CHAPTER 250: CHAPTER 250: THE START OF THE ACTUAL HONEYMOON

The next morning arrived with sunlight slipping past the curtains and the smell of salt lingering in the room. Elias woke first this time.

Victor was still sleeping, or pretending to be asleep, which was close enough to sleeping for him. His arm was heavy across Elias’s waist, firm even in unconsciousness, like his body couldn’t fathom the idea of letting Elias move without him.

Elias didn’t try to get up. Not yet.

He stayed there a moment, listening to the ocean, feeling the warmth beneath his cheek, the very normal domesticity of it.

Eventually, Victor’s eyes opened. Crimson, but soft.

"Good morning," Victor murmured, voice low with sleep.

"You can’t say that and look like that," Elias replied, because no one should sound like divine judgment and look like a half-awake cat at the same time.

Victor’s mouth curved. Slight. Lazy. Amused.

He had the expression of someone who was glad Elias was here.

It should have been illegal.

—

They showered, dressed, and stepped out into the coastal city.

They walked without any particular destination in mind, letting the day settle around them. The air smelled faintly of sea salt and citrus from the open café terraces, and the pavement was warm underfoot. Elias adjusted the strap of the small canvas bag he carried, one hand still loosely linked with Victor’s.

Victor had relaxed. Not openly; his posture was always too strong for that, but the tension that had wrapped itself around him last night had eased. His expression was quieter now, the sharpness turned down for the sake of their soft moments. It suited him more than the divine stillness he wore in the ocean’s depth.

They passed a small shop with blown-glass sculptures in the window. Elias slowed, drawn without thinking. Pieces of molten blue and gold waved like frozen water, caught halfway between movement and form. Victor noticed and gently steered them inside without needing to say anything.

The shop was narrow, shelves lined with delicate shapes. Elias looked with the quiet curiosity of someone who didn’t feel the need to fill silence. Victor watched him instead, hands in his pockets, the faintest trace of something soft in his expression.

Elias found a piece shaped like a cresting wave. He turned it in his hand thoughtfully.

"You like it," Victor said, not asking.

"It’s beautiful," Elias answered. "But it’s not necessary."

"It doesn’t need to be necessary," Victor replied. "You like it. That’s enough."

The tone was gentle but decisive.

Elias didn’t argue. He let Victor buy it without protest, because arguing would cheapen the moment more than the object.

They continued walking along the marina afterward. A few boats rocked against their moorings. The sun had shifted lower, turning the water into a field of slow, warm light. Elias leaned slightly into Victor’s side without shame.

"You’re enjoying yourself," Victor said, his voice calm, not teasing.

Elias didn’t deny it. "I am."

"That’s rare," Victor added, but his tone held no accusation.

"It’s becoming less so," Elias replied.

Victor’s eyes flicked down to him, and whatever he saw there eased something in his expression.

They reached a bench overlooking the water and sat. For a while, they didn’t speak. The city moved around them, voices low, the sound of waves slow and steady. Elias rested his elbow on the bench back and turned slightly toward Victor.

"You know," Elias said, "if you continue buying out half the town, someone is going to write an article about mysterious wealth fluctuations and assume you’re laundering money."

Victor didn’t look remotely concerned. He brushed an invisible speck of dust from his shirt cuff, posture straight even on the weather-worn bench.

"If they do," he said, "I’ll buy the publication."

Elias stared at him. A long, flat, unimpressed stare.

"That," Elias said, "is not the appropriate response to financial suspicion."

Victor turned his head, eyes warm with entirely unearned confidence. "It is the most efficient response."

"That is not how legality works."

"It is exactly how legality works when you are wealthy enough to influence legislation." Victor paused, thoughtful. "Or replace legislators."

Elias exhaled slowly, as if trying to preserve the last threads of reason before surrendering to the inevitable. "You cannot simply ’replace legislators.’"

Victor looked at him like he very much could and had already planned how.

Elias shifted his gaze back to the water, shoulders lifting with a sigh that was neither resignation nor amusement.

"You are shameless," Elias said.

Victor did not even blink. "Correct."

"And filthy rich."

"Also correct." Victor waited for what Elias wanted to say.

"You should buy the ice cream then. I plan to enjoy this weather before we return to winter."

They didn’t even need to ask where the ice cream was. Victor, who had been in this city for less than two days, simply knew. Whether that was divine awareness, wealth-based intuition, or the fact that he’d probably researched the town the moment Elias had mentioned wanting to visit it, Elias chose not to ask.

The ice cream stand was a small seaside kiosk, pastel blue with a striped awning. The air nearby smelled like waffle cones and warm sugar. The woman behind the counter looked up, opened her mouth to say the standard greeting and then froze when she saw Victor, which was almost comical because Victor wasn’t doing anything except existing.

"Good afternoon," Victor said politely, in a tone that suggested ancient courts and modern board meetings rather than ordering frozen dessert.

The woman blinked. Twice. Then remembered how language worked.

"H–Hello! What can I get for you two?"

Elias stepped forward and selected something sensible: sea-salt vanilla with lemon zest.

Victor ordered the most expensive item on the menu. Not because he wanted it. Because he could.

The woman handed them their cones with both hands, as though presenting ceremonial offerings.

Elias took one small bite and closed his eyes for a moment. The flavor was bright and cool, with salt and citrus layered softly over sweet cream. The sea wind lifted his hair. His shoulders loosened without effort.

When he opened his eyes, Victor was watching him instead of his own ice cream.

"What?" Elias asked, though he didn’t sound annoyed.

"You look happy," Victor said simply.

Elias looked away, not to hide anything, just to steady the warmth that rose in him. "It’s allowed, isn’t it?"

"Yes," Victor said. "It should have always been."