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“You idiot!”
Sorey turns his head despite the pounding, looking at Mikleo, who storms into the inn room, anger on his face as clear as day. He doesn’t even have enough time to open his mouth before the Seraph is jabbing his finger at his chest, suddenly up in his personal space.
“What’s this about?” Sorey asks, furrowing his brows.
“Don’t you ‘what’s this about’ me! What were you thinking earlier?! That hellion just about had your head!”
Mikleo spits the words out like venom. Sorey can’t help but chuckle nervously as he’s reminded of the hellion’s jaw snapping closed in the exact spot he’d been standing a moment earlier.
“But I’m fine, Mikleo!” he says, “You were there to step in!”
Mikleo’s look morphs into something darker, his hands shaking where they fall to his sides. “What if I’m not there?”
Sorey takes a step back, almost backing himself against the wall. The room isn’t very big, especially with Mikleo’s boiling anger. The Seraph, however, follows the steps fluidly and he’s back up in Sorey’s face faster than he’d gotten out of it.
“What would you have done if I wasn’t there today? You’d be headless now, rotting in the ground!”
“Mikleo…”
“You’re always so careless! Always so wide open! It’s like you’re asking the enemies to get you!”
“Mikleo!” Sorey cries out, placing his hands onto Mikleo’s shoulders. They’re shaking under his palms. “That’s not how it is! You’re just always had my back before, so I trust you!”
“I—” Mikleo’s protests, as well as his voice, die on the tip of his tongue. They eyes that Sorey loves so much lower. “I barely got there, Sorey,” he mutters in a small voice, so much unlike he’d been a moment ago.
“But you did.”
“Sorey, I could have not,” Mikleo empathises. “I could’ve been late. And so, so easily.”
“But you weren’t.”
“Sorey, don’t you understand?!” the Seraph hisses out. He raises his hands and places them on top of Sorey’s. His intent, at first, is to push them away, but he deflates, curling his fingers around them instead. “I could’ve lost you, and you’re telling me it would’ve been all my fault?”
“No,” Sorey breathes out in disbelief, “That’s not what I meant, Mikleo.”
“I know.” Mikleo squeezes his eyes shut, bringing one of the hands up to his cheek, leaning into it. Finally, all the hostility falls off of him, replaced by dejection. Sorey thinks maybe he’d preferred the anger more. “But do you know how scary it is? I want to help you, I came to help you, but… even I can’t do everything.”
“I don’t expect you to, Mikleo,” Sorey tells him, brows drawing together as he brushes the white fringe out of his face with a thumb. He brushes the thumb along Mikleo’s cheek, still reddened from his outburst. “I’m sorry, it sounds like I made it extra hard for you.”
“You’ve no idea how hard it is to even imagine losing you,” the shorter boy admits. “Not just because you’re the world’s hope now.”
Sorey chuckles, winding his arms around Mikleo. When he sits down, he pulls the Seraph along. He maneuvers Mikleo between his legs, to sit on his thighs. “I never wanted to worry you this much. We really aren’t in Elysia anymore, huh?”
“No, we aren’t,” Mikleo agrees, “It’d be nice to just hunt boars again and not worry about the end of the world.”
“Guess we didn’t know what we had until we lost it.”
Mikleo laughs, wrapping his arms around Sorey’s neck and burying his face into the crook of his neck.
“I’m really sorry, Mikleo,” Sorey mutters into the other’s ear, twirling the short hair on the back of Mikleo’s head around a finger. “I’ll be more careful from now on so I don’t worry you that much anymore.”
“Thanks, Sorey.”
“Why’re you thank me, dummy? I should be the one thanking you. You always worry and take care of me…”
“Well, if not me, who else would?”
“What, you don’t trust me to take care of myself?”
“Nope,” Mikleo says, too quickly, the smirk in his voice audible.
Sorey decides to jab his side for that comment, though he doesn’t have a rebuttal. He regrets it immediately when Mikleo jerks upright, hitting Sorey’s chin with his head on the way.
“Ow…” Mikleo grumbles, rubbing his head.
“You hit me, why’re you ‘ow’ing!” the Shepherd exclaims, nursing his jaw. It doesn’t really hurt, but still.
“Well, you did it yourself, you don’t get to complain,” Mikleo says, sticking out his tongue.
Sorey laughs, “Fair enough.”
“You should rest, we’re gonna leave Ladylake tomorrow,” Mikleo points out, standing out. He’s about to go back into Sorey’s mind, but the boy grasps his wrist and pulls him back; he leans back and they both topple onto the covers.
“We might not be in Elysia anymore,” he says, reading the confusion on Mikleo’s face, “but that doesn’t mean everything has to change.”
A smile breaks out on Mikleo’s face as he snorts. “Isn’t this bed too small for the two of us?”
“When did that ever stop us?”