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Illuga’s favorite part of distributing provisions and visiting his colleagues is saving the Final Night Cemetery—where Flins lives—as his final stop. Despite the place’s inhospitable and desolate appearance, for Illuga it is a site that inspires deep respect and curiosity, steeped in stories about ancient Lightkeepers that only Flins seems to know. Each gravestone, scattered haphazardly across the grounds and bearing the inscriptions of Lightkeepers who once lived in the frozen lands of Nod-Krai, represents not only fallen souls who fought against the Wild Hunt, but also brave individuals who gave their lives to guarantee the survival of others.
Today is the day Illuga must go to the Cemetery to leave the provisions intended for Flins. Upon arriving, the deathly silence, the calm waves, and the salty smell of the sea welcome him once again. The huge lighthouse, located at the highest point of the small island, shines brightly. The chilly afternoon sea breeze blows, making his ears ring. Large, grayish clouds block the view of the sun, which is about to set. Illuga walks slowly through the cemetery along a narrow dirt path dotted with grass, observing and admiring the desolate and gloomy landscape.
Carrying the supplies in his hands, the young squad leader expects to see Flins, as usual, near the lighthouse—either admiring his collection of gemstones or simply wandering among the graves. As he climbs the small slope toward the lighthouse, Illuga sees no sign of Flins anywhere. The young man is confused because he had made sure to give advance notice that he would be arriving with the provisions. Flins reply had reached him in time, informing him that he would be waiting at the usual spot.
Upon arriving with the supplies to the area where Flins is usually found in the Cemetery, he notices signs suggesting that Flins has been there—such as the open chest containing the stone collection on the table. But there is no trace of Flins himself. Illuga quickly scans the island and confirms that the ratnik is not there. He scratches the back of his neck in confusion and looks around again to be sure: all he sees is little vegetation, gravestones scattered throughout the area, and some rubble from what might once have been a stone structure.
“Mr. Flins?” Illuga calls out loudly. The echo of his voice resonates slightly. He waits a moment. There is no answer. “Mr. Flins, I’m here!”
Illuga waits a few more seconds for a response or a sign of life, but once again, there is none. Illuga decides to walk around the cemetery in search of Flins, peering at the headstones: Illuga has always been intrigued by the names inscribed there and has asked Flins more than once who they were, but Flins has always found a way to avoid answering his questions, which only serves to increase and fuel his curiosity. He continues his search, heading to the island’s edge, and realizes that, apparently, he is the only human there. Illuga can’t find Flins, but his search isn’t over yet; he still has to look inside the old lighthouse, the last place he hasn’t checked.
He vaguely remembers the time Flins told him he had a sort of hideout in the lighthouse—a room inside the old tower—but that the entrance wasn’t visible at first view. So the young man approaches the tower with quick steps and begins to search more closely. It doesn’t take him long to find a sort of door camouflaged to match the color of the metal; however, the door opens from the inside, and a tall shadow emerges from it. Illuga, startled, reacts instinctively, taking a few steps backward.
“Mr. Flins!” Illuga lets out a deep sigh of relief and breaks into a bright smile. “I thought you weren’t here. I hope you’re alright. I’ve already bought this month’s supplies.”
Flins, visibly surprised by Illuga’s presence, blinks several times, makes a quick apologetic gesture, and bows politely.
“Young Master Illuga, my sincere apologies for not hearing you arrive or calling out,” he explains. “I was too busy finishing up some overdue reports that I didn’t hear anything. In fact, I’d just decided to get some fresh air before getting back to work.”
“It’s all right,” Illuga shakes his head, laughing dryly. “It’s not like this is my first time… wait, what did you say?”
“I just told you I was writing my reports to catch up.”
Something doesn't make sense to Illuga—at least, that's his initial impression. He knows pretty well how late Flins' reports to Piramida tend to arrive because it's not a task that excites him much; the ratnik himself has admitted as much to him on more than one occasion. Of course, the old man Nikita has never pressured him to turn in his reports on time because Flins is one of the longest-serving members of the Lightkeepers, and Illuga knows that the two of them share a fairly close and cordial relationship. Besides, since he’s the only ratniki who doesn’t work in a squad like the others, all the protocols for night patrols and reporting fall entirely under his responsibility.
On top of that, Flins tends to avoid these tasks if he isn’t pushed hard enough. Even Illuga, on more than one occasion during his monthly visits, has offered to help Flins, but Flins always ends up turning down the offer to instead tell him interesting stories, play long rounds of card games, or go fishing along the banks of the Cemetery.
Unable to help himself, Illuga looks at Flins with a certain skepticism and suspicion, crossing his arms. Flins senses the young captain’s change in mood, but remains unfazed and calm. A small, polite smile even plays on his lips.
“Oh my, why are you looking at me like that?”
“It’s very strange that you’ve suddenly decided to catch up on your reports, Mr. Flins,” Illuga says in a somewhat harsh tone, emphasizing certain words. “It’s also quite a coincidence that this is happening on the very day I’m delivering your monthly provisions.”
Suddenly, the atmosphere becomes a bit tense and uncomfortable. Illuga maintains his skeptical glance at a calm Flins, who doesn’t seem intimidated by the young captain’s questions. To lighten the mood, Flins laughs softly while shaking his head.
“Young Master Illuga, do you perhaps doubt my abilities based on the reports I write with such diligence?"
“No. I’m questioning the sudden interest you’ve shown today in catching up on everything you owe the old man.”
“Without a doubt, I’m the one who’s furthest behind on turning in my reports,” Flins confirms, without giving it much thought, resting a couple of fingers on his chin. “However, I insist that it’s mere coincidence that I wanted to write the reports today and you happened to come by with my supplies.”
“Are you really not hiding anything, Mr. Flins?” Illuga presses, narrowing his eyes.
“Oh, my dearest Young Master Illuga,” Flins closes the short distance between them, one hand resting solemnly against his chest. “If that were my intention, you would have already discovered it. After all, you are a young man with many virtues: intelligent, analytical, and perceptive. I am being sincere with you; this is a rare and simple coincidence.”
“Flins,” says Illuga, a slight blush coloring his face. “Your eloquence doesn't dispel my doubts.”
Flins laughs softly once more.
“Well, it’s impossible to convince you,” Flins admits with a slight, teasing smile. Then he decides to change the course of the conversation. He offers his gloved hand and bows slightly to Illuga. “Since I’m here and I’d like to get some fresh air before continuing with the reports, would you be so kind as to join me while we enjoy a pleasant chat?”
Illuga tries to resist Flins’ offer. He still doesn’t fully trust that this is all just a coincidence and suspects that Flins has something up his sleeve. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten away with it, since Illuga knows full well that Flins uses his words, his eloquence, and his polite manner of speaking to gain some advantage. Besides, Illuga has fallen for his tricks more than once in the past, so he has more than enough reason to be wary of the man.
However, the time they’ve spent apart—and the fact that Flins has set aside this day solely to visit him and keep him company—makes Illuga hesitate. Illuga cares for him just as he does for all his fellow ratniki, but Flins has always been the exception to the rule. He has no comrades with which to work on patrols, and several soldiers are somewhat afraid of his mysterious and gloomy appearance; he is a man who spends most of his time in isolation, living in an old lighthouse next to a pile of tombstones, and despite his failure to submit reports, he is a highly valuable soldier, very skilled in combat, and always available for patrols between Lempo Isle and Paha Isle; his loyalty and commitment to the Lightkeepers has always been evident in his actions.
And deep down, Illuga has missed him terribly. So much so that he has even crept into his dreams, and he has been looking forward to this meeting for several days.
Finally, Illuga sighs in exasperation and accepts Flins’s offer. He takes his hand and immediately intertwines their fingers.
“All right, I accept,” says the young captain. “But after this, I’ll be making sure you’re finishing your reports.”
“Of course,” Flins agrees cordially, “nothing pleases me more right now than your company, Young Master Illuga.”
Illuga resists the urge to roll his eyes at Flins’s eloquent comment and suppresses it by gently squeezing his hand.
***
Soon, the two men begin to walk around the area, at a slow and gentle pace. Flins captures Illuga’s full attention with his stories and trivial, everyday anecdotes during this time: he deliberately omits certain details, as usual, but this does not significantly alter the narrative of his stories. He also brings Illuga up to date on the activities of the Wild Hunt in the area. Fortunately, he hasn’t encountered any major difficulties in eliminating the monsters during his patrols, but Flins points out that, lately, the activity of these creatures has been on the decline. Despite this, Flins assures Illuga that he hasn’t let his guard down during his night patrols.
When it’s Illuga’s turn to speak, Flins takes on a relaxed and thoughtful expression, with a couple of fingers resting on his chin and a small, friendly smile on his face. The young captain of the Nightmare Orioles talks at some length: he not only discusses the condition of other Ratnik soldiers Flins knows, but also brings him up to date on the people in Piramida, his expeditions into the Kipumaki Cliff, and the state of the site now that they’ve managed to eradicate that giant eye that had kept the area contaminated by the Abyss, causing more active and violent outbreaks of the Wild Hunt.
“Thanks to the Traveler’s help,” Illuga continues, with a gentle expression and a smile on his face, “the Cliff is much more stable than before. It will take a long time for it to return to its normal state; apparently, the corrosion from the Abyss is much more severe than we had thought.”
“From what I’ve heard,” Flins interjects suddenly, “you’ve been very busy, Young Master. I imagine you haven’t been overworking yourself and have been getting proper rest.”
“Ah, there’s no need to worry, Mr. Flins,” Illuga’s voice fails, but he quickly clears his throat. “I haven’t been working overtime; after all, the situation in the Cliff is already a bit more stable than in previous months. My workload isn’t as heavy anymore.”
Illuga senses Flins watching him closely, analyzing his reaction. It’s well known that Illuga tends to overwork himself, and both Flins and Illuga are aware of this. Whether he’s taking on extra assignments, staying up very late to finish reports to keep them up to date, delivering supplies to the ratniks stationed farther away, or busy preparing his men’s favorite meals, the young captain finds it extremely difficult to take breaks and keep his hands off his work. On more than one occasion, his father has had to step in to ensure he gets proper rest. Even his own squad has taken it upon themselves to make sure their captain gets enough rest and doesn’t push himself too hard.
A few seconds pass during which Illuga feels Flins’s eyes on him; the ratnik softens his expression and smiles politely at him.
“If you say so,” he says. His eyes lifts toward the sky. “I think it’s time to get back to writing the reports.”
Illuga senses the disappointment in Flins’ voice when he mentions having to return after the break to finish the reports he still has left to do. He gently squeezes his hand to comfort him and smiles at him.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Flins. I plan to stay tonight and keep you company while you finish your reports,” Illuga says encouragingly.
They both return to the old lighthouse with the same calm they had at the start. On the short walk, Illuga tells Flins about the provisions he’s brought this time, suggesting they prepare dinner together. Flins, using the opportunity to put off the reports, tries to persuade the young captain, arguing that he’s also available to help and even offers to assist with the meal, but Illuga isn’t easily persuaded: he insists that the ratnik must focus on finishing his overdue reports and that the meal he wants to prepare for the occasion won’t take too long. In the end, the lively discussion concludes with a decisive decision: Illuga will prepare dinner, while Flins gets to work updating his pending reports.
Night soon begins to fall at the Final Night Cemetery. The place takes on a more somber atmosphere. The candles placed on the various graves and the great old lighthouse glowing in the distance are the only sources of light as darkness falls. Illuga gets to work preparing dinner. Meanwhile, Flins settles under the small outdoor roof of the old lighthouse, bringing with him all the necessary report papers, his quill, and a couple of lamps to ensure he has enough light. Calm and deathly silence reign over the site.
Illuga gazes at the great Fatui structure visible from the area around the outdoor oven, though only faintly due to the distance, the darkness, and the fog that is beginning to roll in. It vaguely reminds her of her beloved Piramida, except that the Fatui’s grand barracks are much larger and more imposing and are not perched high on a mountain. Then, Illuga’s gaze shifts toward Flins, who is deeply focused on his reports. He can’t help but smile with satisfaction at the way the man is absorbed in his work. Although he can sense a certain air of displeasure as Flins writes and pauses to think about what to write next.
Suddenly, the idea of surprising him with a little kiss to encourage him to keep going takes root in her mind. Illuga has always been someone who encourages others through words and actions rather than specific gestures. However, on more than one occasion, he has read in books he’s come across that couples can encourage each other with a kiss, so the idea lingers in his mind and takes up more and more space the more he thinks about it. Although they’re both adults who keep their romantic relationship on the down-low due to work-related issues—and because they’re still colleagues—it’s in moments like these that they have the best chance of getting closer and acting like a couple, even though Illuga is far too inexperienced in that area.
As he puts the pre-chopped ingredients to simmer in a pot on the stove, the young captain struggles with the idea of whether to act on it or simply let it remain a fleeting fantasy of his. But seeing Flins’ tense expression once again works against him, and he thinks about the positive effect cheering him up might have, so Illuga leaves the food to simmer while he approaches the ratnik. With quiet steps, the young man positions himself near Flins, unable to hide his sudden enthusiasm; even the sparkle in his eyes reveals it.
Flins stops writing when he notices Illuga approaching. He sets his pen aside and looks up to find a young captain with a radiant expression watching him. It is at that moment that Illuga leans in close to Flins’ face and plants a very brief kiss on the corner of his lips.
“You’re doing great, Mr. Flins,” Illuga encourages him with a big smile. “If you keep up this rhythm, you’ll be able to catch up on your reports.”
Unexpectedly, Flins grabs him and pulls him close. Illuga suppresses a small scream of surprise as his beloved’s arms wrap around his waist. His face begins to burn. He begins to struggle to break free from the embrace, but Flins resists; a triumphant smile is painted on his face. Illuga can’t help but feel a little annoyed: once again, he has fallen for Flins’ tricks.
“Mr. Flins,” says Illuga, his voice nervous but annoyed. He tries to maintain his composure, but it’s difficult for him. “I think you should get back to work.”
“Another little break will do me well,” Flins argues simply, without stopping his polite smile.
“You’ve barely made any progress on that new report, and there’s still a long way to go,” Illuga protests, giving up his struggle. He lets out a deep sigh.
“I know, but now the sun has suddenly come out, and its warm rays are encouraging me in this exhausting task.”
Illuga raises his eyebrows, a little confused. Then a soft laugh follows, as he shakes his head.
“Mr. Flins, the sun set a long time ago; it’s impossible that…” The words get stuck in his throat when he realizes what Flins has actually said.
Illuga’s face turns completely red with embarrassment, and he quickly looks away—but not before covering Flins’ face with his gloved hands.
“Oh? It seems to me that the sun’s rays are getting warmer and warmer,” Flins remarks, touching one of Illuga’s cheeks even though he can barely see him.
“Mr. Flins… please don’t say another word,” Illuga murmurs, sighing in exasperation. He pauses briefly and clears his throat; he also removes his hands from Flins’s face. “Would you please continue with your reports? I need to check on the food.”
“That can wait a little longer, Young Master.”
“What?” Illuga raises his eyebrows.
Suddenly, Flins stops hugging him, leaving him with a strange sensation of momentary emptiness, but his gloved hands soon gently cradle his face. He leans in, and his lips press against Illuga’s. Illuga feels shivers running down his back, and his skin prickles at the first touch. Cold. Flins’ lips are cold. Illuga can’t tell if the cold is due to the environment or because Flins’ body temperature has always been like this. However, the kiss helps Flins’ lips warm up a little. The young captain lets out a timid sigh in the middle of the kiss, while his arms lazily slide over his beloved’s shoulders.
Although he has hardly any experience with kissing, Illuga likes the way Flins lets him get used to and adjust to him, which has an even more intoxicating effect on him. The languid kiss drags on; Illuga feels as if he’s in a cloud, floating with no other concern than to feel the movement of those lips against his skin in a slow rhythm, exploring with complete freedom and without rush.
The bubbling of the boiling water brings Illuga back to reality, so he breaks the kiss almost abruptly. Flins, for his part, seems quite pleased with the brief intimate moment they’ve shared. Illuga clears his throat, his face completely flushed and his heart pounding hard in his chest. He slowly steps back a little from Flins.
“I think this is encouraging enough for me to get back to work,” Flins teases him with a polite smile.
“Yes, get back to work,” Illuga says nervously. He’s still having a hard time getting used to the kisses Flins gives him, and his mind is a complete mess right now. “I have to go check on dinner.”
***
After a few more minutes of cooking, dinner is ready. Flins pauses his work once again, setting aside his papers and pen to make room for the two plates of food. Illuga brings dinner for the two of them and sits down beside him. Darkness has now fallen all around them, except for the light from the lighthouse and the candles by the graves. The gentle breeze continues to blow, this time cooling the air even further. Not far away, they can hear the soft lapping of the waves surrounding them, preventing the deafening silence from taking complete hold. High above, the moon shines brightly despite large clouds obscuring its light. Illuga devours his portion of food in complete silence and with some rush, yet Flins has barely touched his food, as usual. The young captain glances at him out of the corner of his eye as he finishes his portion.
“You’ve barely tasted the soup,” he notes with some concern, not without first licking his lips. “Doesn’t it taste good? Does it need a little more flavor?”
“That’s not it, Young Master,” Flins replies, shaking his head. “I hardly have an appetite right now.”
Illuga frowns and sets his plate aside. He lets out a sigh.
“That’s what you always say,” the young man says, crossing his arms, a little annoyed.
“I assure you I’m doing everything I can to eat well. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be using up all the provisions you bring,” Flins suddenly picks up the spoon and fills it with soup. He makes a move to bring it to his mouth; Illuga notices, but pretends not to see it. “Besides, I have no doubt that you prepare a very delicious meal. In fact, this soup tastes very good.”
“All right, enough with the compliments,” Illuga interrupts, looking away, feeling her cheeks flush again all of a sudden.
They quickly move on to another topic of conversation, one that’s more trivial and lighthearted. The minutes pass peacefully and calmly as they chat and clear the table so Flins can get back to writing his overdue reports. Fatigue soon becomes visible on Illuga’s face: the day has been exhausting for him, between the workload he’s had this week and the trip to the Cemetery—so much so that he lets out a yawn, which he manages to hide when Flins resumes writing.
Trying once again to focus on the reports, Flins offers him the humble bed inside the lighthouse to sleep in. Illuga firmly refuses; he’d rather stay awake a little longer to keep an eye on Flins and make sure he’s finished everything he’s behind on. Besides, his habit of night patrols prevents him from giving in so easily to the urge to go to sleep.
Illuga stands beside Flins, watching him write. Every now and then, he looks up at the ratnik’s bored expression and can’t help but chuckle quietly to himself. After several long minutes of watching, Illuga settles down on the table, folding his arms to use as a pillow and resting his head on them. He tries to stifle another yawn, but Flins quickly notices: he doesn’t take his eyes off his half-written report, but he pauses his pen for a moment.
“Young Master Illuga,” he calls out in a soft voice, “I think you should go to sleep; you’ve already done enough for me today.”
“Don’t be silly, Mr. Flins,” Illuga replies. “I’ll stay here until I finish everything that’s left. Besides, I’ll make sure to hand the reports to the old man personally so he can see that you’ve caught up.”
Flins raises an eyebrow, a sign of curiosity. His eyes finally turn to an exhausted Illuga.
“It’s my duty as a Lightkeeper to send my reports, even if they’re overdue,” Flins replies.
“I know,” Illuga says with a wry smile, “but I don’t mind doing you the favor of handing everything over to the starshyna.”
“A favor,” the ratnik repeats, intrigued. He rests his hand on his chin, thoughtful. “But in exchange for what?”
Illuga hums quietly to himself and takes a few seconds to respond.
“I don’t know,” the young captain shrugs. “What kind of favor do you want if you’re writing up overdue reports?”
“That you could come with me to Nasha Town so we can take a walk together.”
“Like some kind of date?” Illuga blurts out suddenly without thinking it through. When he realizes what he’s said, he can’t help but feel embarrassed and blush a little.
Flins observes his reaction, and a kind smile spreads across his face.
“Oh,” says Flins, “I hadn’t thought of it that way, Young Master. But yes, it would be like a sort of date.”
Illuga sits up straight in her seat, caught off guard and feeling nervous. Since they’ve been in a relationship, they haven’t been able to arrange anything together like a date. They barely get to see each other except during their monthly visits to the Cemetery. Illuga always tries to make the most of his time there, though most of the time he ends up leaving too soon for his liking. The idea of going out excites him deep down, but his work and assignments are a priority for him as a Lightkeeper and captain of his own squadron; on top of that, he now had the added duty of turning in the overdue reports that Flins has been writing. Seeing himself wavering, Illuga scratches his head a little. His mind soon fills with fantasies—possible scenarios in which he and Flins might be on a date; his excitement is evident in the intense sparkle his eyes have taken on.
“I see you’re not opposed to the proposal,” Flins remarks, with a subtle hint of mockery in his voice.
“I haven’t agreed yet,” Illuga says, clearing his throat, “but why tomorrow? I plan to leave early for Piramida. There’s still a lot to do, and I need to get back to work soon.”
Flins sighs. It’s one of those rare occasions when Illuga sees him do so.
“Young Master, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying our free time,” he says, sounding as if he were reprimanding him, though his soft, velvety voice masks it. “Our work as Lightkeepers demands sacrifice and arduous effort. However, we must also rest and recharge so we can keep Nod Krai safe and secure.”
“I know,” Illuga replies, dejected, lowering his glance slightly. A yawn escapes him.
“Delaying your return to Piramida won’t do you any harm. Besides, you can always delegate your work to other ratniki or even to the men in your squad.”
“Sometimes you sound like my pops giving me lectures about resting and passing on my duties when I’m overloaded,” Illuga jokes bitterly. Flins chuckles a little at the comment.
“I just want to convince you to come with me to Nasha Town to take a walk and enjoy the morning together.”
“Is my company really that necessary, or is this just an excuse to go on a date?”
“Perhaps you can figure out my answer, Young Master.”
Illuga laughs dryly and shakes his head. Once again, Flins has the audacity to give him a half-answer. However, he’s spent enough time with him to realize his intentions. Although his sense of duty and his commitment to his work and his team usually take precedence most of the time—if not always—Illuga acknowledges that, perhaps, he needs to enjoy the free time he’s given a little more, just as Flins has said.
Besides, if he accepts, this would be the first date he and Flins would ever go on.
“If you agree to the meeting,” Illuga says slowly, choosing his words carefully, “you’ll need to have your overdue reports ready before dawn.”
“Are you imposing a condition on me?” Flins asks, intrigued.
“No,” Illuga offers a slight smile, “I’m just making sure you finish your reports so we can have a date tomorrow, Flins.”
Flins stares at him for a few seconds. Then his glance moves to the unfinished reports.
“All right,” Flins replies after a few seconds of silence. “For you, Young Master Illuga, I’ll finish the reports for our date.”
Illuga smiles with satisfaction, though his face has flushed slightly at the thought of tomorrow’s appointment. He watches as Flins picks up his quill again, this time dipping the tip into the ink to resume writing. Illuga returns to the position he was in before, never taking his eyes off the focused Flins, who writes eagerly. Silence settles over the room, broken only by the soft scratching of the quill against the paper.
The yawns are coming more frequently, but Illuga still resists the idea of going to sleep. The minutes pass slowly. Flins manages to finish a report and starts a new one. Illuga’s eyelids are beginning to feel heavier and heavier.
“Young Master Illuga,” Flins calls out suddenly. Illuga startles slightly. “I think you should go to sleep.”
“I can still stay awake; I’m not that sleepy,” Illuga insists, somewhat annoyed.
Flins brings one of his gloved hands up to Illuga’s face, where he gently wipes away traces of tears from Illuga’s last yawn. The gesture takes him by surprise.
“If we’re going to Nasha Town, you should get some rest. We’ll leave early in the morning after a good breakfast.”
“I can stay awake a little longer,” Illuga says stubbornly, his eyes wandering slightly for a moment. “Besides, there’s no guarantee you won’t neglect your duties again.”
“Oh my, are you doubting my abilities?”
“No, I doubt you’ll keep your word because I know how you handle the task of writing reports.”
Flins laughs softly.
“Young Master Illuga, I insist that you go to sleep.”
“And I insist on staying a little longer to make sure you keep working on your overdue reports.”
“I doubt you’ll manage that if you look so tired and are yawning more often,” Flins argues calmly, without stopping his writing.
Illuga’s discomfort increases as he feels that Flins is treating him like a child.
“Oh, Flins,” complains the young captain, sighing dramatically. “Is it so bad that I want to stay with you and keep you company?”
Flins hums softly and can’t help but let out a soft chuckle.
“Young Master, it doesn’t do you any good to hide your true intentions.”
“I plan to stay here to keep you company until I see that you have only a few reports left to complete,” Illuga says firmly. “Then I’ll go to sleep.”
Flins seems to want to say something—or at least that’s what Illuga thinks he sees—because he doesn’t answer right away. Rather, he seems to be pondering his response. Or perhaps he’s simply too focused on choosing the right words for the report.
“All right,” Flins replies after a few seconds of silence.
The conversation ends there. Illuga settles into her current position, watching Flins. The dark surroundings—sheltered by the dim lighting—the silence of the room, broken only by the scratching of the pen against the paper, and his closeness to Flins begin to make his eyelids feel even heavier. He settles into his arms, searching for the right position to be more comfortable; this time, the silence and darkness seem soothing rather than a danger from monsters that might be lurking. Gradually, Illuga loses the battle against sleep. His body begins to relax, his eyes close completely, and his breathing becomes slower and more relaxed.
In the midst of a deep sleep where everything seems peaceful and calm, Illuga thinks he feels the gentle, delicate way someone picks him up, taking care not to disturb his sleep, and carries him to a dark room to sleep. The last thing he manages to feel is the way someone slips off his coat to tuck him in and keep him warm.
***
When Illuga comes to and begins to wake up, he realizes he isn’t sitting on a bench, but on an old, soft—though somewhat dusty—bed. He is surrounded by almost total darkness, except that he can make out small, fiery blue flames nearby and tiny holes in the metal walls through which the first rays of the morning sun are filtering. At first, Illuga struggles to shake off his drowsiness and awaken his senses because of the pleasant warmth enveloping him. When he realizes he isn’t wearing his coat and feels his uncovered arms, Illuga finally manages to react.
He isn’t entirely startled because he feels a source of warmth on his back and someone else’s arms wrapped around his waist. His eyes adjust to the darkness: he realizes his coat is draped over him, covering part of his body. Then he makes out another coat—a dark one, larger than his own—Flins’.
Illuga tries to remember what happened the night before: in the end, sleep overcame him, and he fell asleep on the table while Flins worked beside him. His cheeks flush at the thought that it was Flins who carried him to a more comfortable place to sleep. He has no doubt that the person lying next to him in bed is Flins, so Illuga slowly shifts until he’s facing him.
Because of the low lighting in the room, he can barely make out some details of her face; judging by his slow breathing, he seems to be sleeping peacefully. The blue flame near what looks like a nightstand seems to be in sync with Flins’ slow breathing, which catches Illuga’s attention. He has never understood why that lamp Flins always carries on his belt has blue flames. And no matter how much he asks about it, he knows that Flins has a skill for dodging questions about himself, so it’s pointless to press the issue. In any case, Illuga feels a bit strange, yet curiously drawn to the closeness he shares with his beloved.
Although he can barely make out Flins’ sleeping face, he can just about make out the bags under his eyes, the outline of his nose, and his jawline. Illuga tentatively reaches out with one hand to touch him. First, he feels Flins’ long, straight hair, which falls like a waterfall down one side of his face, so Illuga amuses himself by smoothing it out. Then he manages to touch his cheek—somewhat cold but soft. Illuga’s hand slowly moves down until it reaches near Flins’ chin; at that moment, Flins sighs, and the warm breath brushes against his hand, causing Illuga to shiver. Finally, his hand moves to gently touch Flins’ cold lips.
The sight of him sleeping is so beautiful that it suddenly awakens in Illuga a longing to kiss him—to surprise him with a sweet kiss on the lips to wake him up and whisper a tender “good morning.” Determined, he swallows hard and, holding his breath, approaches Flins to kiss him. He moves slowly and cautiously to keep the ratnik from waking up. However, just as he’s about to kiss him, Flins’ arms wrap more tightly around his waist, pulling him close almost instantly: his face is hidden against Flins’ shoulder. His heart skips a beat and his pulse quickens.
“Are you awake already, Young Master?” a hoarse but gentle voice asks politely. Illuga freezes for a few seconds, then jumps.
“Flins!?” the young captain balks nervously. His face burns with heat from the sudden blush.
His racing pulse throbs in his ears. Illuga doesn’t know what to say or what to do now that Flins has caught him off guard. Flins’ hand begins to clear one of his ears; the sensation tickles him, and his body tenses. Their lips draw close enough, and the tickling sensation spreading throughout his body intensifies. Illuga tries to maintain his composure in the face of whatever Flins is doing.
“How long have you been awake?” the young captain hastens to ask, his voice barely a whisper.
“Not long,” Flins replies, without making a big deal of it. “If you’re interested, I’ve already finished all the overdue reports.”
Ah, those overdue reports. Illuga had almost completely forgotten the reason why he’d fallen asleep at the table in the first place. He also remembers that, if Flins managed to finish them, they’d head to Nasha Town to go for a walk together—on a date. He still needs to check whether Flins is truly up to date to fulfill the condition he’d set, but that can wait. The way Flins holds him close prevents him from thinking clearly, and the heat begins to affect him, making him feel a little dizzy.
“Ah…” Illuga manages to say, his voice trembling. He swallows hard, and the scent of Flins fills his nose. He’s still too embarrassed, and the closeness of that tight embrace doesn’t help much. “I congratulate you on fulfilling your duty. I’ll do you the favor of sending your reports to Piramida.”
“Don’t forget that we’re going on our date today,” Flins reminds him. It’s so unusual for him to use such informal language when they’re alone.
“Ah, yes, that’s right. I haven’t forgotten that, and I need to review your reports to verify them. Um…”
He wants to say something else, but the words get stuck in his throat when he feels Flins’ cold, bare hand pulling at the sweater covering his neck—and the large scar he once received in combat. The touch of Flins’ cold lips planting chaste kisses that trail down his neck forces Illuga to close his eyes tightly and stifle a pathetic moan that almost slips from his lips. He shudders completely when the kisses reach the sensitive area around his large scar.
“Flins…” Illuga sighs. He tries hard to remember something that’s on the tip of his tongue, but it’s difficult when, suddenly, he feels Flins on top of him. As if by reflex, his arms wrap around Flins’s neck.
Flins takes him by the chin, forcing Illuga to open his eyes. Despite the absence of pupils—so characteristic of a human being—Illuga thinks he sees in Flins’s eyes a distinctive, intense gleam of enthusiasm. He swallows hard again, his face flushed all over. The blue flames of Flins’s lamp seem to cast a little more light, allowing Illuga to see Flins’s face more clearly. His heart is pounding hard against his chest, and his mouth hangs slightly open, still unable to form a single word.
“No… shouldn’t we get up and go to Nasha Town?” Illuga finally mumbles softly.
Flins smiles and brings his face closer to Illuga’s, still holding his chin. His thumb moves to the corner of Illuga’s lips. Below, his other hand moves dangerously close to the young captain’s sweater.
“That can wait a little longer, Illuga,” he says. A shiver runs through his entire body as he hears the way Flins says his name so casually—“it’s barely dawn.”
Illuga wants to say something—to protest and insist that they’re wasting time on the way to Nasha Town. However, he can’t manage to get a word out because Flins captures his lips in a sweet kiss that takes him by surprise. He closes his eyes and lets himself be carried away by the slow, measured rhythm Flins has set. At first, the kiss is limited to the movement of their lips, but it isn’t long before Illuga senses that Flins wants to deepen the kiss. He lets out a gasp in the middle of the kiss as he allows Flins’ tongue to enter, and Flins’ right hand slips indecorously under his sweater to touch his skin and firmly grasp his waist. The kiss becomes demanding and hungry; in response, Illuga holds Flins tightly, pulling him closer.
Between stolen sighs and gasps, Illuga lets himself be carried away by the desire of the moment, though a part of him offers some resistance—like a little voice of conscience telling him he mustn’t forget something. The trip to Nasha Town still lingers in his mind. The lack of air brings him back to his senses little by little, but it’s difficult because Flins shows no sign of stopping anytime soon. The heat is also starting to become suffocating for him.
“Flins…” Illuga sighs during a brief moment when he’s able to break the kiss. But Flins is quick and captures his lips again. “Hmm… Flins…”
Illuga’s hands grip Flins’s shoulders in an attempt to push him away. He starts by pushing gently, but soon finds himself having to use more strength. The kiss finally ends, allowing him to catch his breath, but Flins won’t let him move; he stays in the same position and wraps his arms around him. Illuga struggles to pry himself free from Flins; the difference in their heights also makes it difficult in some way. He sighs in exasperation and discomfort.
“Flins,” Illuga protests, pushing, “this isn’t fun anymore. Please, let me go.”
In the midst of struggling to break free from Flins, Illuga stops abruptly when he hears a roar coming from his own body. The ratnik hears it too, lifting his head to listen more closely. The roar sounds again, and Flins’ gaze drops to Illuga’s stomach—the source of the mysterious sound. Both stare at it for what feels like an eternity in complete silence. Embarrassed by the moment, the young captain covers his face with his forearms, cursing to himself in a voice so low that Flins can’t hear him.
“Oh my, it looks like it’s time for breakfast, Young Master,” says Flins, cracking a mocking smile.
“The sun has already risen,” Illuga replies ironically, still keeping his face covered. “It’s clear I need breakfast.”
Flins seems to be getting up, because Illuga feels the weight on top of him disappear; nevertheless, he prefers to keep his face hidden for now. His face is still burning with embarrassment, and his mind is already thinking of ways to respond sarcastically if Flins decides to keep teasing him. But instead of hearing a retort, he only sees Flins’s shadow as he gets ready: he picks up his long coat to put it on and grabs his gloves, which are near the blue-flamed lamp. Illuga is a little confused.
“How about I make breakfast today, Young Master?” Flins suggests. Illuga blinks in surprise several times.
The young captain sits up in bed, still taken aback by the proposal. Before his eyes, he sees Flins politely offering him his hand, waiting for him in the doorway. Illuga sighs and grabs his coat to head out of the lighthouse, but not before giving him a smile.
“Sounds good to me,” he says as he gets ready. “While I’m waiting, I can check to make sure the reports are written correctly.”