The way Lepidus's hand moved, tracing the lines of his drawings, with a reverence he could only ever imagine.
Caligula had never stood in such a place, never felt the touch of wind through the wildflowers.
Oh, but I held one wildflower earlier. Courtesy of him. He somehow felt like laughing at how ridiculous it is receiving a flower from a mysterious boy.
A wildflower that he decided to take home. He looked at the table where he left it.
Crumpled and withered.
...
He sighed, his fingers tapping idly against the sheets.
His gaze lingered on the withered petals, a fleeting thing, just like the memory of its giver.
And yet, the image remained. Unshaken.
Something about the way he had captured the meadow made him ache.
There was something in it that called to him.
They stirred something within him, a longing he couldn't name.
Caligula was only interested at first in Lepidus's art. Nothing else.
A key. He'd thought.
Lepidus, with his charcoal and scrolls, held a key to something Caligula desperately wanted.
Not color—he had long accepted that was beyond him.
But… normalcy. A way to bridge the gap between his gray world and the vibrant one others inhabited.
He shifted in his seat, the silken sheets rustling, the faint sound echoing in the stillness.
Caligula thought of the boy, the way his voice had sounded, soft and hesitant, yet with an underlying current of… something.
Playfulness? Curiosity? He couldn't quite place it.
A trespasser. An intruder. The thought was absurd. And yet... it didn't bother him. It should have. But it didn't.
A strange mix of amusement—and something else. Something he couldn't quite define.
It was almost his birthday. A week.
An invitation, extended on a whim, now seemed like a lifeline. Although that's what it was. A lifeline. But now, he's not sure.
He just wanted Lepidus to come, to bring his charcoal and scrolls, to draw him, to show him what he looked like through another's eyes.
Caligula wanted to see himself, not as a distorted reflection in polished metal, but as a real person.
Monster? God? Something in between? He didn't know. But he wanted to know.
And the boy, with his strange, quiet intensity, might be the only one who could show him.
The night stretched on, hot and still, the cicadas a constant, rhythmic pulse.
Caligula closed his eyes, the image of Lepidus' drawings, and Lepidus himself, a strange, persistent warmth in the emptiness.
*****************************
Lepidus lay on his cot, staring at the cracked ceiling, his body sticky with sweat.
The air in his small, suffocating room was thick with the scent of old straw, damp stone, and his own exhaustion.
It was a stark contrast to the faint, almost ethereal fragrance he remembered clinging to a certain someone—a subtle blend of myrrh and something else..
Something clean and sharp, like the scent of rain on marble.
He inhaled deeply, Gods... his scent... trying to recapture that scent, but only the musty air of his small room filled his lungs.
The wool blanket beneath him was rough, scratchy, but he barely noticed. His mind was elsewhere.
Or rather, on someone else.
He could still see him. Caligula.
Not in the way one recalls a passing acquaintance, but vividly, as though he were still standing before him.
Every detail burned into his mind.
The way his lips curved—not a true smile, no, but the ghost of one, as if he were unsure how to wear it.
The way his pale lashes fluttered when he averted his gaze, as if the world around him were too dull to truly see.
Lepidus kicked his cot. Unable to contain the restless energy coiling inside him, unable to name what it was.
'What is your name?' Caligula's voice echoed in Lepidus's ears, a low, melodic cadence that seemed to vibrate in his very bones.
Angelic, he thought, a word he'd never used to describe a mere mortal.
He exhaled sharply, rolling onto his side, pressing his forehead against his arm.
Tu es meum deus.
The words still echoed in his head, shame curling in his stomach.
How could he have said something so utterly foolish? Out loud, no less.
Had Caligula heard him? If he had, he gave no sign.
Lepidus groaned into the crook of his arm. I'm the biggest idiot in Rome.
And yet…
His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence.
He replayed their brief interactions, each moment a precious jewel he turned over and over in his mind.
The way Caligula's slender fingers moved, almost delicate, when he touched the charcoal sketches. My sketches..
The way his blue eyes, usually distant and unfocused, seemed to sharpen for a fleeting instant, a spark of awareness that sent a jolt through Lepidus.
The way his voice, soft and hesitant, held a hidden depth, a resonance that made Lepidus's own voice catch in his throat.
He wanted to draw him, to capture that fleeting spark, to understand the enigma behind those eyes.
He wanted to capture the way Caligula looked at his drawings, and then the way he looked away, as if he were seeing something that no one else could.
He wanted to capture the way Caligula looked at him, even if that look was a phantom.
A contrast to his initial plan of just introducing himself to the boy.
Now that he started, he have no clue what to do with this wants...
His fingers twitched, aching for charcoal and a scroll.
Aching to draw the shape of Caligula's mouth, the ghost of a smile that haunted him.
He imagined Caligula's face, the sharp angles of his jaw, the pale gold of his hair, the way his lashes fluttered like delicate wings.
He turned onto his back again, staring at the ceiling.
Caligula's birthday was approaching. He had told himself he would wait. Be patient. Wait until then.
But the thought was unbearable. The days stretched before him like an eternity.
Should I go and find him tomorrow? The idea took hold in his mind, burning, clawing at him. He tried to dismiss it, but it refused to leave.
He didn't think he could wait that long.
Patience was slipping through his fingers like sand. And he was drowning in the emptiness it left behind
Lepidus squeezed his eyes shut, his breathing shallow. What is happening to me?
He felt like a fanatic. Desperate. Restless. Starved for just one more moment in Caligula's presence.
Just one more word. One more look.
One more anything.
*****************************
INDEX:
Tu es meum Deus- You’re my God
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AN// This is an excerpt not a whole chapter on my novel. So.. What do you guys think? If you like it, you can find it on Good novel and maybe Joy read once they post it later. Still on-going with 20 Chapters... and will be updated later!
