Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi

Mornings were lazy things out at their little farm house, particularly weekends. They were all early risers, but that didn't mean that they were inclined to rouse before they had to, ensconced in warmth and familiarity and a tangle of limbs.

Their bed sat under the eastern facing window, with their heads toward it, so that when the sun rose their eyes were not subject to the whims of the early light but they did get all of that glorious, growing glow through the curtains. Someday, Krem thought, they ought to have a trellis out there, growing vines up the house so that in the spring and summer they would have sweet-smelling flowers to shield them from the sun; morning glories, or something like that, a monster of something taking over the whole side of the house.

To think in long terms seemed a miraculous thing. Today, Krem had woke on one side of the outside, with Gannicus between him and Hild. It was not an unusual arrangement. They switched regularly, sometimes in the middle of the night. It was a marvel they didn't black an eye or bruise a rib in the shuffle.

In attempting to shuffle closer, Krem found a blockage. For a moment, he thought that Goblin had come down from the attic and that Aggie was awake. But he looked down and found himself staring into doleful gold eyes and the gently pinned back red ears of the square-faced red dog Gannicus had come home with not so long ago.

Softly, Krem grumbled, "You're not supposed to be up here."

The dog's tail thumped excitedly.

Krem did not often, nor did he enjoy, feeling hypocritical. He knew this was a human condition, and he was far from perfect in any way. But there was something about hypocrisy in general that smacked around in his chest, over-hot and miserable. He had no right to it, especially not in matters of heart and bed; being a hypocrite about those things just sang of a possessiveness of other people that he had no right to. Yet, here he was: embittered and hurt over something as simple as two people enjoying a moment together.

He was trying to get it out of his system. If he could, then things would be set to straights again. He had not asked Gannicus to give his key back, nor had he handed over his; this was not a break, just a pause. A moment for Krem to get his bearings in what this all meant and why it hurt so badly when it did not hurt to know that any one of his lovers might take someone else to bed.

His feet found a liquor store. His hands found bottles. And then he found himself standing outside Hild's complex. He paused, frowning at himself. He knew why he was here, but this felt hypocritical as well, and cruel in too many ways. He should not saddle Hild with the burdens of his stupid heart ache.

Someone came out, and so Krem went in. He went up to Hild's floor and, in front of her door, tried to think about what he might say.

There were no words. Not really. Except the truth of what had happened, and knowing he was acting like a spoilt brat about the whole thing. So, Krem cradled the bag with the liquor bottles he'd purchased in one arm, and wrapped on Hild's door. All he could do was hope she was in.