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With a heavy exhale, he reaches into his pocket and retrieves a silver ring. The simple band is fashioned similarly to the one he wears—and it’s unmistakable.
The second cufflink.
He slides the band onto my finger and turns my hand over, where he delicately kisses my palm, the place I bled for him, claiming him as mine.
“I had this one made at the same time,” he says, “because you were made for me, sweetness.”
An ache burns in my throat as I first glance at the ring on the hearth, then the one circling my finger. “Double rings,” I say, thinking back to that dark chamber. “A full circle.”
A snake devouring its tail. Consuming us over and over.
“The doubleouroboros,” he confirms, his gaze lit with a mix of praise and hope as he laces our fingers together. “The balance of the upper and lower natures, the joining of opposites.”
I focus on the solid feel of his hand, the sureness and comfort of his touch.
“For all the darkness and pain we’ve forged in this life to be together, for all the depravity and suffering, there is another space in time where I walked right up to you, where I held on tight, where we existed in the light, and it was so easy…like breathing, Halen. But because that beauty exists there, we can have it here. It belongs to us. We just had to wade through hell to find it.”
A broken sound forms at the base of my throat as he offers me the desire of my heart.
There is no greater destruction than one of self…no catalyst more powerful to wield in alchemic creation. Destruction isn’t an end, it’s a beginning.
Our beginning.
Some cages, we design for ourselves. This one, I designed for us both. To deny him would be like caging a beautiful moth. He’d break his wings to get to the light. Maybe he already has. But I have the power to repair the damage. I’ve always had the power.
I crawl into Kallum’s lap and wrap myself around him. “I will never let you fall,” I swear to him. Whatever cage is waiting below, I will never let Kallum fall. This omen is mine to prevent.
I kiss him with the passion we’re barely able to contain between us. I make love to him furiously, the only way our souls connect, the most violent, heated parts of us destroying each other before we’re healed with cleansing fire. The alchemy of our dark souls.
There is beauty in the darkest art, genius in the fault, the imperfections. The very substance that makes us bad and violent and wicked, when broken down to our divine state, makes us lovely.
We were designed for each other.
18
DARK MATTER
KALLUM: TWO YEARS LATER
Nietzsche once said:To live is to suffer, to survive is to find meaning in the suffering.
Nietzsche and his great pain. His tortured path to the philosopher’s stone. Not to insult the renowned philosopher (more so than I already have), but fuck survival.
Who wants to merely survive this life?
That’s like settling for being a god.
Let me explain.
Once upon a time, as a bored, egotistical professor of occult sciences, my only suffering was a meaningless existence. A chaoist without a madness of his own.
Then like a strike of lightning, my muse illuminated my dark sky.
My utter, divine inspiration.
My beautiful madness.
While therauschenraptures us in an artistic outpouring of pure frenetic ecstasy, for those who see through the veil, it can also be an affliction.
