[ distantly, in the back of his mind, scien understands that lucas is blind. the way that people lose some part of themselves after death, and he files that away while they speak. at least for now, scien isn't immediately drawn by the need to go anywhere—he'd rather stay wherever lucas is.

his fingers guide lucas's hand gently, curling around the back of lucas's hand and directing him so that his fingertips can brush against scien's cheek. he fits his face into lucas's waiting palm then, if only just to seek out one more reminder of his touch. scien hadn't been driven to tears in his waiting, but he was brought so alarmingly close.

he can't even think of a single time that he'd cried in all these decades. ]

I would want for even more. [ he admits it quietly, his selfish heart finding the opportunity to escape ] Even though I don't wish for an abnormal lifespan, I know already that this time we get together won't be enough.

[ it's such a tragic thing. to be with someone for just as many years as he's already been alive—multiple arpéchélean lifetimes—and still wish for more. it is such a wonderful thing to be find someone so important. it's also so haunting. ]

So I want, at least, every moment until the ends of our new, natural, normal lifespans. I want you at 30, 50—Hades, even 100 if we make it.

[ no more of this dying at 23 nonsense ]