Work Text:
With several kisses to the cheek, many teary good-byes, and the endurance of several crushing hugs, Sorey was on his way to the city. The departure had been a long time coming; Gramps had gotten the knowing look in his eye, the one that Sorey knew meant he’d been scouring tea leaves with a tad too much enthusiasm. Mason, his former teacher, had told him there was nothing left for him to teach, (“I followed divination, Sorey, not potions”), bidding him a fond good-luck and a clap on the shoulder. Everyone had seemed to know Sorey would leave before he’d even decided to leave himself.
“You’d best be off,” Gramps had told him, not unkindly. “Be careful.”
That was all he’d said, the affection left unspoken. Sorey knew it was there anyway.
Despite his reluctance to leave his family, he is excited. Every crunch of his boots in the grass is another step towards the city- the place he’d only gotten to read about in his magic books, that spoke of vibrant colors and vendors and demonstrations of powerful magic in the paved streets.
And the people- Sorey had never seen so many in one place. He figures there must be some sort of event going on in the city, because the well-trod dirt trail he walks is full of witches and wizards, gossiping and laughing and silencing crying children. Sorey is a bit behind the crowd; his pace is slower, as he takes the time to look in wonder at the silhouette of the city outlined on the horizon.
Which is probably why he doesn’t notice all the extra noise until it was too late.
A breath is forced from his lips when something hard and heavy collides into his head, and he goes down, knees grinding painfully into the rocky dirt. His ears are ringing, and he swipes at them around the back of his head, disoriented, only to have something sticky and wet meet his fingertips. He stares in disbelief in what appeared to be his own blood on his fingertips.
“-h, sorry about that-” he catches between the ringing of his ears, and he looks up hazily to find what appeared to be the figure of a girl, red the foremost color in the blur.
He thinks for a moment that it's just the continuation of his vision problems, but as he blinks, the red comes into focus as her hair, cut short and pretty.
His mouth moves to form words, possibly a question, but all that comes out is a dazed groan. At least his ears stop ringing.
“Can I fix that?” The girl asks, and Sorey nods before he knows what he's agreeing to.
The girl wraps a hand around his forearm, searing blinding heat into his skin. He recoils, hissing, but her grip is steadfast iron, refusing to let him pull away. Sorey bites his tongue, tasting the tang of rust as blood met his teeth, and the heat surges into his mouth. He parts his lips in a wordless yell, and just as he thought it would never end, it recedes, slow and creeping.
The feeling leaves him warm, like he’d been under the sun in mild temperatures for a few hours. It's deceptively nice, but he remembers all-too-well the burning that had preceded.
“What-” Sorey clears his throat. Everything comes into abrupt focus, and his eyes flutter in his sudden disorientation.
“What, this your first time with healing magic?” The red-haired girl asks, and Sorey tilted his head.
“Healing…”
“Yeah, healing,” She taps his shoulder. “Turn around.”
He complies, unsure of why exactly he was following her blindly. “Okay.”
She hums behind him, sounding satisfied. “You’re good. Wow, I’m pretty okay at this whole magic thing!”
“You mean-” Sorey turns back around, furrowing his eyebrows. “-You…”
“Yep, I was kinda just going off memory,” the girl grins. “Glad it all worked out. What’s your name?”
“Sorey,” He smiles at her infectious cheerfulness. “Thanks.”
“No prob!” She gets to her feet, brushing her hands across her thighs. Dirt is swept away from the motion in a little cloud. “I’m Rose, by the way.” She extends a hand.
Sorey takes it, pulling himself to his feet. “Thank you, Rose.”
“Sure.”
Sorey glances down at his hands, turning them over in awe. There's no trace of his blood. “Amazing,” he mutters, more to himself. He’d read about healing magic, of course; but he’d never actually seen it in work. He’d grown up around his extended family, who were all predisposed to elemental artes- which he’d found out was highly rare. He hadn’t inherited the ability himself. He isn’t technically a wizard; he's studying potion-making, a trade that required very little magical inclination. Luckily, there were plenty of others like him.
Rose huffs a laugh, breaking him from his thoughts. “Hardly. I’d blame that guy,” She jerks a thumb behind her, rolling her eyes. A little boy, looking to be about six, is hovering behind her, chewing on his thumb, clothed in small black robes with little decorative stars. Sorey hadn’t even seen him. “He was practicing his ice artes. Still hasn’t gotten the hang of it, obviously.”
“Oh!” Sorey beams at him, but the boy just retreats further behind Rose. “You know seraphic artes? That’s really cool!”
Rose was giving him a weird look. “You almost look pleased to be hit in the head.”
Sorey grins sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “Well…I guess I haven’t met a lot of people who can.”
He's just pleasantly surprised to meet someone who could use seraphic artes that wasn’t in his family.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Rose says, and Sorey laughs a little, dropping his hand.
“Is it that obvious?”
“A little,” Rose grins. “Hey, that’s alright. I can show you around. Where are you headed?”
“Oh...Ladylake,” Sorey answers, glancing back towards the city. “I have to find Lailah.”
Lailah is a pretty well-known name, so he isn’t surprised when Rose’s eyes widen in recognition. “Oh!” She gasps, and clapps her hands together. “That’s where I’m going!”
“What?” Sorey stares, then feels a smile tug at his mouth. “That’s great!”
“Well, come on, then,” Rose reaches behind her, clapping a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I promised to bring this little guy by the market first, so we’d better walk fast.”
Sorey checks the sky. The sun is sinking, but still in the better part of late afternoon. He hadn’t even noticed how long he’d been walking. “Okay.”
The walk passes with no additional problems, and Sorey finds himself laughing and talking with Rose with an unexpected kind of familiarity. Rose is easygoing, and it's simply fun to travel with her. It didn’t feel like long before they were standing at the city gates, and then they were in- and Sorey was in the city he’d heard endless tales about, the loud bustle assaulting his senses.
He breathes in the air. It's warm, fresh; it smells faintly of spring grass and the residual crackle of ozone. The magic tingling through the city, simply from the presence of so many wizards and witches present, makes him shiver.
The architecture is stunning. Houses slant together in elegant arcs, curving gently into corners. Balconies are graced with intricate ironwork, dotted with plants here and there, and the paved cobblestone spreads out before him in a wide road crowded by passerby. It's cracked and crumbling in certain areas, speaking of the old age of the city, and Sorey can’t help but feel incredibly new, especially when he seems to be the only one gawking at the scenery.
“The market’s that way,” Rose mentions, and Sorey’s focus snaps back to her. She's smiling a little at him, something like fondness in her eyes. “I was the same way when I got here.” She glances around, eyes lingering on the bright banners furled around poles. “I couldn’t stop looking.”
She turns back to him after a moment. “Let’s keep going, yeah?”
Sorey nods, stepping on, but his eyes are still drawn everywhere. The place never seems to run out of incredible sights; his focus lands on a giant, creaky waterwheel, set in a sparkling waterway. It's obviously no longer in use- probably from the Pre-Magical Era- but it's still impressive. And then there was the cathedral, looming over the block that they were heading towards, complete with eye-catching stained glass windows and smooth carved stone.
The market is a haze of clashing aromas and vivid cloth. Street performers line the square, boasting of tricks and pretty magic, bowing at the drop of a coin. People are everywhere,more than Sorey had ever seen in one place, bartering and organizing their stands. It's a bit overwhelming, how much there is to look and see- he catches a glimpse of what looked disturbingly like eyeballs in jars at a shady stand, and the next moment he sees a cat slinking away from a food stand, sausage clutched firmly in its jaws, purple eyes gleaming.
Before he could hope to take it all in, Rose is greeting two women holding hands, who lean down to hug and kiss the cheeks of the little brown-haired boy that had been following them almost silently.
“Thanks for looking after him,” One of the women laugh, ruffling the boy’s hair, and Rose nods. In the next instant, Sorey's being tugged away, away from the market and the confusing clamor.
“See you tomorrow!” Rose hollers, and then Sorey is whisked back onto the street.
“Where are we going?” Sorey asks, a little disappointed that they had left so soon.
“To Lailah!” Rose declares. “That was just a quick errand. I’m still bringing you there, obviously.”
Oh, right. Sorey had almost forgotten in the chaos of the city what he was even there for. He is definitely lucky he had met Rose. Trying to find Lailah’s place in the huge sprawl of the city alone would’ve been difficult.
As they walk, Sorey couldn’t help but wonder. “Why are you going to Lailah’s place, anyway?”
“Oh, I’m a new apprentice. I just switched over to her, haven’t even met her yet.”
“You do potions?” Sorey blinks, surprised. He had assumed Rose would be following her magic inclination. It wasn’t common to switch from a magical trade to a non-magical trade.
“No,” Rose laughs at that. “She does teach other trades, you know. I reckon there’ll be, like, five other apprentices or something.”
Sorey falls silent, thinking that over. He's extremely glad he will know someone, at least a little bit, in this unfamiliar place. “How, though?” He asks after a moment.
“She had a lot of time on her hands, I guess,” Rose explains, and shrugs. “Anyway, we’re here.”
Sorey follows her footsteps, taking it all in at a glance. Lailah’s house is big enough for three bedrooms, with a small attic and jauntily slanted roof. The place looks pleasant enough, with green grass threatening to grow over the rose-colored tiles of the walkway to the porch. A windchime gently tinkles in the wind, a pretty spiral of blown glass, and it all gives of a homely impression- not too big, just cozy. Rose stops between the two potted flowers on the porch, rapping smartly on the wooden door.
There's a loud crash behind the door. Sorey winces, looking back to the windchime in awkward concern.
“Edna-” Sorey hears a voice faintly through the walls, quickly joined by a second.
“No, Meebo, you get the door-”
The door opens in the midst of an offended huff, and then a boy Sorey’s age is peeking out, violet eyes landing on Rose.
Sorey had just walked through half of the city, surrounded by beautiful sights and magic, but this boy is what makes his breath catch in his throat. Sorey knows he is staring, but he can’t possibly help himself.
“Hey,” Rose greets, like a normal person. “We’re here for Lailah.”
“She’s out at the…” The boy begins, and his gaze finally flicks over to Sorey before his words trail off. His eyes land on Sorey’s, and Sorey is trying desperately not to look at his long lashes and striking eyes and layered hair and...well, he's utterly failing.
The boy clears his throat, eyes turning back to Rose. “...market. What is it?”
Sorey is still kind-of-maybe staring, so he doesn’t fail to notice the slight blush gracing his cheeks, hidden only partially by the graceful sweep of his silvery hair.
“We’re new apprentices,” Rose says, and there was a hint of a smirk on her lips when Sorey finally looks back to her. “We just got to Ladylake.”
“Oh, Lailah mentioned...” The boy murmurs, and opens the door a little more, revealing his torso. Long, pale blue robes grace his shoulders, clasped together at the neck with a small golden insignia, centered with a glittering green stone. Under his robes are a simple dark grey tunic, and a belt holds his crisp white trousers. The boy is barefoot, as if he hadn’t been outside all day. He parts his lips again, probably about to say something else, but he's interrupted by another voice.
“Waterboy! What’re you standing there for?”
Sorey watches as Mikleo’s face flushes a deeper red, this time in apparent irritation. He turns back, clenching his fist a little on the side of the doorway. “It’s Mikleo! For the last time-I’ve known you for what, seven months, and you still-”
“Whatever, Meebo,” comes the returning voice, and Sorey laughs despite himself at the frankly absurd nickname. Sorey can’t imagine what imagination could have conjured up that one.
And then the boy- Mikleo- looks back to Sorey, eyes a little wide.
Sorey shifts onto his other foot, smiling nervously. His laugh dies in his throat. Mikleo looks lost for words, hand still hanging on the door.
Rose is looking between them. “Mind letting us in?” She says, after a very long tortuous moment, and Sorey can’t help but be thankful for her unceasing confidence.
“Yeah,” Mikleo’s voice is a bit shaky when he at last opens the door fully. Rose steps in, Sorey following. Mikleo shifts to let them pass, turning back to close the door again with the quiet click of a lock.
Sorey’s mouth finally decides to start working. “Thanks,” Sorey says sincerely, fully intending to say more, but it was all he could manage. He decides to count it as a victory.
Mikleo flushes under his gaze. Sorey's starting to think the blush is adorable, and that's a very dangerous trail of thoughts, so he quickly turns to look around.
A blond girl, short and delicately built, is behind Mikleo in the entryway. She looks petite and unassuming, until she opens her mouth and the same dry, sarcastic voice they had heard is back. “You didn’t even greet them, Meebo. What a failure.”
“H-hey!” Mikleo actually stutters, and glares at the girl. “Fine!”
He turns, crossing his arms indignantly and locking eyes with Rose. “Right, I’m Mikleo, no matter what she says.”Sorey has to press his lips together to keep from smiling.
“And the jerk behind me-ow!” Mikleo cuts off abruptly, and for good reason. The girl behind him had literally thrown a rock at his head and he grimaces, hand going to the back of his neck as Sorey watches. "Damn it, Edna!"
“Are you okay?” Sorey rushes to ask, concern overriding any anxiety he has, and Mikleo seems to shrink a little.
“I’m...fine.” He mumbles, not meeting Sorey’s eyes.
“Heh. Blushing Meebo. Bleebo.” The girl cuts in.
Mikleo’s posture visibly fills with rage. “Edna, I swear to god-”
“Just because I’m a lady doesn’t mean you have to introduce me,” the girl says, and turns to them, smirking. “I’m Edna.”
Mikleo makes a frustrated noise. Sorey is god-awful at divination, but he can probably predict with certainty that Mikleo's easily irritated by Edna, and that this is a common occurrence.
Rose looks like she's trying not to laugh. “I’m Rose.” She turns expectantly to Sorey.
Right. Introductions. Sorey was appreciative, once again, that Rose can easily ground him. “Hi, I’m Sorey.”
“Nice to meet you ,” Mikleo says, and looks over to Edna pointedly.
“What?” Edna retrieves the rock from the ground, inspecting it. Sorey sees what looks like purple sparkles on it before Edna shoves it into the back of her glove, which looks suspiciously lumpy. Sorey suspects it's the comrades of the thrown rock.
“Nothing. I don’t know why I expected you to have manners.”
“At least I’m not lovestruck, Bleebo.”
“What-” Mikleo splutters, going an even deeper shade of red. Sorey is mildly concerned for his health. “Oh my gosh, you have a comeback for everything-”
“It’s a talent,” Edna fires back, and the renewed irritation Mikleo’s expression sports make Sorey wonder if Mikleo ever had a moment of peace in this house.
Edna turned out to be studying divination, with the unique bit being that she read rocks instead of tea leaves or the stereotypical crystal ball witches and wizards sometimes preferred for nostalgic reasons. Which was a little odd, even for the various trades in divination, but Sorey supposed it worked for Edna. Between her, Rose, and Sorey, Sorey was turning out to be the only one without magic. He wasn’t envious, but he certainly wished there was another apprentice strictly studying potions. As it was, his sessions with Lailah- a motherly figure, if somewhat random and whimsical- were spent alone for the most part. Edna drops in occasionally to snark, and Rose chats with him when she isn’t learning herself.
Sorey hadn’t gotten to know Mikleo at all, really. He didn’t even know what he was studying, for god's sake, although he had a few fairly good guesses from the nicknames Edna threw out daily. They all slept in the same room, but Mikleo seemed to retreat whenever Sorey was around, which Sorey was both a bit relieved and disappointed by. He didn’t have to be flustered daily, but he also really wanted to get to know Mikleo, not half because he was the most eye-catching person Sorey had ever met. But it was clear Mikleo wasn’t extremely sociable, and Sorey hardly saw him other than when they all went to bed.
So the last thing Sorey expects is to find him outside late at night, practicing.
Sorey barely remembers how he’d even ended up finding him; he sort of remembers something about getting up to grab a glass of water after a bad dream, and coming across...this.
Mikleo’s skin is lit only by the ethereal glow of his magic swirling around him. Blue light- the residual traces of his magic- fills the swirling water he commands as he slashes and whirls, twisting the water into shapes and forms.
Sorey’s entranced by all of it- his eyes can’t tear away from the glorious display of strength and precision. He thinks, vaguely, something about how he’s found out what Mikleo’s studying. It can only be water seraphic artes. He’s not paying too much attention to his thoughts. It’s hard to in the face of a show like this.
Mikleo’s eyes are closed, his expression deep in concentration. He flicks his hands- he’s one of the wizards who prefer hand movements to words, evidently- and trembles as the water gathers together sluggishly.
It’s forming something- Sorey can’t quite make it out- when it all breaks loose in a giant whoosh, and Mikleo falls to his knees, water splashing to the ground. Little blue sparks dance from his skin as Mikleo sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.
“Come on,” Mikleo mutters, voice barely audible.
Sorey’s so tired of never saying anything to him that all of his barriers are down and he doesn’t even think twice about approaching.
His boots splash in the water, and Mikleo instantly jerks, looking up to find him. His eyes look a little panicked, but they soften when they recognize Sorey.
“That’s amazing,” Sorey tells him, pausing in front of his kneeled form. He reaches a hand out, and Mikleo eyes it a moment before taking it.
His hand is cool to the touch. It gives Sorey all kinds of unnecessary urges to drape blankets all over him and make him hot tea. Stop it, stop it.
“Thank you,” Mikleo sighs, and he just looks worn out. “I can’t get it, though.”
Sorey doesn’t have to ask- he just assumes it’s the failed spell. “I’m sure you will,” Sorey encourages, and there’s absolute certainty in his voice.
Mikleo looks up at him, and Sorey has to smile. His hair is sticking up in odd places, probably from the sparks of his magic, and he just looks endearingly exhausted.
“You’re practicing, after all,” Sorey clarifies. “More than I ever have. Come on, it’s cold.”
It’s true. There’s a distinct chill in the air, a warning of the winter months on its way, and Sorey’s truthfully trying to ignore the bite of the cold. He’s without his usual cape, after all- he’s dressed only in a light cotton shirt and soft trousers, and Mikleo doesn’t look to be any warmer-clothed.
He tugs on Mikleo’s hand, but Mikleo stays where he is. “I’ve got to keep trying.”
Sorey looks him over. “How long have you been out here?”
Mikleo’s ducked head gives enough of an answer, and Sorey sighs. Mikleo follows this time when he tugs.
Sorey leads him to the closed door of the shared bedroom, and then ducks back to the potions storeroom. When he comes back, Mikleo’s slid down to the floor, leaning against the door. Sorey smiles a little at that. He wonders, briefly, how often Mikleo’s been out alone, practicing until he was too weary to walk.
“Here,” Sorey says, and hands him a vial. It’s filled to the brim with an amber-brown liquid, and in the light of the moon from the window it looks almost like it’s glowing orange.
Mikleo takes it, glancing down and then back at Sorey in confusion.
“It’s just for warmth,” Sorey smiles. “Try it.”
Mikleo tips his head back, downing it, and Sorey has to look away for a moment. When he glances back, Mikleo’s wiping a hand across his mouth, and he passes the vial back to Sorey.
“It tastes like chocolate,” Mikleo says, and there’s a little smile on his mouth. Sorey’s never seen it before. It’s a little amazing.
“Yeah, Lailah said I could experiment with flavor because it wasn’t a complicated potion anyway.”
“You made it?” Mikleo blinks.
Sorey nods.
“Oh,” Mikleo’s smile widens, and he leans back further. “Oh, that feels really...nice.”
“I’m glad,” Sorey says. “But you shouldn’t fall asleep there, you’ll hurt your back.”
“Hmm,” Mikleo just hummed, making no move to get up.
Sorey laughs a bit, resisting the urge to do something stupid like fix his tousled hair. He pulls Mikleo up again, who follows the movement without resistance.
It ends up becoming a regular thing. Sorey, when he wasn’t too tired, usually comes out to watch Mikleo practice. Sometimes he wakes up at the shake of Mikleo’s hand on his shoulder, and smiles sheepishly before they both decide to head in. Sometimes he's awake the entire time, feeling as if he could never tire of the otherworldly grace Mikleo and his magic possessed, feeling lucky he could see this. Sometimes he's too tired to come out, but he always wakes up at some point to remind Mikleo not to overexert himself, and Mikleo would sigh and drag his heels, but he’d always follow him inside.
They started talking, more and more.
Mikleo’s favorite color is green.
His favorite season is autumn.
Sorey never thought he’d be so happy to know these things about a person.
Mikleo even starts dropping into Sorey’s lessons with Lailah, much like Edna and Rose still did.
Which is how they end up like this, bickering- admittedly- a bit like children, under Lailah’s amused eye.
“What is this, anyway?”
“Something important,” Sorey says, and ignores Mikleo’s snort.
“I’m sure a potion for uh…” Mikleo leans over Sorey’s shoulder, exhaling hotly. “...energy is important. Seriously? You’re making an energy drink?”
“It is!” Sorey narrows his eyes at the roots chopping finely. “And stop breathing on me, it’s really annoying!”
“Oh, really?” Mikleo puffs air on his shoulder, and Sorey turns back to glare, only to knock heads with him.
“Ow!”
“That was your fault, you don’t get to say ow-” Mikleo leans back, rubbing at his forehead.
“Mikleo-” Sorey whines, dragging out the syllable, trying to ignore the smarting on his own forehead.
“Don’t say my name like that, Sorey-” Mikleo starts to mimic.
“-Hey, I need that!” Sorey protests, slapping Mikleo’s hand away from where it had been inching towards the chocolate.
“Not as much as me,” Mikleo retorts, and snatches a piece before popping it in his mouth. He grins smugly at Sorey, and Sorey has to shake his head.
“Mikleo, I wouldn’t advise eating the ingredients,” Lailah says, voice warm. “They have been in my family’s crypt for several decades.”
Mikleo looks horrified for all of a brief second before Sorey feels somewhat bad and informs him that it was just a joke.
“Right...crypt. Should’ve known,” Mikleo mutters, looking a little embarrassed. He speaks from under his fingers, hand over his mouth, which Sorey’s long recognized as his trademark ‘mortified’ gesture.
“It’s okay, Mikleo,” Sorey’s trying not to laugh, and Mikleo huffs at him, noticing his twitching lips.
“Whatever,” Mikleo says.
Mikleo becomes sort of like his “taste-tester”, which quickly becomes a useless job when Sorey starts learning more complicated potions that would be ruined with any extra decent tasting ingredients. His short career ends as soon as Sorey brews a concoction to breathe underwater, and he tastes it only to gag at the unfortunate hint of manure. (Mikleo complains for weeks after of ruined taste buds, to Sorey’s endless laughter.) He ends up just sitting companionably next to Sorey, knees brushing ever so slightly, watching quietly- or sometimes not, but it’s never boring.
Sorey’s leaning over to dice chunks of sweetmelon one day when Mikleo yawns distractingly in his ear.
“What’re you making again?” He slurs sleepily, and Sorey finds him leaning against his shoulder, eyes half-lidded.
Sorey swallows, trying to ignore how unguarded and cute he is when he’s sleepy. “Good-luck potion.”
“Mm. Sounds nice.”
“Sorey, those need to be more finely chopped.”
“Like this?” Sorey starts to say, and the knife jerks when Mikleo exhales on his neck.
Sorey breathes out a pained groan, and Lailah says something like “oh dear” before leaving, probably to fetch Rose.
Mikleo lifts his head quick, shifting around to sit in front of him. Sorey’s hand is throbbing, but he’s had worse, so he just sits.
Mikleo looks more concerned than him. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Sorey laughs. “That was just a dumb mistake.”
“You should be more careful,” Mikleo says, frowning, and Sorey falls silent as Mikleo picks up his hand. He turns it over, examining the gash, and all Sorey can think about is how nice it feels.
Mikleo nods after his brief assessment. “You’ll be fine.”
“I know,” Sorey shakes his head, amused. Although his eyes are on Mikleo’s, all of his focus is still on his hand, where Mikleo seems to have forgotten he’s left his hand there.
It’s juvenile, getting worked up about holding hands, but it’s just what leaves Sorey blushing all the same.
The sound of the door creaking open makes Mikleo start, but it’s only Rose.
“Heard you got yourself injured again,” Rose says, rolling her eyes and striding over. “Honestly, Sorey.”
“Oops?” Sorey hazards a smile, and Rose bends down, though she seems less irritated.
“You should be more careful,” Rose tells him.
“I’ve heard that one before,” Sorey mutters, glancing at Mikleo, who just laughs a little.
“Sorey, it heals faster if you actually give me your hand, you know,” Rose tactfully doesn’t mention the fact that they’re kind of holding hands- oh god- but there’s a knowing look in her eye and Sorey accepts the fact that teasing will be inevitable later.
Mikleo looks down, but he doesn’t pull away instantly, like Sorey had thought he would. Sorey takes the leap and squeezes his hand briefly before releasing. He’s too nervous to face Mikleo’s reaction, so he obligingly offers his hand to Rose and doesn’t veer from her gaze.
The heat is just as blinding as the first time, burning and surging up his arm with a fiery vengeance. Thankfully, it does fade quicker this time, and Sorey has to wonder if it was because of the lower scale of the injury or if direct contact really did help.
“Mikleo, come with me,” Lailah voices from the doorway, and Mikleo gets up, looking back one last time with an expression Sorey can’t read.
“Are you coming around tonight?” Mikleo asks.
“Yeah,” Sorey says, and then he’s gone, sweeping past in a swish of light blue robes.
“What was that all about? And don’t think I didn’t see you guys holding hands,” Rose chimes in threateningly, before Sorey can even open his mouth.
“Uh…”
“‘Uh’ is right, you nerd,” Rose starts in, eyes holding a dangerous look to them. Sorey shrinks back a bit. “You promised you’d tell me when something happened, ‘cause you wouldn’t stop bothering me, and here we are-”
Oh, right. Sorey did remember agreeing to something the last time Rose had cornered him, after seeing him laughing with Mikleo.
Rose was still rambling. Sorey tunes back in. “-and wow, lo and behold, the person I thought would never make a move-”
“-Okay, okay,” Sorey laughs, waving his hands. “Look, it just kind of...happened?”
“Sorey,” Rose looks exasperated.
When Sorey finishes with his errands for Lailah- apprenticeship wasn’t exactly free, after all- Mikleo is already practicing, and Sorey settles in for a wait.
“Sorey,” Mikleo calls after a few minutes, and he gets up, a little confused by the break in their routine.
When he gets there, he has to wait patiently while Mikleo catches his breath. Sweat is glistening on his forehead, and it takes him a good minute before he speaks again.
“I’ve been practicing something with Lailah,” Mikleo says.
“Okay…?” Sorey’s still incredibly confused.
“I need you here for it,” Mikleo says, and there’s a hint of a blush on his cheeks. That, or it’s the aftermath of his exertion. Sorey decides the latter for his own mental stability.
Sorey nods. He’s close, closer than he’s ever been to Mikleo while casting, and he can see the faint glow of blue in his eyes as he concentrates his magic. It’s stunning, and more than enough to make Sorey’s heart flutter nervously. The slight shimmer of blue on his face swirls as Mikleo spreads his hands, and Sorey watches as he curls them, long, thin fingers tucking into fists.
The water dances before Mikleo’s hands, skittering hesitantly around them.
“Come on,” Mikleo mutters, and Sorey silently hopes for his sake, though he has no real idea what’s even going on.
Gradually, water slips around them, rising in mid-air. Mikleo’s fists tighten, and slowly travel towards his chest.
Sorey watches in awe as a thin layer of water curves over their heads, sealing with the other rising walls. As Mikleo’s fists start to relax, the water curves even more gently, rounding into a sphere around them both.
Mikleo opens his eyes, leaning forward. He comes face-to-face with Sorey, and Sorey grins, wide.
“You did it!” Sorey says, and Mikleo’s definitely blushing now.
He looks even more beautiful under the soft shine of the blue light, features soft and curved. His eyes, the stunning violet Sorey’s never really gotten used to, are gentle as they look at Sorey.
“I did it,” Mikleo says, voice disbelieving, and then his gaze flicks to behind Sorey, at the layer of water. “I did it,” He says again, and then laughs, bright. “I did it!”
Mikleo looks so happy Sorey can’t really handle it. He just stares, much like he had the first day they had met, and thinks about how lucky he is.
He’s a romantic at heart. He’s sappy as hell. Mikleo’s teased him about it before.
He blames that on why he can’t look away.
Mikleo may be oblivious sometimes, but Sorey can’t possibly make the look on his face any more obvious. When Mikleo looks back, his smile fades, replaced by something unreadable.
Sorey opens his mouth, ready to congratulate Mikleo properly instead of staring, but Mikleo shakes his head.
“Sorey,” He says, and waits. The seconds drip by, and Sorey turns his gaze up, eyes tracing over the shell of water.
“Can I…” Mikleo’s words are unsure, but he pushes on. “Sorey, can-”
“Yes,” Sorey breathes, because Mikleo’s leaning forward and so is he and then they’re meeting, and it’s warm and soft and gentle and slow and thousands of things Sorey couldn’t begin to name.
He’s kissing Mikleo. He’s actually kissing Mikleo. Sorey makes a noise into his mouth, finally processing, and grabs Mikleo’s shoulders in order to keep his knees from buckling.
Mikleo misinterprets, because he quickly pulls back, looking anywhere but at Sorey.
“I’m-” Mikleo starts, but before his mouth can even form the word sorry Sorey’s pulling him back. He pulls back a tad too hard, and both of them end up tumbling backwards into the mud. Mikleo makes a wheezing noise between a kettle and a dying sheep and Sorey’s laughing before they even hit the ground.
They spend a good minute just laughing, at each other and at themselves, and when their laughter finally dies out, they bump noses again when Mikleo leans down to capture his lips again. And then Sorey’s just giggling into Mikleo’s mouth, and he can feel the smile on Mikleo’s lips.