Altair is aware that there is a careful line he should walk when it comes to Kadar. Knows that it will always, always pain Malik far more than it does him, that Malik has lost far more than he will likely ever have to endure. He just as acutely aware that most of that loss and most of that suffering was a direct cause of his own stupid, selfish decisions more than any of Malik's misplaced love or affection for him.
Altair had hurt Malik more than enough for a lifetime, he should let this go, should let it drop and let them both move on.
But he doesn't want to let Kadar go, doesn't want to go the rest of his life without ever speaking the other man's name, suffering the pain of the loss in silence. Doesn't want his memory to fade and be forgotten, and there was no one else but Malik who carried his memories.
Bright eyes fell closed as he eased himself inward, forehead coming to rest against his loves gently, taking in a series of deep, slow breaths, relishing in the closeness and comfort.
"I want to speak of him." Voice soft, barely above a whisper, as if he's utterly afraid that his words won't be accepted or that they'll only draw forth more anger. "He used to tease me, used to tell me my crush on you was showing." He often wondered what Kadar would think of them now, of how proud he would be of his brother for becoming Dai. If he would be happy and accepting of what they had found in one another. "At night I dream of him. Dream of us. We are in my room in the castle, and him and I are playing chess. I remember I always allowed him to best me. And you are in the corner laid out upon my pillows. They still smell like you, even now."
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Altair had hurt Malik more than enough for a lifetime, he should let this go, should let it drop and let them both move on.
But he doesn't want to let Kadar go, doesn't want to go the rest of his life without ever speaking the other man's name, suffering the pain of the loss in silence. Doesn't want his memory to fade and be forgotten, and there was no one else but Malik who carried his memories.
Bright eyes fell closed as he eased himself inward, forehead coming to rest against his loves gently, taking in a series of deep, slow breaths, relishing in the closeness and comfort.
"I want to speak of him." Voice soft, barely above a whisper, as if he's utterly afraid that his words won't be accepted or that they'll only draw forth more anger. "He used to tease me, used to tell me my crush on you was showing." He often wondered what Kadar would think of them now, of how proud he would be of his brother for becoming Dai. If he would be happy and accepting of what they had found in one another. "At night I dream of him. Dream of us. We are in my room in the castle, and him and I are playing chess. I remember I always allowed him to best me. And you are in the corner laid out upon my pillows. They still smell like you, even now."