A429
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Lohen has never been interested in anything but the next fight—until a shy cartographer with shaking hands and a talent for maps sits beside him on a training ground bench and asks if the seat is taken, something shifts.
Through training yards and frozen wastes, shared tents and stolen moments, their friendship deepens into something neither expected.
Lohen has spent his life holding everyone at arm's length. Mika might be the only one worth reaching for.
Or: the one where the sharp, sarcastic knight falls first—and harder than anyone ever expected.
Bookmarked by A429
13 Jun 2026
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Lohen has one goal in life: to see how many shades of pink Mika can turn before he runs out of names for them.
Rose. Peony. Cherry blossom. Crimson.
Every stolen notebook, every whispered tease, every time he stands too close—the color deepens. It's Lohen's favorite game.
Until Mika starts giving it right back.
Or: Lohen came for the blush and stayed for the boy behind it.
Bookmarked by A429
11 Jun 2026
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"You should see a doctor," Dottore said, his voice low and precise, cutting through the muffled quiet of the snowfall.
The man's eyes opened. They were violet—a shade Dottore had never seen before, like amethyst catching light. For a moment, they simply stared at each other.
"I have," the man said finally. His voice was smooth, cultured, with an edge of exhaustion. "They've done what they can."
"Then you should see a better doctor."
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They never spoken before, until one evening.
Bookmarked by A429
29 May 2026
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"You are inconsiderate." Pantalone moved closer, the hem of his robe swishing around his ankles. "Do you know how many times I checked my phone? How many times I almost called your office? I felt like a—a worried housewife from a 1950s television show, pacing by the window, wondering when my husband would return—"
"I don't think they had cell phones in the 1950s."
"That's not the point!" Pantalone threw his hands up.
______
Dottore is late for Dinner.
Bookmarked by A429
29 May 2026
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“Anh nên đi khám đi.” Dottore nói với tông trầm và sự chính xác, xuyên qua không gian tĩnh lặng đông đặc của tuyết rơi.
Người kia mở mắt ra. Đó là màu tím oải hương, thứ sắc tím mà Dottore chưa từng được nhìn thấy bao giờ, tựa như thạch anh tắm mình trong ánh sáng. Trong một khoảnh khắc, họ chỉ nhìn chằm chằm vào nhau.
“Tôi khám rồi.” Người kia cuối cùng cũng lên tiếng. Giọng nói người ấy mượt như nhung, tao rã, nhưng ẩn trong đó là sự kiệt sức. “Cái gì làm được họ cũng đã làm rồi.”
“Vậy thì có khi anh nên đến gặp một vị bác sĩ giỏi hơn.”
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Họ chưa từng nói với nhau câu nào, cho đến buổi tối định mệnh ấy.
Bookmarked by A429
27 May 2026