18. Inky Darkness
INKY DARKNESS
SILAS
I n the inky darkness, Lev was the sun around which Silas revolved. No one else existed. His body was a mere extension of Lev’s.
There was no past, no tomorrow, only the weight of Lev straddling him and the felt-tip caress of his marker as he drew a talisman on Silas’s skin.
Silas didn’t even need the blindfold anymore. He was perfectly content to remain flat on his back on Lev’s bed, eyes closed while Lev fought his monsters for him.
Lev’s marker slithered southward, tickling the side of Silas’s stomach.
“Hold still,” Lev said.
Silas laughed. “It tickles.”
Lev shushed him, and Silas listened, because he was right. This was no laughing matter.
They were no strangers to goodbye—for all the years Silas’s father had lived at Lichenmoor, Silas had only been permitted to visit over the summer and winter holidays. This time felt different. Final .
But he wouldn’t think about that. Not yet.
For now, he’d play a statue subject to the whims of his master, submitting to sensation, devoid of all thought.
This was their ritual, one they performed on the eve of every departure, a childhood relic neither of them believed in, but were too superstitious to skip.
“Any guesses yet?” Lev asked.
“A dragon?”
A pause. “Are you peeking?”
Silas scoffed. “I resent the accusation, but seeing as you’ve spoiled it…” He reached for his blindfold, goading Lev into action.
“Ah-ah,” Lev said, catching Silas’s slender wrists in one hand. “Wait until I’ve finished.”
Silas struggled to free himself half-heartedly, putting up a fight he stood no chance of winning. Not that he wanted to win. Lev’s control set him free.
The past was a chain around his chest, and tomorrow he’d be shoved into a locked trunk with no key. Without Lev, how would he even breathe?
His mum wouldn’t let him return to Lichenmoor now that Wendell had died. She hated Lucian for turning her husband gay—as if such a thing was possible—and had spewed similar concerns about Silas and Lev, despite their total secrecy.
The only reason Silas remained at Lichenmoor at all was because Lucian had thought it best not to inform Silas’s mum that her ex-husband had died until after the new school year began. Lev had pointed out that Father’s decision proved Silas still belonged in their family. But Silas knew better.
Lucian didn’t want to say goodbye to the only piece of Wendell he had left—Silas.
Tomorrow, the gates of Lichenmoor would close to him.
He’d be lost without Lev for the rest of the school year.
Their usual methods of connection wouldn’t last long.
Permanent ink faded, or was forcefully removed by a nun with a bristle brush while his peers watched.
Without his father to play carrier pigeon, the letters he and Lev wrote would go unread.
He wouldn’t see or speak to Lev for nine months, two-hundred and seventy tally marks carved into the jail cell around his heart. He inhaled, but he couldn’t get enough air. He was locked back inside his body again, not drifting weightless in the gravity of Lev’s solar system.
“Stay with me, Si. Only now. Only me.”
It was a chant they repeated whenever Silas spiraled, as if the words actually were a spell, one that could hide them both inside a pocket watch of stalled time if they said it right.
But they were just empty words. Lev and Silas could repeat them until they died, even in the afterlife, and the words would still be meaningless.
There was no such thing as magic, and yet, Silas was too afraid of what would happen if he didn’t say them.
“Tell me,” Lev prodded.
Only now , Silas thought because his ribcage was too tight to expand fully, and he had to focus all of his energy on frantic shallow breaths that did nothing to quell the prophetical sense that without Lev his life would end.
“Si?” Lev asked.
Only you , Silas thought. His lips tingled.
A loud clap. Silas’s cheek stung. Lev had hit him. Not hard. Never hard enough to leave a mark. Only hard enough to pull Silas back to the present.
“Silas!” There was light, and Lev’s worried face. “There you are.”
Silas nodded and slowed his breathing, timing each inhale and exhale with his.
Lev arced downward and rested his forehead against Silas’s, forcing their eyes to connect, blocking out everything that wasn’t now, that wasn’t them, until all that remained were moody blue eyes illuminated by the reflection of Silas’s lighter ones, almost as if they’d merged.
Lev pressed his forehead harder against Silas, as if he believed they could merge, that he could climb inside and fight all of his monsters.
“Only now. Only me.” Lev squeezed the nape of Silas’s neck. “Tell me.”
“Only now,” Silas said between breaths. “Only you.”
Lev nodded against Silas’s forehead. “Good. Say it again.”
Silas nodded back, needing the friction to tether him. “Only now,” he said, stronger this time. “Only you.”
Lev pulled back and cupped Silas’s cheek. “No tomorrows. Not in here. Understood?”
“Understood,” Silas said.
Lev straightened, and without breaking eye contact, reached for the blindfold he’d fashioned from his tie. “Can I trust you not to peek, or shall I put this back on?”
“The blindfold. It helps, I think.”
Lev’s shoulders sank down from his ears, tense posture relaxing. “I was afraid I’d made it worse.”
Guilt curdled in Silas’s stomach. Lev always had to be strong and unyielding, like the ancient towers of Lichenmoor that refused to crumble. But Silas was never strong for him. He only took.
“No, love,” Silas said.
The term of endearment had always made him uncomfortable. Adults tossed it about like it meant nothing, while to Silas, Lev’s love meant everything. But Lev loved when Silas turned his name into Love, and Silas could give him that, perhaps as a parting gift to hold onto when Silas left tomorrow.
Lev ducked his chin in a nod, donning a grave face as he plucked the marker from the floor and tucked it behind his ear.
“Only now,” Silas reminded him as he lowered his chin to his chest. “Only you.”
“Only you.” Lev slipped the blindfold over Silas’s head and tugged it into position, engulfing Silas in silken darkness once again.