Gilded Cage

A young man tries to come to terms with his new reality after his lover has left him - and their shared life - behind.

Nine days. That’s how long ago it was. Nine days since everything Locke had known for the past six years of his life had been ripped away from him. Ten days since that pivotal argument between him and his beloved. Then again, Locke didn’t know how pivotal it was at the time, how it was resolved would decide everything…and tear everything apart. Standing in the doorway of what was once his lover’s room, Locke’s mind filled with thoughts of uncertainty, not knowing where to go from here. What else could he do?

He had looked for the human high and low, calling out the name that had become second nature for him to utter, one that always came with a response for him to follow. This time however, there was none to be had. No light to guide him…nothing but the rain pattering on the dirt roads of the town. His eyes drifted as he looked about the room, his shoulders slumped no matter how straight he tried to make them.

A sigh departed from Locke’s lips as he walked into the abandoned room. I don’t know why I torture myself like this.

The crinkling sounds of paper beneath his feet told him that his past love must have left the room in more of a disarray then he initially thought. I suppose I should try to clean up the place somewhat. Can probably use it as a workspace. It isn’t as if he is going to come back home anytime soon.

As Locke tried to find the adjustment knob for the kerosene lamp he knew was on the desk, a single word kept echoing in his mind - Home. The word lingered on his mind more than he liked, the flame within the lamp slowly illuminating the world around him. As the flame’s light began to brighten, he was able to see the papers that were scattered across the dusty wooden floors of the once bedroom. There seemed to be no end to them, but Locke did not have the courage to unwrap any of the parchments. No, it would be unwise to do so. Not if he wanted to keep his composure.

Before long, the half-dwarven man began to pick up the litter with his rough, tawny beige hands. The amount of times his nails got caught in the floorboards while he worked served only to aggravate him more, along with his brunette curls falling out of the braid he had tossed them into and into his face.

He took a deep breath as he tried to ignore the inconveniences, breathing in a large amount of dust in the process. His nose tickled from the intruders to his nostrils, which in turn caused a sensation to overtake his body. Oh gods, not now! Locke wrinkled his nose, attempting to prevent the impossible from happening, his arms filled with garbage as he tried to rush out of the room. It took no time at all for him to sneeze hard enough that the balls went flying from his arms and onto the floors of the main living space.

Aggravation grew on his face as cursed under his breath. As Locke reached to try to pick up the papers once again, his eyes fell onto the letter that signified the end of everything. He stared for a moment at the darker wood of the two desks in the flat, where he had left it, the stains on the parchment from the rain causing some of the words to be mucked up.

As much as he didn’t wish to look at the dreaded thing again, he couldn’t help but feel drawn to it. He approached the desk, doing all he can to hold back the complicated emotions within his arms. Perhaps there is an answer within it. Something that will tell me why he had chosen this way to say goodbye. He thought.

As his hand touched the edges of the coarse parchment, the precise yet carefully written words glistened in the light of the moon from the small window. No, he shouldn’t look at it. Not now, not ever again! He is already hurting himself enough by entering that goddamned room everyday as if things will change! But this doesn’t stop him, as against his better judgement, he read over the letter again, just as he had been every day since it was written -

Locke,

By the time you read this, I will already have begun to travel across the empire. The cruelty against mages becomes worse by the day. Someone needs to make non-mages see that we are people as much as they are; we are not merely fuel for their armies. I refuse to live in a world where I am “visible” but not “seen” ...nor can I live with someone who sees me as what the world claims me to be. Our voices will fall on deaf ears no longer. I hope that you will come to understand in time. If not, it only strengthens my resolve to prove to you I am not...that I’m...

I don’t know if we will ever see each other again, but if we do, I will be a free man, one you can look at without feeling like I’ll hurt you just as you look at others...at yourself. Let me say one thing to ease your mind – it was good while it lasted. But knowing what I do now...I can’t keep pretending everything is fine when it’s not. Pray that I am successful in my travels. Take care of yourself.

Until the Moon Breaks,

Olivier

Tears started to form in the young man’s onyx gray eyes, his mind reeling with emotions he didn’t know could become one - anger, sorrow, confusion, self-blame, hatred towards another. What had he ever done to Olivier to make him feel this way? Everything was going so well! The theatre Locke and Olivier ran together was in good shape, most of their debts paid, having moved into a flat of their own and making the space their own; they were happy!

Locke tried to wipe the tears away as fast as he could with his free hand, wanting nothing more than for them to stop. He slammed the letter back on the dark wood desk, his breathing became heavy as his small frame tried to contain all he could. Memories began to flood his mind, things he would much rather forget - Olivier holding him, every touch more shared between them more sensual then the last, every kiss filled with an affection that can only be shared amongst lovers; the pain of it all affected him more then he wanted to ever admit as he wrapped his arms around himself.

I should get some fresh air. That will help clear my thoughts, make all of this go away!

Only Locke didn’t go outside; he went back to Olivier’s bedroom and once again stared into the emptiness of it, the aura of one who would be there nowhere at all. Soon, Locke could no longer hold back all of the tears as images of Olivier working at the desk appeared before him, the human’s wavy auburn hair draping over his shoulder as he drew costumes and sets for their plays.

However, what broke Locke the most, more than anything else in the room, was the one item that remained on the desk, the one thing he refused to move - a scarlet crystal necklace he had given Oliver one year ago, back when Locke himself was eighteen. Knowing that this small trinket was left behind, that Olivier was so quick to discard it after Locke had spent so much time saving for it, that it was used to declare his love…a reminder of how conditional Olivier’s love apparently was.

His face wet from the continuing silent waterfall, Locke approached the light wood desk once more and stared at the crystal, his reflection within it distorted. His eyes soon fell on the glass of the lamp, catching a glimpse of how tired he appeared. Oh, so very tired. The flame within it flickered, dancing in his eyes as they traveled back to the necklace. Why did he keep it here? Was it out of hope that Olivier would one day don it again as he once did upon his return? Perhaps foolishness, naivety, or wishful thinking.

No…no it’s none of those things. It’s a reminder. A reminder that no matter what we do or how hard we try to satisfy someone, to please them, put their happiness over your own…that sometimes it is simply not enough. Instead, they claim that you have forced them into a cage…a gilded one yes, but a cage, nonetheless. Olivier always claimed he was a prisoner in life, that horrible things only happened to him…and yet not once did he ever consider that in turn, for the sake of his own happiness, that he kept Locke a prisoner as well.

Locke’s fists become clenched at his sides as he looked back towards the letter in the main living space, the gold letters glistening similar to rays of sunlight. That is what Olivier may have been to him once, but no longer. Olivier chose this with the words that haunted Locke’s waking days and sleepless nights. The young man walked back, took the letter from its resting place, and brought it over to the lamp, the flames begging to have a small taste of the paper.

Nine days. Nine days since he had found the accursed letter. Nine days since Olivier had abandoned him for the warmth of another…nine days for Locke to decide that he could not let his past lover’s choice control him any longer.

You’re on your own now Locke. He thought as he dropped the letter into the flames. It was time to break free from his own gilded cage.