Chapter Text
Hob had been pretty determined to live forever even before he met his Lord, but when the dark-clad man spoke to him, and the world was suddenly filled with colour, beautiful unlike anything he’s ever seen, almost more beautiful than the man who brought colour to his life himself, he knew he had to live forever. And his soulmate obviously had the same idea, gifting him with immortality.
And then he disappeared. Hob couldn’t believe it. He had never seen anyone walk out on their soulmate like this. He chased after the Lord, but it was futile. The fey creature disappeared like smoke. All he left was a promise to seek Hob out in a hundred years.
So, Hob waited. A hundred years, and all he got was a promise to meet again. Two hundred years, and he didn’t even get that, even as he tried to provoke his soulmate into action. Three hundred years, and he at least got some sympathy, his soulmate clearly caring about him, but it wasn’t enough; Hob was greedy. He wasn’t giving up.
Then he got bold. In 1889, his soulmate stormed out on him and didn’t return in a hundred years. Hob must have been the first person in the history of the world who had succeeded at chasing their soulmate away.
For many years, he’d lived in shame and didn’t admit to anyone that he saw colour. But nowadays, he was proud of his soulmate, no matter how much his soulmate hated him. He’d gotten a colourful tattoo, and when his students asked him what’s it like to see it, he told them cheerfully that it was the thing that made life worth living.
Then his soulmate returned. Boldly, Hob thought that perhaps his beautiful Lord missed him, but no. He called Hob friend. But Hob could work with that. He could charm his soulmate into finally accepting his love.
Except, Hob didn’t expect to get drunk at one of their meetings. His soulmate seemed more amused than disgusted, and he didn’t stop Hob from drinking even more, until Hob’s mouth went off on its own and he said, “I will earn your love, don’t worry,” out of nowhere. Maybe there was a reason to say it in his drunken brain, but looking back, he didn’t see one.
The Lord looked startled. “Why, Hob Gadling, would you need to earn my love?” he asked. As if he already loved Hob, but he clearly didn’t, not enough.
“Well, we’ve been s’lmates for centuries, and we haven’t e’en kissed yet! I obv’sly need to do somethin’!”
The Lord looked even more startled. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“Of course!” Hob shouted, perhaps too loudly, driven by alcohol. “I know what I’d seen, and I saw colour the m’mnt you looked at me!”
“I’ve seen colour all my life,” the Lord admitted. “I did not know. But now I see it is true. Perhaps I have only seen colour because so many of my dreamers see it. But since I knew you, the world has seemed… brighter.”
“See,” Hob said, which was his version of being stunned silent, just one word.
“I see,” the Lord smirked. “Perhaps we shall not begin with a kiss. Perhaps a name would suffice, and when you recover from your… altered state, we can kiss.”
“Oh yes, my Lord,” Hob hiccupped, “anything you say, just accept me already. I’ve loved you for six hundred years.”
“My name is Dream of the Endless,” his Lord introduced himself. Then, as if unable to hold himself back, he pressed a kiss to the back of Hob’s hand reverently. “Now, sleep. You will need all your energy to survive the morning after a night like this.”