Chapter Text
Thursday 24th of October, 7:46 pm
It was raining when a young man emerged from the subway station in Lower Manhattan. His tall and slender silhouette hunched over as if it would protect him for the heavy rain but even as the young man started to run, clutching his messenger bag to his chest, it did nothing to keep him from being soaked in a minute. Credence grumbled and blamed himself for not having thought of checking the weather forecast that morning, or else he would have carried an umbrella with him.
The dark sky was crying fat tears that dripped down the young man's neck and slipped under the collar of his coat, drawing long shivers from his body. He crossed a street in a hurry, walked straight into a puddle he had missed, too distracted as he only thought of getting back home, and he groaned when he felt the cold water splashing around his shoes, soaking his socks and the hem of his trousers. Great.
The first thing he would do upon coming home would be to run himself a hot bath - if he was lucky, perhaps Percival would join him. The thought made a smile curl up his lips and suddenly, Credence could not have paid any more attention to the rain, even if he had wanted to. In his mind, the sensation of cold all around him had subdued, giving plenty of room to the much warmer idea of home.
It still amazed him, even after two years and half, that he had finally found his place in the world and a home with the love of his life. Tina kept saying that they had gone really fast, but Credence disagreed. If his misadventure with Grindelwald had taught him something, it was this: life was too short to take his time. He could have died, three years ago, and now nobody would dictate him how he should live his life, not even Tina, although she meant well. Besides, how could they have gone too fast when Percival had been so hesitant at first?
Thankfully, a few months had been enough to make the CIA agent realise just how far gone he was on Credence, and he had eventually thrown himself into their relationship with little to no reservations at all.
As he walked by Lombardi's, Credence's steps faltered. His lecture at the university had ended earlier than planned and Percival had probably come back home a little while ago already, but he surely did not expect the student for another half-hour at least... He had certainly not got their dinner ready yet, had he? Perhaps Credence should surprise him and bring back pizzas, so that they could put them in the oven, take a hot bath together and then eat while lazing on the couch in their pyjamas... Sounded like a plan.
The weather didn't agree with him, however. Just as Credence had made up his mind and was about to enter Lombardi's, a thunderbolt cracked above his head and illuminated the sky in threatening hues of grey and black that had Credence breaking into a run. Never mind the pizzas, the young man preferred to go back home right now and cook up something easy with his boyfriend.
It took Credence ten more minutes of running and jumping over growing puddles of water before he finally made it home. While he blindly fumbled inside his bag in search for the keys, he caught sight of the window on the second floor and saw that the lights were on, which made him smile as he imagined Percival changing into comfortable sweatpants and an old sweater for the evening. He always found it funny, to see the director of the CIA's Department of Security, always so impeccably dressed in tailored suits, drop the vest in favour of threadbare pyjamas.
When the young man finally walked inside the house, he closed and locked the door behind himself then threw his messenger bag in a corner, right over Percival's shoes, and he took off his own to hurry up the stairs, still clad in his soaked coat. He imagined he could catch his lover naked, or at least half-naked, but the scene he fell upon as he stepped inside their bedroom made him stop dead in his tracks.
A huge duffel bag laid on their bed, open and already half-filled with clothes. Percival was kneeling in front of the wardrobe, trying to grab something at the bottom - a tie, probably, as they always slipped off the hangers, even those made specifically for them. A real waste of money.
"Percival?" Credence called out.
His lover had apparently not heard him come back, for he jumped in surprise at the sound of his voice and turned around with wide eyes, clutching a carmine tie in his fist. The shocked expression quickly vanished though, and the older man schooled his face into something neutral that didn't sit well with Credence. Something seemed off.
"Credence!" Percival breathed out. "You're home early..."
"Yes," the boy answered, a little put off by his partner's cold demeanour - where was his welcome-home kiss? "The lecturer didn't feel too well, so he ended the class early. You... Are you going somewhere?"
He glanced at the duffel bag at the same time as Percival did and he didn't miss the frown on his lover's face. Was it the CIA? As the director of the Department of Security, he had a lot of meetings to attend everywhere around the States but also in Europe, although those particular trips happened less often. Most of the time though, they knew beforehand that Percival would be travelling for a few days... But sadly, emergency meetings existed as well.
"I'm leaving," Percival said at last, which was not very helpful since Credence had guessed that much already.
It did not take a spy to understand that a duffel bag meant travelling.
"How long will you be gone?" the boy asked, taking a few steps toward him. "When do you have to leave? Where are you going this time?"
The usual questions. Sometimes, Percival could not tell him where he would be spending the upcoming few days - national security, love, can't say much - but he would make sure to leave Credence with the memory of a burning goodbye kiss. Most of the time, these business trips didn't last more than a week or two and Credence would take extra shifts at Jacob's bakery or spend his evenings studying, everything to get Percival's absence out of his mind.
Usually, his numerous questions would make Percival laugh - a delicious sound, way too rare if you asked Credence, but this time he only sighed.
"Credence..." he started, but he trailed off hesitantly.
"Oh. You're going on a mission, aren't you?" the younger man asked on a soft tone.
In theory, the head of the Department of Security wasn't supposed to go on the field like regular agents; Percival, however... Well, he had never wanted to remain stuck in an office as a director in the first place: he belonged in the field, he was too precious an asset not to use during interventions. Moreover, his current charge had been bestowed upon him by Seraphina Picquery, who hadn't really asked for his opinion before, so he hadn't had any other choice than to agree with her decision. She knew her agent, though. She was aware that he would go crazy if he stayed in an office five days a week, so from time to time, she gave him a mission to carry out, quickly and efficiently.
Percival usually loved these occasions to do the job he actually wanted to do and even though he couldn't give Credence the details, he always roughly explained what risks the mission entailed (or didn't) so that his young boyfriend would not worry too much.
But tonight, there was no excitement in Percival's dark eyes. The younger man felt his heart start to beat faster with the realisation that something was seriously wrong and eventually, his lover spoke up:
"It's not... It's not a mission, Credence. In fact, it's not even the CIA that sends me away."
"Then what is it?" the young man asked, closing the distance between his lover and he to take the other's hands in his own, but the gentle touch was rejected as Percival stepped aside just in time.
Credence tried not to show how much the dismissal hurt him and he hid his disappointment and his confusion to the best of his ability: something seemed to be bothering Percival and he didn't want to burden him further with his own reactions, not when they were perhaps not justified. He just needed to know what was going on.
"I'm leaving," Percival repeated at last, "I'm leaving... you."
Credence didn't understand at first and he stared at his lover with furrowed brows, until his brain registered the meaning of the words. I'm leaving you. As in...
"Are you..." the young man started, voice rough with emotion and incomprehension, "Percival, are you breaking up with me?"
The older man nodded at once and Credence felt like he had just been doused in cold water.
"W... What? Why?" he whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder, he would start shouting and then break into tears. "Is there... someone else?"
"No," Percival answered truthfully, "there isn't. We just... Credence, this, us... We don't work together."
"Don't!" the young man immediately exclaimed, wiping furiously at his wet eyes. "Don't say that, it's not true and you know it! If you want to break up with me, at least have the courage to give me a real reason!"
Credence knew that he would regret his words as soon as he saw Percival's face harden. He wanted the truth? Well, there it was.
"I don't love you anymore."
Cold, cruel words. The young man felt himself stagger on his feet as he raised hesitant, pleading eyes towards his lover, who turned away after a few rapid seconds and kept throwing clothes in his bag. Credence opened his mouth but nothing came out, as he was too shaken to utter a single syllable. Even the questions in his mind wouldn't pass his lips, albeit they were many: what had he done wrong? What mistakes had he made? What should he have done differently? And why now, why so suddenly? Percival had never voiced any complaint, not recently at least, and even though they fought sometimes (but not often, thankfully, and for trivial matters like the wet towel Percival often left on the bathroom floor), they had never been unable to make up.
When Percival zipped his bag shut, he looked around as if to check that he had not forgotten anything of importance, and his gaze briefly stopped on Credence.
"I love you," the young man whispered, "Please, Percival..."
The agent looked like he wanted to say something but at the very last second, he clenched his jaw and scowled, then he grabbed his bag and strode toward the door of their bedroom without a word. Credence heard his footsteps in the stairs, then a rustle of fabric, and as he closed his eyes, he could imagine Percival putting his long black coat on, just like he would on a windy Sunday morning to go get croissants and bear claws for their breakfast. But there would be no more breakfasts in bed.
The front door slammed shut but the noise was drowned in the crash of thunder outside, and the boy opened his eyes. Dazed, Credence stepped back, clutching his chest, until his calves hit the bed and he could sit down. He didn't cry, at first, as he fought the emptiness crawling in the pit of his stomach. The freezing sensation he had felt outside, in the rain, was nothing compared to the icy fist closing around his heart, the painful spike of cold digging deeper and deeper in his chest, because Percival... Percival...
Thinking about it was too much: a sob was ripped off of Credence's throat and the dam that held back his tears suddenly broke as the boy collapsed on their bed, hugging the pillow that still smelled like Percival.
Thursday 24th of October, 8:22pm
When Percival stepped over the threshold of his and Credence's house and closed the door, he stopped for a few seconds with his eyes closed, resting his forehead on the wooden panel. They had chosen this place together one year ago, a little house not too far from the university, that they had turned into a comfortable cocoon of warmth and love.
Full of regrets, the man took a step back and lifted his eyes up to the window of the second floor, to the bedroom where he had left Credence, and he brought his hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against two fingers before he raised them in the air, in a silent farewell.
Percival then turned around and walked away, crossing the street in hurried steps in direction of the black CIA car waiting for him. He threw his duffel bag on the backseat, opened the passenger door and climbed in, feeling relieved as he entered the warm - and dry! - vehicle.
"Everything's all right, Sir?" the driver asked from behind the wheel. "I saw your companion come back earlier, have you told him about..."
"Shut up and drive, Abernathy," the agent growled, since talking about Credence was the last thing he wanted right now.
Abernathy seemed to remember that one time Percival had broken his nose, for he complied without another word and drove away into the storm.