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1.
Illuga opened his eyes and sat up. This was the third night in a row where he just couldn’t get to sleep, and it wasn’t helping his work performance. Lately, his attacks had started becoming sloppy and slow, and the stacks of reports he had to fill out had become dauntingly tall.
At this rate, he knew he was never going to fall asleep. So, with a tired sigh, he pushed himself up properly. I might as well get some of those reports done. Letting out another soft sound, Illuga walked over to his working desk in the small living room of his modest cottage and pulled out his seat, the wood scraping faintly against the floor.
Taking the top-most sheet, he tried to focus on the contents. Unfortunately, luck was not on his side. His vision blurred, his head dipped, and he kept fading in and out of consciousness, the words on the page slipping away no matter how hard he tried to hold onto them.
Suddenly, a loud racket sounded from outside, followed by the door bursting open with a theatrical bang.
“Birdie, I’m home~” the vice captain of the Knights of Favonius announced loudly, already striding into the living room with his usual sadistic looking grin.
“Welcome back,” Illuga replied, offering a small, tired smile before trying—unsuccessfully—to refocus on his papers.
“So, did you miss me?” Lohen approached his boyfriend and promptly bit him on the cheek. Not even playfully—he did it full force, like he was eating dinner.
“I was going to say yes, but not anymore since you bit me,” Illuga muttered, pushing his boyfriend away from his face and rubbing his now sore cheek. The Lightkeeper knew Lohen meant nothing bad by it—his love language was, quite literally, using his teeth.
“You wound me, birdie. You know I killed so much of the wild abyss I was drenched in all their blood and—”
Illuga stopped him with a raised hand.
“Listen, I’m sorry, but I can’t deal with your usual antics. I’m much too tired, and I haven’t slept in a few days,” Illuga sighed again, leaning forward onto the table, his arms barely managing to keep his head up.
With a theatrical gasp, Lohen clutched his chest. “You’re not kicking me out, right? You wouldn’t do that to your own boyfriend.”
“I would—and I will—because I just cannot deal with your crazy antics right now,” Illuga shot back, his voice sharper despite how exhausted he was. “I have so much work to do, but I’m too tired to even start a single report, and everything is blurry, and I just want to relax and sleep—but even then, sleep seems to hate me. I need sleep, but sleep doesn’t need me.”
He crossed his arms on the desk and rested his head on top, his words trailing off into a muffled grumble.
Lohen just laughed and shrugged. “Then just get into bed and stay there until you fall asleep.”
“That’s not how it works. If it did, I would’ve slept wonderfully these past nights,” Illuga muttered.
“Someone’s cranky~,” the mint-haired man sing-songed.
Biologically, Lohen was an adult, but the majority of the time Illuga thought he seemed more like a bloodthirsty three-year-old. A bloodthirsty three-year-old who was occasionally a little soft, undeniably crazy, and—unfortunately—freaky. Definitely freaky.
Even through all of that, Illuga knew Lohen cared, even if to everyone else he seemed maniacal, like his mind held nothing but thoughts of murder.
Illuga turned his head and glared at his boyfriend. Lohen only smiled wider—devilish, sharp—and Illuga immediately knew that wasn’t anything good.
Suddenly, he was being lifted bridal style.
“Wh—what are you doing?!” Illuga yelped, grabbing onto Lohen’s shoulders more out of instinct than resistance. He didn’t actually try to fight him off.
Surprisingly gently, Lohen carried him over and lowered him onto the bed.
“Get under the covers,” Lohen said.
Too tired to argue, Illuga just did as he was told, pulling the blankets over himself with a quiet rustle.
“Now try to sleep. I’ll take a shower and come back,” Lohen added. Then, tilting his head slightly, he grinned. “That is—unless you’d like me to join you with my blood-stained armour.”
Anyone but Illuga would think Lohen was joking.
Celestia above knew he wasn’t.
The grey-haired man simply nodded and stared up at the ceiling, his mind too exhausted to process anything beyond the faint pattern of cracks above him.
Roughly twenty minutes later, Lohen returned, now dressed in casual sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. The sight was… strangely domestic. Endearingly so.
“Still up, are we, birdie?” Lohen asked.
Illuga slowly shifted his gaze from the ceiling to Lohen and raised an eyebrow—barely.
What do you think?
“My, my. I must assume you were waiting for me, then,” Lohen smirked.
Illuga didn’t respond. He simply shifted over slightly, making space.
Once they had both settled into the bed, Lohen reached out and began playing with Illuga’s hair at the back of his head. He tugged at it every now and then—not gently—but somehow, it was still comforting.
“You know, Grand Master Varka kept sending some of the rookie knights out on extra patrols since they’d been drinking on the job,” Lohen began casually. “It was so funny that I had no choice but to step in. Obviously, during their patrol, I led lots of enemies onto their path and set traps in a bunch of places. They were so unsuspecting—it’s honestly surprising none of them got seriously injured. Next time, I should put even more traps. Maybe then they’d actually learn their lesson.”
He giggled maniacally for a few moments before continuing his ‘story,’ clearly pleased with himself. Usually, Illuga would’ve made some sort of remark about how reckless that was.
But this time… he didn’t. His body felt too heavy. His eyelids too slow.
Whatever Lohen was doing—it was working.
The tension in his body slowly melted away, his breathing evening out as he drifted closer and closer to sleep. Before he fully slipped into unconsciousness, he felt a small, fleeting kiss pressed to the back of his head.
And then he finally slept.
Lohen looked down at his boyfriend’s now peaceful face, the tension gone, replaced by something soft and unguarded. For a brief moment, something rare crossed his expression.
A quiet, fond smile.
2.
Illuga stared at the report in front of him. The words were clear. Legible. Structured exactly how they were meant to be. But for some reason, his brain would just not process it.
His pen hovered just above the page, unmoving. A single drop of ink clung stubbornly to the tip before finally falling, bleeding into the paper in a small, dark blot. He didn’t react. Just stared at the paper blankly without blinking, sighing, or even remotely doing anything.
The room was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that pressed in on his ears and made everything feel heavier than it should’ve been. Even the faint ticking of the clock on the wall felt distant, like it was happening somewhere far away rather than just a few feet from him.
Illuga exhaled slowly. Or at least—he thought he did.
It didn’t feel like breathing anymore. Just… existing.
His hand lowered slightly, pen finally touching the page again, but the moment it did, it stilled. The movement stopped before it even properly began.
Nothing. His mind was blank. It didn’t feel peaceful or calm, just empty. He expected it to feel nice considering his brain usually contained too many thoughts at once, but at least he was actually doing things then. Now he just felt non-existent and useless.
It was like a hollow kind of stillness that swallowed everything else that consumed him whole.
From across the room, Lohen watched. Originally he decided not to say anything.
The vice-captain didn’t interrupt. He didn’t announce himself loudly like he usually would.
He just leaned against the doorway, arms loosely crossed, head tilted slightly as his sharp gaze lingered on Illuga’s unmoving form.
It wasn’t something new. It wasn’t something that occurred often but Lohen still recognised that blank look. The way Illuga went quiet—not the normal kind of quiet, not the focused, working kind—but the wrong kind. The kind where everything just… stopped.
It was subtle, in fact most people wouldn’t notice and would just assume Illuga was deep in thought.
Unfortunately for Illuga, Lohen wasn’t most people.
His eyes flicked briefly to the untouched reports, the ink blot slowly spreading across the page, the way Illuga’s shoulders had gone just slightly too still.
Slowly, he felt a sharp grin spread across his face as he finally decided to make a move.
“Oh, wow,” Lohen finally spoke, his voice cutting cleanly through the silence. “This is new.”
Illuga didn’t move nor respond. His gaze never shifted and simply continued to stare at the paper. It was like he hadn’t even heard anything.
Lohen hummed, pushing himself off the doorway and strolling further into the room like nothing was wrong.
“What, you planning to brood yourself to death,” he continued casually, “or is this some kind of new strategy I haven’t heard about? Maybe you were planning on simply slacking off and letting someone else do that work? Honestly that seems more like something I’d do.”
Still no response. If anything, Illuga seemed to go even quieter. Lohen felt his grin widen.
“Because I’ll be honest, birdie, your strategies aren’t very effective ones. You’re just sitting there staring at paper like it personally offended you.”
Silence hung in the air, but it wasn’t heavy.
The pen in Illuga’s hand twitched, barely noticeable. But Lohen noticed every small detail as he watched closely. Of course he did.
“Ohhh, wait,” Lohen went on, tilting his head as if he’d just had a realization. “Don’t tell me you’ve finally given up. That’d be disappointing. I thought you were at least a little more resilient than that. I guess it was wrong of Olsson to make you the leader after his death.”
That did it. Illuga’s hand tightened around the pen. Not enough to snap it, but enough to be counted as a reaction.
Slowly – very slowly – he lifted his head.
His gaze slid over to Lohen, sharp despite the exhaustion sitting heavily behind it.
“…What?”
There it was. Lohen’s grin turned almost pleased.
“What?” he echoed innocently. “I’m just making an observation.”
“You’re being irritating.”
“Am I?” Lohen stepped closer, completely unbothered. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re the one sitting there doing absolutely nothing. I figured I’d help by pointing it out. At least I’m being productive between the two of us.”
“I am doing something,” Illuga snapped, the words coming out sharper than he probably intended.
Lohen raised an eyebrow, glancing deliberately at the page in front of him.
“That ink stain says otherwise.”
Illuga’s eye twitched.
“That- wasn’t—”
“Oh, sorry,” Lohen cut in smoothly. “My mistake. I didn’t realise staring blankly at a report was part of your process now. Should I try it too? Maybe grand master Varka will be impressed and let me do less work.”
Illuga pushed himself up from his seat so abruptly the chair scraped harshly against the floor.
“Can you not—” he started, his voice tight.
“Not what?” Lohen interrupted again, tilting his head, his tone just on the edge of mocking. “Not point out the obvious? Not notice that you’ve been sitting here like a statue for who knows how long?”
“I was thinking.”
“You call that thinking?” Lohen let out a short laugh. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“I’m tired,” Illuga shot back. “It’s not easy being the captain. You of all people should understand.”
“Yes, I’m aware,” Lohen said, almost dismissively. “You’ve mentioned it. Repeatedly.”
“Then act like it.”
“Why?” Lohen shrugged. “You’re still expected to function, aren’t you?”
That made something in Illuga’s expression crack—just slightly.
“Not like this,” he muttered, quieter now, frustration bleeding through. “I can’t just—force it.”
“Then what are you doing right now?” Lohen gestured vaguely toward the desk. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a lot like nothing.”
Illuga clenched his jaw.
“I was trying to work.”
“And failing.”
“I know that!” his words came out louder than intended. It was sharp and intended. It certainly felt more alive.
The room went still for half a second. Then Lohen smiled. It wasn’t wide nor mocking.
He just looked satisfied. There it was, the spark Illuga was known for.
Illuga froze slightly, like he’d only just realised he’d raised his voice.
His breathing felt uneven now, his thoughts no longer empty—but messy. They were tangled, frustrated, and annoyed. Both at Lohen and himself.
Annoyed at the stupid reports and the stupid lack of sleep and the fact that everything felt just slightly out of reach.
“…You’re insufferable,” Illuga muttered, dragging a hand down his face.
“Mm, I’ve been told,” Lohen replied lightly.
There was a brief pause before Lohen stepped back slowly. Just one step after another
The tension he’d deliberately wound tight just moments ago eased as quickly as it had come.
“Anyway,” he said casually, like none of that had just happened, “you should probably get back to those reports. They’re not going to finish themselves. I’ve got bigger monsters to kill anyways.”
Illuga blinked. Once. Twice.
“…That’s it?” he asked flatly.
“What?” Lohen shrugged again. “You’re working now, aren’t you?”
Illuga stared at him.
Because—annoyingly—
He was.
His mind wasn’t blank anymore. The fog hadn’t completely lifted, but it had cracked just enough to let something through. Enough to think. Enough to move.
Enough to be irritated.
“…You did that on purpose,” Illuga said slowly.
Lohen’s grin returned, just a little sharper this time.
“Obviously.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet,” Lohen hummed, turning slightly toward the door, “you’re no longer staring at a piece of paper like it personally betrayed you.”
Illuga opened his mouth. Closed it. Then he exhaled sharply through his nose.
“…You’re still irritating.”
“Mm. But effective.”
Illuga didn’t bother responding to that.
Instead, he pulled his chair back into place and sat down again, this time without the same heavy stillness from before. He picked up his pen, glanced at the report, and he actually read it.
The words finally absorbed and stuck this time. Not perfectly nor easily. But at leasy they didn’t slip away from his mind as soon as he read them.
Behind him, Lohen lingered for just a moment longer, watching as Illuga finally started writing again—the faint scratch of pen against paper filling the room where silence had been before.
Satisfied, he turned and headed toward the door.
“Oh, and birdie?” he called over his shoulder.
Illuga didn’t look up. “What.”
“If you go quiet like that again,” Lohen said, voice light, almost teasing, “I’m escalating.”
Illuga paused mid-sentence. “…Don’t.”
Lohen just laughed and left.
When he looks back, Illuga now realises that Lohen was helping in his own weird way.
3.
The clash of steel rang sharp through the air.
Illuga moved on instinct—parry, step, strike—his body following patterns drilled into him over years of training. The world had narrowed to movement and reaction, the rhythm of combat something he usually slipped into with ease.
The key word was usually. Because right now, something was off. And he didn't know what it was.
The enemy in front of him lunged, blade cutting through the air in a wide arc. Illuga raised his weapon to block, the impact jolting up his arm, forcing him a step back. His footing faltered slightly and his boots scraped against dirt and loose stone.
He was too slow. The lightkeeper adjusted, trying to recover, but the timing felt wrong. Everything felt just slightly delayed, like his body was a step behind his thoughts.
Another strike came his way, and he was able to dodge, only barely.
A shallow cut grazed his sleeve, fabric tearing just enough to sting against his skin. It was neither deep nor life threatening, but it shouldn’t have happened at all.
Illuga clicked his tongue, tightening his grip. He desperately needed to focus.
He forced himself forward, countering with a sharp, precise strike aimed for an opening in his opponent’s guard, but then, he hesitated.
At first it wasn’t obvious since it had only lasted a fraction of a second.
It was a pause, a flicker of doubt.
But in a fight, that was all it took as the opening closed.The enemy moved and suddenly the rhythm was gone.
Illuga froze again. Not completely, but enough to impact him negatively.
Enough that his next movement didn’t come.
Enough that his mind stalled mid-thought, caught somewhere between action and inaction. Suddenly everything felt wrong. The noise, the motion, the pressure—it all blurred together, too much and not enough all at once. His grip tightened, but his body didn’t follow through.
Illuga willed himself. Move.
He needed to move. So why didn’t he? Then a familiar sharp laugh cut through the battlefield. It wasn’t completely out of place since Lohen probably considered the battle-field a second home.
Of course he arrived at the most convenient of times.
“Oh, don’t start freezing now, birdie—” Lohen’s voice rang out, far too amused for the situation, “what would I do without you?”
Illuga’s eyes snapped toward him just for a second but that second nearly cost him.
The enemy lunged again—closer this time, faster—and Illuga barely managed to twist out of the way, the blade missing him by inches. That was far too close for comfort.
Before he could properly recover, Lohen finally made his move. He was fast, violent, and unpredictable. There was no room for hesitation in his actions
He slammed straight into the enemy with a force that sent them stumbling back, his own weapon colliding with theirs in a harsh, ringing clash. There was no elegance in it—no precision, just that rawness and aggression only Lohen could have on the chance of death.
“Really?” Lohen giggled again, stepping between Illuga and the fight like he owned the space. “You pick now to hesitate?”
“I didn’t—” Illuga started, breathing unevenly, frustration flaring sharp in his chest.
“You did,” Lohen cut in immediately, not even looking back at him. “And it was embarrassing.”
Illuga’s grip tightened again, “I had it under control.”
“Oh, yeah?” Lohen shot back, finally glancing over his shoulder, his grin wide and sharp and entirely unhinged. “Because from where I’m standing, it looked like you were about to let yourself get stabbed. Bit inconvenient, don’t you think?”
“I said I had it—”
“Then prove it.”
The words hit harder than they should have. Lohen certainly hadn’t shouted it or said it loudly, but it still had the same impact. Lohen shifted slightly in order to make space for Illuga to make his move.
The enemy, recovering faster than either of them had bothered to account for, rushed forward again, clearly intent on taking advantage of the brief lapse.
Illuga saw it and felt it.
That same hesitation threatened to creep back in, just at the edges, just enough to slow him, but then Lohen laughed again.
It was louder and wild.
Like this was a comedy and he was enjoying the show.
“Come on, birdie,” he said, voice light but edged with something sharper underneath. “Don’t tell me you’re going to make me do all the work. That’s not very fair, is it?”
Illuga felt something snap back into place inside him.
He let himself adjust his footing and let himself grip his polearm. The noise in his head cleared a bit more. So when the enemy struck, Illuga didn’t let himself hesitate.
He stepped in instead of back, deflecting the attack with a sharp motion and immediately following through. His blade cut cleanly through the opening they’d left, precise and controlled in a way it hadn’t been moments ago.
The rhythm was finally coming back to him. Obviously, the fight didn’t last much longer after that.
Between Illuga’s regained precision and Lohen’s relentless, chaotic aggression, the enemy was overwhelmed quickly—driven back, disarmed, and finally forced down. Silence settled over the aftermath, broken only by the faint sound of breathing and the distant rustle of wind.
Illuga exhaled, lowering his weapon slightly. His pulse was still elevated from the adrenaline coursing through his veins, but he finally didn’t feel quite so helpless.
“…You’re insane,” he muttered after a moment.
Lohen snorted in an unflattering manner that was so undeniably like him.
“Please, you already knew that. You knew what you signed up for when you decided to date me.”
Illuga shot him a look, still faintly irritated, but the earlier tension had mostly burned off now.
“You could’ve just said something normal.”
“And miss that anger induced look?” Lohen grinned, wiping a smear of blood from his cheek with the back of his hand and licking it. “Absolutely not. That was way more effective and hot.”
“It was reckless,” Illuga couldn’t stop the tiny smile that crept on the side of his face.
“I mean it worked so I don’t see the problem here.”
“That doesn’t mean that it was a good idea.”
“It makes it a successful idea,” Lohen corrected, far too pleased with himself.
Illuga opened his mouth to argue but then stopped because Lohen was annoyingly correct.
“…You’re still insufferable,” Illuga said instead.
“Mm. And you’re welcome.”
“I didn’t thank you.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Lohen stepped past him then, like the whole thing was already over, already forgotten. But as he did, he paused—just briefly—close enough that Illuga could hear him clearly.
“Don’t freeze like that again,” Lohen added, quieter now. Not soft—but not joking either. A beat. Then, just as quickly, the grin slipped back into his voice.
“Or at least give me a heads-up so I can make it more entertaining.”
Illuga let out a slow breath.
“…You’re unbelievable.”
Lohen bit Illuha’s ear playfully before walking away.
“Where are you going?” Illuga inquired. “To finish a patrol, are you coming or not?” Lohen asked.
4.
There were two problems. The first was that Illuga shouldn’t still be working. The second was that he was bleeding.
Not heavily, not dangerously, nor anything life-threatening. But enough that the dried and fresh mix of crimson blood across his clothes, his hands, and the side of his neck made it very clear he should not be sitting at a desk right now.
But, being the workaholic that he was, Illuga was still doing paperwork.
The report in front of him blurred slightly as his eyes struggled to focus, lashes sticking faintly where sweat and dried blood had mixed into one thick liquid. His hand moved anyway, pen dragging across the page in uneven, sluggish strokes.
Each movement felt heavier than the last as he went on. Fatigue and the idea of working more hung over his head like a wild hunt threat.
“It won’t do itself,” Illuga muttered under his breath, more to justify it than to motivate himself.
His argument was weak, even to his own ears but he refused to stop. Because if he stopped, then the work would pile over, and he could envision the coming sleepless nights. So he continued to write, even if it was messy and uneven.
There was a faint smear of red across the edge of the page where his hand had dragged slightly too far. He didn’t acknowledge it and didn't even seem to notice.
From across the room, Lohen stared. For once his signature sadistic smile and grin was missing. His gaze dragged slowly over Illuga’s form—the blood, the way his shoulders were slightly hunched, the way his gaze seemed clouded over, the way his hand wasn’t steady.
His tongue hit sharply against the roof of his mouth as he clicked it. A loud tch that he knew the lightkeeper had heard. It was a loud, annoyed sound, but Illuga ignored his presence. That, predictably, did not make him go away.
“You’re still doing that,” Lohen said, voice flat, but with something restless coiled tightly underneath it. He started pacing—not lazily, not playfully—just sharp, agitated movement back and forth.
Illuga didn’t look up and refused to respond. He let his pen drag again.
Scratch. Pause. Scratch.
Lohen clicked his tongue again, louder this time.
“I’m serious,” he continued, pacing tighter, faster. “You’re still doing that and you know you shouldn’t be. Between the two of us, I’m supposed to be the reckless one”
“I’m working,” Illuga replied, his voice hoarse but firm, gaze still fixed on the page.
“Yes, you are. But you’re not supposed to be.”
“I have no choice, I need to do this”
“You’re literally bleeding on the paperwork.”
Illuga’s pencil paused over the paper for just a fraction of a second. “Then I’ll rewrite it later.”
Lohen stopped pacing, turned, and stared.
“…You’ll rewrite it later,” he repeated slowly.
“Yes.”
“With what energy?” Lohen’s voice sharpened. “The energy you clearly don’t have right now?”
“I’m fine.”
The worst possible thing he could’ve said, was what he said. Lohen chuckled humourlessly.
“You look like you crawled out of a battlefield—which, for your information, you did—and your solution is to sit down and pretend you’re functioning?”
“I am functioning.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s minor.”
“You don’t even know that.”
“I do.”
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Lohen demanded, his red eyes flashing with annoyance you rarely saw on the usually carefree vice captain.
“I’m not-”
The pen was suddenly gone. Illuga blinked, looking down at his now empty hand before slowly turning his head, with a pissed expression. Usually it’d be cute to look at, but right now Lohen was not having fun.
He stood there, holding the pen with a distinctly unimpressed and visibly irritated expression. He was no longer trying to hide it.
“…Give it back,” Illuga said.
Like a petulant child, “No.”
“Lohen.”
“No,” he repeated, sticking out his tongue just to be extra annoying.
“I have to finish this.”
“And I have to stop you from doing something stupid,” Lohen shot back.
“This isn’t—”
“How many times do you want me to repeat the same thing? I thought the captain of the lightkeepers was supposed to be responsible and intelligent. You’re sitting here covered in blood trying to write reports,” Lohen interrupted, his pacing starting again, more erratic now. “Explain to me how that’s not stupid.”
“It won’t do itself and no one’s going to do it for me.” Illuga repeated, more firmly this time.
“Oh, that’s your reasoning?” Lohen let out a short, incredulous bark of a laugh. “That’s what we’re going with?”
“Yes.”
There was a pause. Then something was shoved off his desk. Not violently enough to break anything but enough that a stack of papers slid off slightly, disorganised, disrupted.
Illuga frowned.
“…Was that necessary? Now I have to pick that all up.”
“No, make one of your assistants do it or whatever. ” Lohen replied flatly. “This isn’t necessary either.”
“I can still work.”
“Birdie, you can barely stand,” Lohen pointed out as he used the pen to point at Illuga’s wound.
“I’m sitting.”
“Not the point.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I am.”
“You’re—”
“I said I’m fine.”
The words came out sharper, strained, frustration bleeding through the exhaustion.
Lohen went still. Then he slowly smiled. Not nicely. It was his other signature sadistic grins.
“Oh,” he said quietly. “So we’re doing this now are we?”
Illuga didn’t respond, didn’t look away, but didn’t back down. That was enough.
“Alright,” Lohen nodded once, like he’d made a decision. “We can do this the easy way—”
Before Illuga could react Lohen stepped forward and blocked him in completely. One hand was braced against the desk while the other leaned against the back of the chair. He was too close, and very deliberate.
“—or the effective way.”
Illuga leaned back slightly, blinking up at him. “…You’re being dramatic.” “You’re being an idiot,” Lohen replied immediately.
“I have work to do.”
“And you’re not doing it like this.”
“I can manage.”
“You can’t.”
“I can—”
“Sit somewhere else,” Lohen cut in, voice dropping just enough to carry weight. “Before I make you.”
There it was again. Not quite a threat but it wasn't quite a joke. There was definitely something that made Illuga hesitate for a second before he then frowned.
“…This is unnecessary.”
“No,” Lohen said flatly. “What’s unnecessary is you dropping dead on your desk.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Right,” Lohen nodded, completely unconvinced. “Because you look so stable right now.”
“I’m fine.”
Lohen exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, irritation finally spilling over fully. “Do you know how annoying that would be?” he said, pacing again—but tighter, more agitated than before. “You drop dead, and then I have to explain that.” Illuga blinked.
“…That’s your concern?”
“Yes,” Lohen said immediately. “Because I don’t want to deal with that conversation.” There was a pause. Then, more sharply, “And because you’re not allowed to die over paperwork. Imagine people talking, and I have to tell them that my boyfriend died because he refused to listen and he died doing fucking paperwork.”
Illuga opened his mouth when nothing came out, and closed it again. “…I’m not going to die.”
“You don’t get to decide that when you’re like this.” “I’m not—”
“If you don’t stop,” Lohen cut in, voice suddenly very calm in a way that felt significantly more dangerous, “I will go to the higher-up Lightkeepers and beat them up myself.”
Illuga froze.
“…What?”
“You heard me.”
“That is not a solution.”
“It is to me.”
“You can’t just—”
“I won’t kill them,” Lohen added casually. “Only because they’re important to you.”
There was a beat of silence.
“…Lohen.”
“I’m serious.”
“You’re insane.”
“And yet,” Lohen tilted his head slightly, eyes sharp, “You love me, and I will do it. You know I’m not kidding.”
Illuga stared at him, trying to figure out if he was bluffing. It was obvious that he wasn’t. Just like all those other times Lohen would make threats just because of Illuga. Illuga knew Lohen too well, and that was the problem.
“…You wouldn’t.”
“I absolutely would.”
“…You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re still not moving.” A long silence hung in the air this time. Illuga looked at the desk, then the reports. At the faint smear of blood across the page. His patched up wound that clearly was getting darker and darker with time. The lightkeeper couldn’t deny that he felt like a slime and that he wasn’t feeling a bit light-headed.
Then he slowly exhaled. “…Fine.” Lohen blinked once before speaking, “…That worked faster than expected.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Illuga muttered, pushing himself up from the chair. His balance wavered slightly—just for a second—but it was enough. Lohen noticed because of course he did. He slid under Illuga and helped him walk with a smirk that obviously was supposed to mean ‘I told you so’.
“Let’s go," he said, gesturing away from the desk. “Preferably somewhere that isn’t covered in paperwork and bad decisions.”
Illuga didn’t argue and didn’t push back again. They moved toward the couch, and Illuga dropped down onto it with a quiet exhale.
The moment he stopped, exhaustion hit full force. His body sagged into the cushions, tension finally slipping where he’d been forcing it to hold.
“…I hate that you’re right,” he muttered. Lohen snorted, tossing the pen back onto the desk.
“I know.”
5.
The cottage was quiet.
Not the heavy, suffocating kind of silence that came with overthinking or exhaustion, but something softer. The kind that settled naturally once the world outside had gone to sleep. The lights were dim, barely illuminating the room in a warm, low glow. Shadows stretched lazily across the walls, unmoving, undisturbed.
Illuga sat on the edge of the bed. He hadn’t moved in a while. His hands rested loosely in his lap, fingers slightly curled, like he’d forgotten what he’d been doing with them. His shoulders weren’t tense but they weren’t relaxed either. It was like he was just simply existing.
Lohen was already in bed, half sprawled out like he owned the space. One arm rested behind his head, the other draped lazily across the mattress, his posture loose, casual. But his gaze was fixed on Illuga. Waiting silently for him to speak. There were no annoying quips or sly grins to get reactions, he just watched.
Illuga exhaled slowly.
“…I can’t keep doing this.”
The words came out quieter than expected. It wasn’t dramatic nor sharp but simply honest. There was a long pause. Lohen didn’t respond immediately. He didn’t brush it off as a joke and didn’t poke him like he usually would, his expression was calm and slightly concerned, not that anyone other than Illuga would notice. The vice captain just stared at the back of Illuga’s head, expression unreadable in the dim light.
“…That’s inconvenient.”
It sounded dismissive and flat like it didn’t matter. But it wasn’t. Illuga let out a weak breath that almost resembled a laugh.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I figured you’d say that.”
There was another pause before the bed shifted slightly. Lohen sat up properly this time, the mattress dipping slightly under the change in weight.
“Good thing you’ve got me, then,” he added casually. Like it was obvious and it didn’t need further explanation. Illuga didn’t respond right away and didn’t turn around but his shoulders loosened just the littlest bit.
“…You’re not helping,” he said after a moment, though there wasn’t much bite behind it.
“I am,” Lohen replied in a sing-song tone. “You’re just not appreciating it~.”
A faint huff left Illuga, somewhere between exasperation and something softer.
“…Right.”
Another pause settled between them but it didn’t feel heavy or depressing; it was just pure, simple silence in the air. “Get over here.”
Illuga blinked owlishly as he turned his head to face his boyfriend.
“…What?”
“Get. Over. Here,” Lohen repeated, slower this time, like he was talking to someone particularly stupid. “You’re hovering like a ghost. It’s weird.”
“I’m not hovering.”
“You are.”
“I’m sitting.”
“You’re doing it wrong.”
Illuga turned his head slightly, finally glancing back at him.
“…Sitting wrong? How do you do that?”
“By sitting the way you are.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t have to,” Lohen shrugged. “Just get over here.”
Illuga stared at him for a second before giving in and sighing.
“…You’re so annoying, did you know that?”
“And yet, you’re dating me and you’re moving~,” Lohen pointed out.
Illuga didn’t bother responding to that.
Instead, he pushed himself up from the edge of the bed and shifted properly onto it, settling down beside Lohen, but he still left a small, noticeable gap between them. Lohen looked at the space and then at Illuga inquiringly. Without a word he grabbed him and pulled him closer. It wasn’t really gentle, but it wasn’t intensely rough either, more like a perfect balance. Illuga let out a small, surprised breath as he was shifted, ending up much closer than he’d intended. He was close enough that their shoulders touched, close enough to feel the warmth.
“…You could’ve just asked,” Illuga muttered.
“I did.”
“That wasn’t asking.”
“It was implied.”
“That’s not—”
“Shh.”
The interruption was immediate with a small genuine smile from Lohen. It didn’t sound harsh, it just sounded more playful. Lohen leaned back against the headboard, pulling Illuga with him so that he settled against his side. One arm draped loosely around him caringly. Somehow, it was grounding in its own strange way.
Illuga went still for a second before slowly going lax into his hold.
“…I’m tired, it’s like I can feel it in my bones,” he admitted quietly.
“I know.”
“I can’t keep up like this.”
“I know.”
“I thought I could, but I can’t and it’s just—” Illuga exhaled sharply, frustration flickering briefly as he gestured wildly with his hands “— not working.”
“I know,” Lohen repeated.
There was no teasing this time, no interruption, just simply acknowledged it. Illuga swallowed, his grip tightening slightly against the fabric of Lohen’s shirt.
“…It’s a problem isn’t it?” “Mm,” Lohen hummed. “It is.” “…You’re not going to fix it with something insane, are you?”
There was a pause.
“…Define insane.”
“Lohen.”
“I said I wouldn’t kill anyone important,” he replied casually. “That’s not reassuring.” “It should be.”
Illuga huffed softly, but it lacked any real irritation. Another quiet settled between them. This one was softer than before, it felt safer. After a moment, Lohen shifted slightly, slightly moving Illuga’s head so it rested on his shoulder. The reaction was instantaneous as Illuga slightly relaxed a bit more.
“You’re thinking too much,” he said, not a question. “I’m not.” “You are.” “I’m just—”
“Thinking,” Lohen cut in. Illuga didn’t argue this time since it would get him nowhere, and because Lohen was right.
“…I don’t know how to stop,” he admitted. That was new. The words hung there, quieter than anything he’d said before. Lohen didn’t respond immediately, just kinda stayed. “You don’t have to,” was the eventual answer Illuga creased his eyebrows a bit as he frowned at the general direction of Lohen. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t have to,” Lohen echoed from earlier, voice quieter now.
A small silence followed before Lohen leaned down slightly. Illuga barely had time to react before he felt a brief, warm press of lips against his forehead. It was soft, quick, and gone almost as soon as it happened.
Illuga blinked.
“…What was that?” “Nothing,” Lohen replied immediately, a hint of playfulness in his tone.
“That wasn’t nothing.” “It was barely anything.” Illuga shifted slightly, just enough to look up at him.
“…You’re bad at this.”
“I’m not trying to be good at it.” “That’s not—” Illuga didn’t get to finish because Lohen leaned in again. This time it wasn’t on his forehead, instead it was on his lips. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t aggressive, which was surprising because it was Lohen we were talking about here. It was simple and was supposed to be grounding. Illuga froze for half a second before he melted into it, tension slipping away in a way words hadn’t managed to do.
When they pulled back, the distance between them didn’t return since Lohen didn’t move away but didn’t make a comment. He simply leaned back again like it hadn’t been anything significant, his arm still loosely around Illuga.
“…Better?” he asked, like he was asking about something completely normal. Illuga didn’t answer right away. Instead, he shifted slightly closer, resting more comfortably against him.
“…Yeah,” he admitted quietly. Lohen hummed. “Told you so~”. “…Don’t get used to it.” “Too late. I guess I’m the greatest peacemaker on the planet”
Illuga let out a soft chuckle, something calmer now, something lighter. The exhaustion was certainly still there, the problems weren’t gone, but the world felt a little better, his shoulder didn’t feel so heavy, and he felt loved.
Illuga closed his eyes while Lohen stayed exactly where he was. Neither moved or spoke, the silence hung in the air, but it was comforting.
+1
The first thing Illuga noticed was how the night was too loud.
So he walked over to investigate something that sounded oddly like a battle. But it was loud. Not loud in the typical and usual way, he was used to those battle sounds. Steel striking steel, shouted orders, monsters screeching in the distance; all of it blended into something familiar after enough years on the field. But this was wrong. In a way the noises sounded uneven and chaotic, more so than usual.
Illuga slowed slightly, his grip tightening around his spear and oath lantern as another sharp clash echoed through the trees ahead. The sounds overlapped strangely, there wasn’t shouting over shouting, the clang of steel sounded messy in a way, and there was a faint sound of laughing.
It sounded like a bloody mess.
Branches crunched beneath his boots as he pushed forward through the forest path, moonlight slipping through the trees in fractured patches of silver.
Then another cackle rang out. Loud, sharp, maniacal and very very unhinged. Illuga froze for half a second, he knew that laugh, and could only imagine the horrors his boyfriend would be up to. The clearing came into view quickly after that, and there, in the middle of the fight was his boyfriend himself.
Crimson blood was streaked across his armour and clothes, fresh and dried mixing together in ugly smears that easily looked like a massacre had happened here, although it was more likely than not that an actual massacre had occurred. His movements were still fast—terrifyingly so—but wrong in subtle ways that most people wouldn’t notice.
Illuga did. His strides were too wide, his strikes too forceful, hitting random areas with blunt force that usually were precise and took down enemies easily, and he was moving too fast to recover properly. The Wild Hunt surrounding him barely stood a chance. One after another fell beneath vicious strikes, Lohen tearing through them with frightening efficiency.
But the captain didn’t stop even after they had dropped. Even after they stopped moving. Another enemy lunged. Lohen twisted toward it instantly, grinning and drove his blade through the creature hard enough that blood sprayed across the ground like a bursting balloon.
Then he turned again without looking and swiftly swung. As Illuga had noticed before, this swing was also uncoordinated and pure force, and a knight had accidentally stepped into his path. Thankfully the young man was able to jump back in time, his eyes wide with shock, surprise, and fear as the blade missed him by inches. No one should look at their captain with fear, even if your captain was Lohen, which meant something was truly wrong.
The nearby knights hesitated, uncertainty flashing across their faces. Illuga’s gaze flicked lower briefly to the blood around Lohen’s abdomen, there was far too much of it. This was the kind of injury Lohhen would give his opponent, not the other way around, and while he did often come home covered in blood, most of it was never his. The injury looked partially wrapped already, but the bandages were soaked through with dark, crimson liquid.
Illuga came to the conclusion that Lohen was running on pure adrenaline and exhaustion, but of course he’d pushed himself too far and kept going anyway, because as Lohen liked to say, “the best part about the battle is when you start to lose yourself to the thrill of it!”
And of course that’s what he had done, but far too literally. Illuga watched as another Wild Hunt creature charged. Lohen moved immediately – no, jerked – way too violently.
Illuga reacted before thinking as he stepped forward fast and blocked the next strike with the shaft of his spear. The impact cracked sharply through the clearing and for a moment Lohen hesitated just enough for his attention to snap toward the interruption.
It was enough for him to finally look at what was in front of him. Lohen’s grin widened further and it was just wild, and it was clear to the lightkeeper that the other wasn’t fully present..
“You joining in?” he giggled , shifting his grip again.
He didn’t recognise him, too far lost in the thrill of battle, and the blood loss having seemed to be clouding his judgement. Or maybe he did but not properly.
Lohen moved again suddenly, blade angling forward and Illuga knew there was no time to hesitate. He twisted his spear sharply, redirecting the strike away from himself before driving the other end hard into Lohen’s sternum. The move was precise and just enough to throw him off-balance and knock the wind out of him without worsening the injury.
Lohen stumbled and Illuga stepped in immediately because he knew that while fighting against someone as brutal and ruthless as Lohen, he wouldn’t get a chance like this for while, or without getting injured. He did a sharp hook behind the leg and then a forceful shove. And suddenly Lohen hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath from him again.
The nearby knights stared and nobody intervened. Probably because nobody wanted to, and they knew that if they intervened, they wouldn’t come out of this battle uninjured or worse.
Lohen let out another breathless laugh, trying to push himself back up immediately. Illuga shoved him back down, and it wasn’t gentle.
“Lohen.”
No response. Or at least not a proper or verbal one.
Lohen was still grinning, breathing unevenly, shoulders tense like he was preparing to lunge back into the fight at any second.
“Lohen,” Illuga repeated, his voice lower this time. The other man smirked again, though it was faltering now.
“Illuga, you’re blocking the fun part, I didn’t even get to kill anyone yet.”
Ah, so Lohen knew who he was talking to, and Illuga would take every chance presented to him. One hand stayed locked against Lohen’s wrist, pinning it safely away from his weapon, and the other pressed against his shoulder, forcing him still.
“Look at me.”
Lohen’s gaze flicked toward him briefly before looking away again. That split second let him know the other still wasn’t thinking straight, or thinking at all.
“Breathe,” Illuga said firmly.
“I am breathing.” Although his breaths were shallow and uncontrolled.
“Properly.”
Lohen tried to push upward again but Illuga immediately forced him back down because he was not going to deal with this bullshit any longer. This time he pushed him down on the hard, bloody ground harder and that motion finally earned a sharp hiss of pain.
There it was, the fracture in Lohen’s armor, but figuratively and literally. Lohen’s laughter stuttered slightly, a little more pained and hysterical. And then the injury finally caught up to him. Illuga watched it happen in real time.
The moment the adrenaline stopped fully overpowering the pain. Lohen’s expression tightened for half a second, grin faltering sharply at the edges as his breathing lost rhythm.
“Stop,” Illuga said again, his voice was firm and he was not leaving an opportunity for argument.
Lohen exhaled shakily, still tense but he was listening now and the fight was starting to drain out of him piece by piece.
“Lohen.” Finally, his eyes focused properly, although it was still hazy from the stupid amount of blood the idiot had lost. The frenzy dulled just enough for recognition to finally settle in.
“…Birdie?”
The nickname came out quieter than expected, it sounded slightly off like he was still trying to fully place where he was.
“Unfortunately.” For a quiet, tense moment, neither of them moved before Lohen’s grip slowly slacked slightly. The clearing had gone mostly silent around them now. The remaining Wild Hunt creatures had either fled or been dealt with while everyone else watched the disaster unfold.
Lohen’s breathing remained uneven beneath him, chest rising too fast despite the obvious exhaustion crashing in.
The adrenaline drop was obviously hitting hard and violently because at first he’d been moving and attacking like a war machine, and now he was suddenly fatigued and too injured to even breathe properly. Lohen let his head fall back against the ground with a soft thud, eyes briefly shutting.
“…Think the ground’s moving,” he muttered weakly. “It isn’t.” “Hm.”
Illuga eased some pressure off him carefully but not fully. Just in case.
Lohen noticed immediately.
“You still pinning me? Kinky.”
“You tried to attack your own knights.” Illuga ignored that last bit. “That sounds dramatic.” “You nearly hit one.” Lohen blinked slowly like he was processing the information through fog.
“…Oh.”
The response would’ve been funny under different circumstances. Illuga exhaled quietly.
“You clearly pushed too far.” Lohen let out a weak scoff.
“I was winning.”
“You were attacking your own, and I know you’re all for battle, but it’s not a battle if you’re fighting everyone including yourself, that’s a massacre." And Lohen finally shut up, rendered speechless because they both knew Illuga was right. A long silence settled after that, not exactly uncomfortable, but not the most peaceful kind either.
Lohen stared upward blankly for a moment before attempting to sit up once Illuga finally eased fully off him, though he stayed close enough to catch him if needed. The vice captain failed immediately and his expression twisted slightly, frustration flashing across his face before exhaustion drowned it again.
Illuga simply crossed his arms and didn’t say anything, but his eyes clearly were conveying the words ‘I told you so’.
“…Rude,” he muttered.
“You’re done.”
“Mm.” Illuga knew Lohen was done, but he was a little shocked when there was no argument, and that alone told Illuga how bad things actually were. Lohen pushed himself up again slower this time, managing only because Illuga steadied him before he could tip sideways.
For a very very brief moment Lohen leaned into the support slightly. Sure it was barely noticeable, but it was there. Lohen wasn’t as touchy feely as Illuga, but he didn’t mind support, but when in front of his subordinates he never accepted help from them. Not during paperwork or battle. Especially battle. Illuga noticed instantly.
The other knights nearby quickly looked away when Illuga glanced toward them, suddenly finding literally anything else interesting..
“…You’re all staring,” Lohen mumbled tiredly.
“That’s because you terrified them.”
“I usually do that.”
“You nearly killed one.”
“…Minor detail.”
Illuga gave him a flat look and Lohen grinned weakly in response, though the usual manic energy behind it had dulled significantly now. At least he knew that his boyfriend was the same for sure.
“…Birdie,” Lohen muttered after a moment, voice slower now, rougher around the edges.
“What.”
“You tackled me.”
“I pinned you.”
“That was kind of rude.”
“You were out of control, and you are not one to talk.”
“…Still rude. But it was kinda hot. ” Lohen admitted quietly, a small smile picking up on the corner of his mouth Illuga sighed quietly but didn’t move away or let go, and Lohen let himself be supported.
Later that night, when they’d both been patched up and ready to sleep even if it was already considered morning, they slept in each other's arms, knowing they had each other when it came to everything.