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On a solemn Nod Krai night, candles flickered in the far end corner of a private tent. If there happened to be any shooting stars tonight, Illuga wouldn’t see them.
He sat by the side of a still bedroll, watching the figure tucked within it rest.
Lohen hadn’t awoken, not even once, since he got injured on the battlefield. Being a planned collaborative attack between the Knights of Favonius and lightkeepers against some surging Wild Hunt, Lohen and his company stayed in the rear to focus on ranged support. Which is why none of them saw the ambush before it was too late.
The superb instinct and naturally fast response times of the knight was not to be underestimated– Where the slash of an axehead would’ve cut any man far beyond saving, Lohen reacted quick enough to get away with his own life. Bloodloss was not kind to him on the battlefield, but the medics stationed here at the Favonius Keep have declared him stable, thus why he is resting in his own tent.
Naturally, Illuga was the one who volunteered to carry him over, as well as keep watch over him tonight, however unnecessary.
His skin is already naturally pale, but Illuga never considered how strange it is to see the vice captain’s face without his blood-aqua eyes. The soft fringe of his hair falls in delicate foam-blue waves, framing deceptively plump cheeks and a rounded chin. With an added mole, mirrored to the position of Illuga’s own, he is strangely peaceful and, dare he say it… beautiful.
If this is what Lohen looks like if he were on a genuine deathbed, Illuga hopes to never see it again.
It was a foolish mistake on all of their parts to expect their ranged infantry could be left in the back and be, theoretically, safe. There is no such thing as a safe place on the battlefield, Illuga should know better. Maybe… maybe if he just trusted the man, Lohen would be awake right now to nag at him. Let the blizzard of a man on the front field, with his spear, like he so insisted on doing before Illuga shut him down and reminded him to stay and guide his squad.
He misses Lohen and all his witty remarks and being a brat and constantly asking for spars– Somehow, at some point, where the lines of their life should have been parallel, Lohen veered towards him and decided to permanently entangle himself in Illuga’s fate. And Illuga is no longer interested in untangling their fates.
Wake up, he pleads to any archon willing to listen– Wake up, Lohen. I can’t lose you too.
Though Lohen has yet to wake, it still somehow feels like the man has found a way to tease him all the way from the faraway land of dreams. Every now and then his finger twitches, sometimes even his whole hand. Except the steady rise and fall of his breathing, it is Illuga’s only indicator that the resting knight is even alive.
…he thinks about how often it is, the only time he feels the touch of another human is to comfort them on their deathbed.
Without thinking, lest he realize how bad of an idea it is, he reaches for Lohen’s twitching hand.
One second, he is whole and warm and Illuga knows for sure, the man is alive, and his body finally relaxes.
The next, in a whirlwind of lost breath he’s been pushed to the floor and pinned.
“Wha–”
A confused oof is pushed from his lungs as he gets pushed back, one hand on his shoulder, the other still holding the same hand he’d reached out with. The grip is tight. The kind of reaction you get from a creature who believes they are threatened.
Dangerous, he realizes in an instant.
Lohen hovers above him. His eyes are the deadest Illuga has ever seen, even more menacing in the downshadows of a shoddy tent light, but he gets to see the exact moment recognition kicks in and the knight’s features soften ever so slightly.
“...Oh.”
Illuga sucks in a breath.
“Oh. Oh?! That’s all you have to say?!” He wriggles his wrist aggressively, “Let me go!”
Lohen shrugs, and his eyes slightly flicker in pain as he moves to get off, though makes no effort to get off his lap.
“Don’t touch me when I’m sleeping. If I had even a single arrow, I would’ve pierced it through your throat.” He gestures vaguely to Illuga’s wrist, which he only sees now have the faint indentation of red.
Illuga swallows. The knight doesn’t clarify or contextualize, so he can only make two guesses. One, that to be alert upon sudden awakening is something standard all Knights of Favonius learn. Or, two… it’s a learned defensive behavior from past experiences.
“I’ll try to remember that,” he mutters sarcastically.
The other man gives a faint chuckle, before immediately stopping due to the pain. Now that he’s sitting up, Illuga can see that none of his bandages have bled through, and any visible bruises do seem to be healing. There’s no signs of infection, thankfully. Lohen truly is okay.
There’s no reason for Illuga to be here anymore.
Why is that somehow more uncomfortable… than staying?
He taps Lohen’s shoulder. “Sir Lohen, please get off. I do have to go now–”
“Go where, Master Illuga?” Lohen emphasizes the title with a sneer, seemingly trying to make fun of Illuga’s shift to a more formal tone, which he’s flustered to admit is very effective. The formality would probably make more sense if the knight’s vice captain wasn’t on his lap. Lohen cocks his head at him like an overeager dog, “It's the dead of night, isn’t it? Where do you have to be?”
“…reports.”
Lohen blinks at him. The bastard seems amused.
“Birdie,” he nearly singsongs, “You’re an awful liar, you know that?”
Illuga winces. For a split second he pretends he wishes the man was unconscious again, but he really can’t convince himself that’s true. And yes, he does know that he’s an awful liar. He also knows that he has to leave. Now.
“Let me go, Sir Lohen,” he persists in an emphasized tone.
“Master Illuga,” he drawls sarcastically, “I do not think my legs currently function. Would the diligent squad leader be so kind as to help me to my bedroll?”
Illuga feels the metaphorical hairs on the back of his neck raise, willing himself to remain steady. Feeding into Lohen’s antics only entertains him. He has to remain calm.
Without a word, he plucks Lohen off his lap. The knight immediately clings to him like he’s been waiting all night, hands running down his back, too slow, too purposefully sensual–
This– This brat!
He tries to set Lohen down atop his bedroll. Keyword, tries.
“Lohen,” he says in a vaguely warning tone. “Let go of me.”
“Not staying, my little birdie?” He teases with a deceptively cheery chirp.
“...get off me,” Illuga mutters.
“Strange,” Lohen quips. “I recall you were the one choosing to touch me just a minute ago.”
Silence. Illuga tries not to tense. And fails.
“Is it so different now that I’m awake, Illuga?”
Those hands travel up his back, towards his neck… one cradles his head. The other, with very careful and deliberate movement, traces the scar down his neck. The edge of a sharp nail tingles against his skin and he touches like the cut of a dull blade, Illuga subconsciously shivers as Lohen looks up at him from below.
“I– I was checking that you were alive,” he argues, wincing as he hears how weak the point sounds.
“My breathing wasn’t enough?” Lohen shuffles, the hand settled on Illuga’s nape suddenly grabbing, pulling a soft handful of hair and dragging his head down.
“Come closer, then. You hear that?”
He does hear. It’s Lohen’s breathing. Illuga can’t help but wonder if it’s erratic because Lohen is injured and healing, or…
Lohen hums sharply, wearing the face of a cat who’s caught the sparrow.
“Hand, birdie.”
Without thinking, Illuga offers one of his hands to Lohen. The other at some point made itself comfy on Lohen’s waist and he only realizes now as he becomes hyperaware of everywhere his body is in space, and it’s totally inappropriate considering they’re only colleagues, sparring partners at best, but it– it’s comfortable there.
I don’t want to move…
Lohen swiftly grabs his hand by the waist, dragging it to his chest, forcing the palm to lay flat.
Illuga lets him.
“Feel it,” he prompts. The injured bastard sounds so sure of himself. “Every beat, thump, palpitation– Whatever word, I don’t care.” Lohen gives him a full teethed grin, he hates that it’s just as handsome as it is insane looking. “But it’s real.”
Illuga rips his hand away.
“Stop!”
He pries Lohen’s arms off him and abruptly stands, out of reach for grabbing. Gritting his teeth and willing himself to forget this entire encounter, forget how much time he’s wasted staying next to this deranged man, waiting for him to wake, only to be such a nuisance again–
“You’re leaving.”
The way Lohen says those simple words… freezes his feet to the spot, where he stands just about to open the tent flap. A shiver runs down his spine. Lohen is chilling. Illuga has heard him on the battlefield, reprimanding soldiers, coming up with battle plans– Illuga has never heard him with such a frost-bitten, ice-hardened voice.
“People stay away from me. They only come close enough to fight me or use my body. You only touch half-dead bodies and corpses.” Lohen’s voice bristles with something true, genuine, and raw. “Despite everything here– You still choose to walk away.”
“That’s not true! I–”
He scrambled to think of an argument, an excuse, anything. He didn’t have one.
“Leave if you want to,” Lohen warns in a cold, dead voice. “But don’t come back.”
Before him stands two choices: Forwards, and backwards.
His hand drops from where he reached for the flap.
With quiet understanding, his feet take him back to Lohen. The other doesn’t say a word. Nothing, like a sneering ‘Thought so’ or a ‘Good choice, birdie’ like Illuga would typically expect from the man– He only scoots to make space on his bedroll, looking up at him again this time with a new expression– Something mutual.
Quiet understanding, his brain repeats at him.
The bedroll isn’t nearly as comfortable as making the trek home and sleeping in his own bed. But his own bed doesn’t have a person breathing, alive, hopelessly intertwining their fingers and shamelessly facing him as he exhales softly, eyes slightly dropped.
It’s so… ironic, in a strange way. Illuga will, and someday might have to, hold the hand of any of his men. But just as the knight pointed out– Only on their deathbeds.
How is it so different… how is Lohen so different, that he can’t imagine doing this with any of his own crew? When, even more ironically, he trusts Lohen so much less? Why lay in bed with one of the few people Illuga knows is strong enough to kill him?
And why… does it feel right?
Lohen’s exhales reach his face, as sure as he is that his own breathing is the cause for the fluttering on Lohen’s hair. The bedroll is small. They are forced close together. Where their joined hands rest on the barely cushioned floor, Lohen half hazardly slings a leg across his hips pinning him to the spot so effortlessly, and leans his head forwards.
…If I leaned in any closer as well, our heads would–
Illuga’s body moves before his thoughts finish. A soft thump sound resonates through the tent as Illuga bumps his forehead against Lohen’s. His eyes crinkle in what must be amusement, except Illuga’s lost on suddenly, how much more detail he can see in those red-blue irises… The delicate red slit down his pupil is cut sharp and clean like the edge of a polished blade. The exact moment blood red cuts to the stunning brilliance of an aquamarine gem. Bloody aqua, color combinations like that shouldn’t even be possible in eye colors–
He blinks. Lohen blinks back.
…Lohen is looking at his eyes right now. Which are a rusty sapphire color.
His eyes drift down slightly, to Lohen’s mole. He brings a thumb, hesitantly, to Lohen’s face.
Am I really doing this?
Lohen, not a single word said, presses the pad of his own thumb to Illuga’s cheek– Right where his mole is.
Illuga mimics the action to Lohen.
He doesn’t know how long the back and forth goes, or– or when it even became a back and forth. It just… did.
Lohen touches the scar on his neck. Illuga finds a similar mark slightly down his back.
Illuga brushes the undefined waves of Lohen’s fringe out of his face. Lohen plays with the gentle swoop of Illuga’s bangs.
Lohen squeezes his hand. It’s scarred and hardened. Illuga squeezes back. It’s rough and calloused.
It’s horrifying in a way that’s somehow fully safe and innocent. He’s being– explored, for a lack of a better word– and the other man lets Illuga explore him, too. He keeps finding similarities where he thought they couldn’t be more different, and the worst part is– Lohen is gentle. He didn’t think the knight was capable of it, but Lohen is gentle.
Stop that, he keeps trying to tell himself. Don’t lean into the touch. And for Celestia’s sake, stop doing it back!
He keeps doing it anyway.
Neither of them know who fell asleep first. Only, they silently agreed the exact moment those soft exchanges stopped.
Illuga might spend the rest of his life remembering how it felt to let another man– no, not just any man– Lohen, map his body. And he’ll think about how warm and full of vitality the human body is supposed to be when it’s not a corpse, especially the Vice Captain of the Knights of Favonius– Bloodlust on the battlefield, and something tamed, calm, deeply understanding in the fragile quiet of a dim tent.
But for now, he sleeps.