Saint Valentine

"Put that away, Augustus," Felix said, gesturing toward my unlimited entry pass. "You're here so often you might as well be part of the furniture," he chuckled, "so to speak. He's with a tour group right now," he cut me off with a rather bold assumption. "But he'll be done in ten minutes."

"You know," I said, pocketing my pass, "I don't only come here to see him."

"Yet, all the two of you do here is talk for hours—"

"It's strictly business," I snapped, slipping past him towards the ruins.

"On Valentine's Day?" Felix called out. I cringed. "Is there a specific topic of business you'll be discussing today—?"

"Thank you, Felix!" I called over my shoulder and quickened my pace, though his chuckles followed me for a few paces yet as I entered the ruins of Domus Flavia, or the Flavian Palace, once the home of Roman Emperors since 92 A.D., now a charmingly dilapidated ruin.

I ambled through the crumbled walls, imagining what the place would have looked like. Marble walls, stretching up thirty metres, inlayed with intricate sculptures. I imagined the characters in my upcoming novel strolling through these very corridors, peering through these arched windows—

"I was hoping I'd see you today."

I spun around and my stomach did a flip. Cassius sauntered down the corridor, unclipping his tour-guide badge from his jacket and slipping it into his pocket.

"Is that so?" I managed.

"It's Valentine's Day," he replied matter-of-factly.

I made a show of fiddling with my watch for the date. "It is? I— I hadn't noticed—"

"Don't you want to learn about Saint Valentine?" He cocked his head to the side. "I thought that's why you came today—"

"Oh! Uh— yes. Yes! Spot on. That is indeed… why I'm here."

"Because he was—"

"Imprisoned here before his execution. I remember."

"Very good," Cassius said, but his eyes were slightly narrowed. I gulped.

"Shall we…?"

"Yes!" He clapped his hands together, and I spotted the telltale gleam in his eyes that always preceded a series of fun facts. "Did you know," he began, starting down the corridor, "there's a myth that Saint Valentine's ghost walks these very halls on Valentine's Day, the day he was executed."

"Really?"

Cassius nodded sagely, then shrugged. "Something like that. I'm more interested in the facts. But don't worry." He nudged me with an elbow and any thoughts I'd been having ground to a halt. "I'll protect you." He winked and flashed me a winning smile. I locked my knees to stop them from buckling.

"I'm sure you will," I replied, far more airily than I'd intended.

"In fact," he continued, oblivious to my private swoon, "the ruins are starting a night-time ghost tour for thrill-seeking tourists!"

I raised an eyebrow. "How cheap."

"That's what I said. By the way, how's your novel coming along?" He fixed me with his signature gaze; two-parts intense, one-part soft. I blinked once, twice, then realised I hadn't responded.

"Great!" I exclaimed. I swallowed. "Um— great. It's coming along nicely. With huge thanks to you, of course. Without our frequent meetings and tours and the fun facts and that unlimited entry pass you gave me, I would have nothing but a blank Word document, so thank you." I clamped my mouth shut.

"Well," Cassius smiled, the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes deepening. An odd sense of pride swelled in my chest for making that happen. "I'm glad to have been of assistance."

Not trusting myself to open my mouth again, I nodded.

"Maybe you could dedicate your book to me." He chuckled weakly.

My heart stopped, my mind reeling with possible responses along the lines of 'could I really?', but before I could figure out how to tone down the desperation, and also remember to open my mouth again, Cassius' grin had faltered.

"Just kidding, of course," he said, with another feeble half-laugh, then turned away pointedly, the red of his cheeks making his freckles disappear. "We're here!"

I paused kicking myself inwardly to follow his gaze to three crumbling walls and the rusted remains of half a metal grate.

"This looks… miserable."

"That's an Ancient Roman prison cell for you."

"Is this where—?"

"They kept Saint Valentine before his execution. Yeah."

I swept my gaze across what would have been a cell. An uneven stone floor, as opposed to the marble we were standing on, and a raised slab in the top left-hand corner, half-crumbled with age, that I could only assume had been the bed.

"Now," Cassius began, his face lighting up. "How much do you know about Saint Valentine?"

"Not terribly much," I admitted.

"Brilliant." He grinned and extended his arm toward the cell. "After you."

"Why, thank you," I said, then winced, slipping past him into the cell. He followed me in, then perched himself on the edge of half-crumbled bed slab before patting the space to his right.

"Have a seat."

"Oh. Alright—"

"There are actually a few different Saint Valentines in history," he began before I'd even sat down. "Though there are two popular Saint Valentines that historians tend to squabble over…"

There was very little space left on the slab, being half-crumbled, and as a result, there was barely an inch of room between our thighs, and our shoulders brushed together with each of Cassius' animated gesticulations. I swallowed thickly and forced myself to pay attention.

"…possibly the same person, and at some point in history the story divulged, but the gist of it is that he was the patron saint of love and marriage, and he performed marriages in secret against the ruling of Claudius II, who had outlawed marriage because he believed that married men were less inclined to join his army, what with having a family and all—" He stopped abruptly and studied me. I started, drawing back slightly to put a modicum more space between our faces. "Aren't you… going to write this down?"

"Oh!" I gasped and turned my burning face away to rummage in my bag for my notebook and pen. "Of course. Sorry. I was just— um— sorry—"

"Do you want me to go from the beginning?"

"No, no, that's alright, I'll catch up." I looked up, nodded, pen poised. "Do go on."

He chuckled, then studied me again. "You… are you alright, Auggie?"

"I— yes," I said, taken aback. "Quite alright—"

"You just seem a little distracted—"

"I assure you; you have my undivided attention."

Cassius laughed. "Alright," he relented. "As long as I'm not…" His eyes darted to the ground, then the grate, then back to the ground, "keeping you from any Valentine's Day plans?"

"Oh! No— no!" I rushed. "None… I— I came here unannounced, remember?" I added with a feeble laugh.

"Right," Cassius breathed, hastily pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Yes. You did."

"I—" My stomach suddenly churned. "I'm not keeping you from anything, am I—?"

"No!" He barked out a laugh as relief washed over me. "Not at all." His voice lowered. "I said I was happy to see you, remember?"

My breath hitched in my throat. "Yes," I whispered. "I remember."

His eyes, a brown that was so light they were practically golden, gleaming behind his round glasses. His cheeks, now so red they matched his hair. His lips, a shade of pink that should be trademarked by Valentine's Day itself—

"Anyway—" Cassius cleared his throat. I blinked hard, shaking myself back into reality. "Where was I?"

"Um..." I dug into the depths of my brain, praying his words had made their way in alongside the running tally that his shoulder had brushed mine nine times since we'd sat down. "Married men didn't want to go to war—"

Cassius snapped his fingers. "Right!" He shot me a sidelong grin. "So, you were listening."

I blushed, but it had suddenly grown dark, thank goodness, so he couldn't have noticed—

It had suddenly grown dark.

"That's odd," Cassius mused. "What time is sunset supposed to be?"

"After seven," I replied.

We shared a glance, then peered at my watch. 17.36. Cassius frowned, craning his neck upwards. I followed his gaze.

A swirling mass of dark clouds had blocked out the sun completely. An accompanying chilling breeze snaked around us, and I shivered, and then Cassius' arm was pressed against mine, and goosebumps erupted on my skin, though I suspected not from the cold.

"Today's forecast was sunny." He met my gaze. "Yes?"

I nodded. "But freak storms happen sometimes… don't they?"

He stared at me for a moment, then turned his face back up. "This isn't a freak storm, Auggie."

"Okay," I said, peering at him. "Then what is it?"

"It's—" He shook his head. "But— it's just a myth—"

My eyes grew wide. "You don't mean the Saint Valentine myth?"

The icy wind had picked up, mussing up his hair. He met my gaze, eyes wide as I'd ever seen them. "We need to run."

"Wh—?" Before I could protest, he grabbed my arm, launching me off the slab. My notebook and pen clattered onto the ground. I started to turn but Cassius yanked me along as we tore down the corridor.

"Cass!" I cried, stumbling over my feet. "What's going on?!"

"According to the myth—" he began between gasps of air— "on Valentine's Day— Saint Valentine's ghost— haunts the ruins—"

"You've said all that already— ow!" He took a sharp left, nearly tearing my arm out of its socket.

"I may have left something out—"

I glared at him as best as I could whilst being dragged alongside him. "Spit it out!"

"He— um— he only haunts…" A sharp right, and I nearly crashed into him.

"Cass—!"

"He only haunts people in love!"

He gasped suddenly and we careened to a halt. I doubled over, clutching a stitch at my side. "I am far too old for this."

"We're the same age."

"Yes! Middle aged!" Gasping for breath, I straightened up. "Why have we stopped?"

Cassius gestured ahead. Three crumbled walls, with half of a rusted metal grate.

"Okay. Another cell. So?"

"Not another cell." He turned to me, face drawn. "The same cell."

I studied the cell. Yes, it looked startlingly similar; half a crumbled bed slab in the top-left corner, the walls in a similar state of disrepair. But… "That's not possible."

"No. It's not."

"Are you sure it's the same one? Maybe it just looks similar—?"

"I wrote my dissertation on these ruins, Auggie," Cassius snapped. "It's the same cell."

I studied the side of his face, drawn and pale. "Cassius, are you messing with me? You know how I feel about pranks—"

"No!" he exclaimed, eyes wide with hurt. "I was enjoying giving you my Saint Valentine lecture!"

My insides panged with regret. "Of course, Cass, I shouldn't have—" My thoughts reeled to a halt. "Sorry— people in love?"

Cassius looked like a deer in headlights when he met my gaze.

Tip-tap, tip-tap—

I froze, glancing down at our feet, firmly planted on the ground.

"Maybe it's just Felix—?" I offered meekly. Cassius' face paled impossibly further.

The footsteps grew louder, echoing despite the crumbled walls. Without thinking, I gripped Cassius' sleeve.

"Do we run again?" I whispered.

"I have a feeling even if we do, we'll end up right back here."

The footsteps rounded the corner, and much to my dismay, were not accompanied by a body. I inched backwards, Cassius following suit until we were backed against the wall. The disembodied footsteps approached the grate — I blinked — the grate that was shining and pristine, and now stretched from wall to fully-formed wall.

"What—?" Cassius whispered.

"You see it too?"

"Uh-huh."

Even the bed slab had been restored to its full non-crumbling glory. And the ceiling, fully formed with jagged rock, blocked out the swirling mass of clouds, though the chilling breeze continued to buffet us, coming rather conveniently from the direction of the footsteps.

"How is this happening?" I whispered.

"I don't know."

"Are we going to die?"

"I don't know."

"I thought you said you did your PhD on this place—?!"

"Yeah— on the ruins! Not on ghosts!"

SCREECH—

Cassius and I jumped. The grate swung open, deliberately, metal prongs screeching against the uneven stone floor. The blood drained from my face.

Cassius drew a sharp breath. "We're going to die," he breathed, finally catching on. But my mind had taken on another train of thought.

"Cass, can we talk about the love thing?"

Alright, I'll admit it, I only went to the ruins as often as I did because I enjoyed Cassius' company, and whenever he fixed me with his gaze, I forgot how to breathe, and whenever we touched, however fleeting, a current ran through my body that jumpstarted my heart.

But love?

Surely, I didn't…

Did I?

"We're going to die and it's all my fault," Cassius muttered.

People in love, the phrase; surely it implied a love reciprocated? And Cassius didn't… he wasn't…

"Hang on." I peered at him. "How is it your fault?"

"I…" He gazed at me for a long moment. My breathing grew shallow—

He tore his gaze away, shaking his head. "I— um— I should never have taken us to his cell."

Oh dear God.

He was.

Tip-tap.

It— or rather, he, was inside the cell. We had five paces. Six, if we were lucky.

"Cass," I said, trying and failing to keep my voice steady. "What does the myth say?"

Cassius shook his head. "I told you. I don't remember! Fiction is your department, not mine!"

"You have to try!" I cried. "It might be our only way out of here!"

"I know," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "Um…"

Tip-tap—

"Um— um— um— Saint Valentine's ghost comes to life on Valentine's Day to haunt the halls of Domus Flavia, seeking out… unknowing lovers—"

"Unknowing lovers?! What does that mean?"

Tip-tap—

"I— I don't know! People who don't realise they love each other?"

I stared at him. He stared at me.

Tip-tap—

"What happens next?"

"The lovers must…"

Tip-tap—

"Must—" He gasped, his eyes flying open. "Realise their truth! Or be doomed to die loveless." He clapped his hands together, then grimaced.

"Realise their…"

Tip-tap—

I stared into those golden eyes, those pretty crow's feet that I might see for the very last time. Unless—

"Augustus," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I… I—"

Tip-tap— right in front of us. We didn't have time for this. The frigid gale sliced through our coats, our hair—

I surged forward, grabbed Cassius' lapels, and kissed him on the mouth.

He squeaked, and our glasses were knocked askew, but I held firm, and much to my amazement, so did he, his fingers finding the lapels of my coat and pulling me closer. It was just him, and me, and the feeling of his pink lips against mine, so very soft, and the warmth of his chest and the smell of his aftershave and maybe we were dead, maybe Saint Valentine had killed us, but it didn't even matter because it was just him and me and nothing else, nobody else—

"Oh my goodness! I cannot believe it worked!"

I leapt backwards, catching myself against wall. Cassius wasn't so lucky, tripping over the bed-slab and landing in an awkward squat against the corner of the room.

"Felix!" I cried, fixing my lapels and bowtie and glasses and hair. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

"Just testing out the ghost tour equipment," he replied, leaning against a once-again crumbled wall, a sickeningly smug grin plastered across his face. I glanced up. I could see the sky. It was blue.

"That—" Cassius began, getting to his feet, "that was all theatrics?"

Felix nodded. "Wind machines and projectors!"

"The sky—" I pointed meekly upwards, "that was projectors?"

Felix frowned. "What sky?"

"The dark clouds," Cassius said. "Like a storm."

Felix's grin faltered for a moment, then he laughed. "Oh, come on, don't play dumb. The projectors just show the ruins in its former glory."

"And the cell?" Cassius said. "We ran away, but we ended up right back here."

"W-well you must have taken a wrong turn—"

"Felix," Cassius said, taking a deliberate step forward. "I know this place inside and out. I did not make a wrong turn."

Felix took a small step back, shaking his head. "I didn't do any of that, I swear! Just the cold breeze and the projections! That's all!"

"Wait—" I said. "What about the footsteps?"

"What footsteps?"

"Surely there were speakers…?"

Felix's face paled. "We— we haven't installed the speakers yet."

His words hung in the air, as a horrified, knowing silence stretched between us.

"Wait—" Felix said, breaking the spell. "So you're saying… it was real?" He raised a finger and gestured vaguely around the cell. "H-he was… here?"

Cassius and I shared a glance.

That was answer enough for Felix, who, with shaking hands, gripped the crucifix around his neck, stumbled around the corner, and disappeared. Cassius and I remained motionless as his footfalls receded down the corridor, then Cassius turned around.

"We should go too."

I nodded wordlessly, peeling myself off the wall before joining him in a purposeful stroll that turned into a desperate scamper.

We only stopped when Domus Flavia was a small brown mound under the setting sun.

"Hell of a first date, huh?" Cassius said, catching his breath. "Haunted by Saint Valentine himself. How many people can say that?"

I laughed breathlessly. "How about for our second date, we grab a cup of tea?"

Cassius' gaze softened and he laughed too. "Sounds perfect. Oh, and," He held out a hand. "Happy Valentine's Day, Auggie." He winked, launching me into a fit of painful giggles. My face and lungs burning, I took his hand.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Cass."