10

The week is long and the nights longer: in the end, the days fly by in a dazed flurry, all blurring into one another— crafting medicine, studying texts gifted to him by Celestina, passing out the moment Sol's head hits the pillow —it is a tiring routine but a satisfying one nonetheless.

Sol couldn't remember what it'd been like to learn so many new things in so little time at once. Until now, where his mind eats up the knowledge like a great delicacy, as every morning he rises to the promise of uncovering more mysteries about the worlds around him. He had missed this , Sol realizes, he will forever be a student at heart.

The book from the cottage bookshelf has completely slipped his mind, and many sunrises pass without talk of its contents—that is, until this quiet weekend, where Sol returns to the memory once he sees hardbound leather in the corner of his eye, as he cuddles Yohan across his bed.

"My love?"

Yohan reaches for him and cups his jaw with a delicate touch.

Sol tenses at the touch, for the fantasy of having Yohan's lips on his chest only grows in his mind that spirals into pure wanting.

"Your posture changed, suddenly,"

Yohan mumbles, as he pulls away in slight worry, his tone is still a tad lethargic, a remnant of the nap they took together earlier. "Shall we stop? What is—"

"N-Nothing!"

Sol blurts before he averts his gaze to cotton sheets and their creases. "It's… nothing."

Or so he wants to say. But lying to Yohan feels… wrong . Not to mention Sol honestly sort of wants to tell him out of sheer curiosity on how the knight would react. "Actually, Yohan…"

Sol clears his throat. With a sigh, and his head hung low, Sol rises to his feet. He strides toward the bookcase. He grabs the book, before he brings it back onto the bed. Sol opens the leather bindings to the page he'd creased a few weeks ago.

Then, he hands the book to Yohan.

"It got me… curious,"

Sol tells his knight, who begins to read the words on the page in silence.

A silence, that feels both liberating and daunting all the same.

It takes a few moments, in which Yohan merely takes the book's contents in, before an expression of surprise grows across the knight's features. Yohan raises a brow at Sol, then asks, "Would you like to try?"

Yes, Sol would.

It has been on his mind.

"A little, but… I worry I will hate it."

Nervous apprehension weaves itself between Sol's tightening shoulders. "Or that it will be strange, or a waste of time."

Yohan closes the book. "If you aren't certain, we don't have to do anything."

"I…"

Sol makes fists into his beloved's tunic, and as Yohan rests an encouraging hand against his elbow, Sol urges him closer toward his neck. He can feel Yohan's breaths ghost peppered warmth against his skin as he holds onto the knight like a lifeline. "B-But I want to,"

Sol mumbles, so quiet, that even the outside birdsong muted by the windowpane is louder. "But it's— I… "

Sol sighs. "I can't stand that part of myself, still , it seems as though it could be very… pleasurable."

Sol gulps, meek and shy, before he adds, "P-Possibly."

At Sol's dilemma, the knight furrows his brows. "Have you tried it alone?"

"No— absolutely not. "

Sol buries his face into Yohan's chest anew. "I don't want to touch myself there."

"Yet, you would like me to?"

"Maybe…if I close my eyes while you touch me, I could forget what I look like and only feel your…"

Sol's voice trails off as he looks to Yohan for guidance.

The knight hums. "I suppose that does make sense."

He pauses, then meets Sol's gaze again. "But, Sol, are you… certain?"

He reaches for Sol's hands then thumbs softly at his knuckles. "We do not have to do this today, or even this year. We can put this off, if you aren't certain of—"

"I'm sure."

Sol wraps his arms around Yohan's shoulders. "D-Don't worry…"

A bashful flush of warmth creeps up his neck, he takes a deep breath. "It's merely…a little embarrassing to admit."

He feels the knight smile against him. "Ah, I see."

Yohan's big, strong hands find his waist. "In that case…"

He urges Sol onto his back. "Close your eyes."

And Sol does exactly that. Sandwiched between his knight and the mattress, Sol concentrates on the heat of Yohan's palms slipping up his shirt, he shivers, then bites into his lower lip.

"Feel good?"

Yohan breathes the words against his neck. His hands are rested flat against Sol's ribcage now, his thumbs skirting right under Sol's chest. "My handsome man."

He presses a kiss to the underside of Sol's jaw.

A small yet audible moan escapes Sol's lips—his back arches off the mattress ever so slightly but he nods, as his eyes remain shut, his arms fall to the sides of his face. "Yohan."

Sol gasps as Yohan takes Sol's lips with his own. "L-Love you."

The kiss they share is long, loving, slow as Yohan's thumbs tentatively brush up against Sol's nipples. The knight lowers his voice to a growl. "I love you, too, my heart,"

the words resonate against Sol's insides and finds him squirming.

Sol's legs shake around Yohan's waist, his breaths hitch; it is difficult for his body to do anything other than relax, yield to his beloved, and— Ah , he thinks as Yohan continues to touch him so tenderly. So, it does feel good.

"More?"

Yohan asks whilst he rubs gentle circles into Sol's sensitive skin, an act that has Sol's sex throbbing with heat. Sol cannot believe how wet he is getting merely from this, but he has soaked his breeches and across his thighs, too.

"Yes, please— "

Sol gasps and whimpers, and soon Yohan is pulling his shirt off, so that his chest is bared. Sol scarcely has time to feel the room's subtle chill before Yohan is kissing him, leaving gentle lovebites across his chest. "Oh, Yohan . G-Gods."

The knight's hands settle against his ribcage again and hold him in place. As he continues to tower over him, between Sol's legs, Sol can feel the warmth of Yohan's erection through his trousers. Sol wraps his arms around his lover's shoulders once more and holds him, closest. "Feels good,"

Sol mumbles. And then, Yohan is sucking. His teeth graze Sol's nipples ever so slightly, he uses his free hand to tease whatever parts of Sol's chest aren't in his mouth.

"Ah, t-that's—"

Sol hisses; he isn't sure what he is trying to say when the words leave his lips… surely some expression of pleasure …but the words are lost to him now for his mind spins with a dizzying heat.

His arousal is like fire, burning hot and bright in his guts, he didn't know sex could feel like this—so hungry, so desperate yet vulnerable and good .

He wonders how long they do this for— time does not exist anymore , Yohan has pulled him into a realm of pleasure for Gods only know how long and Sol loses himself, unguarded, to his knight's gentle soft caresses—when he tilts his head to look away and briefly opens his eyes, Sol notices the sunlight in the room has shifted in comparison to where it was before. "Yohan,"

he mumbles, his knees still trembling around the knight's waist. A heavy pool of overwhelm and weighted heat has settled in his belly; and Sol aches for relief. "Can I touch myself?"

At his request, Yohan smiles against Sol's skin. He pulls away to brush the hair out of Sol's eyes. "Of course,"

he whispers, his hand lingering in Sol's dark chestnut strands as he leans forward; the knight presses a soft, tender kiss into Sol's forehead. "My love."

Sol reaches downward, his fingers tremble with eager hesitance— still , as Yohan continues to suckle and pinch at his nipples, Sol's hand slips past his breeches, down between his legs. "Gods, Yohan ,"

Sol rubs his cock in soft, circular motions. "It feels s-so…"

A heavy exhale leaves his lips. "So, good. "

It has been a while since he has done this to himself, the cool of his fingers pressing down against his swollen heat is an intoxicating feeling—it is not long before Sol is tensing, whimpering beneath his knight.

"Sol, come here,"

Yohan whispers as he pulls him close, into his chest and Sol grasps onto the front of Yohan's tunic with bunched quivering fists. The knight holds Sol through his climax then whispers sweet nothings into his ear, and Sol may as well be in paradise for this is bliss. As he slowly comes down from his high, panting, his lips partly open—Yohan chuckles and kisses him again. "That was fast."

"I—"

Sol raises his brows in a show of helplessness as he buries his face into the knight's shoulder. "Can you blame me?"

he mumbles with a groan. "You got me very worked up."

Yohan laughs again, the sound of his voice is light as a flitter of sunlight hits both their ankles, he continues to stroke the crown of Sol's head. "I suppose I did."

A warm smile tugs at his lips as the two of them pull away; both their eyes are lidded, they look at each other in silent fondness, admiration.

Sol finds himself forgetting that he is still half in the nude, though once he comes back to himself, he quickly pulls his shirt down over his chest then turns his head away from Yohan's gaze. "Sorry…"

"What for?"

the knight asks. From above him, Yohan threads their fingers together, his face is worn with the tightness of unease. "What's wrong, my love? Was it not pleasurable?"

"No, it was. But I…"

Sol presses his lips together. And shame pulls at his gut. He still can't bring himself to look at Yohan. "You must find it weird, right? That I'm indulging in all of this with you, when my body isn't…"

"Isn't what, my heart?"

Yohan cups the side of Sol's face and urges him to look.

"Like yours,"

Sol eventually blurts as tears rise to his eyes that meet with the knight's. His voice is breathy, like air sucked out of the sky, "even I think it's a bit—"

"Do you truly think it's wrong?"

Yohan asks, his expression has grown serious now, and he observes Sol with his eyebrows arched up in quiet pain. "What we are doing?"

"I don't know."

"And why would it be?"

Yohan's words are hushed as he speaks. "Are you not allowed to feel good, my love?"

He caresses the side of Sol's face, the touch is reassuring, a welcome warmth. "Why would it be, Sol?"

he asks again, because Sol is silent and can find no right answer.

There is nothing wrong.

They are just making love.

"Yohan."

Sol grasps at the knight's arm, he places his palm over Yohan's forearm. There is hesitation in his voice yet, he still wants, yearns to ask. "Is there anything you fantasize about?"

Sol blinks as he observes his lover, shy but curious all the same.

Yohan raises a brow at him. "Anything?"

Sol looks to the left, then to his right, as he flutters his eyelashes. "W-Well, after what we did today, it would feel only right to return the favor…"

His lover scoffs, then strokes the top of his head. "This isn't about favors, my love."

"Maybe so, but—"

Sol squeezes at the taut muscle under his palm. "It would… arouse me, to do something for you."

This confession gets a smirk out of Yohan. " Ah. "

The knight licks his lips. His gaze darkens as he leans forward, until his mouth is right beside Sol's ear. "Then, perhaps I shall tell you, after all."

* * *

Being back in a big city after many weeks spent in the countryside is almost too much. The bright colors from banners hanging out of stores and the loud banter of merchants flying through the air finds Sol a tad overwhelmed—he cringes as he steps out of the carriage with Yohan at his side.

Officially, the two of them have returned here to restock on a few things the cottage was lacking: mostly, certain spices, salts and herbs for Yohan's brews. However , they also have an ulterior motive in mind—a motive that has both their faces reddening, as Sol and Yohan look at each other with a mixture of excitement and glee dancing across their gazes.

"Are you sure we'll be able to find that here?"

Sol asks him in a whisper; he is so troubled, so nervous and completely unable to keep Yohan's request out of his mind, that the fears which'd plagued him weeks ago upon first arriving in this city haunt him no longer.

They face a sea of unknown faces, bustling crowds who move in strange ways like giant swarms of butterflies or bees. Yohan nods and holds out his arm for Sol to take; he smiles as he stares down at Sol. "Shall we get going then, my love?"

Sol wraps his arms around Yohan's bicep, and clings to him just like he had done so last night. Sol never thought a day would come where he'd be able to let his guard down like so, where he would simply live and enjoy the present moment for what it is without it being tainted by scars from the past. And yet, today, he is okay.

Today everything feels right.

He and Yohan stride in then out of different tea shops, market stands selling herbs from foreign lands, until they finally reach a different part of the city where the stores are much more… openly magical than what Sol is used to.

In the air there are floating trinkets. Trapped in little vials, miniature avatars in the shape of ancient mammals who move as if alive have been threaded together with the energy of a mage's Gift that leave behind a golden sheen across their skins. In the darkness of the alleyways oddities with one too many eyes glow in the shadows when they shouldn't. Youth potions, vengeance balms, worn warlock scrolls are all spread out across stalls for the people to see—everything anyone could ever want is here. Sol shouldn't feel sick, but he does. This part of the city reminds him of the days he spent practicing magic. Days spent beside — .

"Sol? Do you want one?"

Sol cannot help himself from jumping where he stands, his arms stiffen by his sides. "H-Huh?"

Yohan points to a shelf hung in the air atop which sits a round vial, home to a pale, ethereal elk that swims in circles inside translucent glass.

But upon seeing the sight, Sol only holds on tighter to his lover's arm with a shake of his head. "I'm good, thank you, dearest."

Sol stands on his tiptoes to give Yohan a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Let's just go."

He wants to pretend that everything is normal.

That everything is fine.

But it's hard.

As they walk past the rest of the mage-owned shops, Sol wonders if Yohan notices how tense he has gotten, because the knight seems to pick up his pace not long after their talk.

They are almost out of the Marketplace Of Wonder when an elderly woman with cloak-covered features grasps at Sol's wrist. The woman yanks him back and, for a moment, he and Yohan drift away.

"For you,"

the woman says as she hands Sol a strange, silver vial whose contents are most likely water, judging by its weight and swerve. "You will need it."

Sol's ears ring. He eyes the woman with silent hesitance; he is on the verge of telling her he will not pay for just any random potion thrust into his hands, but the woman is long gone before he has a chance to speak.

He glances around, searching, seeking her figure—and yet in the end, the woman's presence is as thin as mist. Sol can do nothing but shove the vial into his pocket, before he quickly catches up to Yohan again with a light jog.

"My love?"

Yohan looks over his shoulder, to him, as he threads their arms together once more. "What did she want?"

Sol shrugs; the weight of the elderly woman's vial weighs heavy in his pocket. "Beats me."

Sol and his knight make a few more stops to buy provisions for the road ahead, before finally sifting through darker alleyways. Their footsteps are light and unassuming, as to make themselves more discreet. "And it's around here, you said?"

Sol hisses the question under his breath as he leans into Yohan on instinct when the two of them enter an arch of shadows.

"Sol…"

Yohan lowers his voice. "Stop."

The knight points to a rather unassuming sign, outside an even more modest building tucked away near the back of the alley, without any stalls to exhibit its wares outside.

FOR THE CURIOUS the knight places both his palms against Sol's shoulders then shakes his head, he leans in. " This is for you, too! Take all the time you need, I meant it."

he tells Sol.

And Sol admits, the encouragement makes him feel a tad less self-conscious. "Right."

He tugs at Yohan's sleeve then kisses his knight's cheek. "Um, t-thanks."

With a gentle, guiding hand across Sol's back, Yohan leads Sol into another corner of the shop where a cadre of penises are lined up in a neat row—these ones do not look as though they've been put through a dozen magical spells and are, in fact, much more similar to what Sol'd imagined he'd find when coming here. A reassuring discovery , Sol thinks; though, he supposes, the giant floating azure penis was quite a way to get his attention the moment he walked into the shop as a customer.

Because they are a little farther from the counter now—away from the shopkeepers' gazes—Sol finds himself filled with a newfound confidence that he uses to search for a penis of his own. "Do you have a preference, though?"

he asks Yohan, the question is muttered under his breaths as he sifts through one cylindrical rod after another, in hopes of finding his forever-cock.

Yohan slides his hand down Sol's waist, then up his back again, and Sol relaxes under the touch on instinct. "My love,"

Yohan leans forward, closer to his ear, "I just want yours,"

he grunts, and Sol can hear the smile in his voice before his knight pulls away again.

This man will be the end of me , Sol thinks as his face warms again and his pulse beats loud in his chest. To think that just a mere few weeks ago he was still pretending to be Solange. Never would Sol have dared dream of getting himself a penis… and yet, here he is today.

Gods, how fast things can change.

Sometimes, Sol cannot help but wonder if he is dreaming, especially today . But it is fun. He is enjoying himself quite a lot—being here with Yohan is pleasant, and Sol makes a silent promise to himself, to bring Yohan as much pleasure as he always brings Sol every other night.

After a few more minutes have passed, so does the novelty of initially walking into the shop. Standing here doesn't feel all that odd anymore, and Sol even picks up the various unpackaged cocks they have on display for customers to feel their different materials and weights.

"I think…"

Sol hums to himself as he grasps his two top choices in either of his hands—eventually, he holds one of them up then squints. "This one?"

The prosthetic is of an ample size, it is smaller than Yohan's, though leaves little to be desired. It feels… natural, somehow. Like his.

Sol eyes widen as he thinks the words then realizes… it's also quite the realistic cock, which signifies it'll be worth a hefty sum of silver, especially since Sol is considering pairing it with with a harness imbued with magic that takes on the color of the wearer's skin for a more seamless effect— but, he supposes, he deserves the treat. He was never one for spending much coin back in Featherlaine, now, he has plenty of savings to dig into.

Yohan leans into him with a hum and a steady hand wrapped around Sol's waist. "I can pay for it, if you'd like."

"It's fine."

Sol wouldn't be able to live knowing his lover paid for his own cock.

"Half?"

"It's fine."

An odd, sense of pride grows in Sol's belly. He stands on his toes to kiss his neck. "It'll be for me, after all,"

he breathes against the warmth of his skin with a ravenous chuckle, "even if I can't wait to take you, too."

"All right, I understand,"

Yohan presses his lips softly into the crown of his head, yet Sol hears the heaviness in his breathing. "But at least let me buy the oil, and… anything else you might need to clean up once we're done."

That, Sol can live with.

With a nod and huff, Sol pulls away from the shelter of the knight's arms. He stares down to his fingers, stops to fiddle with the cock's retractable foreskin and places the sample model back down; like clockwork, it floats in place again.

Sol tries to reach for the back of the shelf where a batch of rather luxurious wooden cases hosting brand new prosthetics are stored, yet he realizes they are a width apart.

He pauses for a moment—if this shop's structure is anything to go off of, it is built in a similar manner to the Academy where he'd studied magic. And Sol wonders if this applies to their cases, too.

If so, in theory… Sol furrows his brows as he inspects the shelf from afar, he should be able to make his designated case find him, instead of having to reach back like a fool. With a huff, he concentrates on the case and the cock inside it—there is a spark of something in the air that grows and spreads until finally Sol beckons the case closer with a curt, come-hither motion.

As expected, the case flies into his hand.

Sol stares down at it and blinks. "So, it does work the same."

Yohan lets out a subtle yet still audible exhale. "That caught me off guard!"

He laughs. "For a moment there, I almost thought you were being attacked by a cock in a box."

" Case. "

Sol clears his throat as he brushes his robe down. "It's a case. And I merely…"

Sol stares down to his hands. "I happened to remember how these types of shelves work, that's all."

He doesn't like thinking about the Academy nor of his time there, but it was like instinct, it was hard to help it.

The warmth of Yohan's palm finds his shoulder once more. Sol glances up to his knight with parted lips, he clutches at the case. And Yohan smiles at him. "That's really useful, Sol. Great work!"

Sol's eyebrow twitches. "Why does it sound like you're being sarcastic?"

"I'm not."

Yohan stares at him, blankly now. "I was merely thinking I should probably come to you for advice about storage, once my tea room is open. Well,"

he nudges Sol's arm with his elbow, "if you're fine with me bothering you, of course."

"O-Oh."

Sol didn't realize Yohan considered the future— their future together —that much. It's nice… to hear that the knight still pictures Sol in his life then, and that whatever it is they are doing by being lonely together naked in bed has not veered into a novelty at risk of wearing off. Not, yet least, Sol hates himself for the inkling of doubt that has crept into his mind, he quickly shakes it off and does his best to ignore his unease—nothing good has ever come from chasing fears, especially when Yohan has given him no reason to at all. "We should get going,"

he tells Yohan. "It'll be dusklight before we know it."

Sol turns then steps towards the counter, with the case still firmly in hand, he slides it across pale marble towards one of the shopkeepers.

Perhaps, it is silly of him to assume the shopkeepers wouldn't speak with him about his purchase, because from the moment they spot him they do exactly that. "Oh! A prosthetic!"

The shopkeeper's eyes widen as he calls out to Sol in mild surprise, before he stares back at Sol's face with a gaze missing even the slightest hint of judgment—merely, he seems to be lost in thought. "Are you certain?"

he asks. "These are quite expensive, and if you are merely trying it out, we have less expensive options that might be of more practical use to—"

"I would like your most realistic option,"

Sol blurts before he can think it through. His shoulders tense.

The shopkeeper clears his throat. "Right."

The corner of his eye twitches in a mild show of embarrassment, it seems he is beginning to understand that he has misread the situation. Sol almost feels sorry for him. "My apologies for that. Then…"

The shopkeeper quickly turns the case around to check the number inscribed in its wood. "Hm, let me write you a receipt. You would like the harness, too, correct?"

Although the shopkeeper has done nothing wrong Sol can barely bring himself to look the man in the eye. Instead, he stays fixated on the case with his head hung awkwardly low. "Yes, that's… correct."

Must he be so awkward?

Sol feels like kicking himself—but his face is red and warm and he can't help the way he feels: mere weeks ago he could barely tell Yohan he wanted to be called Sol instead, there is only so much bravado and confidence his poor heart can conjure in such a small period of time.

"Right!"

The shopkeeper perks up then looks over his own shoulder. "Honey! Could you come here for a second?"

He turns back to face Sol with a friendly smile. He motions to the case—or more so, the prosthetic inside. "My wife handcrafts them! Since we're having a rather slow day right now, figured it'd be best if she explained the care instructions to you!"

Sol parts his lips to reply, yet before he has a chance at saying a word, the craftswoman strides up to him with a few different products in hand. "Hello again!"

she chimes as she presents various vials and glass tubes shut tight with agglomerated corks. "These ones all come with the prosthetic—and if you ever run out, don't hesitate to return for a refill: the first one is free!"

The craftswoman points to another lotion, and whether Sol wants to or not, all of this is very reminiscent of potions he'd crafted before as a student in the Arts. " This is a magical cleanser,"

she tells him, "a splendid concoction we've crafted from only the highest of body safe ingredients! Once you're done with using your prosthetic, just rub a little bit of this on it: it'll help with keeping everything clean, so you won't have to worry about any strange curses or bacteria growing on it! Next, you also have this lotion in case you—"

As she continues to run him down on every single balm and accessory he can expect to find with his brand new purchase, Sol cannot help but admire her dedication to her craft and the product she's about to sell him. As much as Sol thought this would be awkward, her casual tone and explanation makes him feel oddly at ease. "And if you would prefer it to ejaculate during use"—the craftswoman holds up a much smaller triangular vial, inside which can be found crystalline fluids that glitter like liquid topaz—"pour one drop of this onto the tip before every usage, and the magic imbued inside will synchronize with your pleasure and the prosthetic's materials, for a rather realistic experience in that regard!"

The craftswoman clears her throat. " Of course , do keep in mind that this concoction is rather rare , so any future refills will be… quite expensive."

Ejaculate? Sol's mouth hangs open in great astonishment, it can do that? "How does this work exactly?"

he asks her.

"Ah! A curious one, are you?"

The craftswoman snickers. "I wish we could reveal that."

She motions to the vial and then to the prosthetic's case. "But, I'm afraid it's a trade secret unique to our little store."

Sol supposes that makes sense; during his studies he'd heard of graduated mages setting up shop here and charging quite the fee for very specific potions or concoctions, upon making certain… discoveries they'd then keep themselves. Despite the lack of customers haunting the shop today, Sol has no doubt these two make more than most the merchants in this city combined.

"Any other questions?"

the craftswoman asks him with a hum.

But Sol merely shakes his head. "None, but thank you for the explanation."

He grins at her. "That was actually very helpful, I appreciate it."

"Of course!"

The craftswoman eyes Sol's robe for a moment before she returns his smile. "Always happy to help a customer—thank you for your patronage, young man!"

"Excuse me—"

Yohan blurts from behind Sol as keeps a rather serious face. "I have a question, if I may?"

The craftswoman presents him with a curt nod, a smile, too. "Feel free!"

"Would saliva… damage it?"

Yohan is still showing little to no emotion.

Meanwhile, Sol is melting into his boots. That… is a good point, Sol thinks to himself as he blinks then watches the conversation unfold in silence. Still …

Sol's eyebrow twitches. How can he say that with such a straight face?

After coming to the conclusion that saliva would, in fact, not damage Sol's cock: Yohan and Sol both thank the two shopkeepers for their time, then depart with their pockets emptier of coin and their hands full.

As they exit the shop, Sol threads his fingers through his knight's then nudges their shoulders together. "Are you excited?"

Though he is the one who poses the question, Sol almost sounds a tad more excited than the knight himself.

Yohan chuckles. He wraps his arm around Sol's waist and hugs him from the side. "Very,"

he tells him, before he leans in, his lips brushing against Sol's cheek. "I can't wait to feel you inside me, my love."

The words go straight to Sol's sex. Sol traps his lower lip between his teeth and stutters a mumbled reply. "I-I can't wait to be inside you, too…"

He squeezes Yohan's hand.

And Yohan squeezes back.

They fall into a comfortable silence as they walk, side by side, through the alleyways.

The two men only pull away once they've reached the main streets, where the sound of a parade catches Sol's attention.

Sol briefly glimpses away from Yohan—only to find he is alone when he tries to find the knight's hand again and merely reaches for air. "Yohan?"

Sol's voice trembles. He is in the middle of the crowd, in the eye of the ongoing parade, finding the knight will prove to be a difficult task.

It is getting dark in the sky. Sol considers calling out Yohan's name, however, there is so much shouting and music and chatter in the air that the noise swallows Sol's voice before it can reach the world.

Sol gulps and his throat is dry. He figures it might be best to trace his steps, until he is not in the main streets anymore, in hopes that Yohan might seek him there.

"Shit,"

Sol curses under his breath, his nails leave crescent marks inside his palm as his fingers turn into fists by his sides. What now?

Why now?

In an hour the sun will have set. The streets will be darkness, and Sol will be lost. As if he isn't already.

As Sol traces his steps, he considers the possibility of trying to return to the carriage alone, but although he wants to believe in his competence, he does not trust himself to find his way back there: he'd paid no heed to his surroundings when they'd passed the Marketplace Of Wonder, opting to look away from most of the streetsides instead, out of fear of remembering too much.

A path he does not recognize pulls him out of his thoughts; Sol's eyes widen. He pauses as his boots kick at a miniscule pebble, he is certain he did not ever walk these roads with Yohan. "I have to go back,"

he whispers the silent promise to himself and turns, strides past another dark alleyway—but here the shadows have hands.

Out of the black an arm reaches for Sol's waist, it wraps itself around him like snakebite poison and no matter how much Sol thrashes it yanks him towards the chest of a man he does not recognize.

The pulse in his chest disappears, Sol shrivels in on himself and it hurts when he catches a glimpse of a mage's robe, when he stares down at his attacker's pointed boots.

Just like — 's attire.

" N-No! "

Sol's voice is hoarse as he cries out and tries to step away. "No, no, no! "

He is wildfire, a heartbeat uncaged, Sol's throat is aching but, Please.

Please, he does not want to see him again.

Not like this.

Not ever.

Not here.

He looks elsewhere from the man and elbows him right in the gut—and for a moment, there is silence, then peace—and yet there is also no escape.

Because he does not let go.

And when Sol looks upward his eyes meet with an even darker alleyway, that is gaping and baring its teeth— who knows what might await him at the end —but anywhere is better than here.

Sol braces himself. To shove the man with all his might. And run. Yes, that is what he must do.

"Sol?"

Sol's head snaps toward the voice calling out his name.

Someone reaches for his and his captor's wrist, they are pulled apart in seconds like yolk and egg separating from shell. And soon, that same Someone starts arguing with the man.

The sounds of their quarrel fall into oblivion as Sol grasps at the waistfabric of his robe tightly, he still cannot bring himself to look up—to check who it is that has come to his aid and who has caused him need to be aided. His legs shake, frozen in place, hyperventilation becomes a familiar demon and Sol keeps a hand on his heart that has gone from a state of death to running laps in his ribcage like a terrified hare.

Run, Sol thinks to himself. Run, and don't, don't ever—

"My love, it is okay."

A gentle, soft familiar hand warms his sweat-slicked shoulder. "Breathe."

Breathe?

Sol's eyes widen, he glances up to his knight, his lips and fingers are trembling still. And he sniffles. "Y-Yohan."

In the midst of finding Yohan's gaze once more, Sol catches a glimpse of his assailant in accident—for reasons Sol ignores, the man seems petrified, too.

Yet there is good news: the man is not — . And Sol has never been so glad to be wrong in his life. For the first time in what feels like forever, he takes a breath. But he does not rest. Questions left unanswered slide into his mind. "W-Why—"

Sol pants the words as his brows furrow, he raises his wrist and shows it to the elderly mage. "Why did you grab me?"

The elderly mage lifts both his hands before his own chest in a quiet defense. "I apologize, deeply, but you were headed for a rather dangerous area of town."

He clears his throat, then averts his gaze. "They've been abducting mages lately, you see… Considering your robe, you would have become a target had you gone past this street."

Sol's face scrunches into a scowl, now. "You could have spoken to me instead of doing"—he heaves in a breath—"that."

"I feared that I would have scared you off, and that you would have run in the wrong direction."

Sol cannot say whether the man is being truthful, or if he was trying to get a hold of a mage himself…regardless, as the elderly mage shows him a curt bow, Sol has no way of knowing.

And neither does he want to.

"Truly, I am sorry, young man. If I had known, I would not have…"

The elderly mage's voice trails off.

And Sol feels Yohan's palm rubbing soft circles into his back. "It's okay, Sol,"

the knight whispers to him as he wraps an arm around Sol's shoulders. "You're safe now."

After a few more seconds have passed, Sol grips at the fabric of his own robe that bunches up between tightened fists as he stares the elderly man in the eyes. "Thank you, I suppose… for trying to stop me, at least,"

Sol mutters, in case the mage speaks true; although… he doesn't feel quite as appreciative as he speaks these words since he is still having trouble breathing, Sol figures it is better to be scared than dead. Or worse.

"Take care, now!"

The elderly mage waves his farewells as he strides away in the opposite direction; Sol barely has a moment to respond before the mage has disappeared into the shadows.

Not a moment longer passes until Yohan wraps his arms around him. " Sol. "

Sol can feel him trembling. "Sol."

The knight's voice is hushed. " Gods , am I glad that you are safe."

Sol embraces him in turn then leans into Yohan— his place of shelter, his knight. "Y-Yohan—"

He sniffles. "I was so scared, I-I thought—"

"I know."

Yohan caresses the back of his head gently. "I know, Sol. But it is okay. You are not alone. Not anymore."

I am okay … Sol tries to repeat the words to himself like a spell. But is he? he wonders. Is he truly all right? He never thought he would react like so, not after all he's been through, no after these past few months.

He had hoped — did not have such a grip on him anymore.

Is he all right?

Is this what healing is like?

As much as Sol wishes he could remain here for a little while longer to catch his bearings and breath, the elderly mage's words ring in his mind: They've been abducting mages lately.

"Let's…"

Sol mutters as he stares into the void, the darkness of the alleyway that appears as though it could swallow him whole, should he step any further inside. "Let's get going,"

Sol tells Yohan.

He holds onto the knight's arm again. Their silhouettes flicker then fade across old streetside walls until they are engulfed by the light again, destined to disappear as the two return to the main street, the parade.

When they pass the crowds and celebrations, Yohan and Sol walk through the city with a heavy silence thickening the air.

"I would have looked for you,"

Yohan tells him, his voice a welcome solace among the ever-growing sounds of their footsteps, and Sol's grasp tightens around his lover's arm. "If he'd taken you, I wouldn't have stopped searching until I would have found you."

Sol pauses in his steps. His head hangs low as he stares at the speck of dirt smeared across his boots. "But…"

What about you, Yohan? "What if you'd had to search for centuries? What, then?"

Sol traps his lower lip between his teeth. "What of your dreams? The tearoom and—"

"You think that is more important than you?"

Yohan stops in his tracks. He turns to stare at Sol. "Even if it took a thousand years to find you, I could not live with myself if I valued my dreams over another's life, especially yours."

Sol's lips quiver, and a rising warmth tightens his throat. He looks up to his knight with his brows arched upward, then steps forward to embrace his lover again. Yohan's armor is cold against his skin and, perhaps, some faces from the sea of the city's crowds have stopped to watch them with curious glances—but Sol cannot find it in himself to care. "Yohan,"

he whispers, choked up and on the verge of tears again as he shuts his eyes then buries his face into the knight's chest. "You selfless fool."