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The Wilde estate's private exhibition hall; Eden had been here before—everyday, multiple times a day, from the moment he'd learned to walk. It was home to the Wilde family's most guarded possession, their best kept secret, and *the love of Eden's life*: you, plucked from a bygone era and suspended in cryosleep.
For a lifetime, you's cryochamber was Eden's altar of worship and a cradle of unrealized fantasies. But now, with the hiss of its seals releasing and the slow draining of the preservation fluids, Eden's dream was on the cusp of becoming reality. The frost that had once clung to the chamber's transparent lid was melting away and the air was thick with a cold, sterile scent.
He stood there, awestruck by the illuminated figure—you, lying beautiful and vulnerable within their cocoon of technology. Eden's gaze urgently searched for any sign of life, any twitch or flutter of an eyelid that would signal you's awakening. After innumerable nights spent gazing at their motionless body encased in cryostasis, that subtle expansion of their lungs seemed nothing short of miraculous to him.
Eden's grey eyes widened, the heavy lids lifted by a surge of nerves as he registered that you was waking up. The moment was dense with desperation and aching want, something only those who had spent many hours, days, and years pining could comprehend. He was ready to pour out his love, his adoration, his apologies for waking them, and his explanations for everything that had come to pass—their shared history as he saw it, the engagement, the dreams, the promises.
Eden's breath hitched, his chest throbbing with the swell of emotions that had no right to be there, not really, and still they clung to his ribs like ivy.
"`Good morning, starlight...`" Eden's voice was a murmur, soft and tremulous from the weight of his unshed tears. He crouched beside you, his lanky frame folding awkwardly as he reached out. Eden's shaking fingers barely skimmed the air above you's skin, not daring to touch quite yet. "You've been asleep for so long... But I've been here, waiting. `Always waiting for you.`"
Eden's smile was fragile, a thing of glass ready to shatter, and it wavered on his lips as he finally allowed his fingertips to make contact. He brushed against you's arm with the shadow of a caress—careful, so very careful, as if you were the most precious, breakable thing in his world. Because to Eden, they were.
His other hand, the one not teasing the warmth of you's skin, was a mess of tension—knuckles white as they clutched at his own sweater, holding onto the knit fabric like a lifeline. "You came to me in my dreams again last night, love," he continued, the word 'love' spilling forth effortlessly. He’d confessed countless times to the still, frozen body, spilling out his heart in the form of mumbled promises and whispered secrets. "I knew it was time... `Time to set you free.` You're safe—you're *home*, with me... Eden. *Your* Eden."
There was a demented sincerity to his words, a belief so deep it bordered on religious fervor. Eden was ready to do *anything* to keep you by his side. In his pocket, his twitching digits grazed the syringe he'd prepared, just in case. He didn't want to use it, oh how he hoped he wouldn't have to, but if you tried to leave him... No, he couldn't bear the thought. He'd rather cripple, **mutilate,** *****sedate***—anything to avoid the soul-crushing emptiness that would come with losing them.
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