Work Text:
During his visits to Piramida, Lohen had grown used to the somber air.
He recalled the first time Illuga had convinced him to visit; the air was nothing like the air at Favonius Keep. Lohen thought that since both the Lightkeepers and the Knights fought monsters and drank liberally, he’d fit right in at Piramida. That wasn’t quite the case; every time he visited, he was reminded that the Lightkeepers didn’t drink for leisure, and, oh, fighting monsters wasn’t a simple pastime for Lightkeepers like it was for Lohen.
The somber air persisted on every subsequent visit, including this one.
This particular visit hadn’t started much differently than the other ones. Before coming, Lohen had picked some Winter Iceleas and gathered the feathers dropped by the ibises— those feathers were Illuga’s second favourite— and tied them all together in a bouquet, before stepping on the lift that would take him up to the stronghold city.
There was a Lightkeeper on the lift with him, facing away, watching the sun slowly crest down over the horizon. After a moment, the Lightkeeper spoke. “You’re here for the Captain, I presume?”
Lohen was sure his face did something in shock— had he been here often enough for the Lightkeepers to recognize him?— but he schooled it back into something perfectly nonchalant. “That I am. He’s still here, right? He didn’t run away on patrol?”
The Lightkeeper chuckled. “Surprisingly, he’s here.”
Lohen could see the other man’s body language shift; shoulders keeling forward slightly, spine slumping, knees ever-so-slightly bending. The Lightkeeper spoke again. “I’d be careful around him today. He’s not… in the best mood.”
Lohen pondered that. Not in the best mood? What did that mean? Sure, Illuga had bad days sometimes, but even on days where he wasn’t “in the best mood,” he still had a cheery air about him that the other Lightkeepers didn’t share. Maybe the man across from him just meant that Illuga had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed, or something.
“…Oh,” Lohen finally said. His grip on his Icelea bouquet shifted as his knuckles tensed. “So, what’s got him worked u— sorry, I mean, why’s he in a bad mood?”
The Lightkeeper said nothing, so Lohen didn’t ask again.
—
Piramida was definitely different today. The Lightkeepers weren’t exactly known to be all over Lohen, but they at least spared him a wave or a callout if they saw him walk by. Nobody did today. Some glanced at him, but most were lost in their own conversations, and many were lost staring up at the sky.
The whole walk to Illuga’s house from the lift went pretty much like that. The whole place felt like it was having a hangover.
Jeez, Lohen thought, biting down hard on his lip. You would think someone had died.
Illuga’s house wasn’t much different. The children who lingered outside weren’t there today. Illuga’s clothesline was empty, and his mailbox was full to bursting.
Odd. He’s in town and hasn’t even checked his mailbox? That’s not the birdie I know…
As usual, Lohen felt the impulse to rifle through Illuga’s mail, perhaps stick a love letter of his own in there, but he held this impulse back. He just cast it one last rueful glance before shoving on Illuga’s doorknob and letting himself in, the bouquet held behind his back.
—
“Birdie? Ahem— your wonderfully chivalrous boyfriend is here!”
Lohen’s words rang into a house that sounded basically empty. Illuga’s main room was essentially the same as when Lohen had last visited, even down to the glass vase on the kitchen counter, filled with the now-wilted Windrise Flowers that Lohen had specially grown for him.
Silly, stupid birdie forgot to toss these. Oh, well. I can just swap them out and see if he notices…
Lohen shrugged, unzipped his boots, took them off, and set the bouquet down on its side next to the glass vase, lifting the old, wilted flowers out. As he was sliding the new bouquet into the vase, his ears picked up on something ever so faint—
Soft snoring?
Illuga was sleeping? Before sunset?
Okay, weird.
Frowning, he set the vase down and crept to the door of Illuga’s bedroom. There, he saw it.
Illuga’s bed was empty; instead, Illuga collapsed on the floor right at the bed’s foot, his entire uniform still on!
“Birdie?” Suddenly, the Lightkeeper’s words from earlier make about a vial-size of sense. Lohen crept in, his socks barely making a sound on the metal floor. He crouched down next to Illuga, checking his pulse— still there, still steady— before letting out a long breath. Just exhausted, that’s all.
“What’s wrong, birdie?” he murmured softly, his voice back to its usual, languid air. “Worked yourself too hard again? You’re too good a captain, you know.” He emphasized his words by brushing the sweat-slicked curtain of white hair from Illuga’s face and gently kissing his cheek. Illuga let out a soft, incomprehensible mumble, but otherwise didn’t stir.
It was only when Lohen pulled back that he noticed the red rim around Illuga’s eyes.
Oh.
Lohen’s demeanor shifted immediately. Before he could really think about what he was doing, he was already rolling up his sleeves and shoving his arms under the unconscious Illuga, lifting him into a bridal carry. He was lucky the bed was only a few steps away, because he almost dropped poor Illuga; the other man was already heavier than he was, and the fact that he was dead weight didn’t help things.
“Okay, alright, down you go—“ Lohen grunted as he set Illuga on top of the bedsheets. Already, Illuga was relaxing, his hands flexing and sinking into the mattress. Lohen had no trouble pulling Illuga’s coat off, revealing muscly, sweat-slicked arms. He resisted the urge to swoon; he had more important things to worry about.
Lohen slung Illuga’s coat over his own shoulder in the meantime as he adjusted the sheets, draping the blankets over Illuga and nudging his head onto one of the pillows.
“That better, birdie?” he crouched down to whisper. “Can’t believe you can stand sleeping on your metal floor…”
Illuga, of course, offered no response. Lohen gently kissed his cheek and stepped back.
“I’ll fix you something.”
Lohen, once checking that Illuga was settled, quietly retreated back to the kitchen.
—
The trip to Piramida had left Lohen starved, too, which was partly his excuse for retreating; but he knew Illuga, too, and knew that he would want to eat something as soon as he woke up. So, Lohen had salvaged the ingredients for a Veggie Pot Soup— Illuga’s favourite— from his cupboard, and was halfway through boiling everything together when he heard Illuga stir.
“…Birdie?” Lohen called into the bedroom, setting his spoon onto the kitchen counter and turning down the burner, just a little. “You up?”
“…Bunny…?” Illuga’s voice was a groggy mutter. Something in Lohen’s heart swelled. Illuga’s sleepy voice sounded the same as usual.
“In here, birdie,” Lohen called again. “Don’t get up. I’m coming.”
He set the burner to a low simmer and strode back inside the bedroom. Illuga was awake, and sometime after Lohen had left, he had grabbed his pillow and started hugging it. The red rims on his eyes were ever more prominent now.
“Birdie doesn’t look too good,” Lohen murmured. He turned and sat on the edge of the bed, right by Illuga’s thigh. “Nightmare again?” it sounds stupid as soon as it leaves his mouth; if it were a nightmare, Lohen would have heard him cry out.
Illuga shakes his head weakly, confirming his suspicions.
“Okay… well…” Lohen whistled, racking his brain. “You need anything? Water? An early birthday present? A kiss on the cheek? I’m already making dinner, so…”
“…Oh.” Illuga’s nose twitched, and his lips quivered in a soft smile before it vanished just as quickly. “…So that’s why it smells so nice in here…”
“Mm. I’m making Veggie Pot Soup. That was all I could salvage.”
“I see.” Illuga blinked up at Lohen, then sighed and slumped against the headboard. “I don’t want dinner. You can have my portion.”
“Oh, birdie.” Lohen had heard this from him before, but— he paused. When Illuga usually offered his portions to Lohen, he usually came up with some other excuse; that Lohen needed it more, that Lohen was about to go somewhere far more dangerous, that Illuga had simply had enough to eat that day; not “I don’t want dinner.” Never that.
“Well,” Lohen squeezed Illuga’s thigh with his fingers. “You should want dinner. If you don’t start wanting it, I’ll tie you up and forcefeed you, okay?”
This normally would’ve gotten a laugh out of Illuga. Today, it didn’t.
“Lohen,” Illuga said in a soft murmur, “You should… maybe you should go back. To Favonius Keep. You’ve just…”
“Picked a bad time,” Lohen finished for him. “I know, I know. Birdie, I don’t care. I still want to see you, no matter how gloopy you are.”
“I just…” Illuga winced and moved his thigh as he rolled over in bed, forcing Lohen to let go. Lohen’s hand already felt cold from the lack of contact. “I don’t deserve to have you making—“
“Birdie, I don’t care what’s got you so down,” Lohen said with a soft laugh. “I’m making you soup.”
“Lohen, my—“
“Shh.” Lohen reached over and pinched Illuga’s lips shut before he could get another word in. “You’ll have dinner, and you’ll like it. Understood?”
When he lifted his fingers, Illuga said nothing.
Lohen nudged him gently. His usual smirk had faded, his hand gentle as it moved from his boyfriend’s mouth to his cheek.
“Illuga,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft, “I can’t stand to see you like this.”
“Then go. Don’t see me at all.”
“And that solves our problem… how, exactly?”
Illuga didn’t reply. Lohen pinched his cheek and stood up from the bed. “I’ll get you some water. You’ll feel better.”
Illuga watched him as he made for the kitchen, not saying a word.
—
Lohen came back minutes later. In hand was a glass of clear water, little bits of ice floating at the top— Lohen had simply stuck his dagger in the glass and spun it around until the ice had formed. When he returned to the bedroom, Illuga had sat up, back straight, legs perfectly still as they dangled over the side of the mattress. His tear-reddened face didn’t look any better.
“Drink,” Lohen said simply, sitting down next to him and thrusting the glass into his hands. Illuga, to his credit, obliged, pressing the glass to his lips and taking a small sip, wincing as he realized how cold it was. Illuga took a few more sips, each one more ravenous than the last, before slamming the near-empty glass on his bedside table. With the way he drank, an onlooker would’ve thought he was taking straight vodka.
“Good,” Lohen said. He nudged Illuga’s foot with his own, before gently grabbing Illuga’s chin and turning his face so their eyes could meet. Lohen searched Illuga’s gaze and only found nascent tears. “Okay. Stab me now. What’s got you like this?”
“I—“ Illuga swallowed thickly enough that Lohen could see his throat bob with the effort. “None of the other Lightkeepers told you?”
Oh, Barbatos, Lohen thinks to himself. It’s serious.
“…No,” Lohen replied after a moment of trepidation. “None of them really spoke to me on my way up. What… what’s happened?”
Illuga’s gaze drifted away. He swallowed again, lip trembling. He wasn’t crying yet, but Lohen knew he was about to.
“My squadmate, Bjorn, is dead.”
Holy shit.
Lohen’s mouth dried up. He tried to think of something, anything to say in response.
How does he even respond to that?
He knew Lightkeepers died often. In fact, he had once accompanied Illuga to the archives, a place that explained in great detail how Lightkeepers died more often, in greater numbers, more painfully, and younger than anybody else in Nod-Krai, or perhaps in Teyvat as a whole.
As someone who wasn’t a Lightkeeper himself, he was able to distance himself from that, and imagine that if it didn’t happen to anyone he knew, it didn’t matter to him.
But, he had met Bjorn. Only briefly, but still. During one of his visits to Illuga’s outpost in Cliffwatch Camp, he had spectated as Illuga talked his squadmates through building characters for a game of Tabletop Troupe. He remembered that Bjorn had been building a paladin.
Something ugly and gross tugged at Lohen’s heart. He had barely known the man, but to know that he had died, just like that…
He couldn’t even try to imagine how Illuga felt.
He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't really hear what Illuga said next. He only heard three words— “I should have—“ before he moved, tackling Illuga onto the mattress and burying Illuga’s face in his shoulder.
“Illuga,” he whispers, “…Shut it. I… I’m sorry.”
Illuga tried to choke something out, but it was lost in something warbly that got caught in his throat. So Lohen laid unmoving, clutching Illuga to himself, as the other man finally started to cry.
It wasn’t the sort of quiet cry that Illuga normally gave him. This one was accompanied by full-body shudders, wide eyes, and gasping breaths so violent that Illuga attempted to stifle them by biting Lohen’s coat.
Lohen had to gently shove him away and press a kiss to his forehead, speaking softly. “Quit hiding. Just cry. You’re okay.”
Illuga nodded, a cracking apology slipping from his lips before Lohen could stop him. Then he was on Lohen again, hands fisting in the back of Lohen’s coat and in his cape, head buried in the crook of Lohen’s neck.
Lohen took him with the same voraciousness, one hand pressing against the back of Illuga’s shirt so he wouldn’t pull away, the other running through Illuga’s hair, fussing it all up.
Neither of them spoke. Illuga was crying too hard, and Lohen saw no need to. They simply laid there, wrapped in each other’s arms, until the tears subsided.
—
Even after Illuga had long stopped crying, nobody moved. Illuga’s grip on Lohen had loosened, and he was now idly tracing circles into Lohen’s back, occasionally reaching up to play with his Vision.
“…I’m sorry,” Illuga finally said, his voice cracking on every syllable. “You shouldn’t have seen me like—“
“Shh.” Lohen cut him off, shifting to give him a peck on the lips. “I don’t give a shit. I’ll see you any way you are, birdie.”
Illuga choked, and let out the smallest of laughs, leaning in to capture Lohen’s lips and continue the kiss. It was gentler than their usual affections, but Lohen found he didn’t care; he was happy to hold Illuga like this, to feel his tongue softly graze his lips without demanding entry.
Illuga broke first, his eyes fluttering. He wiped at the spit trail that connected them, before he sighed and nuzzled against the pillow again.
Lohen let go for a minute to pull up a pillow of his own, but soon he was taking Illuga in his arms again, breathing gently into Illuga’s ear as the other man started to nod off once more.
Even once Illuga falls asleep again, Lohen didn’t move a muscle. He stayed.
In the next room over, a Veggie Pot Soup simmered on its burner, forgotten.