The quarters were dark, hiding the two bodies from the rest of the world’s prying eyes. The room they chose was always the most basic one they could find. A bed, a table, and little else. They didn’t want for anything beyond each other.
It was always quick. Never long enough for anyone to notice their absence, although in recent months, it seemed as if people cared less and less about where they were. They were growing invisible in the face of a great threat, fading into the background as the important figures of the war stood tall and prominent, while they were left behind, alone in their company.
When they first began this, it could only have been described as a mistake. One was drunk, the other desperate and afraid. They stumbled into the room without much thought to their actions and went to bed without looking back until the next morning. It was the only time they’d actually slept through the night together, and when they awoke to face the consequences, both were left feeling hollow and uncomfortable. They went their separate ways that day, neither able to look at the other until the next week.
That time, it had been Vir that had approached, no drink in hand but a nervous smile no his face, “If now’s not a good time...”
He never got to finish his sentence. Lennier stood, took his hand, and led him to undesignated quarters. This time it was quicker, and they didn’t fall asleep after. Both were too sober, too aware, but they parted with the knowledge that this time, it was no accident. As they parted ways, Vir grabbed Lennier’s wrist and offered that same, nervous smile he’d given a few hours before...
“Same time next week?”
If it was supposed to be a joke, it was a bad one. If it was supposed to be an honest question, it certainly didn’t come across as one. But that didn’t stop Lennier from offering a quirked half-smile and small nod of assent. He then carefully pulled his wrist away and walked off, back to the Ambassador’s quarters, and out of Vir’s life for the next stretch of time.
They saw each other in between these intimate meetings, but they never exchanged words during those times. Only secret, silent glances. Vir’s were always so shy and nervous. Lennier’s were always reserved and chaste.
Lies. Both had seen the other in bed, and neither could say the other was at all how they acted in public presence. Perhaps it was what drew them closer, these mutual secrets. For only Vir knew that Lennier was an unbridled and vocal lover, who threw himself into every action committed with such intensity and passion that it often left Vir breathless and adoring. Only Lennier knew that Vir was proud and confident in the dark, self-assured and quick-witted, able to reduce Lennier to nothing in seconds or less.
It was a secret they shared only with each other, sealed with the promise of “Same time next week.”