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The familiar door stands before him, and yet Mikleo can't force himself to reach out, to push it open and step inside.
Grass shuffles beneath his sole as he drags it over the breeze-fluttering greenery; his fingers tug at the leather gloves of the other hand. His heart is stuck in his throat, like a lump that refuses to leave, no matter how many times he swallows around it.
Someone passes by, gazing at him with a curious expression. He nods a silent yes to their question of 'are you alright?' Honestly, he doesn't even register who it is, too focused on the wear and tear on the weathered door.
They must leave, because everything fades to quiet again, all seraphim retreated into their homes and only the distant sound of crickets and birds chirping reaching Mikleo's ears. And in the quiet as he can hear his heartbeat with a little too much clarity, he finally reaches out and curls his almost unfeeling fingers around the handle.
And he twists.
Opening a simple door shouldn't be this hard, he chastises himself, but the anxiety still hangs over him, a thick fog settled over his shoulders and weighing him down.
Gramps' house is as warm and welcoming as ever, but not even the usually-soothing sounds of wood crackling in the fireplace calms him down.
"Hey Gramps," he greets, closing the door behind himself a little too carefully.
Gramps is sitting on the floor, smoking from another pipe Mikleo doesn't remember. "Mikleo, did something happen?"
Mikleo takes a deep breath; even still, his ribcage feels too small for his lungs. "I wanted to talk to you about something," he says, sitting down in front of the older seraph, coat spread behind him and fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.
"I'm listening."
Mikleo tugs at the fabric and searches for words. None of the speeches he'd practiced before come to mind.
"Gramps, I think I love Sorey," he confesses finally, unable to think of any other way than the direct one.
Gramps takes a deep pull of the pipe and breathes out a puff of smoke that rises to the ceiling in lazy swirls. "Is that what you've wanted to tell me?" he asks right back.
Mikleo looks away, feeling like he had messed up more than he'd initially thought. "Yes."
"You've already told me that, Mikleo," Gramps points out. He looks at Mikleo with soft eyes, and his voice doesn't have an angry inflection. "When you were a child, you told me every day for a week."
Mikleo thinks he's misunderstanding.
"Gramps, that's not what I meant... I mean I, think I'm in love with him. I keep wishing he would come back soon so I could kiss him."
Gramps hums, puffing out another big cloud of smoke. "I know," he says simply.
"Are you... not angry?" Mikleo asks tentatively, feeling confused more than anything. He figured Gramps would be furious about his confession, but he wanted to tell him either way.
"Mikleo, why would I be angry about how you feel? Love is a beautiful thing."
"But I- I thought you'd be angry... Since Sorey is a human and a man and all," he explains, starting to feel silly.
"Sorey grew up alongside us seraphim. You two were inseparable from day one. There is no one who knows you better than him and no one who knows Sorey better than you. You could fall in love with no one better," Gramps tells him, a soft edge to his voice that calms down Mikleo's speeding heart and erratic mind.
"Did you already know, Gramps?"
"Of course I did," Gramps answers readily. With each word, the warmth and coziness that was lacking returns to the house, and Mikleo's unconsciously tense shoulders relax. "You've told me a long time ago. I just said that."
Mikleo chuckles, nostalgia overtaking him as he remembers the days of playing around with Sorey when they used to be kids, loud laughter and affectionate glances from the older seraphim and muddy clothes and tickle fights and all the chases around the village. "We were kids. It was a different sort of love back then..."
"Was it, though, Mikleo?"
"Yes, of course! We were kids, we didn't know what-" Mikleo pauses, blinking into the calmly burning wood and sparks flying around the fireplace. "Maybe you're right, Gramps. Maybe I just didn't realize it back then."
"You were children," Gramps agrees, nodding slowly. "It's only natural. But now you know, and I have a question for you. Are you sure that love is strong enough to withstand this? It might be a century, five, maybe a millennia until Sorey returns. It will hurt you."
Mikleo looks down again. He didn't even realize he had started to play with his shirt again, so he lets go of the fabric and smooths it back down as best as he can. "I don't think I could ever love anyone else. So I have to wait, either way."
"The world is getting better. More and more humans are starting to perceive us," Gramps notes, "You two fought for a better world, and it's coming to fruition. Especially with your researches. So maybe the day you two are reunited is closer than we think."
They lapse into soft quiet and Gramps takes the time to pour leftover tea into a cup and hand it to Mikleo, who takes it gradually. The leaves have been left in too long, so the flavor clings to his taste buds, and the warm liquid filling his tummy feels nice after all the knots and flips earlier.
"Do you think he'll like it?" Mikleo asks softly, looking back up at Gramps. "The world, I mean. A lot has changed, and still is changing."
"I'm sure he will love any world with you in it."
"Thanks, Gramps," Mikleo utters, a smile worming its way onto his face. "That is really nice to hear."
"We both know him."
"Yeah. He would say something like that, wouldn't he?" Mikleo laughs. "I'm sure he won't like when I tell him that."
"Are you going to visit him again?" Gramps asks, taking another drag. Both of them know he didn't even need to ask to know the answer.
"Tomorrow," Mikleo nods, finishing his tea and setting the cup back down next to Gramps'. "So I should rest up."
"You should."
"Thank you, Gramps," Mikleo repeats. His anxiety had fallen off, replaced by the lull of exhaustion.
"Don't thank me, Mikleo. You are like my children, both of you, and I only want the best for you."
Mikleo smiles again. He truly feels silly for worrying, and leans in for a hug before standing up. Another thanks hangs on the tip of his tongue, but since Gramps already said not to say it, he keeps his mouth shut.
He's sure Sorey will love to hear all about this exchange, so he leaves Gramps and retreats to his house so he can wake up early to start his journey.