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Accept it and move on.
This is the way that Mikleo’s mind has always worked. Unless his emotions arise from something which will truly stand in his and his friends’ way, such as back when Sorey had refused Mikleo becoming a Sub Lord, there is never a need to let emotions control him or his actions.
“So I was a sacrifice.”
It is stated in a matter-of-fact manner. Blank and unemotional. As though the fact that he has seen himself be sacrificed by his own family means nothing to him. This surprises the others. After all, will this not affect him emotionally? Surely anyone would be in despair if they heard this news? Saw themselves be used, their life as a baby thrown away, betraying the woman who had begged for her son to be saved.
“You can cry if you want.”
No. No, he can’t. Because there are far more important things which are occurring for them. All of their battles, their hardships and acceptances, the future which lies in store – they cannot waste time with Mikleo crying and having to be comforted. Not when they have the world to save, what feels like a lifetime’s worth of responsibilities weighing heavily on their shoulders.
“I told you I’m not going to cry!”
It is likely obvious that the words are defensive. Perhaps it is as clear as day what he is truly feeling. Sometimes, he does well to hide his emotions and how he truly feels. He did so long ago with his feelings for Sorey; he held onto the frustrations he felt before they stood in the way. But perhaps this is a little too soul-destroying to truly be hidden. Perhaps he is expecting too much of himself by hiding it.
Because it hurts. How badly it hurts to know that his life had not meant more than it did. That even if he was in despair, Michael still did not hesitate to use the life of his nephew. A tiny, helpless baby who had not yet experienced the world. Who did not yet have the chance to make friends, to form intelligent thoughts, to even speak. Is this why it had not mattered? Because his life had not yet meant something?
He could have been human. Up until now, the worries he had over being a seraph were easily controlled. But now, with the knowledge that he was once a human for such a limited amount of time, he cannot push aside the negative thoughts in regards to what he is so easily. The words ‘what if’, the images of the fire which he had been trapped inside play repeatedly in his mind. Yet he tries his absolute best to not let any of it show.
He knows that he will have to give some time to address his emotions and how he feels. If he doesn’t, they will consume him, which will make him utterly useless to Sorey. He cannot let it break him. But he also cannot let himself give into his emotions whilst he is in the presence of others. Ignoring the concerned glances and their obvious worry, he keeps his face blank. The opposite of how he feels inside.
However, he knows that acting this way will arise suspicion and doubt. It is no wonder that when the party make their way to the inn, a hand takes hold of his sleeve, bringing him to a stop.
“Hey,” the voice of Sorey says gently, “are you really okay?”
Mikleo forces a smile, yet he cannot meet Sorey’s eyes. He knows what emotions will lay there, how they will likely make him break down there and then. The eyes which seem to make him grow weaker more than anything else did.
He answers whilst still avoiding Sorey’s gaze. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? It’s a surprise, sure, but I’m not sad.” He tugs his arm away from Sorey’s grip. “Come on, you need to eat something,” he says, before heading inside without one glance at Sorey’s face. He does not want to see that worry, the sadness he likely caused by walking away with barely a word.
It seems as though that after Mikleo’s defensiveness earlier on, the party know better than to pry further and that Mikleo will come to them if he needs to. He is glad about this. Yet he hates himself for how there is also a small amount of frustration, a wish that they would show more worry. It is not because he wants the attention. He wants anything but that right now. No, it is more because he wants to know that they understand his pain. The pain caused by feeling as though you mean nothing to the world.
But they will not truly understand unless he explains. And he has already chosen that he will not do this.
During the party’s meal, eaten in Sorey and Rose’s room, a little brightness returns to them. Food usually does bring joy as people are brought together. But Mikleo feels himself dissociating from all of it. The food tastes like cardboard, the chatter and laughter is distant, almost feeling as though it is not even in the same room as him. Yet he forces himself to play along and join in with their conversation. It is almost like someone else is speaking for him. Because this cheerfulness is not his. Any sliver of positivity cannot be his own.
It feels as though the night evening drags on for eternity. But eventually, it is time for the party to rest. Rose gently snores in one of the twin beds, and Mikleo finds himself pulled into Sorey’s hold in his sleep, both managing to fit onto the other bed. It is the one thing in his emotional state which can bring him a smile. He cannot remember for sure when his feelings towards Sorey had changed. All he can remember is the kiss which had started everything. Desperate lips which had pressed against his own in a panic, caused by an attack which seemed as though it could have been lethal. Luckily, it was a false alarm and Mikleo had been fine. But the sudden kiss changed everything, yet very little all at once.
Mikleo’s eyes open, his body stiffening as a realisation comes to him. That his and Sorey’s kinds were separated. That their first kiss would have brought nothing but happiness and hope for the future if things had been different. If Mikleo had never been trapped by immortality.
He has to get out of here. The room suddenly seems far too small. The arms around him, which are nothing but gentle, somehow feel like iron grips which trap him here. He needs to get out to somewhere, anywhere. A place he can shed as many tears as he needs to without anyone seeing or hearing him.
His hands place themselves on Sorey’s arms to gently ease them away from his stomach. His breathing hitches when he worries he has woken Sorey, and once he has sat up slowly, flinching over the creak of the inn’s old bed, he turns around to look at Sorey. To his relief, though Sorey’s eyebrows furrowed a little from the warmth of Mikleo leaving him, he remains still with his breathing heavy.
Mikleo realises that he never actually changed out of his normal clothes. His mind has been distant the whole evening. But now he recalls that Sorey had pulled him down into bed silently, his hold speaking the words that were not said; that Sorey knows Mikleo is suffering.
Mikleo casts aside the thought as he makes his way out of the room. He shuts the door quietly after himself, ensuring not to stir neither Sorey nor Rose, and begins to head outside. He is not exactly sure where the other Seraphim are, whether they are inside Sorey’s mind or are also outside. His answer soon arrives when he carefully makes his way out of the building.
“He can’t be as strong as he’s acting. That kind of news is just … it is heart-breaking.”
Lailah’s voice. His eyes glance to his right, seeing that her, Zaveid and Edna are sitting down together on the grass, facing the night sky which is above them.
“I guess he just doesn’t want to seem weak,” Zaveid responds. It is one of the rare times that Mikleo hears his voice in a completely serious tone, sadness evident in it.
“It’s not weak to cry,” says Edna. “I did enough of that over my brother. It’s normal to react that way.”
“I think he believes that he has to bottle everything up,” says Lailah. It sounds as though that she might cry herself. “Even though he should know by now that he never has to. We’re all here for each other, but … we can’t support him unless he lets us.”
“He’ll come to us in his own time, I suppose,” says Edna. “We just have to hope he doesn’t let this overcome him before then.”
He walks to the left quietly, away from their voices. He does not want to hear anymore. Not when he knows that regardless of what they say, he cannot come to them now or ever; not because he does not trust them, because he does. He has trusted them with his life countless times. But because he knows that speaking to them is what will cause him to break down. It will bring him to the state of being nothing but a liability for all of them. For Sorey.
His walking continues. He has no particular destination in mind, nor even the slightest idea about where he could go. He just needs to get away from the inn, from the seraphim, no matter where that place is. The heart beating faster in his chest, caused by how worked up he has become, is also beginning to ache. Perhaps it has done so since he heard the news, but he has only realised now.
He seems to come to a point where he no longer has the will to keep moving. As though now he is utter silence, darkness surrounding him, he does not have a reason nor capability to push his emotions away. An avalanche of pain crushes down on top of him. Feeling as though it is literal, it causes him to slump down onto the ground, his back pressed against a tree.
Then he howls. Slouching over with his hands reaching his face, he cries harder than he can remember doing so before. Grieving over the loss that is his human life. His body is taken over in convulsive trembles, his sobs choked and breathless. He hates it. He hates every moment of what causes him to seem this weak, this pathetic. Yet he gives into it anyway. Because he knows that there is no use in trying to stop it, especially not once he has started.
‘How worthless must I be to get thrown away like that? How can I be deserving of anything if my life started this way?’
He cannot stop these thoughts once they arrive. Each one seems to worsen the headache which is beginning to cause his temples to throb. His knees are brought up to his chest, hands holding over his head instead as his face buries into them. His throat has become so hoarse from crying for an unknown amount of time that he cannot hear it any longer, but he can still feel the tears trickling down his cheeks, each shake of his body, the pain burning in his throat and chest. How he is glad that no one can see him now.
Or at least, that is what he thinks. Because his body freezes as he hears footsteps heading towards him. Hesitant and unsure. He does not bear to look up and see who it is, but their voice is one he would never fail to recognise.
“Mikleo?”
Mikleo bites on his lip. He cannot listen to that voice, its gentleness and care. ‘Please. Don’t sound like that when you speak to me. You know it’ll make my walls break.’ But they have already began to do so.
“Hey, speak to me. Please.”
The figure has crouched in front of him, but he still cannot bring himself to look. This must be known, for instead of being spoken to again, he is pulled into a hug. The warm, strong arms which have always felt like they could protect him from anything, feel as though they hold no protection at all for the first time in Mikleo’s life. After all, what good can they do with something that is not physical, something which is already a part of the past and has now risen again to cause Mikleo this despair?
“I’m … I’m sorry, Sorey,” Mikleo manages to say weakly. He cannot find it in himself to return the embrace, but can at least rest his head against Sorey’s shoulder. His knees also lower so it is easier for Sorey to bring him closer.
“Why are you apologising? You’ve done nothing worth apologising for.”
But Mikleo shakes his head. “We don’t have time for me to be like this. I’m just going to bring each of you down if I keep giving into my emotions.”
“Mikleo, it’s important for you to react to them, otherwise it’s going to torture you. Please, let yourself be emotional. After what we learned about …”
Sorey cannot finish the sentence. He feels Mikleo’s body stiffen up before he pulls away. His eyes are averted to the side, his face turned so that Sorey cannot inspect it properly, but its not enough to hide his blotchy red cheeks, the eyes swollen from crying. Perhaps he had done so for longer than he realises.
But now, he finds that his eyes are dry, as though there are only so much tears that they can shed before they can no longer release any more. As though Sorey being here dried them. And as much as it pains Mikleo to know this, it is not for the pleasant, romantic reason you read in books, where you feel better from your lover’s embrace. It is simply because he cannot let Sorey see these tears any longer.
“I’m doing better now, see?” Mikleo says. He cannot bring a smile to his face, but he at least hopes that his voice is enough. “No need to worry.”
“Mikleo, I know you’re lying.”
Of course he does. And deep down, Mikleo appreciates the honesty. That part of him wants Sorey to see through those lies. But with his mind is as conflicted and overridden with pain as it is now, in response to the confusion he has over not understanding what he needs, he becomes defensive instead.
“Just let me deal with this on my own.”
“I can’t just sit back while you’re suffering. Please –”
“Sorey. I mean it.”
“And I do as well, you can’t just –”
“Just leave me alone, Sorey!”
It is a shout which begins to echo. A silence is brought with it, in which Sorey stares at Mikleo with wide eyes. They express guilt, even though it is Mikleo’s own fault for reacting this way. Mikleo stares back as he breathes heavily, unsure of what to do. Apologise, say anything at all, run away; he cannot tell what is the right answer.
Until he realises that he has acted childishly enough and has treated Sorey horribly, even though he was only trying to help. At least until once his anger has calmed down, Mikleo should stay away from him. From all of them.
“Mikleo, wait,” Sorey breaks the silence with as Mikleo rises to his feet. Sorey follows, hesitant to reach out to him. “I know how much you’re suffering, and you shouldn’t have to be alone in that.”
“You don’t know.” Mikleo’s voice is much quieter than it had been previously. It feels as though numbness might slowly be replacing his emotions. “None of you can possibly know what it is like. How much I’ve lost, how worthless I feel – none of you can understand that.”
“Then let me understand. Explain how you feel.”
Mikleo opens his mouth, closes it again, before he then decides on what to say. “I need to be left alone for now to think about this and to sort myself out. I … I really am sorry, Sorey.”
Knowing it is a lost battle, Sorey does not try to argue. He knows it will only make things worse with how Mikleo’s mind currently is. “Please at least know that I’m here for you. Don’t ever forget that.”
‘You would be even closer to be able to do that if none of this had happened.’
Mikleo does not say this thought, however. Instead, in a quiet voice, he simply says, “I know.”
Then with those words, he walks without saying anything more, leaving Sorey standing alone in the night’s darkness.
Exhaustion is a rare thing for Mikleo to feel, naturally so considering he does not need to sleep. But once he returns to the inn, he finds that the rare feeling has overcome him. It must be more mental than physical, because even though he feels as though he might faint, he can tell as soon as he lays down that he will not be sleeping.
Sorey returns not long after Mikleo. Knowing that Mikleo likely would not want to be spoken to again, Sorey remains silent as he slides into bed. Even though Mikleo breathes a little heavily to fake sleeping, it must be clear to Sorey that this is not the case. Pain tugs on his heartstrings as Sorey wraps his arms around Mikleo from behind, planting a kiss gently on top of his head. It takes everything he has to not cry again in this moment.
Morning arrives with a type of physical pain he is not very accustomed to. It is widespread ache across his body, which he believes is from not sleeping despite experiencing exhaustion, and a headache continues to throb across his forehead.
Mentally? He is not quite sure how he is. Perhaps feeling numb and dissociated is an improvement from the night before. At least he is silent this way. Then again, he was more sure about himself when he was screaming and crying.
“How are you, Mikleo?” Lailah asks as Mikleo steps outside to join the rest. After acquiring new skills and weapons, the plan is to train for a small while in order to become accustomed to them. Mikleo suspects that this might also be because they do not want to risk progressing when Mikleo is in this state, at least for now. He agrees that it is probably for the best.
“I’m … okay.”
He can tell that this answer is not believed, and it is confirmed once Edna speaks.
“You don’t have to pretend you’re fine, you know.”
“Yes, I do,” he retorts simply. “Shall we go, then?”
It is clear that neither of them believe that they shouldn’t go, not after these words. But they also know that there is no arguing with him when he is acting stubborn. And so, with a few glances thrown his way, they begin to advance to a nearby area in order to begin their practice.
He thinks that this fighting might help to distract his mind. At first, it does. The constant shouts, the noise resounding from their attacks – they do well to make his senses focus on purely this, for his mind to distract himself. But as more time passes, as though a wave is heading towards him, things begin to change. The noises become more and more distant, his world seems to be covered by a black vignette, blurring as a word comes to mind: ‘Why am I doing this?’
This world does not even clear as he is pulled out of the way of an attack. He can somewhat see a pair of blue eyes, briefly make out that Rose’s voice is yelling at him to be careful, but he barely finds himself being able to focus on it at all. It is only Sorey’s voice which reaches to him the most.
“Mikleo, sit this one out. Please.”
Usually, he would protest, but something in himself causes him to nod instead. He stands to one side, leaning back on a tree as he watches the others fight. On the side is Zaveid, waiting to jump in if need be, though keeps taking concerned glances at Mikleo. But Mikleo’s own eyes aren’t on Zaveid, but rather Rose instead.
Would that be him? Jumping from side to side, leaping forward to slash with those knives in the same, utterly flawless way as her. Would the human fighting at Sorey’s side be him? The one who is currently calling out the name ‘Hephsin Yulind’, coming together as one with the seraph fighting by her side. The power of the Squire … that could have been his rather than a Sub Lord.
This power that she wields, the way she can Armatize despite not growing up the same way as Sorey … does that make her more important than him? Is Mikleo the one who could be tossed to the side if need be, not the same as her, not as experienced as the other seraphs in their party? Along all of their journey, where does he truly play a part?
He’s angry. No, he is furious. How dare this be decided for him from the start, how dare his potential be taken from him, if it had ever once existed –
“Hey, Mikleo! Speak to us!”
Voices break away the darkness which had taken over his vision. He blinks repeatedly, finding the world has returned to him. Sometime during his thoughts, he must have fallen on the floor, for crouched in front of him are Sorey and Rose, with the seraphs stood. All looked concerned. Again.
“Are you back with us?” Sorey asks desperately. It is only now that Mikleo realises that his hands are being held tightly.
“Yeah … yeah, I’m fine. What happened?”
“You just … fell,” says Rose. “We couldn’t tell what was going on, because your face was hidden. But …”
“But what?”
“There’s no need to say that,” Sorey says quickly. “It might just make things worse.”
Edna, however, disagrees. “We could sense malevolence from you. Still can a little.”
“Edna –”
“I think she’s right in telling him,” says Zaveid. “You can’t hide something like that, otherwise …”
“Malevolence, huh?” Mikleo murmurs. He can feel hatred building up, directed at himself. After all, it was the spiteful thoughts which first formed from watching Rose that made him like this. “And you can sense it now?”
“Only slightly,” Lailah says hurriedly. “It is fading more already.”
“I see.” He pulls his hands out of Sorey’s in order to get to his feet. He finds that his legs are weak, trembling a little underneath him. He forces it not to show. “I guess I should go rest back at the inn.”
“You can’t keep running away, Meebo,” says Edna as he turns. The words get under his skin like no other.
“Who says I’m running away?” he snaps, turning back to her. His eyes are already beginning to burn with rage.
“I am. You’re not addressing your grief properly, you’re not telling us what’s on your mind. What else would it be?”
“Edna …” Sorey says warningly, less of a threat and more like concern for Mikleo’s reaction, but it does not stop her.
“Why can’t you speak to us? We’ve all been to Hell and back. You should at least speak to Sorey. Yet you’re not. You just won’t let yourself express anything.”
“What is there to express?!” he suddenly screams. The sound of which is surprisingly enough to make her flinch. She has never had such a tone from him be addressed to her. “What am I supposed to say? ‘I don’t exactly agree with being a sacrifice?’ Talk about stating the obvious!”
“Mikleo, please –” Lailah says pleadingly, but there is no stopping this once it has started.
“None of you can understand. None of you became a seraph in the same way as I did! I was a baby, just a useless thing – and I suppose that is the exact same now.”
“Don’t say that about yourself,” says Sorey. His expression is pained, yet he speaks firmly. “You’ve been anything but useless all this time. Before we left Elysia together, after. I have no idea where I’d be without you.”
“That’s what you say, but it isn’t true. I know it isn’t.”
“Why do you believe that?” asks Zaveid.
“Because I have nothing on all of you. Because I’m letting my emotions get the better of me after what happened. My life can’t possibly mean anything if it was thrown away right from the start!”
The others seem unsure of how to respond for a moment; or at least, all but Sorey, who has now taken Mikleo into his arms. Mikleo freezes, having not expected this so suddenly. But as soon as he comes to his senses, he is trying to pull out of the embrace, away from the warmth and safety he does not deserve.
“Let go,” he demands, though Sorey only holds on tighter, despite the malevolence which he can sense once again radiating from Mikleo. “Let go, Sorey!”
“I’m not letting go until you see your worth!” Sorey yells. The words cause Mikleo’s eyes to widen, before they narrow again, tears forming in the corners of them.
“What worth?” he whispers. “What worth are you talking about? If I had that, then … then …”
His legs grow weaker underneath him. They seem to lose their strength in an instant, causing him to collapse on the floor. Sorey, still holding on, falls down with him, bringing him closer. Mikleo stops fighting against the hold. Instead, he is overtaken by his tears, fists grasping onto the chest of Sorey’s cloak as his head leans against it.
“We could have been humans together!” he shouts, body shaking uncontrollably. “Don’t you realise that? If he hadn’t sacrificed me, we could have been raised together, grown up together … our first kiss wouldn’t have had that fear underneath, we wouldn’t have to worry about what the future holds and how long your life will last. I could have had the same needs as you, been the one human companion that you lacked in all of those years. I could … I could have …”
His hands loosen, teeth scraping along his bottom lip. His body sinks lower, as though every ounce of his energy is wasting away.
“I could have been better for you,” he says at last. His voice by now has reduced to a whisper once more, almost gasped out in a last attempt to speak. Silence falls in which he realises how much his anger has disappeared. How the outburst has settled what had likely caused the malevolence to radiate from him. All because he had spoke about what had been on his mind.
“Better for me?” Sorey asks gently. One hand, despite how it is not supposed to, reaches to Mikleo’s head to stroke through his hair. “You’re still worrying about all that, rather than yourself?”
Mikleo hardly knows how to respond. “You’re … you’re what’s most important to me. Of course I am.”
“Then I have no idea what you’re worrying about. Can you look at me?” It is done with hesitation, but Mikleo’s head does indeed rise. His eyes are red and puffy, his lips chapped and dry, face flushed from tears – yet Sorey still smiles as though it is the most beautiful sight he has ever seen. “You have never needed to be better for me. You’ve always been what I’ve wanted and more. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever known and if I could express how much you mean to me, I would. But how can someone describe perfection?”
He cannot laugh in his state, but there is no mistaking how the corners of Mikleo’s mouth twitch, as though an amused smile is threatening. But a frown is quick to replace it. “But … but what about everything we missed out on? The future? It could have all been stopped if he had just …”
“I know it’s hard. If I could change the past for you, I would. But Mikleo, can’t you see what we have already?” his thumb brushes against Mikleo’s cheek, wiping away the remainder of tears. “We were still raised together. We were still united. Imagine if we didn’t even have that. Right now, we can work around everything you’re worried about. But we could have ended up never seeing each other at all. And listen,” both of his hands cup Mikleo’s face, “what Michael did is unforgivable, regardless of why he did it or how he felt about it. But what it doesn’t mean is that your life isn’t worth nothing. It is as important as everyone else’s, and like I am to you, you’re most important to me too. Never say that about yourself, because it’s not true.”
“I … I’m sorry. For acting this way. But you’re right.” Mikleo’s head lowers slightly, bottom lip wobbling. “Can … can you still feel it?”
“The malevolence? No, it’s gone.”
Mikleo breathes out. “Thank goodness. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”
“See, even now, you’re caring this much for others. You’re incredible, Mikleo.” He is brought back into a hug, one which he is now able to return. “Thank you for saying all of that. And please, give yourself time to overcome this. You don’t have to get better all at once.”
He hesitates, but now he is aware of this, he is able to say, “Okay.”
He is not sure how long he remains in Sorey’s hold for. All he is aware of is that it feels more comforting than it ever has before, that he knows for sure it is not there out of obligation or because he is a liability. It is because Sorey truly cares.
And it is not just him, either. Soon, the others are joining in the embrace, giving their love for him silently. It takes a lot to not cry again. But rather than out of distress, it would be out of appreciation for their love, for the care which will help him to pull through.
“I told you that it’s okay to cry,” says Edna, seeming to sense this. Despite everything, Mikleo is still able to chuckle.
“I’ve cried enough now. It’s okay.”
“You can never cry ‘enough’,” says Rose. Aside from Sorey, she is the one who is holding him the closest – from behind, her face buries into his neck. “It was a lot, Mikleo. A hell of a lot.”
There are murmurs of agreement, yet rather than cause any more sadness, her words instead bring him relief and take away a little of his pain. After all, it is clear that she understands him and what he has been through, as do the others. Telling himself otherwise had been a mistake that he is aware of now.
“As much as I love you Mikster, this is killing my back,” Zaveid breaks the momentary silence with. His size has made it awkward to lean over the others without getting in their way, and he is stretched over in a way which is clearly not comfortable. “Can you stand?”
Mikleo has only properly acknowledged now how he has fell to the ground in his distress. He nods, and with a little awkwardness, the group parts and rises to their feet. They do not stay far from Mikleo, however; it is now only Sorey who holds him with an arm around his shoulders, but the others are almost as close as can be to see if he is okay.
“Are you sure you are definitely okay?” says Lailah, taking his hands into her own. “You were horribly distraught, after all …”
“I’m not fully okay. But I’m feeling better than before. You guys helped a lot with that.”
“Of course! That’s what we’re here for,” says Rose. “We pick each other up when we need it, right?”
With a nod, he agrees. “Right. Ouch, Edna!”
For she has just poked him in the side with the tip of her umbrella, causing his hands to jolt out of Lailah’s. “And we mean it. Don’t go bottling things up like that again, unless you seriously want to end up as a dragon or something.”
A pang of pain hits his chest to hear these words come from Edna rather than anyone else. “I won’t. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, don’t say sorry,” says Sorey, bringing Mikleo a little closer as he plants a kiss on top of his head. “You just need to learn that you don’t have to fight everything alone, that’s all. We’re always here for you.”
Despite the insecurities that he faces, Mikleo knows that this is true by simply seeing the expressions on their faces, hearing their reassuring words. He has no idea what he would have done without them, yet at the same time, he also knows that he will come out of this stronger than before.