“Gods!” Ruan hissed, startled. His wide eyes flew up to Adrissu’s surprised face, who quickly reigned in his expression, attempting something more neutral. But the tension between his brows remained.
“I didn’t realize...” Adrissu started, unsure of what to even say. He was going to plan out what to say on the way to Ruan’s home; but now that the man was here he had to saysomething. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t come.”
Ruan sighed and looked away. “A gold’s a gold,” he said, his voice so carefully neutral that Adrissu could clearly see through the excuse that Ruan must have practiced in the mirror that morning.
“Come inside,” Adrissu said. Ruan glanced up at him, but after a moment, he nodded and straightened up from the wooden stool where he often sat.
When they were both inside, Adrissu closed the heavy wooden door behind them, fiddling with the handle for a moment, before turning to face the human.
“Ruan,” he said slowly, forcing himself to meet his eyes. “I... apologize for what I said to you last night.”
Ruan blinked, then nodded slowly.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice rasping. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I, um... I don’t really know what to say. But I meant what I said last night, Adrissu.”
“I understand,” Adrissu said. “And, Ruan, I hope you can understand me as well. I... am attracted to you, yes.” The words seemed woefully inadequate to describe how his very blood seemed to flow toward the human—how his vision swam with Ruan’s visage every time they were near each other. “But to be involved this way with a human... Maybe if things were different. But I cannot promise you anything.”
“Listen,” Ruan interrupted, shaking his head. “I understand, Adrissu, I truly do. I had not considered this before, but once you said it, I... it makes perfect sense, of course. But, Adrissu, half elvesexist. You can’t be the only elf who has dealt with a lifespan difference. You don’t even want to try?”
“It isn’t that simple,” he hissed.
“Why?” Ruan pressed, brows furrowed; and it struck Adrissu that he looked truly grieved. He had been blinded by his own feelings and not seen Ruan’s growing affection for him, but it was painfully obvious now.
“I...” Adrissu started, then sighed, pressing his hand to his forehead. “I cannot explain it.”
“Fine,” Ruan huffed, scrubbing a hand through his hair.
“But,” Adrissu said. “But I... I don’t want to be apart from you, either.”
“You just said—”
“I know what I said,” he growled. “I hate that I feel this way. I wish I could just tell you not to come back and be done with it. But I want to be around you, more than I want to be alone.”
For a long moment Ruan was silent, staring at him with a blank expression.
“Adrissu,” he finally sighed. “I don’t understand you at all.”
Adrissu scowled, looking away. He hated that he had said anything at all, hated that he was too weak to push the human away, hated that he had ever seen him in the courtyard in the first place.
“But if that’s what you want, we can try,” Ruan continued, pulling him from his frustrated thoughts. “Despite everything, I do like you, Adrissu. I like being around you. And I like the job, of course. Maybe we don’t have to put a label on...” He gestured between them. “On this. If things staying how they’ve been is enough for you... Well, I can learn to be okay with that, too, I suppose.”
Adrissu knew it was a doomed effort even before Ruan was done speaking. Eventually, being around Ruan enough would cause his resolve to fully break.Thiscould only go on for so long.
“Yes,” he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s stay like... Like this.”
Ruan was silent for a long moment, eyes on the ground. When he finally looked back up at Adrissu, he managed a tiny smile; but it was forced, stilted—it had none of the radiance that his smile usually did, and a deep thrum of sadness coursed through Adrissu at the sight.
“Alright,” he said, a hollowly cheerful tone to his voice. “We’ll stay like this, then.”
Adrissu nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
“I guess I’d better get back to work,” Ruan sighed, and Adrissu sidestepped him, as he moved for the door. “I’ll see you for lunch, then?”
Adrissu watched him go silently, until the human paused in the doorway and glanced back at him. His smile, though wavering, was still on his face.
“Yes,” Adrissu replied slowly, nodding once. “I’ll see you for lunch.”
And so, somehow, things gradually started going back to the way they were, and eventually the events of that evening felt like a distant dream. Adrissu would have wondered whether or not it all had happened—the dinner, the arguments, the next morning—if he did not still have such a visceral reaction to the smell and taste of grapes. He stopped eating them entirely.
