Their mouths met, urgent and hopeless, Micha helplessly caught between pushing Thomas away and pulling him closer. If only there was not a world beyond the closed circle of their bodies. If only there were no other people who mattered. If only there were no choices. If only someone would come and take everything else away. “Don’t do this.”
“Don’t make me stop.”
Micha shuddered, waiting, almost hoping for the rustle of footsteps, the indrawn breath, the outraged cry. But there was nothing, just an enclosing silence, and an envelope of sky. “Please stop.”
Thomas gazed at him, truly stricken now, the hollow centres of his pupils as deep as wounds. If Thomas touched him again, Micha knew he would let him. Welcome him, yield to him, never let him go. Theywould fall to ruin, laughing and together. He wanted it so much he ached and burned and could barely breathe, but he did not hope for it, because he knew Thomas would never force him. And he was right.
Thomas rolled clumsily away and crumpled into the long grass that wreathed the base of the sarcophagus. He drew his knees tight against his body and wrapped his arms around them, as graceless as a felled albatross. “Stay,” he said, at last, whispering not to Micha but to the mud, the weeds, and the snowdrops. “If you won’t leave with me, stay with me instead.”
Micha, bereft upon cold stone, hauled himself up. “As what?”
“As we are. As whatever you wish to be.”
“And your church?”
“I can ... I will ... oh, I don’t know, Micha.” Thomas blinked tears from his lashes. “You know I cannot find iniquity in love, but the world would make it so. How do I live that lie? How do I serve the Lord while I do?”
“If we leave, you can’t serve Him at all.”
“And what of us, Micha? What of love? What about”—Thomas’s voice was almost lost to anguish—“me.”
Micha slipped off the sarcophagus and knelt in the grass beside Thomas. “If that’s what you wish. Let’s put ourselves above the whole world, abandon those who need you and everything you believe. Let’s live for nothing but each other. Come away with me now. I’ll give you everything I am, and I’ll never leave your side.”
He held out his hand, steady as stone, and Thomas lifted his eyes to Micha’s.
Reached out.
And hesitated.
Micha’s lips quirked into something too painful to be a smile. “This is why I fell in love with you, Thomas. I wouldn’t change you, not even for forever.”
“Oh God.” Fresh tears had gathered like fleeting diamonds upon Thomas’s lashes. “I can’t bear this. It will rip me apart.”
“In some ways, it changes little.”
“How can you say that?”
Again, Micha tried to find a smile. And, this time, he almost succeeded. “I don’t need to be with you to love you. I always will.”
“But where will you go?” It was half-question, half-protest. “What will you do?”
Micha cast his mind to the banknotes George had thrust upon him what felt now like a lifetime ago. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve some resources to fall back on, since your brother tried to pay me off—”
“He what?”
“He was trying to protect you. He thought I had some nefarious purpose. Which, I suppose, I did.” He shrugged. “In any case, I could never bring myself to use his money. Now it seems fair enough that I do.”
Something rather cynical fleeted lightly across Thomas’s face. “He does seem to be the only one of us getting his desired outcome.”
“You have your path, Thomas. And I will find mine.”
“If you ever need anything,” Thomas said, pleading, “you will come back?”
Micha reached for his lies and, this time, found them easily. “Of course.”
“And you will not fall prey to ... hard times?”
“No. I’ll even wrap up warm, eat green vegetables, and always carry an umbrella.”
