#owen carvour your tragedy will always be famous

[uhhhitsme]

hey just a quick silly little reminder. the feelings they shared died the night curt left him for dead. but the owen that loved him didn't die until after. the owen that loved him stared him down on those steps, in the dark again, alone again, grieving something so intangible the only word he could summon for it was a secret. a private, intimate thing. something precious in it's vulnerability. a weapon.

and in a way, a promise. something to be kept. the secret that owen kept for curt was love---the kind of love that's crafted impossibly, made on stolen time, born from loneliness and from kinship, from the wonder of being known and being wanted for it. the kind of love that got you to lower your guard, to turn your back on your keeper, because you trust that they will keep this secret safe, even when it can kill you. you know them. you are both sworn to this oath. the same oath that makes your voice tremble when you speak of the remnants, the shards. the same promise that you are so bound to that even after betrayal, to finally sever the chains---to let him go---is unbearable. you stare him down, in the dark, abandoned, alone, and you love him, still. you can't pull the trigger. you can't break that vow.

the owen that loved curt died on those stairs, at his lovers hand. he took their secret to the grave.