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Celesto scowled when the ocean breeze ruffled his perfectly styled hair. He combed his fingers through it and tried to find another position where the wind wasn’t blowing as fiercely.

“Honestly,” His cousin Aelia frowned at him. “I invite you over for a lovely dinner party and all you do is fidget with your clothing and hair, you’re like a woman.”

“Unlike you I care about my appearance,” He answered casually. “Don’t be upset that your dress looks like an old grain bag.”

The curly haired man snorted in laughter behind him and got a withering glare from Aelia.

“You forget your place slave,” She snarled and his smile vanished, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Celesto, you need to beat this one to show him to respect his betters.”

“Don’t tell me how to take care of what is mine!” Celesto’s blue-green eyes flashed brightly. “Since clearly I am not wanted here, I will leave.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Aelia sighed, rolling her eyes, as Celesto strolled out of the villa and into the street, followed closely by his slave.

“I don’t want something like that to happen again Crispus,” Celesto warned softly as they made their way down the darkened streets.

“I understand, I am terribly sorry sir,” Crispus mumbled. “She is just so horrible.”

“Careful, she is the daughter of a very wealthy family,” The taller boy said sternly but his lips quirked into a smile. “She does always seem to have her nose in the air doesn’t she?”

Crispus let out a sharp bark of laughter and grinned, biting his lip to keep in the smile.

When Celesto turned ten years old his parents gave him a gift of a slave boy who had been taken after the conquest of a Gallic tribe. The boy had been quiet and refused to tell his name, which prompted Celesto’s father to name him Crispus for his curly head of hair.

The two boys had instantly bonded, becoming fast friends, and were hardly without each other. They constantly sung, played games, or even just sat around talking. As Celesto grew older, his parents told him that Crispus was not there to be a friend but was a slave first and foremost. 

That didn’t stop him from falling in love with the handsome young man.

Crispus was charming, sweet, and had the most spectacular singing voice. Celesto could listen to him all day and often had the pleasure of doing so. He knew he could simply order Crispus to be intimate but the idea of forcing the young man into it made him ill. Every time he came close to telling the slave that he loved him, he found that he wasn’t able to speak.

“Master?” His eyes snapped up from the cobblestone path to Crispus’s confused face. “May I voice an opinion?”

“Of course, I don’t want you to be afraid to speak your mind around me. You know I always welcome your thoughts,” Celesto smiled when Crispus beamed at him.

“It was clear that the lady was jealous because you were obviously the most beautiful person at that party,” Crispus said softly making Celesto’s smile widen.

“Ah, false flattery will get you nowhere,” He laughed.

“It is the exact opposite of false sir,” Crispus countered. “Everyone at that party was distracted by the fact that there was a god in their midst.”

Celesto rolled his eyes and the pair walked on in silence until they reached his family’s villa. 

“I bid you a pleasant sleep,” Crispus bowed his head slightly and turned to go to the slave quarters.

“Crispus!” Celesto hurried forward and grabbed his tanned arm. “You do not have to sleep in the slave quarters.”

Crispus frowned slightly and flicked his eyes down to stare at the pale fingers on his arm.

“Oh, I do not mean…that. Do not be afraid to say no, if you choose to not come you will not be punished and we will both forget I ever said anything,” Celesto knew he was rambling.

“Master, are you asking me to sleep in your chambers?” Crispus said slowly.

“If…if you wish to?” Celesto could feel his ears burning. 

“I do,” Crispus said quickly, smile spreading across his face. “I wish that very much.”

Celesto grinned and intertwined his fingers in the smaller boy’s. They hurried through the villa until they got to his bedroom, stumbling in with breathless giggles. 

“I want to be honest with you,” Celesto said softly, grabbing both of Crispus’s hands. “We spend so much time with each other and you are not a slave to me. I think of you as a friend, my dearest friend, and if you wish as a love.”

“Celesto,” Crispus whispered, hazel eyes bright. “I don’t remember my home very well but I do remember a story my mother told me. She said that loves were forever intertwined and endless, That it is always there and that I just needed to find it. I found you, and I can see eternity.”

He quickly leaned forward and pressed his lips to Celesto’s who let out a trembling breath before melting into his touch. The two boys moaned softly and began to undo their clothes, kissing more passionately.

“I love you,” Crispus whispered into his ear before gently kissing down his throat. 

“I love you so much,” Celesto moaned out before they both fell onto the bed. 

The evening dissolved into heat, groans, and soft whispers of affection. They lay together, tangled in the sheets, kissing deeply after finally being able to share their love.

“That was unexpected,” Celesto whispered breathlessly, brushing back curls from Crispus’s forehead. “But not unwelcome.”

“Not unwelcome at all,” Crispus grinned, running his fingers up and down the pale stomach.

They fell asleep in each other’s arms, pressed tightly together. 

Sharp shattering noises woke them both up suddenly as several cosmetic pots fell off the tables and a mirror fell from the wall and broke. Celesto let out a little gasp and they held each other tightly as the room shook around them.

“What happened?” Crispus asked quietly as soon as it settled down.

“An earthquake, nothing to worry about,” Celesto pressed a kiss to the other boy’s forehead. “What do you want to do today? We can go to the market, see a show, or go to the shore.”

“Or we can stay in bed and make love,” Crispus smiled coyly.

“Oh, I very much like your suggestion,” Celesto laughed before they met in a heated kiss. 

Hours later, they were completely worn out and Crispus’s stomach growled loudly. Celesto snickered and rubbed his stomach with a wide grin.

“It seems that while you are eager to continue, parts of you are not,” He chuckled. “How about we go to the market, get some fruits and cheeses and eat them on the shore.”

They slowly got dressed, distracting each other with touches and kisses. Celesto was helped into his robes as usual by Crispus and added several accessories before they made their way to the streets.

“Crispus, you have to not show any affection besides what a slave shows a master outside of our gates,” Celesto warned as they walked through the gardens. “Please wait until we get to the solitude of the shore.”

“Of course master,” He replied as he was taught when they began down the streets. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“None of that now,” Celesto subtly brushed his hand against his lover’s. “I don’t want you hurt.”

Crispus nodded and opened his mouth to reply when a sudden explosion almost deafened them. Both boys ducked automatically and grabbed each other.

“What was that?” Celesto gasped out, heart pounding.

“Vesuvius! It is the mountain!” An older man down the street shouted. “The mountain is spewing smoke!”

The crowd let out cries and gasps as they looked up. Celesto gaped up at the mountain that towered over Pompeii. A dark column of smoke rose rapidly up into the sky, blocking out the blue sky. 

“Master, let us go back to the villa,” Crispus whispered.

“No, this is nothing to be feared. Let’s continue with our plans for the day,” Celesto pushed through the stunned crowd and continued to the market. “Besides now we have something fascinating to watch.”

“We need to go back, this is something evil,” Crispus stared up, horror etched on his face. “We need to leave Pompeii.”

“Leave Pompeii?” Celesto laughed. “You’re being a little overdramatic. I’ve been schooled in the forces of nature and know that there is nothing to fear, nature is beautiful and a gift from the gods.”

Crispus remained silent but couldn’t quell the fear in his chest. They continued down the road and bought several items to eat from the carts set up in the square. 

“Snow?” A man asked to the right of them, frowning up to the sky as white powder began to fall from the sky.

“Please master, let us go back,” Crispus began again as Celesto caught some of the ash and looked curiously up at the looming black cloud.

“It is strange,” He mused softly.

“Celesto!” The brunette turned quickly, surprised by the use of his name. “Please, I beg you, let us go back.”

“Alright,” Celesto nodded, seeing how terrified the other boy was. “We’ll go back.”

Crispus spun around on his heel and hurried down the road, closely followed by a concerned Celesto. He stumbled when he felt something hard hit his shoulder.

“It is raining pebbles!” Celesto held up the small stone he caught, eyes wide.

“Something evil is happening,” Crispus said, pressing himself closer to his lover, and for the first time Celesto had to agree. “Look, the cloud is swallowing the sun.”

It was like a blanket had been thrown over all the light. Darkness covered everything and it looked like night, even though it was only mid afternoon. 

“Hurry,” Celesto felt bolder grabbing Crispus’s hand in the darkness when everyone was running to avoid the falling stones. 

They both let out a small cry of surprise when a rock the size of a human head broke a chunk off of a nearby roof. Celesto squeezed his lover’s hand tighter as they ran to the villa.

One of his father’s slaves ushered them in and checked Celesto for any injuries, inquiring of his wellbeing. They both panted, hearing the patter of the stones striking the roof. 

“This is the end of the world,” Crispus shivered, watching the stones build up on the pathways through a window. 

“We have done something to anger the gods,” Celesto’s father announced, pushing past Crispus. “You, go light the candles on the altar.”

Crispus shot Celesto a glance before he rushed off the light the candles. Celesto and his parents all knelt their heads in prayer as the household slaves gathered around behind them, all shivering in fear.

“Master,” One of the older slaves said. “The beams are creaking, I do not think the roof will support the stones much longer.”

Just as he said that there was a crashing sound from somewhere in the kitchen as the roof caved in. Everyone jumped and huddled closer together, several cries of fear ringing out over the sound of the stones.

“Master, we should leave the city,” He tried again and Celesto’s father frowned.

“Hilaria has been ill,” He looked over at his pale wife. “She will not be able to leave the city and I will not leave her. You are all free men and women, go if you wish.”

The slaves all stared at him.

“Your loyalty is no longer to me,” He motioned to the door and the slaves quickly rushed out into the raining stones.

“Boy,” He turned to Crispus who stayed behind. “You are free and are allowed to go if you wish.”

“I will stay,” Crispus said, head held high. Celesto threaded his fingers through the other boy’s and his father raised his eyebrows.

“You are more than welcome in our home,” He nodded to the boy.

“Thank you sir,” Crispus smiled.

Celesto’s mother swayed in her spot, tears shining on her pale cheeks. “Husband, I must lay down.”

“Of course,” He smiled at her sadly. “We are going to go to bed, I suggest you do the same.”

The two boys made their way to the bedroom, avoiding the debris on the ground. They clasped hands and leaned into each other.

“Do you think we’re going to die?” Crispus asked, the lightning lighting up his face. “That this is going to be our last day on earth?”

“No,” Celesto pressed his lips desperately to his lover’s and combed his hand through his curls. “You worry too much.”

They fell onto the bed, still fully clothed and curled up together. The air became thicker and stung their throats as the stones piled up higher and higher outside

“I do not mind dying today,” Crispus whispered hoarsely, swallowing. “I am with you and it is what I want.”

“Me too,” Celesto breathed, finding it difficult to speak with how dry his mouth was. “You told me that your people believed love was eternal, what did that mean?”

“That even if our physical bodies die, our love will live on. We will find ourselves in the next life and continue our love,” He pressed dry lips to Celesto’s. “I will find you in the next life.”

“And the moment I see you, I will know,” Celesto wasn’t even able to cry but his chest ached with sorrow.

“You will be there forever,” Crispus stroked his cheek, staring up into his eyes.

A horrible roar filled the air and they held each other tighter. The lovers stared into each other’s eyes as the molten ash flew down the mountain side and instantly burned them alive.

June 13, 2014 Pompeii, Italy 

“Blaine seriously? We’re going to this tourist trap?” Kurt groaned as Blaine pulled him down the pathway. “Why can’t we just go to the hotel?”

“Because we’re in Italy Kurt, and I went through all that fashion stuff with you,” Blaine argued. “Besides, this was a momentous moment in history.”

“The Valentino exhibit was a moment in history,” Kurt mumbled but followed his boyfriend into another exhibit. 

“Here is a human cast of two young men. When the molten ash and gas, called a pyroclastic flow which can reach up to one thousand degrees Celsius or one thousand, eight-hundred and thirty degrees Fahrenheit, came into the city it encased the bodies and evaporated all of the soft tissues, leaving this cast,” The tour guide’s accented voice spoke out over the quiet group.

The two bodies were curled up together. The shorter one’s chin was turned up so that he could meet the eyes of the taller one who’s hand was resting on the other’s cheek.

“See how they’re looking into each other’s eyes,” Blaine whispered. “The last thing they saw before they died was each other.”

Kurt looked down at his fiancé and pulled him in close, kissing him lightly. He couldn’t imagine living without Blaine and the idea of holding him knowing that he would never see him again made his heart ache.

“I hope they found some happiness after death,” Blaine said, staring at the cast. 

“I’m sure they did,” Kurt threaded his fingers through Blaine’s.

The toll of the funeral bell was constant.

William hurried down the almost empty streets, pulling his black overcoat tighter around himself and turning his head down so that he could see through the mask on his face.

“Please,” A croaking voice startled him to the right and he turned to see a thin trembling man. “Please save me.”

He was covered in large dark boils and blood coated his chin and front of his tunic. The man was shaking violently and coughing hard enough that fresh blood splattered from his lips.

“I’m afraid there is nothing more I can do,” William whispered, voice sounding strange in the long beak shaped mask. “Go with the grace of God into heaven.”

He gently placed his gloved hand on the man’s cheek before leaving him and resumed his rapid pace down the streets. The tolling of the bell drilled into William’s skull and he was so thankful that his wide brimmed hat covered his ears.

“Doctor!” A young woman waved him over from the doorway of a nice sized house. “Over here!”

William nodded his thanks to the servant and stepped into the foyer. The lady of the house stared up at him, fear bright in her eyes.

“Thank God you are here!” She sobbed out. “My husband and daughter have fallen ill and I fear that it is the sickness.”

“Madam, I will look at them,” William carried his bag to a separate room and froze as soon as he stepped into it.

The room smelled like death.

Two makeshift beds had been set up in the center of the room where an older man and a young girl lay. William hurried to the girl’s side and gently prodded at the boil on her neck.

“Hurts,” She breathed through chapped lips and stared up at him with fever glazed eyes.

“What is your name?” William asked gently, not wanted to scare the little girl who wasn’t any older than eleven.

“Elizabeth,” She whimpered. “Where is Charles?”

“Who is Charles?” William asked, peeling back her blankets and frowning at the deep bruising on her chest and stomach. 

“He is my son,” The mother said, eyes teary. “He is in the library, we would be honored if you stayed for a meal.”

“I would also be honored,” William nodded deeply. “Is Charles also ill?”

“No, he’s been healthy,” He nodded and opened up his bag, pulling out a small bowl and blade.

“Elizabeth,” The small girl looked up at him with fever bright eyes. “I am going to draw some of your blood to try and restore your humors.”

“Will it hurt?” She said shakily and William smiled, hazel eyes shining behind the mask.

“I’m afraid it will sting slightly but it is a necessary evil in order to get you healed,” He turned her arm so that the palm faced up, brushed his hand down her arm, and cut into the flesh. Elizabeth let out a small cry as blood began to run down her arm into the bowl. 

William turned to the husband and repeated the same task, filling the bowl with blood. He quickly cleaned up his tools before repacking them.

“Doctor?” She came up to him, staring down at her daughter and husband. “It is raining outside and I know you probably have a long trek home, would you please stay with us for the evening? We will compensate you for your time.”

“Thank you very much, I very much appreciate it,” William nodded. “May I wash my face and take off my protective clothing?”

“Of course,” She smiled tiredly. “You may wear some of Charles’s clothing if you wish to get into something more comfortable.”

William thanked her once again and she called out for her son.

Charles appeared at the end of the hallway and William froze. He was about his age with the most spectacular blue-green eyes he had ever seen. The boy was dressed in fashionable clothes and held his head high as he stared at William.

Of course, that was probably because he had a long bird beak shaped mask on.

“Charles, this is the doctor who is helping your sister and father. Can you help him wash up and get him some clean clothing to relax in?” The mother asked. “I will call you when the meal is ready.”

William followed the boy down the hall and into a small bedroom. Charles turned to him, cocking his head.

“You can take off that burdensome clothing and leave it on this chair here,” Charles’s voice was absolutely angelic and William could feel a smile spread across his face.

“Thank you,” He removed the wide brimmed hat and heavy mask before he heard a laugh from across the room.

“You are also much younger than I expected,” Charles mused. “I was expecting an older man scarred by pox marks, not a remarkably handsome young man.”

“Remarkably handsome?” William smirked, removing the heavy wool coat and lay it over a deep blue high backed chair. 

Charles looked embarrassed and ducked his head down. William grinned and reached for the soft tunic and breeches offered to him from the other boy.

“Oh, terribly sorry!” Charles flushed even deeper red and spun around to give William privacy to change. “Will my sister and father be alright?”

“I do not know,” William replied softly. “I can only pray that their fevers will break and that God will give them the strength to battle this sickness.”

Charles remained silent as the doctor dressed and jumped when William rested his hand on his shoulder. The two boys smiled softly at each other.

“How many people have you seen perish from the sickness?” Charles asked as he led the other man to a basin so he could rinse his hands and face. 

“Far too many,” William sighed, feeling the familiar tug of sorrow in his stomach. “I’ve heard from some scholars that hundreds die every day. The wrath of God is truly terrifying when he punishes us so horribly.”

“I do not think it is God,” Charles shook his head. “Why are we being punished?”

“For everything!” William argued. “We are all sinners.”

“Look at you, you are a doctor who risks your life every moment to save people. What could you have done that would bring this must hatred?” Charles asked, eyes narrowed at the clearly uncomfortable William.

“I…I have had impure thoughts,” He stuttered out, feeling the blood drain from his face. “About men.”

Charles fell silent for a moment before suddenly leaning forward and pressing his lips to the doctor’s. William went rigid for a moment before he began to gently kiss back.

“There, no hailstones and lightning,” He whispered against William’s lips. “I have found myself preferring men for a long time now.”

“And your family is lying nearly dead downstairs,” William breathed, heart pounding. 

“But good God fearing men are dying as well. I don’t think that the sickness is striking those based on their faithfulness to the Lord,” Charles argued.

“Charles…” He muttered.

“Let me just say that we are both men who prefer the company of men,” Charles said seriously. “The world is falling apart around us and you are surrounding yourself in fear and death.”

“What would you do?”

“I would not run from what I wanted. I would be brave enough to realize that maybe the church is wrong, that the scholars might be wrong,” Charles locked eyes with him. “I would do things without regrets.”

William stared at him with his mouth slightly open. 

“We have known each other for only an hour,” William ducked his head. “Why do you act this way with me?”

“I do not know,” Charles put his hands on his hips and shrugged. “You are an attractive, caring man who has a good heart. There is also this feeling that I have met you before.”

William couldn’t argue, those green-blue eyes and gorgeous face were achingly familiar but he couldn’t place where he had seen the boy before. 

At that moment a servant knocked on the door and announced that it was time for supper. Charles raised his eyebrows and followed her to the dining room, closely followed by William. 

During the meal William found that Charles enjoyed singing and painting. He was a proud young man who kept his head held high and knew exactly who he was. 

“Walter first grew ill almost a week ago and Elizabeth began to show signs four days ago,” Charles’s mother sighed, looked absolutely exhausted.

“I understand your grief, the sickness took my parents and two of my infant sisters,” William said softly and Charles turned sad eyes to him. “My older brother was able to escape to the countryside with his wife and children.”

“And you did not go with him?” Charles asked.

“Before this disease came I had dedicated my life to the art of medicine,” William sipped at his water. “I am not going to abandon people who need my help in order to save myself.”

“God bless you,” Charles’s mother grabbed his hands, eyes teary. 

“Many others would have suffered without the selflessness of the doctors,” Charles added, smiling at William.

“We’re trying,” William sighed. “This disease was so unexpected and it kills with such a force that it is nearly impossible to beat it. Usually, we just make people comfortable before they pass on.”

The toll of the funeral bell sounded again and the small group shrunk down slightly. They remained silent as the chime echoed through the quiet streets. 

“I think I am done with my meal mother,” Charles said slowly, “I will retire to the sitting room if you wish to join me William.”

The doctor nodded, gave a quick smile to woman seated at the end of the table, and followed the other boy to the adjoining room. 

“Your mother is very kind to invite me to stay the night,” William stated after a few moments of silence. “She truly loves her family, you are very lucky.”

“I am,” Charles nodded with a faint smile. 

William smiled, suddenly feeling nervous. He joined Charles on the other end of the long couch, earning a brilliant smile from the other boy.

“I wish…I wish to say something,” Charles suddenly sounding scared. “I admire you.”

“I admire you as well,” William was confused.

“No, I feel as if I have…stronger emotions than friendship and admiration,” Charles flinched, feeling foolish when William’s eyes widened. “And I have only known you for a short time but in that time I have seen that you are a kind, selfless, beautiful man and you can not deny that we have a connection.”

William sat quietly and stared at Charles. 

“Of course, you are more than welcome to hit me and leave if you do not feel the same,” He laughed nervously. 

“No,” William breathed. “After my family died, I began to visit more and more disease victims and I would pray that I would get sick too. I prayed that I would die so often that I think I died a little bit every visit. I felt nothing.”

Oh,” Charles’s blue-green eyes filled with tears.

“Then I saw you and have seen what a strong, passionate man you are and something inside of me moved,” William smiled faintly. “I feel like I am alive when I am with you.”

Charles gave him a trembling smile and ducked his head down, smiling. 

“Do you,” William paused when he felt himself blush. “Do you mind if I move closer to you.”

“No,” Charles said quickly. “Not at all, that would be wonderful.”

William grinned and the two men met in a passionate kiss. 

The next morning Charles woke up alone in bed and shivered at the chill in the air. He stood and dressed quickly, ignoring the funeral bell, and made his way into the heart of the house. 

He could hear William’s voice from the room his father and sister rested and stepped into the doorway. The other man was dressed in his protective mask and heavy overcoat, leaning down over Elizabeth.

“Charles,” He could hear the smile in William’s voice. “Both of their fevers broke in the night.”

His mother was leaning over his father and smiling through her tears. William was helping his sister sip at a cup of water.

“Thank God,” Charles breathed, rushing forward and pulling Elizabeth into a tight hug. “I was so frightened.” 

Elizabeth sniffed and held tightly onto her brother, smiling tearfully up at the masked doctor. 

“Clearly something has gone right,” Charles whispered, locking eyes with William. “Very right.”

William could not disagree. 

The next few days were spent helping nurse Elizabeth and his father back to health, thrilled when they were finally able to eat and walk on their own. 

The two boys grew closer as well, exploring their feelings and were amazed at how right it felt to be together. William stayed at the home with the excuse of helping his patients even though they were on the mend.

“What will you do when this is all over?” Charles asked softly as they lay in bed together. 

“I do not know,” William gently stroked his arm with his fingertips. “I originally was going to go into the country and open an office. I am tired of the city.”

“I would like to come with you,” Charles breathed. “There is less of a chance that judgmental eyes will be turned on us.” 

William grinned and leaned in to press a kiss to his lover’s lips when something caught his eye. A purple bruise and swelling on his neck stood out brilliantly against the whiteness of his skin.

“What is it?” Charles asked, curious as to why William stopped.

“You have a bruise,” he whispered, gently touching it.

“Well, next time try not to be so aggressive with your kissing,” Charles laughed and pulled William in tighter. 

William was woken in the middle of the night by a quick movement to his side as Charles threw himself out of bed. The doctor sat up, confused, and laid his hand on Charles’s side of the bed that was still warm.

Very warm.

“Charles?” William’s worry spiked when he heard the other boy retching out of the low window. “What is it?”

“I do not feel well,” Charles croaked out, leaning against the window frame.

William stepped out of bed and laid a hand on a trembling back, wincing at the intense warmth radiating from Charles. He looked down and swallowed when he saw his red eyes and that the bruise had gotten much larger.

“Oh Charles,” he whispered, heart breaking. 

“I have the disease don’t I?” He muttered hoarsely. 

“I think so,” William moved to press a gentle kiss to Charles’s hairline but the other boy moved away.

“I don’t want you getting ill as well,” Charles looked up sadly. 

William helped his lover into bed before quickly dressing in his protective gear and getting some water.

“I didn’t think that you would cover up for me,” Charles coughed out, managing a weak smile. “I was always hoping you would be wearing less clothes.”

“Perhaps when you get better,” William said softly. 

“If I get better,” the other boy muttered and William had to close his eyes tightly against tears. 

“Don’t talk like that. Your family has beaten this and you will as well,” William brushed back the sweaty hair from Charles’s forehead, hating that he had to wear gloves and couldn’t touch him. 

“Only because I have the best doctor in England helping me,” Charles smiled up at him.

Over the next few days Charles’s fever only got worse regardless of William trying everything he could. By dinner, he was coughing and vomiting blood and shaking violently. 

“Maybe I should try bleeding you one more time,” William said desperately, reaching for his kit but was stopped by a scorching hand. 

“No,” Charles’s breath was hitching. “Please just lay with me.”

William felt a few tears slip down his face as he pulled off his overcoat, mask and hat before crawling into the bed with Charles.

“You should wear your gear,” Charles whispered when William pulled him in close to his chest.

“I don’t care,” William smiled tearfully. 

“I care and I don’t want you to get ill either,” he croaked, gently stroking William’s curls.

“Just let me be here with you,” William muttered, wiping some blood off of Charles’s chin.

“I am going to die,” Charles breathed after a few moments of silence and William’s breath hitched.

“No,” He pressed his lips to Charles’s hair. “We will wait until you are better and then we will go to the country. We will build a lovely cottage where we will spend our days among the golden wheat and our nights tangled in our sheets. Then we will grow old and hold each other through the pains of old age.”

Charles nodded slowly, breath slowing down.

“That sounds wonderful,” he whispered, faint smile on his lips, before he stopped breathing. 

William held his breath for a long moment before he realized that the stillness of the boy in his arms only meant one thing. 

He let out a short cry, gathering Charles’s body in his arms and pulling him to his chest. William sobbed brokenly, pressing his lips to Charles’s still ones again and again, ignoring the lingering taste of blood.

William was numb to the world as Charles’s body was collected and brought for burial. He quickly gathered his things and left the home and grieving family to wander around London, feeling lost.

Days later, William felt so numb that he didn’t even care as the fever raged through him and the violent shudders coursed through his body.

He lay in the street, panting and staring up at the overcast sky listening to the funeral bell when he turned his head to see Charles waiting for him by a small cottage surrounded by golden wheat.

They smiled at each other and William breathed his last breath.

Westerville, Ohio 2011 

“I think I’m dying,” Blaine moaned, burying himself further down into his blankets. “This is what death feels like.”

“Blaine, you have a chest cold,” Kurt rolled his eyes, handing his complaining boyfriend a cup of tea. 

“No, I have like the plague or something,” He coughed and moaned again.

“Oh my God,” Kurt sighed. “You are impossible.”

“I just want you to know that I love you,” Blaine said dramatically. “And that my last wish is for you to do my trig homework.”

“Not a chance.”

“Not even for a dying man?” Blaine asked, pouting slightly.

“Babe, I love you too but no, I’m not doing your homework for you,” Kurt handed him a bowl of freshly microwaved chicken noodle soup. 

Blaine smiled faintly, loving his boyfriend taking care of him.

December 12, 1777 Valley Forge, Pennsylvania 

Another icy wind swept through the camp and Daniel wrapped his threadbare scarf tighter around his mouth and nose. He was wearing the boots they passed around during patrols and they squeezed a little tight. 

"Cold one," Edward sat down next to him, scarf also pulled up to only show his blue-green eyes. 

"You say that every night," Daniel chuckled and moved over on the log to let him sit down. 

"Well it always is," Edward sat down and massaged his leg.

He had been injured in the march to Valley Forge and while his injury had healed, the icy weather still pained him sometimes. With a sigh, Edward put his leg up on a nearby stump and leaned back a little. 

The camp was quiet in the middle of the night, lit by the bright full moon. A thick layer of muddy snow covered the ground, covering up the previous horrors.

Daniel could still remember the snow being covered with blood as they marched in barefoot. He remembered the way the soldier’s toes would blacken from frostbite and snap off like thin twigs. He remembered the way the horses dropped from exhaustion and starvation. 

But the snow continued to fall and covered it all. It reminded him of the winters he spent at his family’s farm, running around outside with his brothers. He remembered smiling at Edward as they passed each other in the snowy town square. He remembered feeling a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the hot cider he sipped down.

It had been snowing the night Edward had whispered his intentions of joining Washington’s army. They had been curled up in bed together and the fever of revolution shone so brightly in his eyes.

There wasn’t a moment of hesitation before Daniel agreed to go with him. 

But the initial excitement had died out. They had been starved, frozen, and driven to near exhaustion but Edward never lost his optimism. His father had been executed as a traitor to the crown and revenge was a light that didn’t burn out.

They both fell into silence again as they stared out into the dark forest, looking for those familiar red coats. After weeks of the night watch, they had fallen into the comfortable silences.

"Look," Edward gently motioned to the command tent where they saw the tall imposing figure of Washington ride up on his horse and step through the flap.

"Think we’ll be leaving soon? Marching further south where it’s warm?" Daniel asked with a raise of his eyebrows.

"Maybe. Hopefully the war will be over soon," Edward’s eyes grew wistful. "Then we can go back home."

"That’ll be nice," Daniel watched the higher ranked soldiers moving about in the command tent. "If we do win this war, do you really think anything will change? How can we create an entirely new country?"

"It’ll be better," Edward nodded. "I know it will be. We will have more rights as citizens, we will only answer to ourselves. It’ll be better." 

"But we’ll still work at our family farms," Daniel stretched out his legs. "We’ll still take care of our families. We’ll still struggle during the winter and pray for a good winter."

"Things will be better."

"Will we be able to be with each other in public?" Daniel’s asked sadly. "Things may change but others…wont. It’s not suddenly going to become a perfect world."

Edward was silent for a moment before reaching over and taking his hand. With the silence in the camp surrounded by swirling snow, it felt like they were the only two in the world. 

"Whatever happens we will always be together," Edward smiled softly. "Regardless of the law."

"Do you…" Daniel paused. "Do you think that could happen? That maybe one day this won’t matter?"

"I don’t know. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?" The other man sighed, looking up at the dark sky. "Imagine being able to hold hands while we walked down the streets."

"Our family and friends at our wedding," he wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss Edward. "Maybe it isn’t just a fantasy. Maybe one day it’ll happen."

But not in our lifetime, he thought. Maybe someday though.

Washington left the command tent and they followed him with their eyes. It didn’t seem like they would be leaving anytime soon and their hearts sank at how haggard he looked. It felt hopeless sitting there staring into nothingness when they knew how much more powerful the enemy army was. 

But there wasn’t anything else they could do but sit here, stare into the dark forest, and dream of a better tomorrow.

New York City, New York 2014

This was what he had dreamed of.

Kurt smiled up at the sky as snowflakes drifted down, covering Central Park in a beautiful blanket. They were both bundled up in their winter coats and scarves. In one hand was a steaming cup of coffee and the other was clasped tightly in Blaine’s, swinging between them. 

This was exactly what he had dreamed of. He could hold his fiancé’s gloved hand and smile at his reddened nose and cheeks, getting a radiant smile in return. People bustled around them but they were by themselves in this warm bubble.

"I’m sorry but you two are just the cutest couple," an older woman smiled at them and Kurt felt himself blush slightly.

"Thank you ma’am!" Blaine grinned at her, giving her grandson a little wave. 

New York City was really the city of dreams.

Outside of Gettysberg, Pennsylvania July 4th, 1863

They had called it a charge. Thomas had held his musket high, encouraged by his commanding officer’s strong words. This was going to be amazing. He could just picture how powerful they were going to be storming across the field, soldiers lined a mile across. 

He had not considered what real war was going to be like. Within a few moments of crossing the field, most of his unit was decimated by cannon fire. Panic consumed him and he choked on the billowing smoke. All earlier bravado fled at the sound of his friends screaming, the warmth of blood and tissue coating him, and the glint of Union cannons and rifles returning fire.

So, Thomas ran.

He dropped the musket and sprinted to the tree line. A burning pain ripped through his shoulder as he was shot but he only stumbled for a moment and kept running. Thomas didn’t stop as crossed into the trees, instead running and praying that he wouldn’t run into any Union troops.

Or Confederate troops. He knew the price of desertion. 

The forest was empty as he continued to sprint, staying close to the trees. He had no idea how much time had passed before he let himself slow down. The wound in his shoulder seemed to pound in time with his heartbeat and he kept going. 

Then he saw a light and paused. The sound of a camp was obvious and Thomas’s throat went dry. Silently, he crept around the camp and found a small river. He made it several more steps before he found himself face to face with a young man holding up a pistol.

"Don’t," Thomas gasped, voice hoarse, as he held his hands up. "Please…I’m not armed…"

"Are you Confederate?" The man asked, gun trembling slightly. 

"I…I was," he choked out and the man hesitated. 

"Was?"

"I deserted," Thomas felt dizzy. "Please, just let me go. I don’t have a weapon. If I go back, I’ll be executed. I…I just want to go home."

His voice cracked and the man lowered his gun. When Thomas fell to his knees, the man moved quickly forward. He caught a glimpse of his blue-green eyes before blackness overwhelmed him. 

Thomas came back into consciousness slowly, picking up garbled sounds at first before he opened his eyes. It was day and the sickly scent of blood and infection almost made him gag.

"Good morning," the same man he had seen last night loomed over him, wearing a uniform that signified he was a surgeon. 

"Where am I?" Thomas moved his head to the side to see a man laying on a nearby cot, deathly pale and his legs missing under a blood stained blanket. 

"A Union hospital camp," the man gave him a warm smile and fear bubbled up in Thomas’s chest. "You were shot in the shoulder, suffered from blood loss, were dehydrated, and exhausted. I’m surprised you made it this far from the battle."

"What’s going to happen to me?" He whispered.

"I can’t say," the man shrugged. "First, we’ll get you all better. Then, you will probably be declared a prisoner of war. Maybe you can swear allegiance."

"They won’t just execute me?" Thomas felt himself trembling and hissed as the man pulled back his bandages to look. 

"We need soldiers," the man nodded, seemingly satisfied with his wound. "It wouldn’t make sense to execute someone who was trying to save themselves. If you’re nonviolent and comply, they shouldn’t need to. Maybe you can stay here as an assistant to me."

Thomas relaxed completely on the cot, sighing softly. This man didn’t even know him and only knew him as the enemy but wanted to help. The kindness this man showed after being exposed to so much violence and hate awed Thomas.

"I never wanted to fight," he whispered. "I’m from a small farming town and was drafted. I’ve never hurt anyone."

"Maybe you should rest," the man smiled warmly and placed a hand on his forehead.

"I’m Thomas," he blurted and the man’s smiled widened.

"Benjamin," he replied softly. 

Lima, Ohio 2012

"You know," Blaine whispered as he pressed closer to Kurt in bed. "I think you saved me."

"Saved you?" Kurt lifted his head a little and frowned. 

"Yeah," Blaine gave him a sleepy smile. "I was so depressed after that dance and basically hid at Dalton. I think…if I had been stuck there…I would have lost what makes me…me. You made me come out of my shell. You made me be brave."

"I don’t think so," Kurt laughed but a blush spread across his cheeks.

"I would have kept running," Blaine threaded his fingers through Kurt’s. "I don’t think I ever would have stopped running if you hadn’t made me slow down and face what I was afraid of."

Kurt smiled softly and leaned forward for a kiss. 

Manhattan, New York May 27th, 1927

Everything in the speakeasy was hazy. A thick cloud of smoke hovered around the ceiling and blocked out some light from the lights above them. Women grinned brightly at men, teeth glowing white against blood red lipstick. 

John loved it here. He could sip his martini, feel himself falling into that same haze and just enjoy being in the now. His head felt delightfully fuzzy and he crossed his legs, leaning back against the plush back of his couch. A woman with a short black bob and wide, lined eyes gave him a sweet, seductive smile but he politely turned her down.

Throughout all the haze and fog, only one thing drew his eye. Only one thing stood out clear as day.

Anthony was born to sing. His dark hair was slicked back and his suit was sharp, making him look like a Hollywood star. His hazel eyes lit up as he lightly ran his fingers along the piano keys and sun sweetly to the bustling crowd.

“Your eyes of blue,” John found himself smiling at the smirk Anthony shot his way. “Your kisses too. I never knew what they could do. I can’t believe that you’re in love with me.

"You’re telling everyone I know, I’m on your mind each place you go. They can’t believe you’re in love with me.

I have always placed you far above me. I just can’t imagine that you love me. After all is said and done, to think I’m the lucky one. I can’t believe you’re in love with me.”

After Anthony finished his set, John moved quickly to get two more martinis and met  him halfway through the bar. The younger man gave him a bright grin and followed him to the dark corner booth they frequented. 

"As always, amazing," John said softly. 

"Please," Anthony rolled his eyes. "I got maybe half the applause that you got last week."

"Because you insist on going on late when everyone is drunk out of their mind," John laughed as they sat down. "I doubt these people can even see straight."

"Good, then I can do this," Anthony leaned forward and kissed him. Despite the small thrum of fear, John kissed back. Things were better. Homosexuality was seen in a better light, many Hollywood actors had admitted to it. Plus, they weren’t surrounding themselves with people who prided themselves on their morality. 

These people liked being different. They prided themselves on their individuality and felt a thrill by breaking the rules. Maybe they would get a dirty glance or a snide comment sometimes but it didn’t matter.

They were young. They were living in the most amazing time on Earth. They were in a city filled with music and sin.

They were not scared to go after what they wanted. 

"I was singing about you," Anthony pulled back, eyes warm. "In case you hadn’t noticed."

"I had no idea," John said sarcastically, pushing him slightly with a smile. "I thought you were singing to the girl in the red."

"Please, I could only see you."

New York City, New York 2015

Kurt felt his palms sweating and knew he couldn’t wipe them on his pants or jacket. He couldn’t possibly her sweat marks on his tux now, not when the pictures were being taken. 

The smooth silk of the scarf tickled where it rested against his eyes and he took a few deep breaths. Rachel stood behind him, his best woman, and squeezed his shoulders slightly as he heard Blaine let out a yelp of pain.

"Cooper!" He snapped and Kurt smiled as the older Anderson apologized again and again. Having both Sam and Cooper as he best men had seemed like a good idea at the time but now it was causing issues with the smallest things.

Like leading his fiancé through a door blindfolded.

"Okay!" Rachel jumped up and down behind him. "Ready? One, two, three!"

The scarf was ripped off of his eyes and he blinked at the sudden light. Both Kurt and Blaine had chosen each other’s tuxes for their wedding, not letting each other go to the fittings so they would be surprised. 

Blaine looked beyond stunning in his grey suit with black lapels, set off by a black bow tie. His face softened when he saw his fiancé and Kurt moved forward quickly to pull him into a tight hug. 

"You look amazing," Blaine whispered in his ear and Kurt leaned back to wipe a tear from his cheek. 

"You too," Kurt laughed, tears springing to his own eyes. 

He stepped back and nodded as Rachel told them that they needed to go into the ceremony. They walked hand in hand down the aisle, eyes locked on each other. Not for one moment, during the entire ceremony, did they look away.