Maxciel could easily just leave. His talent is teleportation. In a heartbeat, he could leave, whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted. He could be just like her. Just like Siena, his big sister. And Maxciel knows all the horrible things he's done, yet for some reason, unlike Siena, who also claimed to love him, he stays. He doesn't shun him, he approaches him willingly. He really can't understand. And now, for some reason unbeknownst to himself, he can't repel Maxciel from his mind.
The thought of his face, always alight with a smile, his downturned almond colored eyes, his messy long dark hair, the weird way he tends to walk, his laugh, which always sounds more like a cackle, the way he'd bleed for Xenith, and the color of the blood he sheds. Glittering and red, deep and rich like wine. He just wanted to taste it.
In a way, Xenith had more than anything, wanted to consume every little part of Maxciel. Such has always been what he wished, but, in a way, it was different now. He wanted to devour him, but not in a way entailing he'd loose him.
He found himself starting to like the tingle in his chest when he looked at him, the racing of his heart, the organ pounding his rib cage desperately desiring to escape, leap into Maxciel's chest, and live inside him. He found himself, somehow enjoying the sweat of his palms brought about by Maxciel's presence. All the the feelings he'd hated before, all the little things he abhorred within Maxciel, he felt, he no longer minds. He wants Maxciel to smile at him again, he wants Maxciel to hold him again. He wants to smell Maxciel's scent, he wants to taste his flavor, he wants to feel his rough and smooth textures.
Perhaps, unlike his thought and reason might lead him to believe, he doesn't hate Maxciel. Perhaps, just as Maxciel feels for him, his heart beats that feeling in unison. Perhaps he too, could feel love, perhaps, he loves Maxciel.
He wants to hold him too, to kiss him, he wants Maxciel to know he reciprocates his feelings he wants to be together! Xenith, with his array of thoughts could only wait for Maxciel to return home, to confess, perhaps he'd frame his death, and the two of them could elope together, get married under a new identity, begin a life far from the one he's lived.
He wanted to run into town, and find Maxciel wherever he may be, which often tended to be frequenting shops, and grab him and hold him so tightly his bones would shatter in his grip.
"I love you too, Maxciel" Xenith whispered feeling his face heat up and his body tense at the unnatural sound of such words coming out of his mouth. The strangest part being, he was sure he meant them.
He let out a shaky, anxious sigh and collapsed onto his couch thinking of the life he wanted to live with Maxciel. And thoughts of the life he couldn't wait to leave behind.