Levi and I walked amongst crumbling headstones in the ancient noble cemetery, the silence broken only by the crunch of gravel beneath our feet and the distant cry of gulls.

Levi ran a hand over a particularly ornate tombstone, the inscription worn smooth with age. "Generations of pompous names, etched in stone for eternity," he murmured, his voice devoid of its usual sardonic bite. "They believed their lineage would grant them immortality. How wrong they were."

I shivered slightly. "It's... peaceful, I guess," I offered, my voice a quiet murmur, though the word felt inadequate. "In a morbid sort of way."

Levi chuckled softly, a sound that echoed strangely amongst the silent stones. "Peaceful for them, perhaps. But their legacy... that's a different story. It's time for the island to breathe again, free from the weight of their self-importance." He looked at me, a flicker of something almost vulnerable in his dark blue eyes. "Do you ever feel the weight of your past, Raphael? The expectations that come with a name, a family history?"

"Well... I was not a duke like you. But yes. It was why I ran away from home. They wanted me to be their angelic son, they gave me an angelic name. They were homophobic. Their affection was only given when I acted the way they wanted. And, then they sent me that letter, shaming me for being married to an Ascarian man. One day everything snapped for me. I took a first sip of a beer and basically pounced myself on some stranger, then my friends outed me to my family. I grabbed my clothes and ran away. It’s been now 7 years. And now I am here, with you. In an ancient noble cemetery. Rather unusual for a Cyrusian man," I confided, my gaze sweeping over the weathered stones as if they bore witness to my past.

Levi listened intently as we walked amongst the silent stones of the ancient noble cemetery. When I finished, he stopped, turning to face me, his expression thoughtful.

"An angelic son," he murmured, a hint of understanding in his voice. "My own family's expectations were less about angelic behavior and more about ruthless ambition and upholding a decaying social order. The disapproval was equally potent, though masked in polite disdain rather than outright condemnation."

He looked out over the rows of weathered tombs. "Seven years... A significant time to forge your own path, to find your own freedom. And now, here we are. A fallen duke and a Cyrusian man midst the relics of a world I actively dismantled. Life does have a rather peculiar sense of irony, doesn't it?" A small smile touched his lips.

"Yeah. It is ironic. And your mother called me short for a Cyrusian," I said, a wry chuckle escaping my lips as I squeezed his hand gently.

"Ah, yes," he murmured, a wry amusement in his eyes. "Mother's... observations can be rather direct, shall we say? Heightened, perhaps, by her unfamiliarity with Cyrusian... statures." He squeezed my hand gently. "Try not to take it to heart, dearest. She's navigating a whole new world, and her old prejudices die hard. Besides," he leaned in conspiratorially, a playful glint in his eyes, "I find your height perfectly... convenient."

"Don’t flirt with me in a cemetery, Levi. I might be tempted," I warned playfully, my eyes dancing with amusement despite the heat rising in my cheeks.

"Tempted, you say?" he murmured, his blue eyes meeting mine. "And would that be such a terrible thing, even amongst our silent audience?" He leaned in slightly.

I placed my palm on his lips, a soft laugh bubbling up. "Nope," I said softly, a playful smile dancing on my own lips.

He pressed a soft kiss into the center of my palm, his eyes twinkling. "Such delicious denial. It only makes the eventual surrender all the more anticipated."

"Stop seducing me in the middle of a cemetery," I grumbled, though my smile betrayed my mock irritation.

He sighed dramatically. "Seducing? My dear Raphael, I am merely existing in your captivating presence. If you find that seductive, well... that speaks volumes, doesn't it?"

I pushed Levi gently, a frustrated but fond smile playing on my lips. "Shut up," I muttered, trying to suppress the inconvenient stirring he always seemed to elicit. This devil. Here I was, getting a boner in the middle of a cemetery, surrounded by the silent witnesses of generations past.

Levi obviously saw it.

"In the presence of so many who no longer possess such... vitality. A rather poignant tribute to the enduring power of life, wouldn't you agree?"

Damn him. It was true, in a morbidly humorous way, but the sheer audacity of him pointing it out, here of all places, made the blush creep up my neck. I probably looked like a complete idiot, flustered and flushed midst the silent rows of the dead.

He leaned in conspiratorially, his voice a low murmur. "Consider it a testament to your own potent vitality, my dear. The dead may rest, but you are gloriously alive. And rather adorably flustered."

Ugh. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Fuck. I got a boner in a middle of a cemetery. It was ridiculous, inappropriate, and utterly, undeniably because of Levi. The blush was still burning on my cheeks.

I placed my hands on my face, groaning. "Please be quiet," I mumbled, the words muffled by my palms.

He simply held my hand, his thumb gently stroking the back of it, but his gaze was distant, fixed on some unseen point beyond the weathered tombstones.

"Well. I have some confessions to make," he said, his voice low and serious.

"Yeah? Okay," I responded, my voice softer now, a sudden apprehension tightening in my chest as I met his solemn gaze.

Then he said it, the words hanging in the cool morning air like a death knell to the fragile intimacy we had begun to build:

"I am bored, Raphael."

Fuck. I knew it. I knew this would happen. I knew it. The thrill of the chase, the unraveling of secrets, the power play – it had all led to this. The hound tried to find another scent, but it didn't work.

"Bored. So, so bored. Utterly bored. Profoundly bored. Nothing feels satisfying. Everything is a haze, a blur, nothing feels exciting. Just boredom. Boredom. Again and again. I am so, so, so bored."

Levi’s free hand clenched on his face, pulling his skin taut as he spoke, his voice a low, grating monotone. "Fun is over. There is just boredom." His gaze, still fixed on the distant horizon, seemed to bore right through it, finding no solace. "That monarch pig had to die early. If he hadn't, I could at least feel something for six months as I anticipated. But, no. Instead, he just perished. And now I am bored. Bored. Bored."

“But you are still working on shaping the country, right? I mean…” I began, trying to grasp for some anchor in the shifting landscape of his emotions.

"No," he clipped, his voice flat, his grip tightening on his own face. "It is not fun. That is just tedious. Boring. Boring. Boring."

Then he released my hand, his touch abruptly gone, and instead, he cradled his face with both of his hands.

"So, so, so, so, so, so boring," he repeated, the words a low, almost desperate litany. His focus was entirely inward now, the world around him, including me, seemingly fading into insignificance.

"Damn it all," Levi hissed, his voice tight with a frustration. His eyes remained squeezed shut, his brow deeply furrowed. "I toppled a kingdom, reshaped a nation, and for what? This... this utter lack of anything. Everything is either grey or some other shade of grey.”

“I see people around the office everyday. Those rats have found their solace since I did their work. Now I am here. So bored. Utterly bored. Profoundly bored. Bored!”

The victory felt hollow, the reshaped nation offering no spark of joy or satisfaction. He was left alone with his boredom, a king on a desolate throne of his own making, surrounded by the silent company of the long dead.

Levi finally dropped his hands from his face, his deep blue eyes holding a stark emptiness as he looked at me. "What do I do now? Hunt down the rich? Skip countries? Start a new company? No. None of them is fun. None of them is satisfactory. Everything feels boring, stripped of meaning. I am so bored."

He turned abruptly and began to walk away.

"Bored!" he shouted, the sound raw and desolate as it carried through the silent stones.

It was so heartbreaking to watch him. It felt like watching a fire burn out, leaving behind only cold ashes.

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The sound of Levi’s foot connecting with the loose gravel in the cemetery was sharp and repetitive, each kick punctuated by the desolate mantra. "Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored." The small stones scattered with each frustrated movement.

It was like watching a caged animal pacing, driven by a restless energy that had nowhere to go, no outlet to find release.

The hunt was over, the hound was bored. He was a predator with no prey, a master strategist with no game left to play.

But where I was in this situation? Was he also bored of me too? Was I another plaything for him for stimulation? A meaningless sex partner, a drinking buddy, a bed warmer. What else? I always knew that he was devoid of loving. I never denied that or never expected that feeling from him. But the promise of loyalty... that had been a lifeline. A steady anchor in Levi's turbulent sea. And now, this all-consuming boredom threatened to sever even that tie. If everything was meaningless, where did loyalty fit in? Was even that a fleeting amusement, destined to be discarded when the novelty wore off?

Levi’s pacing intensified, each step a frustrated jab at the loose gravel. He muttered under his breath, the words a disjointed litany of his overwhelming ennui. Sometimes the frustration would erupt in a sharp, echoing off the silent tombstones, and then just as quickly, it would recede into a low, almost inaudible whisper, a private conversation with his own despair. He was like a magnificent creature trapped in a cage too small for its spirit.

My breath hitched in my throat.

Levi, a man who carried himself with such arrogant grace, such unwavering authority, suddenly knelt. Then, in a gesture that felt both ancient and utterly broken, he bowed down, all on his fours, his head touching the cold, unforgiving stone of a forgotten tomb. This proud, formidable man, reduced to this primal display of despair. It was a sight that etched itself into my memory, something I truly never imagined I would witness in a lifetime.

I rushed to him across the uneven ground, my heart pounding. I reached him quickly, my hands gripping his arms, the fabric of his coat rough beneath my fingers. "Levi, stop," I urged, my voice tight with emotion. "Please? Let's just go home. Let's get out of this place."

“Raphael. I think Almighty truly punished the sinner.”

His voice was low and hollow. He didn’t try to pull away, but his gaze remained fixed on the ground, on the cold stone that had witnessed his moment of utter despair.

The pronouncement sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn't just the words themselves, but the utter lack of his usual defiance, the complete absence of his sardonic wit.

"We will try something, Levi," I said, my voice firm despite the tremor of unease that ran through me. "Okay? Whatever it is, whatever this... feeling is, we'll face it. But let's get out of here first. Please." I tugged gently, trying to coax him to his feet.

“No, Raphael. Look up.”

His voice, still heavy with a strange resignation, drew my gaze upward. I followed his line of sight, and a knot of unease tightened in my stomach. The sky above, which had been a soft, clear grey just moments ago, was now being rapidly consumed by a mass of dark, ominous clouds. They billowed and swirled, a bruised and angry purple-black, blotting out the weak sunlight with an alarming speed. The air, already cool, seemed to drop several degrees, carrying the faint, metallic scent of impending rain.

A chill deeper than the approaching storm ran through me. Levi's words from earlier echoed in my mind, laced with a chilling premonition: "maybe the almighty might unleash rain upon us for justice."

"What do I do now? I cannot find anything," he said, his words laced with a profound hopelessness.

"No, Levi, let's go home, yeah?" I pleaded, my grip on his arms still firm.

"I would rather be dead than feel like this," he stated flatly, his gaze still fixed on the darkening sky.

"Don't say that, Levi," I pleaded, my voice trembling slightly. "Come with me, please?"

But he didn't respond with words. Instead, he pushed me away, a dismissive gesture that stung more than any harsh words could have. Then, he brought his hands back to his face, burying himself in them as if trying to block out the world. He was slipping further away, retreating into a place I couldn't reach.

"What are the methods of other people? Alcohol, sex, self-harming, what do they do for some serotonin, what? I cannot find anything."

My own panic intensified, the realization dawning that this wasn't just a passing mood; this was a crisis.

"We will take you to a psychiatrist, okay?" I said quickly, my voice tight with urgency. The image of him, a man who once held so much power, now desperately listing self-destructive behaviors, spurred me into action. "There are anti-depressants. There are people who can help you feel... something other than this. But you have to come with me, Levi. Please."

I reached for his arm again, hoping he wouldn't push me away this time.

"I tried them," he said, the words heavy with a defeated resignation. "I tried even the red-labeled ones. They don't work. Nothing works."

His admission sent a fresh wave of despair crashing over me. Yet, I couldn't give up. I had to try something, anything.

"Okay," I said, my voice strained but trying to project a semblance of hope. "We said we would find a hobby, yes? We said baking. Take some of your work, let's travel out of the continent. Let's try bungee jumping, let's swim with the sharks. Or you use your poetic mouth for actual poetry, write some poetry books. We can always find something new, Levi. We have to. Please, just come home with me, and we'll start trying." The first fat drops of rain began to fall, splattering on the tombstones and the gravel path, as if the heavens themselves were weeping.

"Being a disbeliever was a foolish notion," he murmured, his gaze now fixed on the darkening sky.

The rain was coming down harder now, plastering my hair to my forehead and soaking my clothes.

"Okay, big guy," I said, my voice laced with a desperate urgency as I tried to pull Levi to his feet. "Before we both get pneumonia, let's get out of here." I strained, using all my strength, but he remained stubbornly rooted to the spot, offering no assistance. "C'mon, Levi. Please," I pleaded, the rain mixing with the tears I could feel welling up in my eyes. The cold, the damp, his utter despondency – it was all becoming too much.

Levi remained stubbornly on his knees, his head bowed. "What would be the point?" he murmured, his voice resigned. "It would simply be prolonging the inevitable. You should go, Raphael."

The fight seemed to have gone out of him completely.

"What, did you suddenly start believing in divine punishment or something?" I said, my voice sharp with a mixture of fear and exasperation. "Stop being an idiot and pushing me away, Levi. I love you. And I am not leaving you here. Either come with me, or we both get sick and miserable." My hands tightened on his arms, pulling with a stubbornness born of desperation.

"Your love doesn't have any logical sense, Raphael," he murmured, his voice devoid of emotion, as if stating a simple, irrefutable fact.

"Of course it doesn't," I retorted, my grip on his arms unwavering, the rain running in rivulets down my face. "Who in their right mind would fall in love with an asshole like you?"

I wasn't going anywhere. He was stuck with my illogical, senseless love, whether he liked it or not.

There was small, almost imperceptible twitch of his lips. "Indeed. Your poor judgment has always been one of your more... endearing qualities." His voice remained flat, but there's a hint of something beneath the surface.

"You made me confess my love to you under a rain, in an ancient cemetery," I said, a shaky laugh escaping me. "Idiot. We both have a flair for the dramatic, don't we? Now get up, Levi. Let's take our melodrama somewhere slightly less... morbid." I tugged on his arms again, hoping that small flicker of something I had seen in his eyes would finally ignite a spark of his old self.

Levi looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time in a while in the downpour, his eyes still sad but with a newfound softness. "You're soaked," he said. "Let's go home before you catch your death, my illogical, dramatic Raphael." He took my hand, his grip surprisingly firm, and slowly, finally, stood. The rain continued to fall, but for the first time since his descent into that dark abyss, a tiny spark of the man I knew seemed to have flickered back to life.

...

The rain continued its relentless descent, washing the island, perhaps cleansing it, or perhaps just mirroring the tears that had threatened to fall in that ancient place.

The small boat sliced through the choppy, rain-swept waters separating the island from the mainland. Levi sat huddled beside me, the spray from the waves occasionally hitting his face, but he didn't flinch. His gaze was fixed on the horizon, unreadable.

Once ashore, the drive in the car was equally silent. The rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers was the only sound that filled the interior. Levi leaned his head against the cool glass, his eyes closed. He hadn't spoken since we left the cemetery, but he hadn't pulled his hand away from mine either.

He hadn't said a word since we arrived, just a curt nod as he retreated into his study. I stood in the hallway, soaked and shivering, the silence of the house amplifying the knot of anxiety in my stomach. The small victory of getting him home felt fragile, overshadowed by the finality of that closing door. His study. A place where he plotted, schemed, and now, it seemed, sought refuge from a world that had become a source of unbearable boredom and potential divine retribution.

The hours crawled by in the echoing silence. I went through the motions of the day – changing out of my soaked clothes, making a pot of strong coffee, even attempting to read something. But the steel door of Levi's study remained stubbornly closed. The rain outside eventually subsided, leaving a damp, grey stillness that mirrored the atmosphere within the house. I kept expecting him to emerge, to say something, anything, but the silence from behind that closed door was absolute. A knot of worry tightened in my chest with each passing hour. Was he truly seeking refuge, or had he retreated into an even deeper darkness? The memory of his despair in the cemetery, his chilling pronouncements, and the finality of that locked door haunted the edges of my awareness, making it impossible to truly focus on anything else. The day stretched on, each moment punctuated by the unspoken question hanging in the air: what was happening behind that closed door?

Two days crawled by in the tense quiet of the house in. Sunlight streamed through the windows, but the cold steel door of Levi's study remained a formidable barrier. The food and water I left outside each morning remained untouched. My increasingly desperate pleas, my voice echoing in the hallway, were met with a chilling silence from within.

The memory of him kneeling in the rain-soaked cemetery played relentlessly in my mind. Each passing hour felt heavier than the last, amplifying the knot of fear in my chest. The steel door, cold and unyielding, felt less like a barrier and more like a seal on a tomb.

***

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