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The Truthless Recluse doesn’t care that the Sage is late.
In reality, it’s a blessing for him.
For years now, the Sage of Truth pays a visit to the Recluse after his final lecture for the day. These visits went from being once in a blue moon, to weekly, to daily. And every single visit would leave the Recluse with a bigger headache.
He doesn’t like the guy. This “Sage” who speaks of the painful truth like it won’t harm the cookies it dares to touch. His lectures in the square only cause more problems for the Recluse. He doesn’t need more cookies trying to learn about the world. Trying to know about their purpose.
He sighs, letting his head lull back. Despite his blatant hatred for the Sage, he still keeps coming around. He always smiles at him and tries to make conversation. Well…smiles is more of an understatement. He grins. Widely and so unlike the posed figure in town.
He probably enjoys bothering the Recluse. He probably finds amusement in knowing that the Recluse finds him annoying.
The Recluse taps his finger against the counter, his staff’s eyes never leaving the door. It’s a good thing the Sage isn’t stopping by today. The Recluse has felt a headache coming all day, and his voice and mere presence would have just made it worse. Especially because he likes to go on extreme tangents about the most miniscule of things.
So, the Recluse sighs and makes some tea.
It’s nice being in peace and quiet. Today was rather uneventful, so this is just a treat for him. As he lets his water boil, he leans against the counter, letting his staff’s eyes wander back to the door.
Perhaps the Sage had a long lecture today. He does like to hear himself speak. He’s so cocky when he does it too. It’s annoying. But that still wouldn’t make him this late.
The Recluse looks out the window, taking in the darkness from the nighttime outside. Why is he still on this topic? It’s not like he cares about the Sage being here. This is a vacation! He shouldn’t spend this vacation worrying about his problems!
But…it’s still strange that he still isn’t here.
Did he have homework to grade? He does like procrastinating on that. Or what if something happened in town and he had to help? Like a disaster? No no, the Recluse would have heard about it from the birds. What if he had to leave to do some research? No, he would have mentioned it! He yaps about everything going on in his life. What could make him late–
What if he has a date?
The Recluse almost spills his water as he pours it into the cup. He wants to laugh the idea off. No. No. Surely the Sage would have bragged about someone trying to court him. He’s very aware of everything around him, even if he pretends he’s not.
But the Recluse places his hands to the counter and huffs. Surely there wouldn’t be someone stupid enough to want to date the Sage. Well, maybe if they hate themself enough. The Sage did tell him he “likes his men tired with a hint of self-hatred” so it’s a possibility. Doesn’t help that he said it with stars in his eyes.
Still! The Sage would have told him if he was interested in anyone! He would have bragged about catching somebody’s attention!
The Recluse huffs while he angrily holds his cup of tea. His eyes look down into it as he glares. This is such a ridiculous idea. No one in their right mind would want to go on a date with the Sage. He’s loud and obnoxious. Sure, he’s conventionally attractive, but that means nothing once you see how excited he gets when the idea of a debate comes up.
Witches above, why does he even care about this? The Sage doesn’t matter to him. He’s just a pest that likes to bother him. He doesn’t care about someone trying to court him. He doesn’t. This is absurd. It’s not like he wants to…
…court him…himself.
…
Oh.
Fuck.
He’s the stupid one.
The Recluse shoves his tea away and steps back. No. No. No no no. That can’t be right. He doesn’t like the Sage. The Sage is just a constant pain in his ass. The Sage is just some guy that he knows. He doesn’t like that he knows him! He doesn’t like him at all!
He lets his back hit the island behind him as he slides down. His staff is resting against the counter, still facing that blasted door. A groan escapes him and he lets his head lull to the side.
This has to be a mistake on his part. He’s never felt like this for the Sage–at least to his knowledge. He’s always hated him. From the way he smiles at him all giddy to his sick beliefs on truth. His face and company mean nothing.
It’s fine. It’s fine. This is just a mistake on the Recluse’s part. He’s not pining for the Sage. He could care less about his relationships with other cookies. He could care less that there is a possibility of him being on a date right now. That he could be close with another cookie. Very close. Too close…
…
Well damnit!
Every time he tries convincing himself that he’s okay with the Sage being romantic with another cookie, he feels the pain and ache in his chest. There’s a sinking feeling of his gut falling into the floor. He rubs the back of his neck, groaning in annoyance. This is an issue. This is not something that he does.
But he has to have this wrong! What about if he envisions doing romantic things with the Sage? Surely that’ll gross him out. Like if Sage were to sit closer than normal. Though…he already practically sits himself on the Recluse’s lap whenever he’s over.
What about…if he were to place his hands on the Sage’s hips during those moments? What if he were to pull him closer? What if the Sage were to do the same? What if he leans in, cupping his face as he grants him that wickedly beautiful grin? What if they were to only get closer?
…
Shit.
Shit.
The Recluse falls to his side, not caring about the bonk of his head against the kitchen floor. His face and body feels far too warm to be deemed normal. He feels flustered and embarrassed. Flustered because woah and embarrassed because it’s the Sage you idiot!
The Sage! He can’t like the Sage! How many times does he have to repeat that?
It doesn’t matter that he’s the very Truth to his Deceit; it doesn’t matter that they are for a lack of a better term “soulmates”. He can’t like him. He’s a prick. And the Recluse doesn’t like that he feels anything remotely positive for an asshole like him.
He grumbles to himself, turning his face towards the floor. Though…he’s not always an asshole.
There are moments that only he sees away from the public eye. Moments that he’s tried pushing away for years. Moments that he’s brushed off as meaningless nothings.
Moments where it’s visible that the Recluse has had a rough day so the Sage stays quiet.
Moments where he listens with intrigue at whatever the Recluse has to say.
Moments where for the afternoon, they are just two cookies coexisting.
The Recluse thinks back on those moments with a fluttery heart. Has it truly been so long that he’s forgotten this feeling? This vulnerable, terrifying adoration of another? It’s been centuries since he’s felt like this. Is this why he didn’t recognize it sooner?
Hm. How strange.
But also how dare his heart!
In all of the cookies in all of Earthbread, it had to be the Sage?!
The Sage? The Sage is what does it for him?
The Recluse rolls onto his stomach. His standards have really lowered as the years have gone on. Though, looking at the state of himself, he can’t say much.
It makes him want to vomit. His body feels too soft and affectionate now that he’s aware. Why did he have to care? Why couldn’t he have actually been fine about the Sage not paying a visit?
…Right.
The Sage is still not here.
The Recluse exhales deeply, wanting the worry and anxieties in his stomach to leave. While the Sage might not be on a date, there is still the possibility that another cookie may catch his attention sooner or later. What happens then? Will he stop visiting? Will their conversations revolve around his love life?
The thoughts don’t feel good.
…But he’s used to discomfort.
The Recluse sits back up, checking in with the staff to see that the door is still untouched. This is fine. This means nothing. He’s just now more aware of what’s happening inside his head. He’ll live. He always lives.
It’s better like this anyway. He’s sure he would be miserable in a relationship with the Sage. He’d probably drive him to murder. The thought makes him smile for just a moment.
So he stands, leaving his discarded tea on the counter.
That flavor was more of the Sage’s favorite anyway.
.
.
.
From here, it’s clear to the Recluse that the Sage really loves what he does.
He’s never been able to fathom why the Sage works at the local academy while also doing these “lectures on Truth”, but from here it seems so natural. From the way he speaks and gestures his hands around, to the way his eyes shine.
While he could care less about the well-being of the cookies he’s lecturing to, he at least has passion in it.
When the lesson is done and the townsfolk begin leaving, the Sage turns his gaze to the Recluse’s spot in the shadows. He grins his way.
So, the Recluse sighs and steps out into the evening light, making his way over to the Sage.
“Truthless,” the Sage says, with a bit too much glee in his voice.
Rolling his eyes, the Recluse lets his head lull to the side. “Sage.”
The Sage giggles, letting his feet float off the ground as he leans in closer. “I don’t think I’ve had you visit me since our fateful meeting!” he says. “So tell me, my Recluse. What brings you all the way here?”
In all honesty, he doesn’t know. The Recluse passed out yesterday and woke up pretty angry with the Sage. Angry because why the hell didn’t he pay a visit and why does he even care? Well, he knows why he cares. He just doesn’t like the answer.
But with Sage so close to his face and the nerves on his tongue, the Recluse lets out a shaky breath. “You didn’t visit.”
Shit. Why did he say that?
Even the Sage looks baffled. His feet touch the ground as he stares at him in bewilderment. “...What?”
The Recluse turns his head away but keeps his staff staring straight ahead. Embarrassment shoots up through him. He doesn’t want to repeat that. He doesn’t even want to acknowledge that.
The Sage seems to get the picture as he clears his throat and presses his hands behind his back. “Well I just…I had a long lecture yesterday. And then the school got mad at me for being behind on grading, so I had to do that.”
Of course. That’s all it was. It doesn’t stop the sigh of relief from the Recluse.
Taking notice of it, the Sage blushes a darker shade of blue. His eyes dart everywhere, like he’s thinking. And then he floats up, leaning in. “You know,” he says sneakily, “I didn’t think that you cared about little ol’ me.”
“Oh don’t be ridiculous,” the Recluse spits out, whipping his head back around. “I could care less about you.”
The Sage giggles with a cheeky grin taking shape across his face, “‘Clusey~”
“Do not start with that nickname in public.”
“Did you miss me, ‘Clusey?”
The Recluse feels the flush rush to his cheeks. “No! Absolutely not!”
The Sage gasps and giggles. “Awww, you did!”
“No I did not!”
“Oh that is so sweet!” the Sage coos, taking hold of the Recluse’s face.
“Sage–!” the Recluse grits out. “Unhand me–”
“You know, I missed you too.”
The Recluse goes quiet. His breaths feel soft as he stares up at the Sage.
“I was thinking about you all night,” the Sage says fondly. “In all of yesterday, the only thing I wished for was to see your face. I wanted to forget my work and come see you.” He leans in, pressing his forehead to the Recluse’s. “You are the best part of my day. I’m so happy seeing you finally admit you feel the same.”
At the small confession, the Recluse sputters and shoves him away. “Enough of that.” He turns around, pulling the collar of his robes away to let himself cool down. “This was a waste of time,” he says. “Don’t bother visiting anymore–”
“I’m free this weekend.”
His head shoots back, taking in the shit-eating grin from the Sage. “What?”
The Sage cocks his head to the side. “This weekend. How about you come down from your peak and you and I go on a little outing?”
The Recluse stays still.
What.
He feels his mouth open like it wants to agree, but he’s quickly shoving the thought to the side the second his brain finally processes the Sage’s words. “Forget it,” he grumbles, walking away.
“Sounds wonderful!” the Sage exclaims in a sing-song voice. “I’ll pick you up at ten!”
And while the Recluse rolls his eyes at the notion, a part of him does feel smitten at the idea. Especially when he looks back around and sees the Sage freaking out in excitement with such joy and glee in his eyes.
Hm. Cute.
…Guess he’ll be rummaging through his wardrobe after all.