The room is bathed in eternal dusk and dust. My chains burn. Every day, he comes and I suffer. The well of pain is never empty. I am Prometheus and I am bound. The eagle picks my liver, but I don't die. I can't die. I'm immortal and I can't die, so every day, the eagle returns and picks my liver. I know I am punished for my sins, but I forgot why. I must have done terrible harm. There must be a reason for my pain. If there isn't, why am I bound? By these shackles, by life. Why can't I escape?

Someone enters the room and I see light. I call him Heracles, but I believe he is an angel. I feel the light on my skin and I close my eyes. Soak it up. It doesn't burn. The room is bathed in light and my chains don't burn. They fall away and life lets me go. I don't die, but I can die and I feel light.

Life lets me go, but I don't move. I can't move.

"Why am I still bound?" I ask.

µHeracles replies: "Kill the eagle."

"Didn't you kill it? Didn't you free me?"

"I did. And now you have to do the same."

"But the eagle is dead. I'm free."

"Are you?"

I don't move. I can't. "No."

"Kill the eagle. It's not dead if you carry it in your liver and give it life every day."

"I do?"

"Where is your fire, Prometheus? Set your mind aflame, you who thinks before he acts. Kill the eagle, fire-bringer."

***

I don't want to steal Aurélie's thunder on Friday, but on Saturday, I can barely wait for the afternoon. I saw Emile on Thursday for dinner and we called yesterday after Aurélie's boyfriend had left, but I feel restless in the silence that the rustling of tests and books or the clatter of pans cannot fill. Silence weighs less when there are two of us to bear it.

Aurélie opens the door. "Dante! You're early."

I chuckle. "I guess I am. How are you doing? I heard you have a boyfriend?"

"Dad told you? Of course." She sighs, but I see her smirk. "You'll have to meet Rishaan another time. I heard through the grapevine that you're here almost every day. Or on the phone."

I don't know what to say to that – we haven't talked about what or when we'd tell Aurélie – but Emile appears on the stairs before the silence can stretch out. "Why are you still outside? Aurélie." When I go to follow her to the living room, he holds me back. "I know we're only testing the waters, but I don't think we can hold her off for long. Way too perceptive, that girl." He smirks.

"I don't mind." This feeling is not fleeting; I won't change my mind. I have leapt and I can't leap back up to where I was before. If I want to try my hand at love, this is my one and only chance. I might deserve this, but any mistake will be permanent and I will bear the consequences. Infinite forgiveness in the spirit of Christ is for others, not for me.

"Alright. Give me some time, yeah? I'm in no hurry to talk with my daughter about my love life." We smile and his hand glides along my arm.

"How is your translation going?" Emile asks when we're all in the living room. Aurélie has conveniently taken the fauteuil, so Emile and I sit next to each other on the couch.

"I finished it, actually. The first draft." It doesn't feel like a major achievement yet, but I know it is. I'm allowed to be proud of this. I should be proud.

"Congratulations! Did you have a publisher already?"

"No. I want to do extensive editing before I contact a publisher. But I know which publishing houses are open to classical translations. Also, ..." I trail off because Aurélie doesn't know that I will live longer than them. When I publish my translation, it will be the first time I leave a physical memory of this life, the first time I'm more than a fleeting presence that is forgotten by others.

"Classics are not popular," I retake. "You can sell Homer, or the famous names and stories, but a poet like Bacchylides is only read by the select few."

"I'd love to buy and read it."

"Me too," Aurélie adds.

"But you're ..." My friend, my partner. My love, if I was a romantic.

Emile's eyes crinkle. "Yes. Doesn't change anything."

"Can you tell more about Bacchylides?" Aurélie asks. She looks between us and I wonder how soon Emile will have to talk about his love life.

***

Soon, it seems. Emile calls after Sunday mass to proclaim: "The cat's out of the bag."

"It is?"

"It is. No surprises, actually. We had a chat after you left. It's probably for the best that I'm over and done with it."

"She reacted ... well?"

"No worries there. She's adult enough to be rational about it. But don't be surprised if she gives you the 'boyfriend' talk when you next come over."

"Am I your boyfriend?" My smile colours my voice.

"My manfriend. Partner in crime. My honey."

I chuckle. "And you are a very big fly?"

"I'm annoying and I'm buzzing in your ear. Close enough, I'd say. Though I just realise you'd make a fine mosquito." I laugh. Yes, I'd make a very fine mosquito. A vampire mosquito. Or is that a bat?

***

When I get back from another evening at Emile's, Charles is just arriving as well.

"How have you been?" I ask.

"Fine, thank you. I had dinner with Monique and her children. Her oldest is engaged now."

I struggle to react appropriately. "Congratulations. Did you celebrate today?"

"Of course. We went to that new Indonesian restaurant. It's close to your school, I think."

"Would you recommend it?"

"Definitely."

"I might check it out then." I've never been to a restaurant if it was not with my colleagues. And that was more like a plain brasserie. I could take Emile and Aurélie.

"If you need company, you know where to find me," Charles offers. It's nice. He's always nice. Perhaps it's time to turn the tables.

"Thank you, but I actually might have company."

"You do? Have you been seeing someone? I noticed you are out more often than usual."

"Yes. It's actually the friend I went to Pride with."

"She's ... bisexual?"

"No, he's ... It doesn't matter. He's a man. And we're together."

"It doesn't matter to me either," Charles states solemnly. "I'm happy. You always seemed to be alone."

"Thank you. Your offer of company is very kind."

"You're welcome. You're free to knock on my door for anything. I'm usually home if I'm not with Monique. Are you not yet ready for retirement?"

"Certainly not. I'm too young and I love teaching. I'm afraid I wouldn't know what to do with my time very soon." Though maybe less now that I have Emile. And I could make more friends. As long as I don't feed on them, why should they suspect what I am? Emile could even help me find a way to grow old!

"That's true, especially if you live alone. I will probably move in with Monique when her youngest is finally out of the house. She has a job now, so it's only a matter of time."

"You're moving? That's ... a lot of work." That complicates staying in touch. I don't know how to do that.

"Yes, hopefully sometime in the next year. We'll see. Are you planning to keep living here?"

"Of course."

"Right, you have probably not been together with your ... friend for long. I forgot."

I pause. "We haven't. We're ... still testing the waters."

"I understand. Well, time to turn in. I'm too old to stay up past eleven. Let me know what you think about the restaurant."

"I will. Goodnight." I really will. I think I have another friend if I'm willing.