Ellios sat on a chair facing Hastur, the table between them already prepared. The food had been carefully arranged, each plate placed with deliberate precision, the warmth of the meal still rising in soft waves of steam.
For a while, neither of them spoke. The meal began in silence—just the quiet sound of cutlery, the soft clink of plates, and the steady rhythm of breathing.
They ate slowly, almost cautiously, as if both were aware that something fragile existed in the space between them. Every now and then, Ellios lifted his eyes without thinking, and each time he did, he found Hastur already looking at him.
Their gazes met again and again, lingering longer than necessary, neither of them breaking eye contact quickly. It wasn't awkward. It was heavy. Intimate. Unspoken.
They exchanged a few quiet words at first—small talk, light conversation, things that didn't matter much. The food tasted good.
The room felt warm. The silence felt different from other silences Ellios had known in his life. This one didn't feel empty. It felt full.
Eventually, something inside Ellios shifted. A thought that had been circling in his mind since earlier finally pushed its way to the surface.
"Hastur…" he said softly.
"Yes?" Hastur replied, his voice calm, steady.
Ellios hesitated for a second, then asked, "Are we… actually in a relationship?"
The question hung in the air, fragile and exposed. Hastur didn't hesitate.
"Yes," he answered simply. "We are."
There was no uncertainty in his voice. No doubt. No confusion.
Ellios felt his chest tighten. He nodded slowly, absorbing the weight of those words. After a short pause, he spoke again.
"But… we don't really know each other well," he said quietly. "Not really. Especially our histories. I want to know yours."
Hastur stopped eating. He leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze lowering to the table for a brief moment. When he spoke, his voice was still calm, but there was something distant in it.
"My story isn't pretty." Hastur warned.
Ellios swallowed. A faint, sad smile touched his lips.
"Mine isn't either." Ellios replied and Hastur just watched telling him to speak.
"Then tell me first your story." Hastur replied.
"Then I'll tell you mine first," he said.
Hastur looked at him and nodded once, giving him his full attention.
Ellios took a deep breath.
"As long as I can remember," he began, "it was just me and my sister, Alice. We lived in an orphanage."
His hands slowly clenched together in his lap as the memories began to surface.
"When I was five," he continued, "the orphanage caught fire."
His voice wavered slightly. "It happened fast. Smoke everywhere. Screaming. Heat. I don't remember much… just fear."
He paused, then whispered, "I would have died. But Alice saved me. She pulled me out from the orphanage."
After that, everything changed.
"They closed the orphanage,"
Ellios said. "We had nowhere to go. We ended up on the streets."
Alice worked tirelessly for the two of them. She took any work she could find—cleaning, carrying, begging, anything. She shielded Ellios as much as she could, but hunger, cold, and exhaustion became normal parts of their lives.
"Then she got sick," Ellios said. "Suddenly. Badly."
His voice dropped lower.
"She couldn't work anymore. And I was too young to do anything real. So I started begging."
He remembered the looks people gave him. Disgust. Pity.
Indifference. Some dropped coins without looking at his face. Others walked past him like he didn't exist.
"One day," Ellios continued, his voice trembling, "Alice… she got tired. She thought she was a burden to me. That she was ruining my life."
Tears filled his eyes.
"I was away when she did it," he whispered. "When I came back… she was bleeding. She had cut her wrists."
His breath hitched sharply.
"I screamed. I begged for help. Anyone. Everyone."
That was when Marcus Blade appeared.
"He saved her," Ellios said softly.
"But she never woke up properly. She was in a vegetative state since then."
Alice's life now depended on a special medicine. A medicine only Marcus Blade could obtain.
"And that's how I ended up with the Blade family," Ellios said. "Adopted. Given work to do for them."
When he finished, his body began to shake. Tears spilled freely down his face. He felt like he forgot something.
"No…" he muttered. "My sister… I can't leave her there. I can't. I have to save her."
Hastur stood and moved to him, placing his hands on Ellios's shoulders and guiding him gently back into the chair when his body trembled too much.
"Don't worry," Hastur said calmly. "We will take your sister from the Blade family. She will live here with us."
Ellios looked up at him, eyes red and wet.
"Marcus won't kill her," Hastur continued evenly. "As long as you are alive. As long as you are important."
Ellios's breathing slowly steadied, though fear still lingered in his chest.
"Now eat," Hastur said.
He picked up a slice of food and brought it to Ellios's lips.
Ellios opened his mouth instinctively. The protest he wanted to voice disappeared as soon as the food touched his tongue.
Warmth spread through him, grounding him. His thoughts quieted.
He told himself Hastur was right. That they would bring Alice here. That she would live with them.
Hastur continued feeding him slowly, calmly. Ellios felt something unfamiliar growing in his chest—comfort, safety, closeness. Since he was young, no one had ever fed him like this. Especially when he entered the blade family.
And now his boyfriend was doing it.
After they finished eating, Ellios wiped his eyes and looked at Hastur.
He lifted his hand slightly, motioning.
"Your story," he said softly.
Hastur looked at him.
"Another time," he said. "You don't feel very well right now."
Ellios shook his head. "I want to know you. Unless you're uncomfortable."
Inside, Hastur scoffed at the thought. He stood, and they moved together to sit on the couch. Hastur turned toward Ellios, yellow eyes fixed on him.
He opened his mouth to speak.
Looking at Ellios.