Jeldrik arrived at home just after four. Viktor was not home. He had probably just left for rehearsals. A year ago, he had turned his passion into his profession and started playing the cello in a big orchestra. They had met two years ago, when Jeldrik was twenty-three and Viktor twenty-eight years old. Jeldrik was in his fourth year of mage school and Viktor had no idea that mages existed. Jeldrik’s friends had been making fun of him for being on non-mage dating apps, but he did not care. He understood where they were coming from – being in a mixed relationship increased the potential for conflict. At the same time, Jeldrik was romantic enough to believe that with the right person that difference could be overcome. And while he had been right, it had not been as easy as he had imagined.
Jeldrik decided to tell Viktor when they had been dating for two months. Already for that short time it had been almost impossible to keep his mouth shut. He felt bad for keeping such an important part of his life a secret from the person that he planned to live with. It was also quite difficult to keep his magical education a secret, when Viktor told him constantly about his job (before the orchestra, he had worked as a waiter at a restaurant and had hated it) and was always curious about Jeldrik’s day. But since there was no way he could make his school life make sense to his boyfriend before he came out as a mage, he instead invented a story about a dull office job where he did nothing but create Excel sheets and how he was planning to start at university next term. With his lie he had given himself a deadline by which he had to come clean with Viktor.
On the day when he was waiting for Viktor to come home to tell him, he sat on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. He had everything planned out. He knew he would have to demonstrate his ability, because nobody would believe a person talking about magic without actually showing it off. He had established a portal between the sofa table and the bookshelf, which stood a few metres away from each other. He had learned about portals in his third year of school. They were not particularly difficult to established, but being nervous had definitely affected Jeldrik’s ability. The first step of the procedure had been easy. He had touched the sofa table and mumbled the necessary words. But the second step, touching the second object while imagining the first object before your inner eye was considerably harder. His thoughts constantly went back to the task ahead of preventing his boyfriend from panicking. Eventually though, he had managed to establish the connection, and when he tested it, he appeared safely next to the sofa table.
When he heard Viktor’s keys turning in the lock, his heart started beating. He barely managed to reciprocate Viktor’s hello. Jeldrik was relieved he had given his boyfriend a key to his apartment, because he felt unable to rise from the sofa. After a few minutes waiting for Viktor taking off his shoes and jackets and entering and leaving the bathroom, he finally entered the living room and stopped in his tracks.
“Everything okay?” he asked and looked sceptically at Jeldrik who had still not got up from his seat.
“Yes, I –” Jeldrik cleared his throat. “I need to tell you something. It’s important.”
Viktor continued looking sceptical while moving to the sofa and sitting down, but Jeldrik could see worry hinting in the other man’s features. He knew how insecure Viktor was and suspected that he was likely expecting a break up or, worse, some sort of confession.
“You have to promise not to flip out.”
“What’s going on, Jeldrik?” Viktor’s hands were shaking slightly.
“Just promise, it’ll make me feel better.”
“I promise, okay.”
“You’ll think I’m crazy. At first. But I’m just going to say it plain.” Jeldrik took a deep breath. “I can do magic.” He did not wait for a reaction either. He touched the sofa table and, not a second later, stood next to the book shelf.
Viktor jumped off the sofa as if it had bitten his ass. He was just about to seemingly turn around and run out of the living room, when he stopped dead and looked at Jeldrik with wide eyes. Jeldrik’s heart raised harder as it had when he had come out to his parents. He attempted an apologetic smile, touched the book shelf again and landed next to the sofa table. Viktor jumped again, but he was already standing, his eyes opening even wider than before.
Nothing happened for what felt like an hour, though it had probably been less than ten seconds, when Viktor managed to open his mouth as if about to say something. He closed it again, before actually saying: “Jeldrik?”
Since it had neither been a question about the how or even the why, Jeldrik had no idea how to answer. Then he decided to answer the how anyway.
“I don’t know how, Viktor. I’ve been a mage since I was born.”
The two men looked at each other. Still no one moved. Finally, Viktor slowly went back to the sofa and sat down. Jeldrik did the same, but was not sure how close to come. His uncertainty was answered when Viktor moved closer on his own and, coming as a big surprise for Jeldrik, hugged him.
“I’ve got no fucking clue what just happened,” he whispered into Jeldrik’s neck. “I want to believe I’m crazy.” He held Jeldrik an arm’s length away from himself. “But it looked so real.”
“Because it is. Look!” Jeldrik changed his hair colour as he had done years ago in front of his parents.
“Holy fuck,” Viktor whispered. He went through Jeldrik’s hair while it changed from blue to red to purple. “I must be insane.”
Jeldrik realised with a little shock that his boyfriend’s eyes had filled with tears and were now running over his cheeks. He reached out and wiped them away.
“Why are you crying?” he asked gently.
“Because I don’t know what to think!” Viktor exclaimed, his voice carrying a hint of hysteria. Then he laughed out, leaned back on the sofa and looked at the ceiling.
For the rest of the evening, Viktor continued to go through every emotion ever experienced by a human. And Jeldrik knew that the best he could do was be there for him and try to calm him down. He had expected a certain amount of shock, but he was overwhelmed by his partner’s reaction. Even more so considering that they knew each other for only two months and had not seen each other cry. He had also taken his parents’ reaction as reference for what to expect. But they had accepted it so much faster. Now, though, sitting here next to his boyfriend who was questioning his entire world view, he had to admit that Viktor’s reaction was arguably more reasonable than his parents’.
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Viktor’s mood swings and outbursts of unpredictable emotions, although much less intense, continued for a several weeks. But eventually, having demonstrated plenty further proof of his abilities, Jeldrik managed to convince Viktor once and for all that he was not crazy, which put the non-mage’s inner turmoil finally at ease, his world view restored, albeit drastically changed.
Jeldrik had no energy to cook. He ordered some sushi and threw himself onto the sofa, staring at the black TV screen. The longer he stared, the more it looked like the TV was on and showed Argon’s marked body. He could see the cuts in eerie detail, the blood still gushing out of the wounds, which had not even happened anymore when they had arrived on the actual crime scene. The way the murderer had disfigured the victim seemed deliberate to Jeldrik, as if the wounds were not just inflicted for the purpose of killing, but to convey some sort of message. Jeldrik took out his notebook and drew a messy sketch of the body and where it had been cut. He was determined, despite the DMCI having lost the case, to find out if there was more behind the bloody X and the slit throat. If Argon had become the victim of a hate crime, would murders done in a similar fashion happen in the next few weeks? Or was it more personal than that? And if so, who had Argon been and who hated him enough to kill him?
The doorbell tore him violently out of his thought. He rushed to the door and opened it. It was the delivery man. He took the sushi and went back to the living room. He turned on the TV. The black screen reminded him too much of Argon. And maybe some could find some programme that distracted him from all the thoughts that were circling in his head.
It was quarter to nine when Jeldrik heard a key turning in the lock and, a few seconds later, Viktor’s voice calling: “Hey Jeldrik!”
“Hey!” Jeldrik called back. “How was the rehearsal?” He turned off the TV, took the empty sushi box and brought it to the kitchen, not without stopping in the hallway to give Viktor a kiss.
“I didn’t feel it today,” answered Viktor. “Erik picked me out twice and criticised me in front of everyone.” Erik was Viktor’s conductor and took turns in being the biggest asshole or the most brilliant mind whenever Viktor mentioned him. “He even asked me if I feel ready for the concert next week, as if I haven’t done a perfect job every other day!”
“What a bastard!” responded Jeldrik from the kitchen. Then he walked back into the hallway and took Viktor’s cello case and carried it behind the living room door.
“Thanks,” exclaimed Viktor and fell onto the sofa, sighing heavily. Jeldrik lay down on top of him. He weighed slightly more than Viktor, so Viktor gasped and tried to push the other man off him. Without success. He gave up. “How was your day?” he managed to squeeze out.
“I saw a corpse today,” Jeldrik said, having forgotten for a second what had happened in the presence of his boyfriend. He rolled off Viktor and lay next to him.
“You saw what?” Viktor sat up on one elbow.
“A dead person. A man. And we went to his apartment and I found him.”
There was a short pause. Then: “Was it bad?”
“Yes. He was … mutilated.” And suddenly he realised he was crying. No gentle crying either. He bawled as he had never bawled in his life. It had come without warning. He was aware of the shame shooting through his body and was about to get up and go to the bedroom. But when he felt Viktor pulling him closer and taking him in his arms, the shame disappeared. Jeldrik had at no point expected to be this affected by today’s events. And yet here he was, sobbing into Viktor’s shirt, unable to control himself.
He had no idea how long it took before he calmed down enough to wipe some of his tears away. He could hardly see through his swollen, wet eyes. With his clarity of mind came another feeling. He could not point a finger at it at first. Out of nowhere, he thought of him steeping into Argon’s bedroom and the MMS snatching the case from under the DMCI’s nose, until he realised that it was anger he felt. No, rage. What had happened today had obviously done a great deal to him. He had seen his first dead body, he had started to feel like a proper DMCI investigator, if only for a very short time. And then the MMS was marching and made all of that not count? His distress without redemption? His excitement without payoff? No. He would not accept that. He leapt up into a sitting position. Viktor let out a surprised gasp.
“You know what?” Viktor looked at his boyfriend. “Fuck the MMS! I’m going to look into this case.”
“The MMS?” Viktor looked very confused. His eyes were red and slightly swollen, too, and Jeldrik felt a burst of love for this man rush through his body.
“Yes, the MMS. They took the case and literally pushed Gabriel out of the victim’s apartment. But I don’t want to have experienced all this without knowing how it ends.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” Viktor asked carefully. “I don’t think Gabriel would appreciate that.”
Jeldrik’s stubborn motivation was dampened a bit by Viktor’s concern.
“Maybe,” he said and leaned back on the sofa, contemplating his plan. “But I can’t just let this go, can I?”
“I don’t know, Jeldrik.” Viktor looked helplessly at his boyfriend. “Maybe let’s talk about it tomorrow? You might think differently after a good night’s sleep. And if not … I guess it’s not illegal to do some research. I don’t really know how you would realise your plan anyway.”
Neither knew Jeldrik. And yet he was determined to try.
“You’re probably right about the good night’s sleep though.”
