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“No,” Lithian blurted, “of course I did not—” But then, even as the words left his mouth, he realized how they must sound under the circumstances. He had been unfaithful — however briefly — and from Vyren’s perspective, there was no ‘of course’ to the situation. His shoulders sank, and he rubbed his fingers over his arm, shaking his head and diverting his gaze. “I did not sleep with him. I would not have, and even the kiss was brief, but…”

He hesitated. This, he knew, was the harder truth beneath it all. A kiss, as Vyren said, was nothing. If that was all it was.

“I would not have kissed him, Vyren, if…I had not felt for him…as I do. He—Casseth, his name is Casseth, and I have known him for many years. He is…was always my best friend, but I cared more for him than that. I’ve…loved him…” Lithian’s pace slowed with the admittance, the words feeling odd on his tongue since he had not ever spoken them aloud yet, even to Casseth himself, “…since I was perhaps thirteen or fourteen. But he was impossible to me,” he emphasized. “He was not interested in men, so far as I could tell. Always was with women, and the last thing I wanted was to put space between us by pursuing him or even making my feelings known to him. Instead, I buried them. I told myself I could never be with him, and I moved on, I…” He frowned. “You are right, I do care about you, and I have since we began this…whatever it is that we have—had—but nor was it ever completely fair…because no matter what I tried…and how I worked to feel otherwise…I have always, and still do…love him. I am sorry, you…deserve someone who can and will give you all of their heart.”

Lithian’s shoulders sank, his chest knotting and wrenching with guilt and want at the words. Never had he seen Vyren cry, and in the doorway, at the threshold, watching him, every instinct in him screamed to do something. To reach up, brush away the tears — kiss away the tears, if he had to — to hold the man and promise him that he would find someone better, because he would and Lithian was wholly convinced of that fact. He wanted to touch him, to soothe somehow, anything he could.

But he knew, too, rationally at this point, anything he tried would likely only worsen the effect of his words. Thus, his exhale left him — ragged and cool as it slipped from his lips — and the fingers that he had lifted, half-hesitantly to at least brush Vyren’s cheek stilled, and dropped back to his side.

“I will pray that you find happiness, Vyren, because I want you to and you deserve love so much better than what I can give you,” he said quietly. “You will find it, I know you will…and you will make someone so happy…I…”

‘I do not want to lose all contact with you…’

The thought sounded so selfish, in light of everything that had passed between them, but the hurt that gouged him at the thought of never again associating with this man — a man who, if it had not been for his preconceived feelings, he may well have come to love — forced the words from his lips.

“When you find that…and when, or if you ever find yourself in a position to forgive the injustices I have done you…I should like to see you again.” Lithian opened his mouth, hesitated, and then bit his lip, leaving his words at that dipping into a quick and narrow bow. With the barest pluck of his magic, he drew away Vyren’s tears without contact, sweeping them from his cheeks so they did not stain his face when he went to speak with his friend. Then, he turned, and without another word on the subject, he left Vyren to whatever fate Abronaxus made for him.

He prayed, silently, that it would involve happiness, and perhaps — someday — lead them back into each other’s paths.