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The ocean breeze floods Evan's senses at full force when they arrive.
Stepping off the boat and onto the dock, he stumbles, getting his bearings in. He feels his nose twitch, sensitive and irritated by the salt in the air. With a flick of the tail, Evan straightens out his clothes. “You'll get used to it soon enough.”
From behind the young king, a soft voice chuckles. Ever-observant, hm?
“Thank you for accompanying me, Your Majesty.” The boy thanks him again, offering a polite but warm smile. Distantly, Evan wonders —— had such polite habits been drilled into his friend's head the same they had been drilled into him?
“You may call me Evan,” he repeats. They've had this conversation plenty times before. “We're friends, after all!”
“Right...” Mylas chuckles again, more sheepishly this time, pushing his bangs out of his face with a pointed finger.
How interesting, Merfolk anatomy was. Dully clawed fingers instead of sharpened nails, small webs between each. If he were to hold the hand, would the skin be scaly, too? Evan often finds himself wondering.
He's aware of Mylas' previous experiences. Of his loneliness, left with only his mother and his daydreams. So lost in his own head, the boy would barely notice the world around him. This in mind, Evan offers a smile of his own. As bright as the sun, as gleaming as how the other boy had once described his hair. How far away that memory seemed, now, though it had not even been a year.
“It's alright! Take your time.” He hates being referred to so formally. Such a big responsibility, taken on much too soon. He wants Mylas to be comfortable with him. He wants, he wants, he wishes, he wishes. Patience, Evan. “Now, shall we be off?”
Mylas nods in turn, beginning to walk across the dock. They already know where they're headed, the trip being planned for quite a while now. It started as a suggestion, an idea, before it grew into something more. A consideration, a want, a goal.
When Mylas' mom ushers them into her house, not before greeting the merboy with a bone-crushing hug, Evan finds himself hovering at the door for a moment. Unsure what to do. It's natural, he tells himself —— he had been the one to whisk her son away, after all. But when he's waved over, he obliges, gingerly taking a seat at the small table only meant for two.
Mylas gives him a knowing smile, trying to be of comfort. It helps, somewhat, as Evan returns it. The grin isn't as reassuring as he hoped it would be.
“How have you been?” the Sorceress begins to ask her son, a dozen unsaid questions hiding behind her voice. She's rushing to make the two something to eat —— they had failed to inform her of their incoming arrival.
The merboy answers each question patiently, love and excitement clear in his voice. It's been a while since he last saw his mom; why wouldn't he be ecstatic to visit her now, after so long?
Something tightens in Evan's chest. He's not sure he wants to acknowledge it, and he's certain he doesn't wish to dwell on it. His tail swishes behind him in a familiar rhythm, ears perked and trained on the conversation. “Don't knead your claws on the tablecloth,” a familiar voice echoes in his head to remind him. “That's impolite.”
There's that usual glimmer in Mylas' eyes as he speaks, only giving Evermore praise as he describes the kingdom. The twisting knots in the king's chest melt into warmth, before freezing when the mother's eyes lock onto him.
“King Evan, correct?”
The boy in question nods, hiding his nerves behind a steeled and confident face.
“I thank you for everything you have done. I am lucky to have you as Mylas' new king.”
... Not entirely what Evan was expecting, but not surprising, either. She clearly cares a lot for her son, if her doting is anything to go off of. His friend deserves the best kingdom providable, and that is just what he will strive to achieve. A place where everyone can live happily, living out their days with peace of mind.
“And thank you for your kind words.” Don't refuse the compliment, Evan. That's rude. “I'll do whatever must be done to ensure my citizens' happiness.”
Mylas is more than a citizen to him. He doesn't say this.
Before they go to visit more places in the kingdom, they decide to sit on the dock. Evan hugs his knees, tail flicking from side-to-side across the planks. He's never been a big fan of water, as pretty as the sea surrounding Hydropolis is. Mylas already has his shoes off, toeing the water with no regard for the possibility of his clothes getting soaked. Of course, this is the same boy who has expressed his wishes to stand admist a thunderstorm. Though hard for the half-grimalkin to understand, he finds it endearing, in a way.
In a silence that should be comfortable, there's still an unnerving, invisible weight upon his shoulders. Something deep in his chest, that only swirls when he glances at the smiling merboy.
Evan isn't a stranger to nightmares. To the visual of his dearest friends melting into seafoam, washing away with the Heartland's waves. The dark, cloudy sky that Mylas loved so much, the sad gazes they'd give him, the feeling of hopelessness as he reaches out, unable to do anything, the ones he cares about gone before he can say goodbye.
When he looks at Mylas, he doesn't see a young, hopeful boy. He sees an inevitability.
“Mylas?” he starts, voice small, hesitant. Upon the boy's eyes flicking over to him, encouraging him, Evan continues. “Do you often miss home?”
He thinks back to those he loved. A bedroom long forgotten, likely left to collect dust. To preserve a memory that barely exists anymore.
“Hmm...” Mylas hums, his voice already a soothing sound. He has a way of doing that. Of providing stability where it's missing. “Of course I do. I do not regret joining you —— I would not trade that for the world —— but I do not see myself forgetting the years I have spent here. While it is not where my heart is, it is still a home.”
The boy pauses, kicking at the water, a gleam in his eye. “But I can always come back, can I not? When I need a reminder of where I started.”
Evan doesn't have the heart to tell him. He doesn't have the heart of remind himself of his friend's possible fate. “I do suppose so. Thank you for your answer, Mylas.”
“Of course. You asked me a question; it is only fair to answer.”
There's a hint of humor in Mylas' voice as he speaks. A spark that Evan doesn't share, but pretends to, despite himself. He laughs where appropriate, tilting his head. “I guess I did, didn't I?”
He doesn't like lying, but he can't be rude, can he?
...Mylas nods, smile not reaching his eyes.
“A penny for your thoughts?”
Is Evan that terrible a liar? Or does the sorcerer just know him that well? He takes time to organize his thoughts, wondering where to start.
“Would you mind if I proposed another question?”
“Well, I did ask what was on your mind, did I not?”
Under any other circumstance, Evan would have laughed.
“...Does the future scare you, Mylas?”
Leaning forward, chin resting in his hand, Mylas considers the question. His gaze feels grounding, admist the spiraling thoughts. “Not really. We decide our futures, right?”
Evan would typically agree, but given what he knows...
...Mylas continues before he can go down that path again.
“Even when given something unexpected, it is also our job to make the most out of that. To turn it into something we can be happy with.” He leans back, another sheepish grin on his face. “Apologies if that is too cliché.”
Evan shakes his head, taking a silent breath. He needed to hear that, he thinks. Someone to remind him that things weren't always going to take a turn for the worse.
“No, I believe you're right. And it's our job to appreciate what we have in the moment, right?”
An enthusiastic nod in return, seemingly satisfied.
He can't be certain of what the future holds. He can't verify if his fears are warranted or not. But, with a genuine smile, Evan realizes these small happinesses they've collected are enough.