nerdeology | IC Communication

Right... except for the kissing.

[Even as he says it, Mikleo knows that's not true. There's something between them that wasn't there before, not quite the same. It's the gentle way that Sorey's taken his hand lately, it's the tender light in his eyes when they exchange certain glances, it's the reassurance of waking up with another body pressed against his own, limbs entangled, warm breath and occasional drool in his hair. Things have been different for a while now, well before they'd confirmed with Clay and Allen that they were "dating" or whatever.

It doesn't matter, but it matters a great deal, at the same time. Whatever might have changed, it's for the better. There's a closeness here between them that still existed before, but in different ways, more casual, more vocal, more quietly intimate. Often at arm's length, something he knew was mostly his fault. It was never for lack of trying on Sorey's part.

He said he should have tried harder, before he died. Somehow, unconsciously, he'd been doing just that of late, and now with Sorey so close to him, their fingers curling together, he's grateful for it. Closing his eyes, without another word, he leans in to press his lips against Sorey's once more. Properly this time- no teasing, no playfulness, no mischief in his body language. It's nothing like those little pecks he'd stolen in the diner or moments ago, testing it out, coaxing out Sorey's entertaining reactions. Maybe this isn't what Sorey meant when he'd said "hammer it out", but he'd like to try it for real, even just once.

The kissing isn't really what's changed, but... what's changed is what makes this one different.]

[Mikleo leans in and Sorey instinctively closes his eyes and darn it all, Mikleo had been right. It's not as flustering when Sorey can't see Mikleo's face right there, just the soft press of his lips and the firm grip of their hands wound together.

Mikleo pulls back but Sorey doesn't quite move just yet, wanting to catalog that, memorize every sound and scent and sensation with every inch of his impressive memory. He wants to carry this with him forever, put it above all his knowledge of the Ancient Tongue, all the facts and scriptures and everything else he's ever memorized.

When he finally looks again his face is burning a brilliant red, but he's at least not trying to hide away. Mikleo's looking at him and genuine love and affection swells up, so overwhelming that Sorey just leans forward to wrap his arms around Mikleo's shoulders, holding him tight.]

Ahhhhh, Mikleo, I love you, I love you so much... [He's a little embarrassed of himself, spewing all of this like he's a child again, but he really doesn't have a small handful of words he an use to tell Mikleo the same as Luzrov Rulay, so this is all he has available to him.] I want to be with you forever, I really, really love you...!

[At that, Mikleo can't help it: he laughs, the sort of laugh most people don't manage to drag out of him- a pure, honestly joyful sound, not teasing or mocking, not even bittersweet as it's been lately, and that's if he laughs at all. It's been so hard to find humour in anything these days. Even on good days. But Sorey... there's something incredibly contagious about those words, and he can feel the genuine emotion behind the sentiment. He's never doubted Sorey's love, just as he's never felt the need to respond in kind, because Sorey knows how he's always felt in return.

Even so, there's no denying the thrill going up and down his spine, the warmth on his cheeks, the steady pounding of his heart. It's different. Something's definitely different, and that last kiss isn't the only thing that proves it.

Quietly he slides his arms up to return the hug, gripping Sorey's shirt, one hand brushing affectionately through his hair.]

Sorey... you're being ridiculous.

[They're not the same words Sorey used, but his tone, the tightness of his embrace, the warmth in his eyes- all of it says I love you, too.]

Then I'll be ridiculous, [Sorey mumbles into his hair, still hanging on. He can feel it in the strength of his hand around his shirt, the warmth of his voice, the gentle brush of his fingers through his hair that Mikleo feels the same. Sorey had never needed the same grandiose gestures from Mikleo that he himself was so fond of doing; Mikleo is obvious in his own way and right now, he's practically screaming it from the rooftops.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

It means the same thing.

Luzrov Rulay.

Sorey pulls back and holds Mikleo's face between his hands, trying to cement the way he looks now, that twinkling mirth and that hint of embarrassment brightening his eyes and pinking his cheeks over the other images that creep up unbidden in the darkness of night. Mikleo is here, with him, alive, and he's going to stay that way until Sorey's dying breath.]

Oh, Mikleo, [Sorey breathes, a little more somber in his emotion but no less heartfelt as he leans forward to pull him into his arms again, closing his eyes,] what would I be without you? I don't even want to think about it. [He'd be more and less, he's certain. More afraid, less curious. More insecure, less forgiving. If growing up with Mikleo built him into the person he is today, then he supposes he can't completely hate himself. Not when Mikleo had a hand in all of him.]

[Mikleo is quiet for a little while after that, opting to simply hold Sorey in return, stroking his hair and mulling over the implications of those words. It's impossible to not think about what Sorey means, how the past still lingers in ways that neither can forget. What Sorey would be like without him is what he'd been for those two weeks Mikleo had been dead and gone- struggling, wounded, aching, and in the end, resolved to carry on, but perhaps not quite himself anymore. He doesn't know what Sorey would have been like long-term, since neither of them had been forced to endure it. Thank goodness.

He's never liked to think about what he'd be like without Sorey; it's a fate that'll eventually be forced on him, but hopefully not for decades to come. When he's older, maybe it won't frighten him so badly, maybe the mere thought of it won't seize him up inside and leave his heart aching. He suspects not - age doesn't make it easier, Zaveid, Lailah and Edna could all attest to that fact - but he wishes it would. He can't imagine it. He can't fathom living hundreds, thousands of years past the lifespan of his other half, the one person in the world he shared everything with. He can't imagine spending a single human life together and then, in the end, being left behind as Sorey goes to a place he can't follow.

He holds Sorey a little more tightly, pressing his face to his hair, his voice quiet as he responds.]

Don't think about it. There's no reason to. We're stuck with each other, got it? So don't...

[Don't think about losing me.

Don't make me think about losing you.]

[It is terribly cruel, that he's relieved he'll be dying before Mikleo, but he honestly can't help himself. At least in that, he can understand why Mikleo would tell him he'd be okay, at the end. - and there he goes. It's hard not to think about it.]

Sorry, [Sorey murmurs, reaching up to bury a hand in Mikleo's hair in turn.] You're right, you're right. It's not something we need to think about. Our present is busy enough without going too far in the future anyway.

Right... just focus on what matters now. We don't need to be worrying about every little thing that comes along. It'll only weigh us down.

[As if death, lifespan, the differences between them- as if any of that could be described as "little".

...Well, compared with what they do have, he'd like to consider the rest unimportant. Everybody dies one day- even seraphim, even those who've been alive for thousands of years. Nothing is eternal. He calls seraphim immortal because he lacks a better word for it, but they can be killed. They can lose themselves and become dragons.

Maybe Sorey will die someday. Maybe he'll be reborn as a seraph and live again. Maybe they'll spend whole lifetimes traveling, see every inch of the world, share every adventure. Maybe they'll have only a hundred years together and then be carried in nothing more than a memory for thousands more. Maybe he'll be the one to die and leave Sorey grieving, shouldering the burden of both their lives until he's as grey as Gramps.

It won't matter. In the end, everything dies. In the end they'll be together again somehow.]

I'm with you. Focus on that.

Hey, [Sorey murmurs quietly, pulling back so he can cup one side of Mikleo's face, peering at him in concern. He brushes his thumb over the swell in his cheek, and okay, maybe kissing isn't the only thing that's changed because he'd never have done something like that before all of this.

Mikleo does this often when he starts getting lost in his own head. Sorey will sit in his dreams and his worries all day if he's left to his own devices, but Mikleo is always so brutal with himself, almost cold in his self-care. It's true, they shouldn't focus on an uncertain future, but there's no reason they can't let it influence the decisions they make in the present, too. Focus on each other, because if there is one certainty, it's that these moments really won't last forever.

Through all the guilt and the desperation, the sadness and agony, Mikleo's death has at least taught him a little gratitude for the present.] ...you know, I think I'm okay with your face being so close after all.

[Mikleo's eyes widen at that, gazing back at Sorey in surprise for a few lingering moments. His eyes drift across Sorey's features, as if memorizing, re-memorizing the details while they're so close. The marks and imperfections of his skin caused by exploration and life-threatening battles, or little nicks and scars that aren't visible from a distance, or the splotches of different colours that decorate his face from hours in and out of the sun. His eyes are bright and happy, with a lingering sadness Mikleo knows is mirrored in his own all too often lately. It's a face he's looked at hundreds, thousands of times in his lifetime, one he has yet to ever grow tired of seeing.

Sorey's occasionally gone on about how beautiful seraphim are, but to Mikleo, humans can be much more of a fascinating canvas, their life experiences carved into their bodies and carried for all the world to see. Sorey's face is a map whose details tell a hundred stories, and Mikleo knows how fortunate he is to have been a part of so many of them. Sort of makes him wonder why Zaveid chose to get his tattoos, and how, and what kind of stories they tell. If those imperfections played a part in Sorey's near-decision in the fire trial, to scar his own face rather than ruin Lailah's beauty.

He doesn't know how to say any of this, but if Sorey's okay with what he sees, then... then, well. He's okay, too. He's always been okay with this, it's only that he lacked the courage to admit it.]

...Don't make it weird, [is what he finally mumbles, however, leaning in to bury his face against the crook of Sorey's neck, his forehead pressed to the fabric of the Shepherd's collar. The feathers tickle his nose, and it's such a familiar sensation it makes his chest hurt.]

[The times that Mikleo will allow himself to be coddled like this are few and far between, so Sorey intends to take full advantage of it. There's nothing that needs doing and nowhere they need to be, so Sorey will gladly reach up to cradle Mikleo's head fully against him, other arm around his shoulders. Heck, he'd pull Mikleo into his lap if he thought he could get away with it.

This will have to do for now. But honestly, if he knows anything about Mikleo (and he can safely say that he does), being together in the quiet, surrounded by books and warmth and each other, all of that is more than enough.]

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