it.”

“You do not need to do such things,” Essek says, more gently now. 

“I know,” Caleb says. “But I wanted to. And today is a special day.”

“A year of us living here is something worth celebrating, I suppose,” Essek allows.

It has been a largely quiet life for them the past year. Caleb's modest house in Rexxentrum is nothing compared to the Shadowhand's former towers or the luxurious estate of den Thelyss. There are few adventures on offer beyond the occasional academic dispute and the irritations of a ruffled cat or two. But they have been happy, nevertheless. At least, Caleb certainly has been. More so than he could have ever dreamed he could be. 

“I want to think living with me has been to your liking,” he says, only half-joking. 

To Caleb’s surprise, a shadow crosses Essek’s face, but it is so fleeting that Caleb must have only imagined it. A trick of the light, perhaps.

“If it were otherwise, do you think I would still be here?” Essek asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You are a cruel man, Herr Thelyss,” Caleb says, putting as much agony as he can into his voice, “forever denying me the certainty of knowing that I am enough for your exacting tastes—”

He is very quickly silenced by Essek’s mouth on his. A long moment passes where no one says anything at all. Caleb is lost in the softness of Essek’s lips, the familiar scent of him filling Caleb’s lungs with every breath. 

Finally, Essek pulls away. He looks entirely too superior, chin tilted up and eyebrows raised despite his swollen, kiss-reddened mouth. Caleb goes weak at the knees.

"Does that answer your question, Caleb Widogast?" Essek breathes, the words ghosting against Caleb's skin. 

It is not long before an irritated cat is deposited on the ground with undue haste. Essek’s buttons are half undone, and Caleb’s hair has come free of its usual knot. The hallway between the kitchen and their bedroom seems interminable, but they make it somehow, notwithstanding the clothes strewn on the floor in their wake. 

When Caleb stirs again—it is almost half-past two in the morning, his brain supplies through the haze of drowsiness—he reaches for Essek and is roused by the realization that the other half of the bed is empty. 

He blinks his eyes open. When his vision focuses in the dim light, he finds Essek standing by the window, face turned away. The glow of the moonlight spilling into the room turns his hair silver.

“Essek?” Caleb says, his voice hoarse with sleep. “What's the matter?” 

“Ah, I did not mean to wake you.” The bed creaks a little when Essek's weight settles back down on the mattress. “I was… well. I was parsing out one of today’s problems in my head.” 

“A platinum piece for your thoughts,” Caleb suggests. 

Essek hums and presses closer, his body fitting perfectly against Caleb's. “You think so highly of me, Widogast.” 

“Of course,” Caleb murmurs. His eyes are already sliding closed. “No one else would ever dare tell me that my equations are so inefficient that I have been wasting nearly an entire spell slot on the excess energy spent.” 

“Slander and lies,” Essek says, amused. “You came to that conclusion on your own; all I did was point out alternative runes you could have used to cast. Now, go to sleep.”

“Mm,” Caleb agrees. Sleep sounds wonderful. Even better now that Essek is in his arms. “Will you still be here in the morning?”

A beat. “Of course. Where else would I be?”

“I don’t know,” Caleb says, already drifting. “Perhaps after a year, you have already grown tired of me.” 

“Not of you,” Essek says softly. A kiss is pressed to Caleb's cheek. “Never of you.” 

–

More and more often now, Essek falls into unpredictable bouts of brooding that not even the cats can coax him out of. He's taken to going on long walks with Yasha in the evenings, when Beau is around to keep an eye on their houseful of children. Caleb knows even now that Essek still finds solace in darkness, for all he loves the daylight. Maybe a part of him still yearns for the Dynasty, even after everything that has happened. And Caleb cannot blame him. 

He brings Essek a steaming cup of tea one night before he goes to bed. Essek has been gazing out the window for the better part of half an hour. The muslin curtains frame Catha in all its glory, Ruidus in shadow behind, the stars scattered in their familiar patterns in the night sky. 

Does Essek miss the constellations in the Dynasty's eternal dusk? Caleb doesn't know how to ask him. Or perhaps it is that Caleb isn't entirely sure he wants to hear the answer. 

“You have been thinking very hard, my friend,” he says instead, placing the cup carefully down on the side table next to Essek. 

He smiles his thanks and pats the sofa. Caleb sinks down beside him and puts an arm around his waist.

“Forgive me,” Essek says. “I know I have been rather preoccupied.”

“Is something wrong?” 

“No, not—” Essek's eyes widen, and he holds up a hand to stop Caleb. Jester, he mouths, and Caleb smiles.

Essek's face goes through quite the change hearing Jester's message: his finely curved brows lift in surprise, eyes brightening as though with excitement. But when he catches Caleb still staring at him, the same fleeting shadow crosses his features, snuffing out what light Jester had ignited. 

As before, it passes at once. Essek clears his throat. “It is good to hear your voice, Jester,” he says in the silence. “Thank you for your invitation, and for thinking of me. I shall Send to you very soon.” 

“What was that?” Caleb says.

“Jester, Fjord and Kingsley are planning a voyage to Darktow sometime in the next month. She wanted to know if I wished to join them.” Essek's smile turns a shade closer to self-deprecating. “I had mentioned once before that I was interested in seeing the further reaches of Exandria, and so she thought of me. You are welcome to come too, of course,” he adds quickly. 

“That sounds exciting indeed,” Caleb says, sighing. “I wish I could, but the new school year will be starting soon. And I can't imagine that trip would be shorter than a few months, at least.” 

Essek nods, unsurprised. “I thought the same. I will give her our regrets, then?” 

“There is no reason for you not to go. Why don't you join them?”

Essek pauses. Then he smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. “I could not think of going without you.” 

“Why not?” Caleb asks, startled. 

“You will miss me far too much,” Essek states flatly. 

Caleb laughs and takes Essek's hand in his own. “I would. But what is a few months, in the grander scheme of things?” 

Essek's grip tightens with a vehemence Caleb isn't expecting. “It is much longer than I would like to be away from you.” 

“But you looked so excited when you heard Jester's voice,” Caleb says softly. “I think you want to go, Essek. And I think you should.” 

“Well, I think you will be far too bored without me, and I do not want to think of what trouble you and the cats will get up to in my absence.” 

Caleb smiles to himself, because he knows what Essek is not saying aloud. “I will still be here when you return, Essek.”

“That is not—” Essek's gaze darts up to meet Caleb's, his violet eyes wide, as though Caleb’s words have just registered in his head. He stares at Caleb for a long moment without speaking before he clears his throat, his lips quirking in a semblance of his usual smile. 

“We do not have to decide now. Jester will not be expecting my answer for a few more days, at least,” Essek squeezes Caleb’s hand before he lets go, lifting the cup of tea from the table. “Now. I have been thinking of starting on some preliminary research for the permanent demiplane project we were discussing some time ago.”

All thoughts of bedtime are driven out of Caleb’s mind at the very prospect. He shakes his head. “You’re just trying to distract me.”

Essek takes a sip of his tea and hums in pleasure. “Well, is it working?”

“Yes,” Caleb says immediately. “Tell me, else I shall die of curiosity.”

“Earn it first,” Essek says, lifting his chin.

Caleb obliges him with a kiss, then another, and another, until both of them are laughing, breathless and flushed with joy, the permanent demiplane temporarily forgotten. 

–

“You are sure you can manage?” Essek asks anxiously, fidgeting first with his cloak, then his components pouch, then the scarf Caleb has lent him for the voyage to Darktow. He bids the cats farewell, one by one—even Marta, who has been sulking as though she somehow knows Essek is about to depart. 

“Yes, I promise.” Caleb takes his worried hands and twines their fingers together. “Have a safe trip. I will be here waiting when you come back.”

Essek shakes his head minutely. He is wearing a new earring, a pretty silver thing with an amber teardrop inlaid in its center, and the movement of his head makes the polished surface of the gem catch the light.

“It is not too late for me to cancel, you know,” he says, searching Caleb’s face. “I do not have to leave. I can just—”

“Go,” Caleb says. He presses his lips to Essek’s forehead. “Be safe, please. Bring me many stories, when you return.”

To Caleb’s surprise, Essek wraps his arms around his waist, his fingers clinging to Caleb’s shirt. Essek has never held him this tightly before. 

“I… I will miss you,” Essek admits, the words a quick whisper into the fraying wool of Caleb’s scarf. 

Oh. 

Caleb holds him for a long moment, cupping the back of Essek’s neck in the way he knows Essek finds comforting. “I will miss you too, Essek. I miss you already, even though you have not yet left,” he says, more honestly than he had intended.

There is a slight hitch to Essek's breath. “Now I am certain I do not want to go.” 

“You do,” Caleb says firmly. He kisses Essek, light and quick, on the mouth. “You do,” he repeats. “Go, before you make Jester worry that something has happened to you.”

–

Hello. Essek’s voice is a nervous, quiet sound in Caleb’s head. It is our first night at sea. I had quite forgotten how… immense the ocean is. And the sky. The stars are so beautiful.

Caleb smiles to himself, and buries his face in Essek’s pillow. “Wish I could be there to see them with you. The cats have been crying for you all day. I must admit I sympathize.”

He waits, wondering if Essek still has enough spells for the day to Send once more. But no further words are forthcoming.

Caleb takes a deep breath. He and Essek are grown men, he reminds himself. They are two independent people capable of spending time away from each other. 

But Essek’s scent still lingers on the pillow, and Caleb aches with longing. 

It is easier during the day. Caleb has classes and lesson plans to think of, recalcitrant students to cajole into learning, equally fractious cats to contend with when he gets home. 

Marta has taken to keeping watch by the door, clearly waiting for her master to return. Caleb scoops her up and takes her upstairs with him, allowing her to sleep on the side of the bed that Essek usually occupies. He isn’t quite sure who this is meant to soothe: Marta, or himself.

–

“Hallo,” Caleb says to the cat’s cradle of amber light shimmering between his palms. His heart is thudding in excitement. “It didn’t seem fair that you use up your spells on me when I have magic to spare. So Astrid agreed to teach me.”

A beat passes before Essek answers, laughter clear in his voice. Now, that is a story I am looking forward to hearing. Jester and Fjord had bet it would take you another month to give in.

Caleb casts again. He has been conserving as much of his magic as he could for this evening. “To be clear, Astrid offered to teach me. I didn't ask her. So what did you and Kingsley bet, and which one of you won?”

Essek is laughing even harder now. Kingsley wins, I suppose. He said—and I quote—“He’ll be so pathetic that within a month, Astrid or Eadwulf will take pity on him.”

One last spell. “He’s right on all fronts, I’m afraid," Caleb admits ruefully. "Worked a little more on the demiplane today. You’ll be very excited to see my progress so far.”

That, I do not doubt. Your mind is an incredible thing. A pause. You know I am always thinking of you. Just say the word, and I—

Oh. It’s not like Essek to lose count during a Sending. Caleb waits, counting down the seconds in his head. 

Five minutes later, and there is nothing. Maybe Essek has already used up all his magic today. 

Caleb sighs and gets to his feet. He is perhaps more disappointed than he ought to be. To distract himself, he begins the slow process of taking stock of the small store of components he still carries on his person, just in case—

Heeeey, Cay-leb!! 

He blinks, startled, and laughs aloud.

Essek’s tapped. He says if you tell him to come home, he will—but don’t, okay? He’s having the time of his life!

“I wouldn’t, blueberry. You know that,” Caleb says softly. “I miss him, but I’m glad to know he’s enjoying himself. Keep safe, please. Keep him safe for me.”

–

Beau and Yasha’s children come down with a bad cold near the end of the second month of Essek's trip. Caleb pitches in as much as he can, but even with his help, four sick kids is a lot to handle, especially when one of them is a baby half-orc whose new tusks are coming in. 

They end up enlisting Veth’s help for a few days, Caleb teleporting to and from Nicodranas to bring her to Rexxentrum with him. He thinks about casting the tower, then decides against it—if Beau and Yasha need help, he and Veth should be nearby. 

Yasha pokes her head down the stairs. “That’s the last of them put to bed,” she says wearily. “I made Beau get some sleep—didn’t want her catching whatever it is the kids have.”

“Take a nap while you can,” Veth says. “If one of them wakes up, we’ll handle it.”

Yasha nods gratefully and escapes to the safety of their bedroom without further ado. 

“I had not fully realized until now just how difficult it is to be a parent,” Caleb says to Veth. His arms are aching from rocking a sobbing Rahit to sleep.

“You have no idea,” she says. She nudges Caleb in the direction of the living room. “Come on. We should get some shut-eye while we can, too.”

They pull the pillows off the couch and make up a nest of sorts between them on the rug, using their coats and Caleb’s scarf as blankets. When they settle in, it feels almost like old times. When Caleb says so, Veth laughs.

“This is way nicer than some of the places we’ve slept in.”

“We have a roof over our head. And pillows. It’s the height of luxury.”

Veth snickers. “Babysitting duty isn’t the worst gig we’ve pulled, either.”

Caleb wonders suddenly how Esssek feels about children. He doesn’t know. He’s never asked.

“Hey.” Veth nudges him. “What are you thinking about?”

“Ah, nothing,” Caleb demurs. “It is a silly thought. I have never been inclined towards having children myself, given… well,” he waves his hand, and Veth nods. I’m fucked up beyond all recognition goes unsaid, but understood all the same. “It just occurred to me that I’d never asked Essek what he thinks about these things. Having a family, and… and children, and so on,” Caleb finishes. He isn’t sure why this is an awkward topic, but it is.

Veth lets the sticky moment pass without comment. “Well, maybe you should ask him when he gets back.”

“But what if…” Caleb’s words trail off, frustrated that he can’t explain what he means to say. 

“What if he wants them?” Veth finishes calmly. “And you don’t?”

“I… well, suppose that is what I mean. What then?”

She shrugs. “Then one of you gives way. Neither of you will be happy about it, but you’re going to have to try to make it work anyway.”

Caleb ponders this for a moment. “This seems like a rather extreme example to use for what you’re suggesting.”

“I guess, if you’re bringing a child into the picture.” Veth props up her chin on her hand. “But that’s just how it is, you know? I think about that sometimes, how everyone in a relationship probably has to navigate a dealbreaker at some point.”

Caleb nods. He has seen Veth, then Nott, navigate this peril successfully with Yeza in the Dungeon of Penance. It was one of the very few times Caleb had ever seen her truly terrified. 

“I mean, what if Essek comes back and tells you he wants to be a pirate?”

Caleb laughs aloud, and has to muffle it in the cushions lest he wake one of the children. “It will take a frankly ridiculous amount of effort to convince me of that.”

“Just pretend, Cay. What if?”

“Then I would let him, I suppose,” Caleb says, still stifling his hilarity. “Can you imagine him in one of those flimsy white shirts Kingsley is always wearing…” 

Caleb stops short, swallowing hard. He can picture it very well, as a matter of fact. 

“What I'm hearing is that Essek wanting to be a pirate wouldn’t be a dealbreaker, actually,” Veth says, grinning. “Anyway, you’ll figure it out when it comes to it. If you really like your hot boy that much—”

“I do—”

“Then you’ll find a way,” she says simply, and leaves it at that.

–

Hallo. Allow me to be pathetic one last time—I cannot wait to see you tomorrow. You were right. Three months is much too long.

Be patient for me a little longer, Caleb Widogast. You know I am also looking forward to seeing you. Doo doo doo, doo doo—

–

The next day, it takes Caleb much longer than anticipated to get home after he gets stuck in a meeting with the headmaster—he and Astrid had traded grimaces after the first hour had elapsed—and he finds himself out of breath as he bolts the front door behind him. To his bewilderment, the cats are meowing with obvious delight. 

“It’s only me,” Caleb says, laughing a little as he gives Liesl a quick scratch behind the ears.

“Took you long enough,” a familiar voice responds. Caleb’s heartbeat momentarily comes to a standstill in his chest as Essek appears at the end of the hallway, dropping from his customary hover onto the ground.

Books, essays, and bags fall in a heap on the floor as Caleb crosses the hall, heedless of the cats yowling in disapproval. Here is Essek in his arms at last—it is almost like a dream. Caleb lets out an embarrassing noise and buries his face in Essek’s neck. He smells like salt, and sea, and the burning heat of the sun. But beneath all that is the familiar scent of him, ink and vanilla and something that reminds Caleb of the crackle of ozone.

“Welcome home, Herr Thelyss,” Caleb says at last, when he thinks of it.

Essek huffs out a laugh and hugs him just as tightly. “I am glad to be back, Caleb Widogast.”

They have dinner together, when Caleb recovers enough of his faculties to remember that he has prepared a proper meal for once. Freshly baked bread and soup, simple but hearty. Essek’s favorite. 

Caleb cannot help but reach over every few minutes, touching Essek’s shoulder, his hand, his back, as though to reassure himself that Essek is truly here. The bliss lasts for ten minutes and eight seconds before Caleb’s stool suddenly scrapes against the floor. The pull of magic drags him closer to Essek, until they are pressed together from shoulder to hip to knee. 

“There,” Essek says, amused. “Now perhaps you will let me eat in peace.”

“How can you even think of eating when I am right here,” Caleb protests.

“I am giving this meal that you cooked the attention it deserves,” Essek says, raising an eyebrow. The sheer hauteur drives Caleb half out of his mind. “My compliments to the chef, but alas, the chef is terribly needy.”

Caleb subsides, chuckling. But he cannot help himself. He eats one-handed, his other palm between Essek’s shoulder blades, if only to feel his breaths. Beneath his usual mantle, he wears a loose white shirt with his fitted trousers, not unlike the one Caleb had imagined him wearing; it suits him just as well as Caleb thought it would. There are a few new lines around his eyes borne of his travels—the sun is hard on Essek’s vision, Caleb knows, but he loves its light all the same.

Essek has brought many stories home for Caleb, just as he promised—some of them have him throwing his head back with laughter, others have him gripping Essek’s shoulder harder than he means to.

“I think I can safely say that between the two of us, you were the one who ended up in much more trouble than you bargained for.”

“When one is traveling with Jester, it is an inevitability.”

“I wish that no diamonds had been spent to resuscitate Kingsley," Caleb says softly. "The body he lives in has died and come back to life enough times by now.”

“I quite agree, but he knows the risks he takes. It was a shock for all of us when he... he died,” Essek says, sobering. “But we were fortunate that Jester was able to revive him. In any case, we have all made it back in one piece, yes? I would call that a successful mission.”

“Last I heard, you were going on a trip for fun.” 

“That was what I thought,” Essek protests. “You know how it is with the Nein, you are one of them—nothing ever goes according to plan, does it?”

“True enough,” Caleb sighs. “Though I much preferred it when I was the one stirring up trouble and not the one worrying at home.”

A beat. “My apologies,” Essek says stiffly. “I assure you, it was not my intention to meet my demise in the middle of the Lucidian Ocean—”

Oh. Caleb had not meant to offend him.

“Essek,” Caleb says, pressing a quick kiss against his cheek. “I only just got you back; I don’t want to argue with you now. I’m sorry.”

He softens with Caleb’s cajoling, but the tension lingers until well after they are in bed. Caleb is well aware that Essek can see much better than he can in the dim glow of moonlight, but it’s always so much more difficult to keep his emotions in check under the cover of darkness.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, wrapping a penitent arm around Essek’s waist, curling himself around Essek’s body until they are pressed together, Essek’s back against Caleb’s chest. “I know you would be more than able to take care of yourself if the situation called for it, only… well. I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you.”

Still, Essek says nothing.

Caleb rallies himself once more. “I heard from Jester that you had a good time, nevertheless?”

An exhale that sounds like a chuckle. “I did.”

“No regrets, then.”

“None whatsoever.” Essek turns then, so he can look Caleb in the eye. “I loved every moment of it. The only thing lacking was that you were not there. Then it would have been perfect.”

“You know I wanted to go with you.”

“But you have other responsibilities. I know.”

“I wanted to go with you,” Caleb repeats. It seems essential that Essek understands this. 

“Well, you are in luck.” Essek smiles a little. “We met an old friend of yours by chance while we were traveling. Reani.”

“Oh,” Caleb says, surprised. “How is she? What did she say?”

“She is doing quite well. She says her blacksmith friend in Uthodurn has long been looking for a skilled arcanist to consult on enchanting some armor. It is a rather time-sensitive project, but I think it should not take longer than a month or two to get all the work out of the way. Enchantment is not my expertise, as you know. But perhaps with both of us there, it will take less time?”

Caleb smiles, kisses the tip of his nose to soften the blow. “Much as I would love that, I’m no longer in a position to travel for such lengthy periods of time.” He leaves out the part where he’s no longer inclined to go on such long trips—having a home has spoiled him; and besides, who would take care of the cats while he is gone? 

“Of course,” Essek says quickly. “I only thought… ah, that is, I think I would like to go. If you do not mind.”

“What? But you have only just returned,” Caleb objects.

“I know.” Essek brushes his knuckles against Caleb’s cheek, clearly trying to placate. “That is why I wanted you to come with me, if you could.”

It is stupid, and petty, and a thousand other things besides. But it is so hard to tamp down the hurt that’s washing over Caleb like a wave. He has to roll over onto his other side so that Essek doesn’t see his face.

Now it is Essek’s turn to press himself against Caleb’s back, his arm tightening around Caleb’s waist. “I owe Reani a favor, Caleb—it does not seem right to leave her hanging now, when she is the one who needs me.” 

Gentle fingers brush the hair away from Caleb’s neck. Cool lips press kisses on his nape, trailing a line down to his shoulder, making him shiver.

“I am sorry,” Essek murmurs. His hand comes to rest on Caleb’s chest, right above his heart. “We do not have to speak of this now.”

Caleb shifts, presses their foreheads together. “Then let’s not.” For the first time since Essek returned, Caleb kisses him, slow and sweet at first, then forceful and lingering. “Can… can we just—”

“Yes,” Essek interrupts, his fingers already rucking up Caleb’s shirt, “yes, anything you want—”

–

When Essek leaves the second time, it is easier. But somehow, it is also worse.

“Give Reani my love,” Caleb says. 

How is it that Essek has only just arrived, and now he is leaving again? Caleb’s heart tightens in his chest. This time, it is he who is fussing with Essek’s collar, his mantle, and the scarf that Caleb has loaned him. 

“I will teleport back as often as I can,” Essek promises. 

Caleb shakes his head. “No, you are right, Essek. Reani has been a good friend to us; she deserves to have your full attention while you are there.”

Essek catches his hands in his, squeezes them gently. “I will bring home a flower crown for you.”

“I know you will.” Caleb manages a small smile. “Reani will not give you a choice.”

–

I have finally tried those black moss cupcakes that Jester never stops raving about. Do you like them? I found that they are quite pleasant.

“They are,” Caleb says, smiling to himself in his office in the Academy. Essek’s Sendings never fail to lift his spirits. “I’m not fond of sweets, but those are just on this side of bitter. Perhaps they’ve simply grown on me?”

He still has three words. I miss you, he thinks, or perhaps, come home soon.

The spell peters out with Caleb’s longing still unspoken.

–

“You could just visit him, you know,” Jester says, brandishing a donut at Caleb. “Go on a weekend or something.”

“Yeah, why haven’t you?” Kingsley’s toying with a piece of rope, tying it into a series of increasingly complicated knots. “I mean, you’ve all been to Uthodurn before. It’s not like you don’t know where the forge is.”

“The mountain of schoolwork I have to go through never ends. In fact, it grows exponentially with every day that passes,” Caleb says, bordering on exasperated. “Besides, who will feed the cats?”

Jester frowns at him. “Yasha and Beau live three streets down. I don’t think they’d mind dropping by here for a couple of days to check on the cats.”

Fjord says nothing, but he glances up with eyes far too knowing for Caleb’s taste before raising a dark eyebrow at him. 

Caleb sighs. He loves his friends, but sometimes he forgets just how well they know him. It is both a gift and a burden. “I’ll Send to him tonight.”

“I’m sure he’d love for you to go there,” Jester says, her mouth full of donut. “He talked about you all the time when we were on that voyage to Darktow. He missed you so much, Cay-leb. Even if he never said so out loud, I could definitely tell.”

“Well, that is good to know,” Caleb says softly.

Kingsley looks up from his length of rope. He gazes at Caleb for a long moment before he flicks the rope at Caleb. He yelps in surprise when it smacks sharply against his hand. 

“Hey,” Kingsley says sternly. “I don’t know what’s going through your head, but get that thought out of there right the fuck now.”

Jester’s forehead creases. “Caleb, what are you worried about?”

“I’m not worried, exactly,” Caleb tries. “It is more of… well, I am thinking that perhaps after all this, he will find that Rexxentrum is no longer enough for him.”

“Don’t be like that,” Jester protests. “Okay, maybe he likes traveling a lot more than any of us expected—isn’t that a good thing? I mean, he never had the chance to before.”

“Yeah,” Kingsley says, shrugging. “Sure, he’s gone a couple of months every now and then. But he always comes back here, doesn’t he?”

“You’re right,” Caleb says. He doesn’t bother pointing out that Essek has already been gone for nearly half of this year. “I am being silly, I suppose.”

“That’s okay,” Jester says, patting him magnanimously on the back. “You miss him a lot, that’s all. We get it.”

Fjord takes a sip of his tea. For some reason, he seems to be avoiding Caleb’s gaze.

–

In the end, Caleb doesn’t have to go to Uthodurn at all, because Essek returns to Rexxentrum a full week early, triumphant with success.

A box of black moss cupcakes sits on the table, the plates still holding the remnants of their dinner. Caleb has a fiery orange wreath of flowers on his head and an arm around Essek’s shoulders. His cheek rests against the head of white curls that Essek has allowed to grow out from the severe undercut he had worn ever since Caleb had first met him. The longer waves soften the sculpted angles of his face. It suits him very well.

Uthodurn has relaxed Essek’s shoulders, and he carries himself with a new pride. A dignity that is no longer composed of haughtiness, but of certainty. Caleb is heart-glad to see it, but it makes something in his chest ache. He tries to remember that Essek has had so little room to simply be himself. Perhaps it is only now that Essek is discovering who he is and what he wants to make of his life. And if he finds it someplace that is not in Rexxentrum—Caleb stops that thought firmly in its tracks.

“No more trips for a while, please,” Caleb says, no longer caring how plaintive he must sound. 

“No more trips for a while,” Essek echoes, smiling. 

It is a very happy winter that year, the snowfall making the city as pretty as a postcard. The cold weather seems to do Essek good. Perhaps all the snow reminds him of Eiselcross. 

Progress is finally made on the permanent demiplane project once more, after all the months their notes have spent on Caleb’s bookshelf, untouched. It’s a relief to bicker with Essek in the evenings, to prepare meals together, to read in the companionable silence of the study. To wake in the middle of the night to find Essek trancing beside him, breaths rising and falling in calm rhythm, or propped up against the pillows with a book in hand, his fingers combing carefully through Caleb’s hair. 

Caleb closes his eyes. How could he be anything less than content with this?

He and Essek spend Day of Heart and Hearth with Beau and Yasha. Essek, as always, is shockingly good at wrangling the children. He even manages to pull a smile out of Set, who over the past year has quickly become the picture of sullen adolescence. Essek must have had plenty of practice with Verin long ago, Caleb supposes, pressing his lips together to keep from laughing. 

But when spring comes and the snow melts away, Essek’s spirits begin to flag. The gray skies and endless rain make him listless. He picks books up at random and sets them down again, still unread. He has taken to napping in the afternoons, of all things.

Caleb sits next to him on the sofa in the study. The pile of abandoned books on the table has grown to an alarming height. 

“Essek. Won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.”

“I don’t think that is true,” Caleb murmurs.

Essek winces. He looks down at the book he is reading—it is the only one he has managed to make any progress on in the past few days. The Gondolas of Jrusar, it proclaims in beautifully illuminated text. 

“I… I do not know what is happening to me,” he says through gritted teeth. “I feel almost unsettled—restless, even, for no particular reason I can discern.”

Caleb places a hand on the book in Essek’s lap and steels himself. “Perhaps you have been here long enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“I hear the weather in Marquet is lovely at this time of year. The sun is not yet at its full strength as it is in the summer,” Caleb says, trying to smile. “A good time to visit the famed spires of Jrusar.”

Essek’s violet eyes widen, then to Caleb’s surprise, he frowns. “Why would you immediately assume that I wish to leave?”

“It’s only a suggestion,” Caleb hastens to reassure him. “Traveling suited you very well in the past, and… well, Essek, to be truthful, I do not think you’re entirely happy here at the moment.”

It has been a long time, but the shadow that crosses Essek’s face is no longer unfamiliar to Caleb. He thinks he can place it now that he has seen it so often—it looks very much like guilt.

“I am happy here,” Essek says. “How could I not be?”

For some reason, the assertion is thrown at Caleb with more force than is called for at the moment. Who is Essek really trying to convince: Caleb, or himself?

“Essek,” Caleb says softly. “It is not such a bad thing to want to see the world, you know.”

“I know, but—” He cuts himself off. Shakes his head. 

“You do not have to decide now,” Caleb says. “As I said, it was only a suggestion.”

He says it to soothe Essek’s obvious distress, if nothing else. Caleb already knows how this is going to go.

–

Sometimes, it is an unpleasant thing to be correct.

“Tell me all about Jrusar when you return,” Caleb says, trying to be excited for Essek’s sake. “I hear the spires are breathtaking in person.”

Essek’s eyes are bright with anticipation. “I have heard the same. I am looking forward to seeing them for myself. Only…” His voice trails off. He cradles Caleb’s hands against his chest. The scarf around his neck is his now, at Caleb’s insistence. 

“I wish you could come with me,” Essek murmurs, so quietly that Caleb can’t be certain he meant to say the words aloud at all. 

“We will plan another trip soon, when you return,” Caleb promises. “Just you and me.”

He smiles a little when Caleb says you and me. “Do not fall back into your old habits of skipping meals,” Essek warns. “It is not only the cats who need to be fed.”

Caleb chuckles. “I will try.”

Essek lets go of Caleb’s hands in favor of putting his arms around Caleb’s neck. “Why is this always the hardest part,” he sighs.

Caleb kisses him on one cheek, then the tip of his nose, then the other cheek: one-two-three in quick succession. “It is because you cannot bear to be parted from me,” he says, aiming to make Essek smile.

Instead, Essek makes a small noise, his arms tightening around Caleb. “You do not know how true that is,” he admits, his face hidden against Caleb’s neck.

Then don’t leave, Caleb almost says. Stay. Stay here, with me.

Instead, he enfolds Essek in his arms and holds him tightly. Counts down in his head. 

Fünf, vier, drei, zwei, eins. 

Then Caleb lets him go.

–

The gondolas are as beautiful as advertised. You would like it here. So much to do and see and learn. A pause. I'm thinking of you, always.

“I know,” Caleb says, smiling as he bends down to pet Marta, who is waiting by the door for Essek, as she always does when he is away. Caleb takes off his coat and hangs it up on the rack next to the front door. “I’m thinking of you too. Read that book of yours last night. I see why it made you want to go to Marquet.”

He casts quickly before Essek can answer, the familiar amber lines of light shimmering between his fingers. “Will you bring me some of those pastries with honey when you return? They sounded delicious. I specifically imagined eating them directly from your hand.”

Essek’s words are preceded by a choked sputter, which makes Caleb laugh aloud. If my mother heard you say that to me, she would have you flayed alive. A huff follows. Of course I will bring you some. Wait for me.

–

This is Essek’s longest trip yet. Academic rigors continue to keep Caleb busy, but the days drag by much more slowly than he could have anticipated. 

He tries not to let himself get too distracted, even if Essek’s absence is a constant ache. He dutifully cooks meals and eats them, just as he promised. When he finds the energy, he makes a big batch and brings some over to Yasha and Beau. He is very good at making stews now. Yasha promises they’ll figure out how to cook one of those spicy curries that Essek is so fond of.

A stray kitten making piteous meows on the doorstep one rainy evening is taken into the house—Wulf christens him Johann after the puppy he had left behind in Blumenthal long ago. Astrid laughs and teases him for being so sentimental, but Caleb sees the way she squeezes his hand under the table afterwards, when they think he isn’t looking. 

It has been nearly two decades since they were in Soltryce together. But to Caleb, it feels much more recent than that, after he had been robbed of all those years in Vergesson. It makes a new sort of ache bloom in his chest to have the two of them here in his house. Astrid in her blood red robes. Wulf in his scourger uniform, sleeves folded up to the elbows. 

Even now, it surprises Caleb how he still loves them, and how they love him in return. Even though they are no longer the children they once were. 

Caleb makes them promise to have dinner with him again soon—he still adamantly refuses to visit Archmage Beck’s new towers on principle—before he bids them goodbye.

It is so difficult to sleep that night. Caleb curls up in bed, his arms around Essek’s pillow. He indulges himself in a single moment of self-pity.

“Essek,” he whispers, even though he has not cast Sending. “I miss you—would it be too much to ask for you to come back, just for one night? Spend just one evening with me.”

He does not doubt the answer will be yes. That Essek would return the instant he asked. It is a small comfort, but it is better than nothing. 

Caleb closes his eyes, and does not ask. 

–

The pastries are just as spectacular as Caleb imagined they would be. The flaky layers are almost sinfully rich, chopped nuts hidden between the folds of honey and butter. 

“Walnuts are traditional, I believe, but they used hazelnuts in this recipe,” Essek explains. “And just the slightest hint of pomegranate and rosewater to make the dough more fragrant.”

Caleb hums in appreciation as Essek lifts another bite to his mouth. Perhaps he has a sweet tooth after all. Or perhaps it is just the sensation of Essek’s skin brushing against his lips that makes it so appealing.

No, Caleb decides. The honey is delicious. He licks the last of it off Essek’s fingers, swirling his tongue over the pads of his fingers until Essek is gazing at him with half-lidded eyes over the rim of his new dark lenses. 

“You… you are truly something, Caleb Widogast,” he breathes. “Do you know that?”

Caleb pulls Essek’s fingers out of his mouth with an obscene pop. “Yes, well, I have to keep giving you a reason to return to me.”

“You are reason enough,” Essek growls. He drags Caleb to his—their bedroom and pins him down on the mattress, kissing him so fervently that Caleb is gasping by the time Essek gives him a chance to breathe.

–

Later that evening, they lie pressed together under the blankets, Essek’s head on Caleb’s shoulder. Caleb cards his fingers slowly through Essek’s curls. His hair is long enough to tie into a small tail, now. 

“Essek.”

“Hm?”

“The end of the semester is coming up soon. I thought we might ask Caduceus if he’d be amenable to us visiting the Blooming Grove.”

“Ah,” Essek says, surprised. “But what about the cats?”

“I think I can convince Archmage Beck to keep them in her tower for a few weeks.” 

Essek laughs. “How in the Light’s name can you possibly get her to agree to that?”

“She will be fine with having them there as long as she doesn’t have to actually care for them. Wulf will do the rest.”

“If you are certain,” Essek says, still chuckling. “We have not seen Caduceus in a long time. If the Clays will have us, I would love to go.”

“I thought that might please you,” Caleb says, smiling. “Maybe we can invite the others as well—I can cast the tower, then the Clays will not have to worry about feeding us. Especially because we cannot have Beau and Yasha without the children, and I am sure Veth will also want to bring Yeza and Luc with her.”

“It will be like old times.”

Caleb drops a kiss on Essek’s white curls. “Exactly. Like old times. Though I will have to remodel the tower quite a bit, I think.”

Essek sighs. “Then I will be impressed by your incredible mind all over again.”

“A tragedy, I’m sure.”

“I still cannot fathom how you manage to craft the tower in such intricate detail,” Essek says, ignoring Caleb entirely. “Every time I think about it, it never fails to stagger me.”

“I’m sure that if you were to cast it yourself, it would impress me just as much.”

“Oh?” Essek lifts his head, a speculative look in his eyes. “Does this mean you will finally teach me the spell for the tower?”

“I’ll consider it, if you continue coming back to me after all these travels of yours,” Caleb says lightly. 

Essek huffs out a laugh and tucks himself back against Caleb’s side. “Then that spell is as good as mine.”

–

The plan goes something like this: Essek teleports to Nicodranas to pick up Jester, Fjord, Kingsley, and the Brenattos. Caleb takes a walk to the Expositor’s house three streets down and teleports the Nydoorin-Lionetts directly to the Blooming Grove, where Essek and the others will meet them.

Caleb winks at Essek. “You were saying about this feeling like old times?”

“Ah, yes. Back when I was little more than a glorified transportation service for my newest wards.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Caleb says seriously. “You were also eye candy for at least half of us.”

Essek snorts. “The world at large would agree that I am eye candy, Widogast. You are the one selling me short.” 

“Never. Some days I look at you and wonder why you are still here.”

That comes out a little more sincerely that Caleb had intended. But it makes Essek’s gaze soften.

“I am the more fortunate one between the two of us, I think,” Essek says quietly. He lifts his chin for a kiss before he steps away, preparing to teleport to Nicodranas.

There is an awful moment where Caleb panics. That Essek is about to depart yet again, leaving Caleb bereft in Rexxentrum. All of a sudden, he can’t bear the thought of it. He grabs Essek’s hand before he can cast his somatics.

“Caleb?” Essek says, startled. 

Perhaps something of what Caleb is feeling is showing on his face, because the flow of arcane energy dissipates into nothing. Essek cups his jaw in both hands, searching his face intently.

“I will see you in the Blooming Grove, Caleb Widogast,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I am only going to fetch Fjord and the others.”

“I—you’re right, ja,” Caleb says, trying to laugh. “I’m sorry. I… I don’t know what came over me.”

Essek shakes his head, his brow furrowing. “I will ask Jester to Send to you before we leave Nicodranas.” His thumb is running soothing circles on Caleb’s cheek. “Do not worry.”

Caleb leans forward and kisses him, his fingers tight in Essek’s cloak. “Don’t take too long, please.”

If Caleb clings to Essek for longer than he should, Essek doesn’t say anything about it. “It will take no time at all. I promise.” 

–

All is well, Caleb. We should be at the Blooming Grove shortly. See you soon. 

Caleb smiles. He is carrying baby Tala, Beau and Yasha’s youngest child, in his arms. Clarabelle and Cornelia are cooing at her over his shoulder. 

“Safe travels,” Caleb says. He is more touched than he cares to admit that Essek had spent a spell to Send to him, when Jester could have done it for him instead. “I cannot wait to see you again, Essek.”

–

Meals at the Clays’ are peaceful in a way that Caleb can’t quite put a finger on. Almost like there is a constant undercurrent of something quietly joyful, even though the presence of the Nein make it a rowdy affair. It is good to see Caduceus again—he’s put on weight since they’ve last seen him, and his usual calm is closer to certainty than it used to be. 

It suits him to be here, Caleb realizes. To be with his family. 

Essek squeezes his hand under the table. “Caleb? Is everything alright?” 

“Just thinking,” he says automatically.

When Tala begins fussing, Caleb casts the tower beneath a small copse of trees outside the house so that Beau can put her to bed. There is a chorus of oohs and ahhs when Caleb shows everyone around the extended suite of chambers that were once Yasha’s alone. It now contains four extra rooms, one for each of the children, and Beauregard’s old rooms. Caleb has kept Caduceus’s rooms on this floor; just in case he’s so inclined to use them. The guest room has been transformed into Kingsley’s new chambers—Caleb has made it relatively similar to Fjord’s in design, until Kingsley should decide he prefers otherwise.

When they float up to the next floor, the first thing Jester says is, “Hey, how come Essek still has a separate room on this floor?”

Heads turn in Caleb’s direction, but he only has eyes for Essek, whose face has frozen into an impenetrable mask.

“For the same reason Caduceus’s rooms are here, I am sure,” Essek says in the silence that has fallen. Fjord glances at him, but says nothing.

Kingsley tilts his head to one side inquisitively. “Then how come Beau doesn’t have a separate room anymore? Or Fjord or Jester?” 

“I didn’t think Beau would want to sleep apart from Yasha and the children,” Caleb says. 

“Yeah, okay,” Yasha says, nodding. “I wouldn’t want that either.”

“Besides, everything that was once in Beau’s chambers is still there—I’ve simply placed them all adjacent to each other. Fjord and Jester’s are the same.”

“Okay…” Jester says, drawing out the second syllable. She peeks at Essek out of the corner of her eye and promptly changes the subject. “Anyway, Cay-leb, did you change Veth’s rooms for Luc and Yeza too?” She grabs Luc’s hand and grins at Yeza. “Come on, Luc, wanna go see?”

“Essek,” Caleb says quickly.

He turns. Looks at Caleb for a long moment.

“I am sure you meant nothing by it,” Essek says, and follows Jester up to the seventh floor. 

–

Caleb descends to the salon later that evening, but Essek is not there. Maybe he is still with Jester and the others, Caleb thinks, and resists the urge to send a cat to find him. He indulges himself in a reread of Tusk Love, just because he can. But by the time he reaches the scene with Oskar and Guinevere walking up the gangplank to a ship that will sink three chapters later, there is still no sign of Essek, and Caleb’s eyelids are growing heavy. 

He puts down the book and floats up to his rooms. They are the same as always—the only concession Caleb has made to Essek’s presence is to widen the bed and add a few more pillows. 

But Essek isn’t here, either.

By the time Caleb alights at the sixth floor, he is oddly nervous. When he knocks on the vermaloc door, it swings open.

Essek is sitting on the trancing chair Caleb has made for him—it is perhaps the most comfortable chair in this tower. The architecture and design in these rooms is still largely Xhorhasian, though Caleb has added new elements here and there: a window overlooking the ocean, elven-style furniture after the fashions of Uthodurn, clothes made of the fine linens of Marquet folded away in the dresser. 

“I must admit, I wondered if I would be welcome in your rooms,” Essek says in a brittle voice.

“Essek,” Caleb protests. “Of course you are.”

He shakes his head. “But it seemed only fair to ask first, considering how I seem to have made a habit of thinking only of my comfort, when all you ever do is think of mine.”

Caleb kneels at his feet. “My rooms are yours, just as they have always been,” he says. His eyes fall on a little tray of the flaky pastries from Jrusar that Essek loves so much—he had taken a bite out of one square and set it delicately back down on a plate, as though restraining himself from eating more. Caleb sighs. “I only wish that my own rooms could give you what you needed, but since they cannot, I can only offer you the next best thing. A space of your own.”

“But what do you need?” Essek presses.

“You,” Caleb says honestly. “But your happiness matters to me more than anything else.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registers that they are no longer talking about Essek’s suite of rooms in the tower. Now they can no longer avoid having the conversation they have been putting off for far too long.

Essek’s mouth contorts. “It is not that I am unhappy.”

“I know.” Caleb takes Essek’s hand. “But neither are you happy.”

“Let me make one thing clear: I want to be with you.” The words sound like they are being torn from Essek’s throat.

Caleb has to press his lips together for a moment to still their trembling. “It’s alright, Essek,” he says, and means it. “I am satisfied knowing you will return to me now and then.”

“You cannot allow me to keep being selfish like this,” Essek whispers.

Caleb shakes his head. “I could not live with myself either, if I kept you with me. You would only grow to resent me for it, Essek. I…I am sorry,” he pauses, trying to regain his composure, “I am sorry I cannot go with you, to see all the places you want to see—”

“No,” Essek interrupts him. “I am sorry that I could not learn to be content with what we had—” His voice breaks. “I am sorry. I tried. I wanted to be, truly I did.”

“I know,” Caleb says. He reaches up and wipes the tracks of salt from Essek’s face. “I know you did, and I am grateful for it. You do not have to apologize for wanting something else out of your life. Things that are beyond what I want for mine.”

Essek’s breath hitches. “Do not misunderstand me,” he says fiercely. “Your life in Rexxentrum—it is quiet, and lovely, and beautiful—”

“But it is not for you,” Caleb says softly.

“I wish it was,” Essek bursts out, his eyes wild and heartbroken. “It does not seem right that I should want more than this, not when what you offered me was already far more than what I deserved.”

“What is the point of talking about what either of us deserve?” Caleb tightens his hold on Essek’s hand. “We are terrible people who have done terrible things. That much cannot be denied. And yet here we are.”

“Here we are,” Essek whispers, echoing him.

“You must remember how to live. You cannot trudge through your days denying yourself joy.”

“Then why do you do the same to yourself?” 

“You are what brings me joy. And here you are, with me.”

“For now,” Essek murmurs, and Caleb’s heart cracks neatly in two. “What will you do when I grow restless again?”

“Then I will let you go.” Caleb tries to smile. “And then I will wait for you to come back to me. You can promise me that much, at least?”

Essek leans down and kisses him—it is brief, but fierce. “I could not stay away from you even if I tried. And believe me, I have.”

Caleb does laugh at that. “As have I. We make quite the pair.”

“So I have been told.” Essek lets out a watery chuckle. “I promise you that, then. No matter how far I go, or how long it takes, I will always come back to you.”

“Then that is all I can ask for.”

“You ask for so little,” Essek sighs.

Caleb shakes his head. “I asked for you. And you gave me yourself. That is a gift precious beyond words.”

“I could say the same of you.”

“And you have me, always,” Caleb says. His heart is aching fit to burst, but somehow, it feels almost like relief. Essek will not always be by his side, but if he reaches out his hand in the darkness, Essek will be there to take it. That is an unspeakable comfort.

“Look at this beautiful room. Your mind, Caleb Widogast,” Essek sighs. “How is it that I allowed you to know me so well?”

Caleb smiles. “You have seen the entirety of this tower. I might ask you the same thing.”

–

At long last, Caleb manages to wrangle the headmaster's permission for him to go on sabbatical, but he keeps it to himself until Essek's next return. He wants to see Essek's face when he hears the news. 

He watches Essek undressing for bed. When the fine stuff of his tunic falls to the ground, Caleb realizes that there are lines marking his delicate shoulders. The skin of his torso is noticeably lighter than that of his arms and neck.

Oh. 

Caleb has crossed the room before he knows it, his fingers tracing the demarcations on Essek's skin that had not been there before. 

“Herr Thelyss,” Caleb says. His voice is so hoarse all of a sudden. “What do you wear when you are not here?” 

Essek glances at him, bemused. “You have seen most of my clothes, if not all of them.” 

Caleb shakes his head. “I should like to see these clothes of yours that leave your arms bare for all the world to see.” He crowds Essek up against the dresser, pressing his lips to the lines on Essek’s shoulders. Sun-kissed, Caleb thinks dizzily.

“Of all things, Widogast, I did not think you would be interested in tan lines.” 

“Neither did I,” Caleb admits. “Do you have them anywhere else? I demand to be shown them immediately. And the clothes that caused them. Where are they? Why have you never worn them here?” 

“It is too cold here and you know it,” Essek says, laughing. He sounds as though he is out of breath. “Besides, Beauregard will only mock me for being so skinny.” 

“Well, I suppose I am in luck,” Caleb says. “Because the Academy has permitted me a year of paid leave, once this semester ends.” 

Essek's eyes go wide, his mouth falling open. For a long moment, he doesn't say anything at all. The silence stretches so long that trepidation starts tying Caleb’s stomach into knots.

“Aren't you pleased?” Caleb asks. 

“Pleased,” Essek says slowly. “What a poor word for what I am feeling at the moment.” 

Oh. Well, that sounds promising. “I believe I promised you a trip, my friend. So here I am, at your beck and call. Where to?”

To Caleb’s surprise, Essek’s expression contorts. He looks almost as though he is about to weep. 

“Essek?” Caleb says uncertainly. “Is everything alright?”

Caleb’s words seem to jolt Essek back to the present—he makes a sound that is somewhere in between a laugh and a sob. 

“A year!” he exclaims, cradling Caleb’s face in both hands. His eyes are very bright. “Time has never been so precious to me than it is now. There is so much I want to see with you—so many places I wish to go—” He blinks hard, laughs again. “Forgive me, I am rather overwhelmed.”

“Not at all.” Caleb can feel Essek’s unbridled joy seeping into him, through all the places that they are touching—Essek’s travel-roughened palms on his stubbled cheeks, his arms around Essek’s bare waist, his chest pressed against Essek’s. “Decide at your leisure. I have no particular preferences—”

“Aeor,” Essek says immediately.

“Aeor, of course,” Caleb concedes, chuckling. “But we can make the most of it and spend a few months at each place, as you please.”

“Surely there must be some place you wish to see.”

“Nowhere in particular,” Caleb says. “As long as I am with you.”

–

“I have been thinking.”

“Hm?” Caleb has been nodding off over his book for the past hour. He rouses himself with some effort and lifts his head from Essek’s shoulder. For a moment, he is disoriented—he had thought they were still in Rexxentrum, curled up in front of the fire, before he remembers that they are still in the depths of the Praesidis Ward, taking a much-deserved rest in Caleb’s tower for the evening.

Essek glances at him, amused. “We do not have to discuss this now.”

“No, I want to,” Caleb protests. He stretches, yawning, before settling his head down against Essek’s shoulder again. “Tell me. I’m listening.”

“I know we had planned on going to Marquet after Aeor. But I was browsing through my notes again, and I remembered that there was someone there I was interested in meeting. His name is… a garishly long name which escapes me at the moment. I gather that it seems to be a tradition in their den—or clan, I should say,” Essek adds. “He is well-known for having quite a turn for the mechanical. I thought he might give us some insight into how the Aeorian automatons function.”

“Where you go, I go,” Caleb says drowsily. “Although I have to say, I distinctly remember you saying we need to finish the permanent demiplane before we move on to yet another project.”

“I have no recollection of ever saying anything of the sort.”

“Too bad. I have it on good authority that my memory is quite reliable.” He smiles and pulls Essek closer. “Where are we going, then?”

“Tal’Dorei,” Essek says, appeased now that Caleb is amenable to the change in plans. “Then Marquet.”

“Then home.”

A pause. “Then back to Rexxentrum,” Essek says softly. 

“Stay with me,” Caleb says, too sleepy to care overmuch about his dignity. “Just for a little while, Essek. Let’s finish the demiplane.”

“As you wish,” Essek says, his voice soft and teasing. “Then I will make the demiplane portable and put you in it.”

“Like a, hmm, Schnecke,” Caleb makes a wiggling motion, racking his brain for the word in Common. He yawns again, his eyes sliding shut. “Snail.”

Essek chuckles. “Yes, and I will carry you with me everywhere I go.”

–

The year passes much too quickly for Caleb’s liking. He knows he will only have a few months at most before Essek grows restive once more, so he makes the most of every moment. He etches this image into his memory: Essek stretched out on the hearth, dressed in nothing but a silken undershirt and loose trousers, a cat curled up against his thigh. 

“Where is home for you now, Essek?” 

Essek’s head turns, his forehead creasing. “Here, of course.” 

When he says here, he means Caleb’s house in Rexxentrum. It makes Caleb smile a little. “It’s an honest question; I'm not trying to bait you. Do you not consider Jrusar home these days?” 

“Define home for me.” 

“Well.” Caleb thinks about this for a moment. “I suppose part of it is whether it is the place where you intend to return.” 

“So that is here,” Essek repeats. 

“Ja. But I think part of it is also where you intend to remain.” 

Not here. It goes unsaid, but Caleb's meaning is clear enough. Essek's face darkens. 

“I do not see why home has to be a place,” he says in a voice that is almost petulant. “Can home not be a person? Do I not always return to you, Caleb Widogast? Is it not with you that I have always intended to stay?” 

“Essek,” Caleb says, trying not to laugh and failing utterly. He kneels on the rug and takes Essek in his arms, smoothing away the aggrieved wrinkle in his forehead. “Do not be angry. I know what you mean. I only wanted to know if there is a place you've found in your travels where you might want to settle down at some point.” 

“Ah,” Essek says, somewhat mollified. “Then… yes, I suppose Jrusar would be closest to that at the moment. But there are many places I have not seen. I cannot say for sure.” 

“Of course.” 

Essek's fingers tighten in Caleb's shirt. “Still. I meant what I said,” he says to Caleb's collar. 

“I know.” Caleb leans down and kisses him on the forehead. “I know, Essek.” 

–

The cottage in Rexxentrum is as snug and warm as ever. Liesl is gone now, as is Marta, much to Essek’s grief. But Johann and Mitzi’s newborn kittens have both Caleb and Essek awake at all hours of the night with their crying. In the end, Caleb tucks an old woolen scarf into their basket to keep them warm—it seems to do the trick, judging by the silence that has finally fallen downstairs. 

Perhaps it is a vanity to keep calling it theirs when Essek spends only two or three months a year here, at most. But Caleb has never been anything less than presumptuous with him. It seems only fair that Essek allows himself to return the favor.

Essek pulls the blanket up over Caleb’s shoulders. It is a quilt specially made to keep in the heat, and it is lovingly embroidered into the bargain. A gift from Verin to the two of them, from Essek’s last trip to Bazzoxan. 

He smooths a hand through Caleb’s hair—the fiery red is liberally streaked with silver now. Essek keeps his touch steady and careful. But despite his best efforts, Caleb stirs slightly, reaching for Essek in the dark. 

“Schlafenszeit,” he mumbles. Bedtime. 

Essek smiles. “In a bit.” 

“No, now,” Caleb says, his fingers closing around Essek’s wrist.

“As you wish,” Essek says, sighing theatrically. He climbs into bed next to Caleb, tucking himself under his stubbly chin.

“Why are you still up?”

“Just thinking.”

“A platinum piece for your thoughts,” Caleb says, and Essek laughs.

“You think so highly of me, Widogast.”

“Always. How does this still surprise you?”

Essek shifts, settling his head on the pillow next to Caleb. His eyes are closed, but his breathing has not yet resumed the measured rhythm of slumber.

“I was thinking, well,” Essek swallows and brushes a strand of silvery hair away from Caleb’s brow, “perhaps, ah… if you are amenable—”

“Spit it out, Thelyss,” Caleb murmurs without opening his eyes.

“I would like to stay for a while,” Essek says in a rush. His ears are on fire. “If you will have me.”

For a long moment, there is nothing but silence. Caleb appears to have stopped breathing entirely.

“Caleb?” Essek says tentatively.

Blue eyes blink open, focusing on Essek’s face. “I heard you.”

“You do not have to decide now.”

“I do not have to decide on anything,” Caleb says, his voice rusty with sleep. He pulls Essek close, his arms tightening. “You have always been welcome here. I want you here, for as long as I can have you.” 

It has been a decade of exploring every inch of Exandria that Essek can get himself into. He sits a little more easily in his skin these days, knowing that the world is not as frightening as he thought it would be. There is danger in it, and more fear than he would care to admit. But there is also joy, and wonder, and beauty. 

And yet somehow, nothing can ever compare to the sight of Caleb like this, half asleep with his hair fanning out over the pillow, with the quilt Essek had given him tucked around his slim frame.

“I love you,” Essek says, the words muffled against Caleb’s chest. “Did I ever tell you that?”

Caleb hums, a low rumble like a cat’s purr. The warmth of his lips presses against Essek’s temple.

“No,” he murmurs. “But I knew it anyway.”