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“Young Master…”
The man in front of him blinked, his bright eyes dimmed by an exhaustion almost tangible in the chilly air of late afternoon. He was so lost to the aches of his body and mind that he didn’t even make a move, nor did he respond, as he all but used the frame of the door to keep his body upright.
“Really now,” Flins sighed, taking a step closer, daring to glide his fingertips up Illuga’s arm until he could cup the arch of his shoulder with his palm. “Come inside.”
The young man remained unresponsive for one moment longer before reality seemed to seep into his very being, pale eyelashes fluttering as a grimace graced those pink lips.
“Forgive me,” Illuga murmured, ever so polite, as he pushed himself away from the doorframe, Flins’ hand still on his shoulder as he swayed in place just so. “I was…thinking.”
Certainly.
“Come think inside then, Young Master, and have a glass of water while you’re at it, won’t you?”
The young man did not argue, not when Flins used his grip on his shoulder to pull him inside, nor when he steered him through the modest interior of the lighthouse. He had a hunch that it would take a great deal for Illuga to snap out of his stupor, which didn’t surprise Flins in the slightest; a human with such a pale, waxy complexion and a body radiating coldness despite the thick layers of clothing he was wearing was no good sign, after all.
Truth be told, it irked him some. “There was no need for you to trek all the way here,” he admonished the younger man, his hand gliding around Illuga’s shoulder, fingers sprawled against his back as he urged the man to sit down in the most comfortable chair Flins had before a fire that was suddenly roaring to life. Illuga wouldn’t notice anyway, too out of it for such an anomaly to spark any signs of danger in his awareness. “You are a truly formidable man, young master, to overextend yourself thus for so little.”
“It wasn’t for something insignificant,” the man murmured, his voice light as he sank into the chair, his body starting to tremble when faced with the warmth coming off from the tiny fireplace. Flins had to will the flames into burning colder, just so, until Illuga could get used to the warmth.
“Then, may I have the honour of being informed of what significant matter you were so eager to bring to my attention?”
Illuga remained quiet as Flins went to the kitchen to fetch a glass and a pot full of water, his gaze scattered as he stared into the fire, brow furrowed just so. It made him look troubled, and older than his age, something that brought a wave of grief surging up Flins’ chest.
“Here, drink.”
And drink he did, without a second thought, accepting the glass from Flins’ hand with a care beyond his capability at the moment. What a contradictory man, Flins thought as he brought a chair over, placing it as close to the other one as he dared to. Polite and well mannered to a fault, yet stubborn and sharp witted, Illuga was a pleasure to be around.
Yet, at that moment, Flins couldn’t help but feel as if the ever burning flame deep inside the core of his being was threatening to go out, pained and saddened from seeing someone so dear as Illuga worry and exhaust himself into an early grave. And what for?
“I haven’t seen you in some time,” Illuga murmured, his second glass of water half empty, as he still stared into the fire. “In quite some time.”
And thus did that flame flicker and sputter as the man turned his head slowly, those eyes brighter than the sky pinning Flins into place as if he were an insect nailed to a board.
“I’ve heard many tales about what has happened in Nod-Krai recently,” Illuga said, matter of fact, as he tilted his head to the side, his fair falling into his eyes to lessen the intensity of his gaze. “Quite the commotion.”
Flins hummed, leaning back into his chair lest he lost his composure and reached out to brush those strands of hair away, to smooth over the lines etched into too fair of a forehead for such a young man to carry. His fingertips itched to touch, and his fire wished to burn.
At least the flames in the fireplace had all the space and right to roar to life, just so, as Illuga’s attention remained on Flins himself.
“All taken care of, more or less,” his admission left a sour taste on his tongue, their failure to protect Miss Columbina a poisoned blade sunk deep into their bellies, Flins included. “I was actually planning to visit you, as I require your assistance with those…matters.”
Illuga raised a pale eyebrow at him, a tiny smile on his lips as Flins’ words seemed to lift some of the tension and worry from his shoulders. Why did he care so much, and why was he affected so, Flins could not tell, was afraid to know truth be told, yet he craved; the way fire needed oxygen, so did he seem to require Illuga’s good grace.
Oh, how interesting it was, to find a human that chained him so easily to this mortal world.
“How fortunate then! Here I am.”
Pale, still shivering, shoulders drawn in as he tried to push himself as deep as he could into the armchair, Illuga looked as if he should be anywhere else but in a cold, far away lighthouse.
“Then drink some more, dear young master, for you indeed managed to make it all the way to me.”
Illuga drank the third glass of water too, his eyes never leaving Flins’ for longer than a few moments. It was as if fear made him reluctant to look away, as though Flins would disappear into thin air if the young man dared to let him out of his sight. A valid concern, yet Illuga shouldn’t harbour it to begin with.
No, Flins wouldn’t dare leave without a trace, not if he had any say in it.
“Young Mas—”
“Just say my name,” the man sighed, slumping into his seat, suddenly looking and sounding so very tired. “Go on, admonish me, patronise me, so I can have free reign to give you a piece of my mind about doing all that without asking for help, even once.”
Oh.
Could it be that…
“Were you worried?”
Illuga looked at him as if Flins had grown a second head.
“For me?”
The corner of his mouth twitched up, yet his eyes betrayed the way he probably wished to reach out and punch Flins.
“I feel honoured, Illuga.”
The man groaned, his gaze finally slipping to the side, up to the ceiling as his lips moved wordlessly, probably some choice words he did not wish to actually voice out to Flins. It was rather…endearing.
Silence descended upon them, Illuga’s lashes fluttering as he closed his eyes for a moment. They remained close as the fire creaked, the flames dancing merrily to a tune only known by Flins’ heart as the man in front of him seemed to slip closer to a well deserved slumber.
Still, he refused it stubbornly.
“Don’t do that again,” Illuga whispered, his voice soft and silky amidst the golden glow of the flames, warmed up by them, sluggish and tinted with the sweet embrace of sleep. “Just, ask for help, next time.” And even quieter, uttered so achingly soft; please.
Were the man in front of him in a better condition, Flins would argue about the need to put others in danger when he himself was enough to deal with such matters. Rerir’s heart was something he brought upon himself with his very own hands, and he would have rather succumbed willingly to the Sinner’s rage instead of having Illuga anywhere near him, while the Harbinger was an unexpected addition in the equation.
Truth be told, there was a warmth bubbling deep inside of him that had nothing to do with his own flames.
It was so very strange, almost a novelty after such a long of a time.
In the end, Flins was but a lowly fae, curious to a fault, mischievous by nature, aching from the care a mortal held for him, a man who did not even know the depths of his person, yet understood enough of him to push himself to the brick of exhaustion only to make sure that Flins was doing well.
He moved slowly, with care and quietly enough as not to disturb Illuga, the tips of his fingers barely brushing against the light coloured strands of hair as he pushed them to the side to reveal more of that quite handsome face. Were it not for the pallor of Illuga’s face, Flins would have probably spent some minutes appreciating his beauty.
“You should rest,” he whispered, daring to speak so close, the tip of his index finger twirling the coppery tips of Illuga’s fringe.
“I am resting,” came Illuga’s immediate response, his eyes still closed as he turned his face to the side, his cheek coming dangerously close to Flins’ hand. “What more do you want from me, sir Flins?”
The form of address, after having asked Flins to call him by his name, made him chuckle.
If he brushed the top of his knuckles against a wane cheekbone, well, Illuga did not comment on it.
“Perhaps a better position? Something more favorable for your spine and neck,” he suggested, light and almost teasingly. “Such as a bed?”
Looking down at him, Flins could see the exact moment when Illuga decided to open his eyes, fighting the lull of sleep in favour of staring up at Flins.
“I wouldn’t want to impose,” the young man said, as expected.
“You wouldn’t be.”
How fortunate, or maybe not, that Flins had to leave for a patrol soon enough.
“I’ll have to go on a patrol, but I’ll be back before sunrise, which would leave the bed all to yourself.”
Illuga blinked at him, sluggish and barely awake and Flins couldn’t hide his smile anymore. “No,” the man argued. “This chair is good too.”
Oh, don’t you even dare.
“You’re not sleeping on a chair, not on my watch," Flins argued because if they were going to have a stubbornness contest, he could play the man’s games all too well. “Would you really have me out there, battling the shadows of the night, while worrying about you?”
Illuga’s grimace made his nose scrunch in a rather adorable way and Flins found himself wanting, something he had almost forgotten how to do. Was it due to his recent brush with death at Rerir’s hands, or the inevitability of recent events that left him painfully aware of how easily one’s life could be turned upside down at the hands of another?
There was a time, so very long ago it felt like, when a certain someone had experienced such events, and Flins did not know if reliving Kyryll’s life would send him down the same path, no matter how much he wished to continue down the road he had chosen beyond the tragedy of death and blood. Death and loss were inevitable, yet he couldn’t even begin to think of the man in front of him pale and cold, unmoving, a phantom of a once breathing, living person.
“Now, that is called emotional blackmail,” Illuga muttered, that adorable grimace still on his face, and Flins’ fingers twitched. He wanted, oh by the Moons, he wanted.
“I beg to differ,” he argued with a smile on his lips, daring to bend over the chair just so. “It is called concern for one who exhausted himself just to see me.”
Illuga had no response for that, but his gaze slid to the side just so, to where Flins’ hand was resting on the high back of the chair, close enough to Illuga’s face.
“Then I’d better return home,” the man dared to say, to voice it out with the confidence of one truly overestimating his capabilities and Flins really had no other choice but to drop his hand on Illuga’s shoulder.
If his thumb ended up resting on that tantalising strip of bare skin barely accessible between Illuga’s coat and his turtleneck, right over the faded imprint of a scar, well, that was entirely Illuga’s fault for allowing his coat to slip down his shoulder, exposing that almost indecent strip of skin. Flins was but a mere fae, and he was no saint by any means, and the skin under his thumb looked smooth and felt warm and he silently bemoaned the fact that he was still wearing his gloves.
“But Illuga,” he said sweetly, squeezing the younger man’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t it be better if you returned with me tomorrow? What if something happened tonight, and I’d be unable to show up right away, and you’d think me in danger once again only to spend yet another day coming back here when I may as well be on my way towards Piramida already? And then we’d miss each other, and oh, what a displeasure that would be!”
The man blinked at him as if he couldn’t believe his ears, his mouth opening multiple times only to close without a word coming out of it.
“Rest here,” Flins urged him once more, bringing his other hand on Illuga’s shoulder as he willed his features into the most sincere rendition of them he could muster in a human shell. “Sleep, and we shall deal with the rest tomorrow.”
The man watched him a moment longer before he laughed, sweet and light like the soaring of a nightingale. “Then let me come with you, let’s patrol together,” with a tilt of his head, hair falling around his face, a devilishly handsome smile on his face, Illuga seemed bent on testing Flins’ patience.
What a stubborn man!
“You wish to accompany me?” he asked, his hands going down Illuga’s arms as the man nodded his head, his gaze clearing up at the possibility. Cute, but that wouldn’t change a thing. “Well, if you’re able to follow me, then who am I to deny you this.”
His wording clearly confused Illuga, but the man had no time to question Flins before he was all but pulled up from the chair, Flins’ hold on his wrists forcing Illuga to his feet too suddenly. Still, the young man kept his balance, at least long enough for Flins to take a step back, and another, and another until he was far enough to let go of Illuga’s arms.
As expected, Illuga’s instinct was to follow him, the force of Flins’ pull still at work to send his body forward, yet the same very body of his betrayed him, his legs buckling under him, his hands trembling as he stumbled, his eyes wide as the reality of what was about to happen crashed into him. With a strangled yelp, Illuga all but started falling down.
Flins was no brute, so he stepped forward again, arms coming up around Illuga’s body, securing his trembling form against his chest. An unexpected outcome, truth be told, but not an unwelcomed one.
Illuga himself didn’t seem to mind for he all but melted against Flins’ chest, his shoulders shaking as he seemed to laugh silently, his hands still shaking as they grabbed Flins’ waist. For support, or with some other intention in mind, Flins did not care.
“Alright,” the man whispered, barely audible as he pressed his face into Flins’ chest. “You win this one Flins.”
“Bed?” he asked, his own hands resting on the small of Illuga’s back. He felt warm, the fire having worked its wonders, and Flins found himself entertaining a very fleeting and rather indecent thought.
In the coldness of the night, were he allowed to, he’d have warmed up Illuga’s body with his own hands, kneading the stiff muscles into mellowing out, perhaps plucking the loveliest of sounds out of Illuga’s pink mouth as he worked his body into a state of bliss and relaxation. Like that, Illuga would be able to fall asleep without a care in the world, rest and peace finding him cocooned into the warm embrace of living fire.
Oh, how dangerous such thoughts were.
“Only if you are…truly alright with it.”
“Do not insult me, Illuga,” he chided the other man, hands circling to the sides of Illuga’s waist to urge him to pull away. “You are a dear friend, and offering you my bed is nothing worth mentioning.”
Was it his words, or the way his body was warmer than usual out of an unconscious wish to offer Illuga all the heat he had to give, that made the man pause? Despite Flins’ gentle urging to push him away, Illuga remained in his embrace, his fingers tightening in Flins’ own coat and for a long moment, Flins did not know what to do.
“Illuga” he started, hesitant only because he did not dare to plunge headfirst into uncharted waters. “Should I carry you?”
The silence that followed would have made his heart skip a beat, if the organ was a genuine one.
“Wouldn’t that be something,” the younger man whispered, a light chuckle in his voice, before he finally pulled away on his own accord. “You’re warm,” he pointed out, his hands still clutching Flins’ coat. “It was…unexpected.”
Flins could have kissed him.
Standing so close to each other, holding each other, Illuga’s eyelids heavy as he forced himself to stay awake, his weight all but threatening to crash into Flins’, lips parted around an exhale and eyes oh so very blue, the dancing golden hues of the fire casting shadows on that handsome face, a gem lovelier than all that Flins has ever seen. He could have kissed him, and the way Illuga swayed in place, his height making it so that his gaze found Flins’ own mouth first instead if his eyes, did not help. No, it almost watered and feed into the sprout of an idea, of a treacherous thought that Illuga also wanted it.
Flins could have kissed Illuga.
“Come,” he said instead, his arm sliding around Illuga’s waist to both support and lead him towards a bedroom rarely used. “I’ll make sure to give you the thickest blanket I own, and to add some wood to the fire before I leave.”
Illuga chuckled, pressing his body into Flins’ as if seeking, needing, his warmth. “You’re so amusing,” he murmured, sounding half drunk and Flins decided to not inquire about that.
The sooner he got Illuga asleep, the better.
If only that lovely young man could stop wrestling with his clothes, that would be even better. Yet, Flins couldn’t help himself but stand on the side, a woolen blanket in his arms, as he watched Illuga frown and bite his bottom lip as he pulled at a stubborn buckle, his tired body swaying from side to side as he desperately tried to get rid of some bothersome clothes.
Flins only made his way towards him when Illuga seemed like he was honestly contemplating just throwing himself face first on the bed. “Allow me,” he offered, low and soft, the blanket dropped on the bed as he reached out, the tips of his fingers brushing over the troublesome belt; the one hanging over the sash at Illuga’s waist.
With a tired sigh, Illuga simply gestured towards him to go on.
His coat was already off, thrown rather carelessly over the back of a chair, so Flins made quick work of the belt, taking hold of the purple fabric before pulling on it until it unraveled, soon to follow Illuga’s coat. Then, with Illuga simply standing there, his gaze heavy and his breath turning softer by the second, Flins kneeled in front of him.
That seemed to jolt him back to full awareness, yet not fast enough for the hand that found its way on Flins’ shoulder to deter him from his course of action. “Y–you don’t have to! I, uh, I can do that…”
Flins simply looked up at him, one of Illuga’s knee guards already laying on the floor as his fingers worked on untying the second one.
“Young Master, please lift your right foot for me.”
Illuga did as asked without too much of a second thought, his lips still parted around a protest but his fingers on Flins’ shoulder tightening their hold as his eyes narrowed just so, a huff escaping through his pink lips.
“If you ever decide to change careers,” his voice carried a hint of laughter in it as one of his fingers started playing with a strand of Flins’ hair. “You could consider becoming someone’s butler.”
The wicked smile that found its way on Flins’ lips managed to pull a long sigh out of Illuga’s tired body.
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be fit for such a position. But I thank you for your high praise, Young Master.”
If Illuga muttered something along the lines of lying straight to my face, Flinds decided to act as if he didn’t hear it.
Once he was done helping Illuga undress for bed, the man started pulling his hand away, that strand of Flins’ hair caught in between his fingers slipping through them, halting his retreat. Those beautifully crystal eyes looked down at him for a long moment, the red tint at their center almost hypnotising, and Flins would have gladly prostrated himself at Illuga’s feet for the rest of the night, if the man only asked.
Illuga did not ask, but he twirled that strand of hair around his fingers once more. He could have so easily grabbed more of it, sliding his hand into Flins’ hair, curling his fingers around his skull to hold him in place. Bring him closer. Anything he wished.
Instead, he muttered something unintelligible, his eyelids dropping so suddenly that Flins barely managed to jump to his feet before the man fell forward.
“Oh, beloved.”
Illuga was already fast asleep, his breathing even and his body heavy in Flins’ embrace.
He weighed so little, Flins thought as he held him close to his chest for a selfish, oh so very selfish moment, before he lowered Illuga’s prone body onto the bed. Once asleep, Illuga managed to look even more ragged and worn down than before and Flins found himself aching, admonishing his own person for being the reason why Illuga had to postpone his rest.
“You’re such a wonderful person,” he whispered into the quietness of the night, his warm hand tucking the blanket under Illuga’s chin. “I barely deserve your beautiful care for me.”
With how exhausted the man was, Flins dared to be bold, to indulge for one last time that night. Slowly, carefully still, he brushed the hair away from Illuga’s face before he bent down to place a kiss on a smooth forehead.
“Sleep well, little nightingale.”
Before leaving, Flins made sure to warm up both the bed sheets and the room, Illuga’s happy little sighs as he burrowed himself deeper under the blanket bringing a smile to Flins’ lips. He even willed the flames to burn longer in the fireplace, their golden hues bleeding azure under his influence.
He only then realised there was no trace of wood inside the lighthouse, and that Illuga had probably picked up on that slip earlier. Oh well…
Flins did toe the line, and he wouldn’t mind sharing more of himself with Illuga, but…
Perhaps another time.
There was no need to burden him anymore than he already was.
So, Flins went on his patrol with the knowledge that he would later return home to find Illuga hopefully still asleep in his bed. The night seemed to pass by faster if he had a reason to await the dawn, and he even found himself stopping by Nasha Town, his feet taking him almost unconsciously towards Speranza where a bleary eyed Katya was busy preparing for the start of a new day.
She looked at him for a long time, blinking away both sleep and a smidge of surprise when Flins asked her for some butter, jam, ham, and bread.
“If you’re willing to wait, I can cook something for you in a minute, you know?” she told him while packing his order.
“Thank you for your kind offer, miss, but there’s no need. I wish to return home as soon as possible.”
With a shrug of her shoulders, she accepted his payment and went back to her work.
There was no need for her to cook anything, for Flins could do it himself. If he moved fast enough, he could return to the lighthouse before Illuga woke up, and his freshly bought groceries could make up for a decent breakfast before Flins offered to catch a fish or two for brunch. Knowing Illuga, he’d want to be on his way as soon as possible, but if Flins insisted on fishing and preparing a meal first, he could buy the young man a few more hours of rest.
Going back to Piramida and employing Illuga’s help could wait for a couple of hours, of that Flins was sure. Especially when faced once more with the sight of the man curled up under Flins’ blanket, the edge of it bundled under his chin, the shadows on his face at least banished for the moment.
The world could wait, just for a little longer.