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The Knights of Favonius is home to all sorts of people.
That’s the first lesson taught to him by the Grand Master himself. The first thing his thoughts drift to whenever he comes across the different folks in his company, amongst his colleagues, and outside his field of expertise.
His brother mentioned this before. Back when he was self-conscious and insecure about how much he’d fit in and belong with people of higher stature.
At first, Mika thought Huffman was just encouraging him. Him. Little ol’ Mika fitting in with people as important as the knights who protect their city, go on expeditions, and bring back glory upon their return. It was like watching stars in the sky. Always shining, but never within reach. That’s what he used to believe.
(“I told you you’d be welcomed here!” Huffman cheers, arm around his neck while his other swings around his wooden mug. Cheers and exclamations fill up Angel’s Share followed by the strong scent of dandelion wine in the air.
Mika laughs along quietly. “Please don’t drink too much, or mom will scold you again.” His little heart cheers along silently with them. The alcoholic stench burns his nose alongside the string of laughter that warms his heart.)
So to be chosen—handpicked by the Grand Master himself—to accompany an expedition to the tundra, a land farther than any place he’s ventured alone on foot, that itself is a thought too unbelievable to fathom. Even now as he stands next to him in his room, a couple of days before their trip, double-checking their necessities for a long-trip away from home.
“Speaking of, have you met the 5th Company yet?”
Grand Master Varka asked him once. Amongst other things from resources, backup plans, and documents left unchecked. The once unoccupied table that sits emptily in the room The question came so abruptly that Mika blinked once. Twice.
He mulls for a second before shaking his head.
Varka bellows out a laugh, hearty and earnest and sincere. “Well, considering the long journey into the north, we’ll be needing a lotta manpower.” He gives another look over his reports before handing it to the shorter blond for organizing. “It won’t be easy out there, and it ain’t like we could bring all the knights to Nod-Krai for support, so taking one of the companies should suffice. Ha! You could probably learn a thing or two from them since both of your specialties come from crossbows.”
He’s talked with some of their knights, sure. Heard a couple of stories and more from Amber, Eula, and other fellow members of the 4th Company about its status and changes recently. Captain Kaeya has also mentioned them during his trainee days, too. Working alongside them, however, is a different story.
Before more could be said, a rupture of knocks disturbs their conversation until the door flies open.
“Reporting in, Grand Master.”
As Mika turns to the voice, his nose picks up the overwhelming smell of iron before his eyes fully settle on the approaching figure. Mint green hair he’s most likely seen once or twice. Almost familiar, yet that’s not what catches his attention.
Red. Splatters of red. A contrast to his blue and silver garments; a contrast to his perception of knights in their glory.
Like a dead man walking.
Mika’s stomach churned in ways he didn’t know was possible. A chill runs down his spine at the sight.
“Anselm wanted me to deliver the updated reports on our resource and weapon supplies.” He stands before the taller blond, passing the documents and talking to him casually that it takes Mika a bit aback. “There was a bit of a delay with some treasure hoarders trying to get their hands on the goods, but I took care of it in time.”
He hears Varka sigh next to him. “Told ya to clean yourself up after or else Jean would scold you again, but thanks for your observations, Vice Captain Lohen.” Vice Captain? Why does that sound familiar? “I’ll inform Kaeya to add extra security measures for the trading routes in the meantime to avoid another situation like this.”
“All in a day’s work.” His eyes—red, like the stains on his body, irises that almost devour the jaded hues in them—flash straight at him. “Oh, who’s this?”
He bares his teeth. Proud. Hungry. The kind of hunger a hunter expresses at the sight of new prey; the kind of hunger found in pursuing a thrill that pumps your veins with adrenaline.
Is that even possible?
It scares him, yet fascinates him. It surprises him how badly mixed his feelings are on the matter.
Varka seems unphased. Almost accustomed. His nonchalance helps loosen his nerves a bit. “Just in time! Meet our new front-line surveyor who’ll be joining our expedition, Mika!”
Lohen grins. “Ah, you must be Huffman’s brother. The 5th Company raves about you, y’know.”
That means he knows about him already. Mika isn’t sure if he should shy away or just freeze up on the spot. Both choices seem rude so he shakes his head and smiles. Nervous, yet curious. “Yes, that’s me. Nice to meet you, uhm…”
“Oh, how rude of me.” His grin widens, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he squints them, and it finally hits him why everything feels uncannily familiar.
Don’t worry too much about Lohen, our Vice Captain, when you see him! Though he might give you a fright if you aren’t careful, haha!
A faint memory of his colleagues from the 5th Company rings loudly in his ears.
He reeks of rust and mayhem.
“My name’s Lohen, Vice Captain of the 5th Company, at your service.” He tilts forward, a hand over his chest, as he bows before him. An elegance befitting a knight amidst the blood on his clothes. A sight Mika would never forget. “Pleasure to be working with you, lil’ finch.”
The Knights of Favonius truly house all sorts of individuals indeed.
The second time it happens is through a chance meeting. A couple of months into the expedition.
Reporting his findings to Knight’s meeting tent became his usual routine. Sketches, outlines, and notes scrawled over the large sheet that expands across the table. From updating Nod-Krai’s terrains to jotting down new discoveries along the way, that is his purpose here. Watching the tension ease on his face helps steady his heart, reassures him, on their situation.
“Seems like the abyss’ influence starts right here,” Varka hums, tracing the carefully drawn lines and scribbles. His hand stops above the ravine between the lightkeepers’ base and theirs. “Mika, could ya check on our medical supplies and see if we need some restockin’ for our next destination up ahead?”
“On it, Grand Master.” Mika bids him a quick salute before taking off towards the medical bay.
He hadn’t thought much on the walk towards his location. Check in on the medical supplies and return with a quick report to Varka. Maybe recheck their stocks in case since it happens to be their break time. Meaning there might not be anybody inside to—
He nearly jumps when the entrance flaps open, revealing a sight he hasn’t witnessed since that day.
The person emerging from inside the medical tent just smiles at the surprise. “Ah, what a pleasant afternoon, surveyor kid. What’s brought ya here?”
Kid… The nickname feels strange when they both look around the same age. “Good afternoon, Vice Captain. Just here to report on our supplies for our next stop.”
Lohen’s eyes gleam in excitement. Do they truly gleam beyond his murky red hues? “Oh? Have you mapped out any new playthings— I mean, abyssal creatures nearby? Are we leaving anytime soon?”
Mika scratches his cheek with a nervous smile. He still isn’t used to his mannerisms… “Well, yes, but we’ll be meeting with the lightkeepers on the way. Grand Master Varka explicitly stated to not engage with the enemy as we’ll be transporting our goods on the safer path around.”
“What a pity,” Lohen sighs mournfully, waving his bloodied gloved hand in the air. “Well, I’ll have my chance to have my fun one way or another soon. Thanks for the info, lil’ finch.”
There goes that nickname again. Mika frowns as his focus follows Lohen stalking past him.
Seeing him covered in red (although he notices the abyssal substances pooled beneath his boots) feels like déjà vu. Their first meeting flashes in his head.
The battle-crazed maniac of the 5th Company—also known as their Vice Captain.
Lohen pays him no mind. Often formulating new schemes in pulling the rug under their Grand Master’s feet or chasing another rush for blood that took… a long while to accept. Though the vice captain has a way of leading his allies into battles won rather than lost, that puts the boy at ease. At least a little.
The thought makes sense. After all, his field involves exploring uncharted terrains, surveying unexplored territories, and keeping a watch-out for any potential changes that could pose a danger for their team. Neither of them have the chance to meet when their paths never intersect, much less their interests.
Though the constant insistence on borrowing his maps and book for new places to fight has become the recent norm in his life on the expedition.
Plus, the sight of him in this shape becomes a regular occurrence. A couple of scoldings from their healers never deter his enthusiasm in finding more fun when his boredom strikes. He’s most likely fine, and bothering him would probably not do him any good.
That’s what Mika tells himself until the nagging feeling in his chest keeps him from letting it go.
“Vice Captain Lohen!”
Lohen cranes his head, a subtle hum slips from his lips beckoning him to continue.
“Aren’t you going to…?” The corner of his lips twitch down, eyebrows furrowed as he points at his clothes. Blood and ooze still fresh, it seems.
The mint-haired knight looks down and, to his astonishment, merely shrugs. “Eh, just got a couple of scratches, but nothing I can’t handle.”
Seriously? His dumbfounded look must’ve been too obvious, because Lohen chuckles. “C’mon, it’s not that big of a deal. Not like anybody’s around to help lil’ old me.” Lohen tilts his head back at him with a smirk. “Unless you want to volunteer?”
Mika blinks furiously, incredulously, at his suggestion. Him? His amateur medical skills? The small lilt in his voice furthers his confusion. Teasing, yet also intrigued. Is he testing him?
One thing leads to another as he remembers taking his hand before tugging him back inside. The amused look on his face despite Mika’s soft insistence makes him believe this is the last thing Lohen expected. And truthfully, so did Mika.
(The whole thing becomes a blur. Leading him to the makeshift bed, gathering materials to clean any possible open cuts—towel, water basin, bandages, cotton buds, and antiseptics, and instructing him to remove his top garments. Although the vice captain’s comments about being bold with his demands didn’t stop his face from flaring up. Pungent scent of rust floods his nose when discarding his shirt and finding a spare amongst the crates.)
However, even when he’s aware, he finds himself breathless when he carefully wipes the wet cloth around his body. His fingers trace along fresh wounds over faded scars. New and old. Ones that bled and tore from his enemies slain and the bloodbath left in his wake.
“The blood’s not mine,” Lohen clarifies, yet the worry remains nonetheless. “Just old scars from some enemies in the past.”
Mika purses his lips. “Still, it’s not good to walk around like this.”
Lohen hums again. He does that a lot, he notes. Which leaves him more uncertain if he’s taking his words to heart or if his words only make him an annoying worrywart.
Needless to say, his hands got to work. Meager medical knowledge from his earlier days in the front-line surveyor examination as his guide into cleaning each fresh cut found. Disinfecting them isn’t all too bad with not much to clean in the first place. Makes what he said true and, admittedly, amazing.
There’s still this nagging feeling telling him off though.
“Letting all the blood dry up on your clothes will slow you down.” Mika adds, wrapping another roll of bandage around the young man’s body after disinfection. “I-I know you know, but it’s better safe than sorry to get cleaned up.”
Safely securing the bandage around, he begins putting everything away until he notices the small smudge of red on the vice captain’s face.
Just wipe it off. Simple as that. He digs out his handkerchief, clean and folded, from his pocket and tenderly swipes it off. The small act reminds him of how Huffman cleans the dirt off his face whenever he comes back home, running around the city with wonder and curiosity as his drivers.
Just wipe it off. It’s not so simple when observing how… enchanting his dulled eyes truly are up close. How staring into them now waves off every unnerving stare sent his way in the past.
Now he’s staring straight at him and he realizes, crap, he stared for too long!
He watches his hand still, just above his cheek, where his thumb rests above his beauty mark.
(Concern consumes him at overstepping his boundaries, reaching over and touching without permission, yet the surprising grip around his wrist that lets him continue eases those thoughts away.)
“That should be it.” Hastily, Mika looks him over one last time, darting his eyes elsewhere. Anywhere but Lohen. If only the floor could open up and swallow him whole right now…
It takes a couple of seconds until Lohen finally speaks up. “You’re quite adorable— sorry, attentive, for your own good, y’know?” Mika stares at him, bewildered. Did he hear that right? “I can see why the Grand Master praises you so highly.”
He sputters on the spot. Abruptly pulling his hand away, ripped from his grip, and stumbled back to give each other space, he recalls those breathing techniques Amber taught him. Count from one to five. Breathe slowly. Deep breaths. Focus on the quiet beats of your heart. He takes a long breath, feeling his heart beat against his chest.
Amidst it all, Lohen is quick on his feet. Slipping into the spare tunic Mika found, he expects him to leave, a quick ‘thanks’ on the way out and a moment of peace to recover on his own.
But he waits. Patiently, thoughtfully. Letting him recover at his pace until the blond returns to his senses again. “Feeling better?”
“Y-Yeah,” Mika heaves, closing his eyes for a bit. “Thank you… You didn’t have to wait for me.”
“And leave my medic alone with an attack? What kind of knight would I be?” The careful graze of fingers under his chin snaps his eyes open, jumping when seeing how close Lohen is. Noses nearly brush against one another.
So close, too close. His thoughts run amok. From how close he is, how pretty he is, how much he smells like… apples? His nose picks up the scent amidst the blood and sludge. Embarrassment crosses his face for noting such facts.
He just hums, a quiet ‘interesting’ slips before he finally pulls away. “Anyways, I should be thanking you for patching me up. Even when you’re still quite busy yourself I must say.”
His thumb brushes the corner of his lips. Teasing, testing.
“I must be off now. No time like the present to waste a good day away. Catch you again, lil’ finch.” His fingers linger a second too long under his lip, slipping off teasingly from his chin, before pulling away to bid him off. As if he isn’t leaving the surveyor rooted to the ground, red blooming from his neck to the tip of his ears.
His hand grips the handkerchief tightly, red smudges its surface where he feels how soft his skin is under his fingertips.
Mika feels his heart about to explode from his chest.
And from the subtle smirk Lohen reveals over his shoulder, it’s as if he hears it, too.
Blood becomes familiar when paired with Lohen.
A song and dance ritual with the vice captain when boredom strikes and his lust for a challenge burns. Where Mika finds solace in his maps and books, Lohen finds it through relentless bladework against powerful foes.
He admires him for it, much to the surprise of his company. Raring for stronger enemies, seeking fights that could give him a good beating (there’s more concern than admiration in this context, however), yet having the will to restrain these fixations when necessary, these qualities are what make Lohen who he is. A balance between his duty and his desire… Admittingly, Mika understands why the 5th company follows his commands without question. That air of dominance and confidence reminds him of the Grand Master. Dangerous, yet admirable all the same.
So the sight should’ve made him accustomed to his antics. Really. If everyone has, then that means he shouldn’t be worrying over those things.
It’s probably why he often visits his tent these days. Blood, scratches, bruises, anything of the sort, his legs bring him to his tent over the professionals. Mika begins to think Lohen wants an excuse to spend time with him. If it’s for his maps, well, he already has access to it whenever he asks.
He never turns him away. Never could.
“It’s not mine,” his voice echoes vividly in his ears, accompanied by a grin ready to hunt for more. When the scent of rust and splatters of blood were from nearby monsters and not from his own flesh. However, Mika can’t help but believe him—his confidence. Vicious and reckless his tactics may be, there’s an aura about him that washes all his worries away.
That’s why the third time he sees him, drenched beyond belief, with the same intense grin on his face, it nearly sends him into a panic.
Only to be met with a laugh, hoarse and sharp. “Why so surprised?”
How couldn’t he? Mika’s eyes trail down his body, where arrowhead marks most likely pierced through his clothing, tearing open wounds underneath. However, the most distressing part of this situation is the singular dagger lodged into his side.
Of course, Lohen isn’t invincible. How foolish of him to believe that.
“Hm?” His eyes land on the weapon stuck through his abdomen. “Oh, this? It’s the best they could do. Unfortunately, they couldn’t last long enough… to…”
How foolish of him to see him that way.
Mika moves as fast as he could before Lohen’s body hits the ground. Exhaustion taking over right as he catches him, careful to not press on any further wounds his body could’ve possibly endured. His breathing’s heavier, he notes, holding onto him for dear life, his body feels less warm. The dagger in his side only draws more blood, yet sheathed into his body from spilling any further.
This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening! Not to Lohen of all people…!
He doesn’t think he’s moved this much before. Carefully laying his fellow knight on his bed, making quick work with the limited medical supply in his tent, and scanning for any hidden injuries that might’ve been hidden beneath his layers, Mika can only pray to Barbatos that this is enough. This has to. Until the professional medics get here. His injuries bleed into the white sheet, coloring them the same red that often splatters him. Lohen’s strong, he knows, yet where did that belief lead him?
The blond hurriedly, frantically, runs out once he knows Lohen’s injuries won’t turn for worse under his nose. His sights settle on the blood trail leading towards his tent. Which means the rest of the knights must be this way. The emptied out tents around him, aside from a couple of knights running back and forth with equipment on-hand, begins to make sense when he comes across the commotion. Spotting Varka and Nannina, sweeping the crowd for something, or someone, it doesn’t take long for the young blond to inform the predicament in his tent to them.
Not long after, he finds Anselm and a couple of healers around his bed. Tentative healing from one of the vision users that accompanied the expedition while the other two made proper work in bandaging his wounds. The older man leads him out in the meantime.
“Give or take another hour for them to patch him up. Maybe an extra hour until he wakes up.” The brunette says. “Given his spunk, he’s gonna be up and about in no time.”
“Will he be alright?” Mika fiddles with his thumbs. His clumsy work around gauze was replaced with professionally wrapped bandages. It takes a load off his shoulders knowing the vice captain can rest properly. Crimson still bleeds through the dressing, but it’s not as bad as earlier.
He takes another look into the tent before sparing him a glance. “From the looks of it, yeah. If you hadn’t helped him in time, it could’ve been worse.”
It could’ve been worse. The thought makes his breath hitch.
“This kid,” Anselm sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look away for even a split second and suddenly he disappears from our sights. Thank goodness you found him.”
Found is…a huge understatement. Mika listens on about the mission going awry when Lohen’s squad got ambushed by the Fatui. Whichever Harbinger in command of this bunch remains unclear (though Varka commented on how unlikely it’d belong to the Captain’s squadron) but to coordinate an attack this cunning, not to mention catching Lohen off-guard, they were definitely planning this ahead of time.
“As for why… Well, that’s what we want to know.”
It makes Mika relieved to hear that most of the injuries sustained weren’t severe. Most likely thanks to Lohen… The vision plasters itself at the forefront of his mind and a shudder runs through his body as a result.
Enough for Anselm to notice. All he does is place a firm hand on his shoulder. “Keep an eye on him, yeah? He seems to trust you enough if he chose to go straight to you. Just update his status with Nannina once he awakens.”
Him? Really? He finds himself wondering such questions these days. He’s nothing too special. A boy with a natural fondness and love for cartography and earnest heart in lending people help through his maps. That’s all he is; that’s all he’s ever known.
Still, he nods, because this is the best he can do for him. As Anselm’s observation, the medics exit after an hour, assuring them both that his wounds were safely taken care of, and to let him rest for a few days.
Knowing Lohen, he’ll need to be strictly watched should his restlessness cause more trouble for himself.
That leaves Mika waiting. Keeping tabs on Lohen until he wakes up by his bedside. His surveying book, tiny notes, and quill in hand just to let the time pass, but all he can focus on is the resting man on his bed. Worrying for a man for hours on end who, although said to be recovering, always finds a way to claw into his head no matter what.
But it’s Lohen. The words come naturally. He’ll get through it.
It grounds him enough to wait the next hour in silence. The only sound between Lohen’s soft breathing and his scribbles on paper, glossing over the location Anselm mentioned and the green-haired knight.
Another hour passes before he feels the bed shift.
“Hey there.” Lohen mutters casually, slowly, as if he wasn’t bleeding outside his tent hours ago. A groan follows after stretching his arms up.
He tries to get up. Tries. Mika immediately jumps to his feet and gently, yet firmly, grabs his shoulders.
“Don’t ‘hey there’ me.” His frown deepens, eyebrows knitted. His attempts to sound stern begin to sound stupid, so he opts for a change of subject. “Don’t move either. The medics said to not let you run out and about for a couple of days to fully recover from your injuries.”
“Heh, you should’ve seen the others.” Lohen has the galls to chuckles, wincing when he breathes too strongly, stomach constricting with the healing gash, only for another wave of laughter to heave out.
The blond can’t help the restless sigh huffing out his nose. “I’ll inform Nannina that you’ve woken up.” Mika moves to leave, only for a hand to quickly take hold of his wrist.
Baffled, he meets the vice captain’s dazed out expression, almost forcing himself to stay awake. Squinting his eyes through the pain; through the bright lantern light above them to get a glimpse of his face.
“Stay with me then.” Lohen states, hair falling over his face as he drinks in the flurry of emotions overwhelming him. “Can’t stop me from running off if you leave my side, right, lil’ finch?” Oh, the audacity to pout despite the look in his eyes saying otherwise…
Anselm will most likely scold him. He knows it’s not like him to disobey his superior’s orders, yet there’s no denying the magical work in Lohen’s insistence trapping him to his side.
Something’s wrong with him, he concludes, just as he decides to sit back down in his chair.
Some part of him regrets listening, watching his pout morph into that smug cat-like grin as if he won, while another part of him is relieved to know he’s doing well enough to be acting this way.
Mika gives up on trying to persuade him, deciding to rest his arms by his pillow. Notebook nudged aside to not obscure either’s view of the other. Instead, he asks, “why’d you come to my tent?” It’s been on his mind. Lohen is rational. Despite the delirium kicking in from bloodloss, he is able to distinguish his tent amongst the rest. That means telling apart his tent from the medical tent.
He almost doesn’t catch it. How his voice becomes inaudible for a second as if not wanting the world to hear him as he unnoticeably takes his hand into his.
Only wanting him and him alone to hear the most sincere confession out of a maniac. “Wanted to see you.”
That’s enough to silence him. Any idea of scolding him is smothered by the soft brush of his lips against his knuckles. Mika thinks he’s about to combust from the display. Is he the delirious one? He stiffly faces his notebook again, doing his absolute best to ignore pounding in his chest and gentle caress over his now-closed fist.
He makes note to locate this area and mark it as a precaution. Have the other scouts survey the area with backup to be safe. He tries distracting himself. Grazes over his fingers, eyes staring into the side of his head, and his heart ringing in his ears. He lets out a quiet huff.
(He adds a mental note to keep track of any Fatui activity in the upcoming destinations that might lead to a clue on the mastermind behind this is. Another note to keep this from Lohen until then.)
His hand feels hot around his.
His poor heart can’t bear to see him like that again.
While Mika adores his fellow comrades, there are moments where he finds himself seeking time away from the excitement. A lovely bunch, but they’re too loud for him to handle until overstimulation hits.
This leads to the small little place atop the hill. The singular tree that comes with it as an added bonus for perfect shade. A small view of the base, not too far, and a spot for respite from the boisterous crowd.
The place isn’t secret. Almost most of the knights know of the place, yet they know when the young surveyor wishes for time away from the crew. A respect for boundaries that usually leaves him alone to his thoughts.
And while being alone had originally been his idea…
“Have you scouted this area yet?”
Mika lets his eyes roam to the fluff of light green peering over his shoulder. The knight slumps against him, skimming over his handiwork, as he points to the open area on his book.
Why Lohen decides to join him more often than not is a curious case itself. I’ve always known. Just didn’t think of coming ‘till now. He excuses. To his own surprise, he didn’t mind in the slightest.
“Y-Yeah. There’s a lot of ore around here we can scavenge, but I noted some treasure hoarder camps nearby too. Aside from that, there are a couple of electro slimes and abyssal monsters growing in the area.” His brow furrows. “...but there’s been abyss mages nearby recently, too… They might’ve had a hand in the rise of Wild Hunts nearby.”
“Mm… Perfect then for bullying— I mean, training then.” Lohen corrects himself, but the mirth sparkling in those lightless eyes say otherwise.
Strangely enough, they don’t bother him as much as it would’ve the first time he dropped such jokes on him. The intention in his words being too difficult to decipher. Recently, his humor, he realizes, is a small quirk of his. A mental note written off and kept in his mind.
Because Mika notices—always has with him.
How his fighting style tends to leave him vulnerable to side attacks, how his knifework becomes an extension for his cryo abilities, how his footwork exemplifies his training in the ranged company; these little notes written in the back of his notebook alongside other tidbits of information of the next terrain he must cover. Important notes, he tells them, tucked neatly between pages for himself to check.
He notices things beyond their work habits, too.
The purposeful quips or words that slip out when talking with others, the small fidgets with his knife beneath his cloak when boredom strikes, and the twitch at the corner of his lips when an idea clicks in his head. The little glow in his eyes when finding something fascinating whether that involves battles or troubles to pass the time.
Almost like a rabbit in the wild. When excluding his usual tendencies.
“I heard about you all the way back three years ago.” Lohen shares, polishing his dagger. The gleam of daylight shines off its clean blade. He glances back at him. “I don’t recall ever seeing you accompany Captain Eula during her patrols at Dornman Port though.”
“Ah… there hasn’t been any need for me to.” Mika tilts his head curiously. “Was there a reason you wanted to see me?”
Lohen leans closer. “Do I need a reason to?”
Too close. His breath hitches, feeling his fan close to his next.
Mika averts his gaze away. It worsens his situation when feeling him breathe against his neck instead.
“No, not at all.” Is all he sheepishly says.
Lohen chuckles. Always does when catching the blond by surprise. He finds his palms becoming sweaty under his gloves at how nice listening to his laugh has become.
“I heard you received letters.” His ears perk up at this. Grand Master Varka must’ve told him. “Got any from your folks back at home?”
“Mhm!” Mika smiles, recalling the contents of each letter. “There’s my family, of course.” About missing him and praying for his safe return. “Huffman wrote his own separate letter, too. Ah, then there’s Amber and Captain Eula.” Taking care of himself, eating well, updates on Mondstadt, and news of an Honorary Knight who protected the nation during their time away; it makes him miss home. Does Lohen miss his home, too? “Oh! Captain Kaeya wrote in his letter that he’ll invite me and the rest of the team to a feast at Angel’s Share as a treat once the expedition is over. Not sure if I’d stay long once the alcohol comes in.” He scratches behind his nape with a laugh. The memory of his vision’s afterparty comes to mind and makes him imagine the feast in a similar light.
He expects Lohen to chuckle. Make a strange joke about the knights wasting away or how Kaeya takes his chances on ‘exploiting their efforts for some good wine’ as he once phrased it.
Instead, he mumbles softly, “is that so?”
It’s the first time Mika sees him deep in thought. He wonders if it’s something he said when Lohen jumps to his feet and proclaims on stretching his legs. Going on about not getting his usual exercise and feeling stiff that leaves him cluelessly staring on after him.
(“No running off after stray monsters first, remember,” Mika says, knowing his warnings would go unheard anyways.
The smug expression on his face tells him all he needs to know before jogging off.
“Just keep watch of our camp till I return.”)
So the fourth time Lohen walks up to him, splattered in red, his shock instantly melts into a dumbfounded look. A moment of Lohen in his tent, bloodied and bandaged, dagger through flesh, surfaces in his mind with a flash of fear before he shakes the morbid image away.
And like every time, he notices. Always. “It’s not mine this time.”
This time… Lohen reassures, far too excitedly for Mika’s taste, regarding his current look.
Nevertheless, his words hold true when peering at the dead boar hauled behind him, polearm gutted and dragged from wherever he found it in the forest.
“You said not to run off until I got better, so I didn’t.” He tuts, leaning against his weapon, unfazed by the smell. His face relaxes into something more casual, almost proud, despite the red on his face. “Don’t want you worrying your little head off again.”
Mika nods along, gradually drinking in the sight. He’s fine. He’s not hurt. He’s not on the verge of death. “What’s the occasion?” His attention drifts down, pointing at the unfortunate prey under the mint-haired man’s heel.
“Occasion?” He cocks his head, mirroring his confusion, until the realization hits him. “Oh, this?” He gestures between the carcass and their small campfire away from base, dragging it closer. “Just our dinner for tonight.”
He blinks, incredulous. “Our dinner?”
He cocks his head, reciprocating. “Yeah? Who else do you think it’s for?”
Bewildered, Mika only follows along Lohen’s insistence on setting up a campfire. The sun visibly begins setting. Orange rays gradually fade into a canopy of darkness where the only source of light are the stars, the bonfire below at their base, and the tiny campfire in their little spot atop the hill.
Lohen, stripped off his outer layer as it lay folded next to Mika’s jacket and once-again-blood-stained handkerchief, turns the roasted boar meat above the flames. (Mika tried to help out in cutting portions, only for Lohen to pat his hand away whenever he offered. “This is payback for helping me in a pinch that one time,” Lohen said, even when Mika tells him the medical crew did most of the work.) The blond, in turn, adds another firewood when noticing the fire dimming for a second. He knows the vice captain had stared him down for setting up their little campfire, but sitting around and letting him do everything sends a pang of guilt to his chest.
“Thought I told you not to touch anything,” he hums, sitting back onto their shared log and letting the roast cook for another few minutes. Mika watches how well the flames light up the side of his face in the night.
He isn’t sure whether to chuckle or to cough at the accusation. Harmless it may be. “I can’t let you do everything since you brought us food.”
“It’s me treating you. You shouldn’t feel bad about it.”
“Still feels a little wrong.”
Mika giggles at the eye-roll sent his way. “It’s not like you’ll be having that feast Captain Kaeya has in mind anytime soon—” Lohen’s words spark his mind of the contents in Kaeya’s letter. The same one he told him. “—and I figured that treating you this way makes up for the favor I owe you. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Feast. Roasted boar. Portion cuts remind him of Sticky Honey Roast back home.
Realization dawns on him before glancing at him. “You did this because of the letter?”
Lohen mulls over playfully before shrugging. “It inspired the idea, but trust me, I’d been planning to treat you regardless. Well, not that it’s the same as a feast since it’s the two of us, but I definitely prefer a meal with just us.”
Just us. It has him overthinking it again. Reminds him of all the times his cheeks burned. A reminder of his poor heart’s constant fluttering. Even now, as sincerity evidently radiates off the single look this man gives him.
The battle-crazed maniac of the 5th Company; the Arrowhead of the Knights; the man who makes his heart swell after scaring it to death on their first meeting.
“Just us?” He repeats carefully. Which is funny since it can’t get more obvious what that implies. Because he doesn’t want to assume; because Lohen looks at him like it’s the best idea ever and, well, his traitorous heart jumps at the idea, too.
Because Lohen looks at him, as serious as the fire highlights the genuine look on his face. No teasing, no testing. “Just us.” He says, hushed. Proud. A little bit of something he can’t describe. It reminds him of the time Lohen’s answer renders him speechless in his tent that day. Only for him and him alone to hear.
It’s unfair. Totally unfair. For all his quirks, tics, and reflexes, Mika can’t read the emotions on his face. Yet, with a single look, Lohen has all he needs to know about him like it’s easy. Like it comes as easy as breathing to read the expressions dancing on his face.
Still, reading that far is an accomplishment of its own.
Mika notices. And maybe, from the way his leg nudges his—from the way his half-lidded eyes reflect the blazing flame, that’s what Lohen wanted.
When the vice captain charges into battle, the blood soaking his clothes becomes a norm within the fifth company. By extension, it becomes the usual sight within the knights who’ve gotten to know him. A relatively normal scenario the expedition becomes exposed to after months of travelling together.
Still, it’s impossible for him to not notice how often the vice captain has come to his aid more times than he could count.
How couldn’t he notice? When his eyes always fly around the battlefield, hoping to Barbatos he won’t become a casualty in the field (Lohen scoffs at the notion and dramatically mourns on his lack of faith in him when that accusation is so, so much farther from the truth) until the sight of his polearm and dagger gleams amidst the settling dust comes into view. His grin far sinister than any enemy they’ve seen, yet his actions lay ready for their comrades to grasp victory.
Mika admires him. Truly, he does. To put full trust in a man who deeply cares for everyone around him. He understands it far more than one could realize.
But how can he, after seeing how underneath the raw bloodlust, hunger, and thrill for power of a man thirsting for more, accept that? When he’s seen past the layers of armor and terror for an individual who thinks more about his comrades than his well-being?
And for that very person to risk his life for someone like him?
Can he handle that sight again? Knowing his life could cost him?
The final straw happens in the spur of a moment. Inside his tent, memories of nursing scars and drawing maps and writing notes on someone who deserves better, Lohen appears with a new type of injury. A dark bruise swells below his eye—had one of the knights gotten into a quarrel with him?—right above his beauty mark’s placement. A single blood splatter right below said mark. Bloodied knuckles that, for certain, don't belong to him still blooms concern in his heart at the sight.
(It becomes a routine at this point. Varka knows, Nannina knows, everyone. The little meetups in his tent, between breaks in expeditions, and during the calm after the storm in their fight against the abyss. Where Mika goes, Lohen is never far behind. Trading glances, lingering touches, and whispers only for their ears; Mika’s heard it all, and it never fails to have his heart race each time.)
His little cloth becomes his helper once again. The one he regularly keeps on his person for times like this. Creating a small ice pack with the help of his vision, he hands it to him before tending to his fingers.
“What happened?” Mika lets his vision permeate through his gloves, dabbing antiseptic onto the minor scratches. Red…
Lohen just smiles. “Nothing serious. Just had to beat down an ego before it could grow any further.”
“Did one of the members decide to challenge you?”
“If challenging my patience was what they were after, you could say that.”
His nonchalance scares him. A little bit. Admirable in some ways, unnerving in others. “What does that mean?”
Suddenly, the carefree look on his face is replaced with something ominous. He plays with a loose strand of his hair with his now-nursed hand. It throws him off when his voice softens, “juuust giving a small lesson about talking behind the backs of his hardworking coworkers.”
“Isn’t that too much?”
“Anything for my little surveyor.” He says it like he means it. In that tone that means every word uttered from his heart.
My surveyor. His face turns beet red. Heart fluttering at the new nickname that claims him. Almost concerning, yet awfully endearing. Anything for him… for petty things like gossip behind his back.
Like a polearm blocking an enemy attack. Having his back.
The blade stabbed deep into his chest.
Mika blinks away the cursed image conjured by his recent imaginations. Could you handle becoming the reason for losing him? The red in his cheeks fade. His stomach churns like the first time he saw him.
He ushers him out of his tent, knuckles carefully bandaged and cooled, when his mind becomes too much. Handkerchief forgotten for a decision that can make or break everything they built.
If the knights have noticed a change in atmosphere recently, Mika can only send his unspoken apologies in sheepish bows.
It comes in a form of distancing. Mika tries to be subtle about it. Little changes in his routine to avoid suspicion in order for their schedules to not clash. Only available when necessary and off in his tent, with others to talk about their next travelling route, until Grand Master Varka calls for him.
It works. Only for the first three days. By the fourth day, Lohen already clocks in on his plans and adjusts accordingly. Any attempt to avoid him falls short. Any successful attempt of avoiding him, however, is intentional from the corner-eyed glances he meets when hastily leaving the same space.
This familiar feeling reminds him of their short meetings since that day in Grand Master Varka’s office. Intense gaze glazing over his form with every step he took.
He knows… Mika suspects though not surprised. Nothing gets past his eyes, after all. What is surprising him is the long waiting game Lohen’s holding against him as days turn into weeks.
Unfortunately, subtlety has never been Mika’s strong suit. It gets to a point that tests Lohen’s patience.
“You’re avoiding me.” Lohen confronts him after weeks of passing glances and meek responses. Cornering him between the crates and stone wall. Far from prying eyes and chattering noises. The blank look in those all-consuming eyes only adds to the awkward atmosphere.
“I’m sorry.” Is all he offers. Lying wouldn’t get him anywhere. Not when he can read him so easily.
The ever-so-observant vice captain whistles. “Not gonna deny it? You’re learning fast.”
His tone balances between impressed and suspicious. No nickname this time. Clenching his fists, he locks eyes with him, nervous. “I can’t hide anything from you even if I could.”
He narrows his jade-red eyes. “But you tried to.”
First breath, second… “But I tried to.” He echoes back.
He tilts his head. “Because I taught him manners?”
Mika attempts to glare back. It feels too weak to even be considered one. “Because it was for me. You don’t have to get hurt because of me.”
He notices the corner of his mouth twitching. Almost challenged. “Aw, don’t start treating me like I’m fragile, lil’ finch.” Lohen steps forward. Mika freezes on the spot. “I’m not the vice captain for nothing, y’know. No need to be so worried.”
Blood. Every time. Always at the scene of the crime. From all his enemies that dared cross Lohen’s path.
Lohen reaches out towards a loose strand of his hair.
His body laid on his bed, dagger in his chest, and his breathing stopped as his hand goes limp—
Suddenly, breathing feels suffocating.
“Then don’t treat me like you’ll lose me.” Mika mumbles, barely above a whisper. Hands tuck close to his chest when Lohen stops in his tracks. Fingers twitch to a halt just as they brush against his bangs.
Don’t act like you’d die for me.
It’s the first time he’s ever seen him speechless as he continues. “You’re capable. I know, but I don’t like how much you’re risking yourself for me. I can take care of myself just fine.”
Lohen stares him down. Sweat trickles down the side of his face with each passing second. “I know.” He says, brushing the ends of his hair above his eyes. “I know you can.” His fingers trace down his face, glazing over his reaction, from his unsteady heartbeats to the quiet gasps at the intimacy. “That doesn’t stop me from wanting to protect you.”
It’s enticing, alluring, especially when he leans close.
“It won’t stop me from risking it all for—”
Risk. He learns to hate that word in association with Lohen.
“Don’t!” Mika turns his head away. Flinching away from those violent hands who cradle his face like snow. “Please… don’t risk yourself over me.”
Those words struck something in Lohen. Mika sees it from the corner of his eye as he pulls away. Slowly. As slow as the guilt consuming him in watching his expression dim.
The way his hand freezes halfway over his cheek doesn’t go unnoticed either.
Contemplation dances across his face, tentative glances between his fixed gaze and pursed lips, then reluctantly pulls his hand away.
“If that’s what you want.” The emptiness in his voice stings harder than the disappointment he expected. No insistence, no sign of mischief, no nothing. Just the resignation of a man who leaves him in the dark, respectful of his wishes.
(The thoughtful look on his face when he turns away makes him wonder what occupied his mind at that moment. To the rejection of his silent acts of devotion.)
Mika stands alone with the shadow of his regrets.
Mika, like many others, has made his own handful of mistakes on the line.
An oversight on his end. Part of his map was unmarked and unchecked, which prompted him to fulfill the role he took on this expedition. After all, the blood of his comrades will stain his hands if his oversight could cost their lives.
And frankly, that’s a mistake that’ll haunt him for life.
(The mistake from that night, one week ago, already haunts him wherever he goes. He doesn’t need another reason to struggle sleeping at night.)
He recalls approaching Grand Master Varka, requesting backup for another reconnaissance search around the area, which he proudly permitted.
“You’ve gotten mighty bold, Mika!” His boisterous laughter accompanies the genuine compliment, patting his back.
In the past, he might’ve folded under the praise. Him? Bold? That’s not him. Being bold means facing his feelings and taking action.
Being bold means being Lohen, and he’s anything but.
…it’s been one week since they’ve spoken.
Mika scratches his nape with an awkward chuckle.
(He notices the slight concern in his eyes. Always has. For one week now.)
The plan starts out simple enough. The unmarked location isn’t too far, accessible and quick on horseback, which shouldn’t last until the moon rises. Two people on the trip should suffice, and any hidden danger that may come up should prompt for an immediate retreat.
So why does he feel restless?
“If there’s something you’ll feel like you’ll regret doing later, it’s best to act now,” Varka softly nudges him, pats the small of his back. “The next batch of the expedition returning home will be yours.”
The news was expected, yet his body still pales up. An opportunity too soon to return home.
An opportunity that might leave all the words unsaid and lost until his regret eats him whole.
If there’s something you’ll feel like you’ll regret doing later, it’s best to act now.
Varka’s words of encouragement leaves him figuring out the words to say hours later. Finding Lohen when he wants to take not nearly as long as he originally thought. His back, all too familiar, all too reminiscent of those times in the field, becomes visible as he delegates his units’ next assignments. Or his reports have been tasked to another poor soul again.
Mika skips a couple steps forward, biting his lower lip when Lohen moves to disappear into his tent, only to watch him stop in his tracks the closer he gets. Close enough that he lets him take his wrist. “Let’s talk…” He catches the hollow look on Lohen’s face from where he stands, swallowing down the bundle of worries caught in his throat.
“About?” His voice remains indifferent. A hint of something more at the end of his question. He hopes he isn’t reading too deep into it.
“About the other night…” Mika holds his breath. “Let’s talk about it… after I return.”
Lohen shows enough interest to cock his head at him. “Are you sure?”
No nicknames again. Mika hesitates on what to say, then heaves at his own incompetence. “I’ll be leaving soon.” He feels him stiffen under his touch. “I…I’ll return to Mondstadt soon.” Deep breaths, Mika. Just as you’ve been taught. “A-And I don’t want to keep running from this. From you.”
Lohen’s quiet. Uncharacteristically so. Enough to have his heart racing from the anxiety building within his chest.
However, for the first time since that night, he meets his eyes. His gaze burns deep into his soul like he’s searching for weakness. Hesitation. Everything Mika wants to stop being at this very moment.
“You won’t run.” He ends up questioning—stating. Emotions in those beautiful hues too clouded to read. As if testing him to be swallowed into those blood red irises of his.
Instead, he holds his stare. “Not anymore. Not from this…”
The silence is loud between them, enough for the blond to hear his own heart racing, as Lohen continues to eye him down. Yet he sees it. The way his eyes lit up. As quick as a flickering fire before it vanishes.
“Mika! We’re ready to go!” Someone yells from behind him. He looks over his shoulder and sees Ekbert waving at him, pointing towards their horses and bags.
“After.” Lohen leaves no room for argument. “Right before the sun sets. If you don’t come back, I’ll find you myself.”
He means it. Seriously means it. The response is so Lohen that it feels more reassuring than anything. Relieves the tension between his shoulders as he nods, following Ekbert and onto his mission.
Because that’s all there is. His duty in mind and his problem tucked in the farthest corner until the time is right. They’ll talk it out—their feelings, this, whatever this is between them—and they’ll put the other night’s grievances aside.
For now, it’s back to scouting the area, updating his map, and calming the worrywart that’s his heart until his return to hopefully salvage a relationship he holds dear. A simple reconnaissance mission of the nearby area that’ll end soon enough before the sun falls.
He was wrong.
Careless is when both he and Ekbert find a Fatui camp in their designated location behind fallen boulders. Reckless is Mika quickly scribbling the entire area, mind memorizing the terrain, landmarks, and possible other threats for nearly an hour—he remembers a meeting with one of the lightkeepers about a stray Wild Hunt creature that escaped their detection. Helpless is the malicious presence nearby as the surrounding area grows darker, the Fatui taking notice of their hidden spot, and one of their horses jolting and bolting away at the gunshot aimed at its leash.
The whole scenario was messy. A mistake. Varka’s suggestion of more backup comes to mind as Mika readies his lance and crossbow, cryo vision glowing at the ready, while Ekbert readies his musket.
Thankfully, there’s only three Fatui around, shooting a frost arrow straight at one of the gunsmen’s arms. Curses slip in his mother tongue as he glares daggers at the blond before everything becomes hazy.
Gunshots fired, elements shot across the field, the clash of his spear against theirs; it ends with more blood on their hands than Mika expected.
Staggering the trooper with a shove, he nearly misses the targeted gun pointed for his head until he watches a bullet fly straight through his head. The shock temporarily fades when glancing up to see Ekbert grip the holster with a scowl, finding the large skirmisher handled and tied down.
How ironic. Using their own equipment against them. Ekbert ties them with a spare rope lying about while Mika secures possible clues of whoever leader they worked for. (Possibly the same one that ambushed Lohen’s squad…)
“I’ll quickly call for backup,” the older blond sends him a look of concern, placing what they found in the horse’s satchel, “will you be alright here?”
“Yeah.” Truthfully, he’s still shaken. Enough to focus, but just enough to have him on edge. “I’ll be fine.”
At this point, Mika believes fate enjoys punishing each white lie that comes out of his teeth.
Mika bites his lips hard, crossbow knocked out of his hand as the ghastly being claws at his sleeve, tearing through cloth and drawing blood. He stifles the wince from flexing his arm away from another swing at his face.
Wild Hunt. One of the larger, more dangerous ones. He believes this one is the same one told to them. Rotten luck.
The creature towers over him. The enemy Fatuus, that trooper he clashed with not long ago, crushed under its weight with a crack. Splotches of crimson and mud hit him from how close his face nearly meets a similar fate. Blood and bones, grinded into nothing but the muddled dirt.
Ekbert won’t be back for a while. Mika surmises, rolling under its massive arm when it swings for his head. He lands right next to his crossbow before aiming a frost arrow shot at its feet, watching ice form around it until its hind legs. It roars out, voice incomprehensible, as it struggles to break free.
Now’s my chance. Mika stumbles to his feet, only to yelp when a heavier body launches into him. His crossbow slips out of his grasp, kicked farther from his reach by the large boot blocking his vision.
“Little shit.” The trouble squeak escapes his throat as someone grabs him by the hair, harshly tugging him back then slamming him down to the ground. His world starts spinning from the impact, blood on his tongue. “Thought you and your friend could get away with this? You’d wish that Wild Hunt took you down with that idiot!”
Mika tries moving, but the large hands around his wrist leads him to struggling against his grip. When’d he escape? The ropes around him are gone. He must’ve found a way when the Wild Hunt had his guard down. His mind is still jumbled. Focusing is hard, his vision rendered useless in his state, and there’s still the abyss monster struggling free from its icy trap…
Maybe it’s karma for being selfishly selfless. For pushing away the one person who offers his whole being to him. The blond hisses as the Fatuus shoves his face back down, squinting his eyes to avoid the dirt obscuring his eyes. The large figure above him wavers, dotting and splitting apart, while he tries collecting himself. To see past the blackened spots and blurred daze.
“Oh, when I’m through with you, you damn squirt…”
The skirmisher doesn’t get a chance to finish his threat as he’s off him in a flash. Kicked off his back with a pained wheeze.
“So much for your bravado…” Mika’s eyes dilate at the familiar mocking tone. Footsteps approaching his form. “Here I thought you’d actually put up a fight. Instead, one measly kick was enough to knock you off, tch.”
With his better arm, he weakly lifts himself up, sitting on his knees as he blinks away the blotted dots. Just enough to recognize the pair of boots in front of him.
“Lohen…” Mika croaks out, and for a second, they exchange looks at the mention of his name. Even with his situation, bruised and exhausted and agape, the sharp intakes of breaths doesn’t go unnoticed despite the stoic look plastered on his face.
Especially the devilish gleam in his eyes when hearing loud wheezing from the skirmisher from his attack.
He takes another look down at him. Drinking in the pitiful sight of the young surveyor who looks worse for wear. Don’t treat me like you’d lose me. The same look crosses his face. He knows. Because that very same one morphs into something far, far worse.
He’s never seen his red hues burn with rage before. The intense kind. The kind nobody wants to see, eyeing him slowly stalking over to the skirmisher.
Mika belatedly realizes the frost-imbued dagger lodged into the grunt’s shoulder. Faint red visibly bleeding through his uniform.
“Oh? Still kicking, huh?” Lohen’s laughter echoes on the field, grabbing the poor Fatuus by his collar and up close. “Maybe you could hold up as a challenge, after all.” He can’t make out what the mint-haired knight says as his voice lowers before Mika flinches at the knife swiftly slashed across their enemy’s neck. The maniacal expression flattened into something empty.
The sight from his perspective frames him more intimidating than any other enemy here. His grin menacing with his face smeared with blood.
This is the sight that brings Mika relief more than he’d ever realize.
The body falls to the ground with a slump. Red pools under his boots and Mika releases the breath he’s been holding for Archon-knows-how-long.
Until his eyes widen at the giant Wild Hunt beast stalking behind him. Footsteps muddle by the softened terrain as it raises its claws above Lohen. The small pieces of ice scatter around its feet sets the horror set in.
A single thought that flashes in his mind: Lohen. He won’t risk him.
He always leaves his back open. His thoughts instinctively rips the glove off his left hand and flings it as hard as he can at its head. The Wild Hunt snaps its disproportionate head right where he is; Lohen’s head also snaps towards the distracted beast. A loud snarl, enraged, rumbles out of it with words difficult to decipher. Just enough to get its attention off of Lohen.
It gives enough time for Lohen to jump above and pierce his spear straight into the abomination’s body. A burst of ice flares within the creature right before his eyes right as Lohen slices with his dagger. Tearing the large weapon out, his flurry of cryo strikes repeatedly on the same pressure point. He’s never seen him attack this fast.
The cracks within the creature begin to show. Breaking apart into bits and pieces; breaking until any ounce of abyssal residue collapses on itself. Only leaving torn clothes of the once inanimate corpse on the ground.
Mika feels his ears ringing. His arm hurts, his body aches, yet he can only hone in on Lohen’s slowly approaching figure, kneeling down to his level.
“Is that all of them?” His voice is strained. Deadpanned. Nothing like the excitement often exuded prior.
Mika scans his surroundings. All three Fatui agents downed, their camp destroyed beyond recognition, no Wild Hunts left in sight. “Yes.”
His confirmation is quickly followed by Lohen pouncing on him. Shoving him onto his rear while he hovers above his lap.
“Lo— Vice Captain Lohen?! Why are you—?”
He cuts him off before he could explain himself, gloved hands roughly grabbing his shoulder for purchase. As if grounding himself. Feeling his pulse beats beneath his fingers when they slowly move close to his neck.
When shifting his gaze to his face, he’s taken aback by the unfamiliar shadow casted over his expression.
He gives it a minute. Then two. “Vice Captain…”
“Stop that.” He stiffens, but obeys, watching worriedly at dull green-red hues examine him, stare lingering on his face before settling for his arm. Tugging his torn sleeve up to reveal the three thin lines bleeding down his arm. “It’s us now.” The missing just echoes in his head. Just us. He clicks his tongue. “And here you told me about being more careful… Stupid Ekbert for leaving you alone too….”
How the tables have turned. “Sorry, I told him to go ahead…”
He feels his hand caress his face, brushing the dirt around the bruise on his head, the scratch on his cheek, before carding into his hair. “Don’t apologize. Keep that up and maybe you’ll have our enemies feeling guilty instead.”
Mika stays quiet when watching Lohen dig through his pocket. Pulling out the small cloth—no, his handkerchief, the one who forgets and shoves into Lohen’s hand the day he realized his feelings and more—he carefully winds the fabric around his arm as a makeshift bandage. Blood seeps straight into the white and blue colors as he ties it carefully, tight enough to not come loose.
“Any other injuries?” Lohen inquires, narrowing his eyes below his cheek and rubbing the slight spot of red off.
Mika shakes his head. “We can continue this back at the base if you...”
“No.”
Stubborn. “Right. What about the others? Ekbert?”
“Ekbert found me nearby before I sent him back to the base. They’re probably on the way here just as we clean everything up. Maybe an hour or two to arrive. I decided it’s much faster to run ahead and find you myself. Can’t have you leave me hanging after telling me all of that at base.”
There’s no way he could’ve made it on time unless… “Y-You were still trailing me?”
“Never said I wouldn’t.” Cheeky guy. “But since we’re here, let’s finally talk about it. What you wanted to say earlier. But first…”
He’s startled when he pushes him close, yet lets him anyway. “Lohen—!”
“We’ll finish this. Here.”
His kisses taste like iron. The metallic taste lingers on his lips despite Lohen pulling away, gasping for air, only for him to dive in again. Deeper, more desperate—a quiet whine devoured that fuels his determination to consume him right then and there.
And again.
And again.
His tongue asks for permission that’s been granted long ago.
The lack of oxygen is getting to him and his face feels hotter each time. Rust and apple invading his tastebuds. Encouraging him to indulge in the moment. He reciprocates, unintentionally. His body moves on its own to match his. Lohen pushes deeper, a noise escapes him, and that finally wakes Mika to their situation.
“—W-wait!” Mika blocks his nth attempt of suffocating him with his bare hand. Flustered when seeing the string of saliva thin out between them, yet Lohen looks unphased. Almost dazed himself. “Please…”
“I’ve waited.” Lohen admits, peeling his hand off his mouth. His focus remains on it. “For one week since that night. Thinking about you more than you could ever know, I’ve been waiting for you. Once you felt comfortable talking about it.”
There he goes, laying out his feelings for him on a silver platter. It makes Mika wonder if he truly deserved his attention at all. It’s suffocating, yet it makes him selfishly happy to feel so.
Lohen continues, “you told me not to treat you like I’d lose you. How else am I supposed to act?” He edges closer, unceremoniously stealing another kiss when his guard drops, trapping him further into the ground. The raw display of emotions pours into every fibre of his being until he needs air for the nth time. “Shit, I shouldn’t have let you convince me. Maybe keeping you in my tent until your return should do the trick. Keeps you safe and within reach, yeah?”
“That’s too much.” Mika prays it’s his way of lighting up the mood.
The way Lohen’s gloved fingers slide back down behind his neck, possessive when it curls and taps around it, says otherwise. “It’s your fault for overthinking. Thinking about losing you twice is too much.”
He feels heat creep up behind his neck. “I’m always thinking about you too.” The weight in his chest lifts enough for him to breathe and think. About this—blood, feelings, and Lohen. His words tumble out before he could think it through. “Since our first meeting in the Grand Master’s office, whenever you charge into battle, all our time together, and…” He heaves out the doubts clogging his throat. “...and what happened that night. I didn’t want to burden you with protecting me.”
Lohen scoffs, scooting closer. Almost sitting atop of him. The closeness makes Mika gulp. “As if I’d let anybody touch either of us. The only burden troubling me is the Grand Master sending you home so soon to deliver his letters. How can I keep track of my favorite birdie knowing there are others prying for his attention once I’m not around?”
“I can protect myself, you know.”
“That doesn’t mean I’d protect you less.”
That draws a soft chuckle out of him. “I’ll still think of you when I return,” Mika reassures, confident enough to rest his head on Lohen’s, “then it’ll be my turn to wait for you.” He sees the way his eyes widen for a second. Sharp, alert, all because of him. He’s slowly learning how to catch him off guard these days and it makes him giddy. Albeit this isn’t the time and place for that kind of thinking.
He ponders for a moment with a hum. “Then wait for me. Keep thinking of me. Only me. Not the Grand Master, not Kaeya—nobody.” A kiss over his bandaged wrist. Red paints the cloth, like a lover’s lipstick mark on their letters. “Do that, and I’ll pledge my loyalty as a knight in your name.” He recites his pledge like those stories he’s read in the library—in a book found in his parents’ bookshelves when he was young and naive. Of how knights swear loyalties under promised oaths in the name of chivalry.
Lohen reminds him of that. Except blood stains his armor, chivalry replaced with desire, and flesh and warmth meet his skin instead of paper sheets.
Because Lohen is real, and he means every word that comes out of his mouth. Feelings too raw than what writers could convey in their stories can’t compare.
“Okay,” Mika says, barely above a whisper.
And Lohen smiles. Quiet, sincere, and vulnerable. Not an ounce of teasing in sight as he brings his hand closer and closer— Archons, his fingers slipped into his mouth?! What’s he—
The blond lets out a yelp before a retort could form. Pain sparks from around his index finger until Lohen slowly pulls away. His blush becomes more prominent at the string of saliva connecting between the base of his finger and Lohen’s mouth.
Bite marks form around his finger like a ring; bite marks engraved around his finger like a vow.
Dazed, Mika doesn’t pull away when he lifts his hand close to his face. His breath fanning the teeth marks sends a shiver down his spine. The sly smirk forming before him nearly makes him look away from embarrassment.
Yet his eyes told him—dared him—not to.
So he doesn’t, and watches. All while his heart paced for miles on end for a knight who hungers for the thrill and dangers and him, apparently. Dare he thinks the act is beautiful and touching and, archons, all for his sake.
Lohen hovers his lips over his possessive claim. Lips still stained with his blood.
“Know from this day forth,” he declares, locking eyes with him, “ in the name of Barbatos, that whoever thinks of bringing you harm shall pay with their life.”
He ends with a kiss. A promise made in his blood.