The clouds beneath Caesar’s sandals felt softer than silk, yet heavy with the weight of his thoughts. He paced slowly before the towering gates of the Palace of Love, the home he shared with Cupid—or rather, Cupid’s home that he had been welcomed into.
The palace itself shimmered like a dream: colossal pink stone hearts formed its walls, polished smooth and glowing with a warmth that seemed to radiate affection itself. A golden gate curved upward, crowned with an elegant heart-shaped arch, its light gleaming across the endless heavens. From afar, it looked like the very embodiment of love, perfect and unshakable.
Yet inside Caesar, there was anything but perfection. His wings shifted restlessly behind him as he muttered to himself, his voice soft but strained.
— “He’s so good to me… sweet, thoughtful, always giving, always loving,”
Caesar murmured, dragging a hand through his wavy blonde hair.
— “But… sometimes he’s manipulative. Sometimes he says things that cut deeper than he knows. And these… these memories.”
He stopped pacing, staring down at the cloud floor as if answers might reveal themselves in its swirls. His chest tightened.
— “It feels like I’ve done this before. Like I’ve already told him I wanted to end things… but here I am. Still here. Still with him. It doesn’t make sense.”
The déjà vu gnawed at him, vivid yet slippery, like recalling a dream that refused to be fully grasped. Did he imagine it? Was Heaven playing tricks on him? Or… was Cupid hiding something?
— “Maybe I’m the problem,”
Caesar whispered to himself, his soft blue eyes dim with uncertainty.
— “Maybe I just… don’t deserve this. Don’t deserve him.”
His thoughts shattered the moment he sensed a presence behind him. Turning, he saw Cupid—a vision of warmth, charm, and radiance, with that familiar smile that could undo every wall Caesar tried to build. Despite himself, Caesar’s lips curved upward.
— “Cupid,”
he greeted, his voice tender, and he stepped forward instinctively, as though the god’s presence pulled him like a tide.
But then Caesar stopped, his throat tightening. He cleared it, wings giving a nervous flick as he tried to gather the courage boiling beneath his uncertainty. His hands fidgeted at the golden cuffs on his wrists.
— “Can we… talk?”
Caesar asked softly, eyes lowering before finding Cupid’s again.
— “I’ve been feeling—well, I don’t know if it’s me or if it’s something between us, but…”
He hesitated, the words heavy in his mouth.
— “Something feels wrong. Like there’s something you’re not telling me. Or maybe I’m just imagining it. I—I don’t know.”
A breath escaped him, fragile as glass.
— “Maybe we should… take a break. Just for a while. So I can think. So we can think.”