4

"You didn't find it strange."

Sol stares at the tent's thin ceiling, at the raindrops breaking in two and sliding down wet tarp. His hands are rested against his stomach. By his side, Yohan lays in a similar position, with his shoulders touching Sol's. They are stuck here until the rain ceases to fall: traveling under these conditions wouldn't be wise.

"I have definitely witnessed stranger…"

Yohan says. He is still looking up at the hidden sky, but now Sol stares at him.

Handsome , Sol thinks. So, so handsome, and dreamy.

"There was once a fish who was actually a cursed man; I needed to speak with a sunflower who was in fact a witch, to free—"

Yohan turns his head then takes notice of Sol. "Oh."

The knight's lips curve into a satisfied grin.

And heat rises to Sol's face. Is there wanting in him, too? For Sol certainly feels that way, in his mind and in his body.

"Yes, Sol?"

Yohan chuckles. "How may I help you, my sweet?"

Sol's heart stirs at the nickname. "I want to be kissed."

Yohan is laying on his side now, with his elbow propping him upward, his head rested against his palm. He reaches for Sol's waist and pulls him in closer. Sol doesn't know what they are doing, nor why they have started whatever this is. He wonders if they've been lonely—if Yohan was also as starved for touch, like Sol who often ached to be embraced, yet could not find a soul to trust. "How?"

Yohan breathes the word, hot into Sol's skin as he leans forward, then into him. "How should I kiss you?"

Their eyes meet.

But Sol looks away. "I don't know."

"You…"

Yohan's voice trails off. "Truly don't?"

There is no judgment in his tone, though, the knight seems a tad surprised.

Around them the rain falls heavier by the minute, dew clings to the tent's roof as Sol does to Yohan—he runs a hand up Yohan's neck, tentatively, he cups Yohan's jaw then rests a thumb against the knight's chin. Sol stares at Yohan through lidded eyes. "I've never been kissed before."

At least, he feels the warmth of a blush crawl across his face, not here .

Before Sol can look away again, Yohan has urged Sol's thumb across his lower lip. He guides Sol's hand, his grip powerful yet full of docility all the same as he lets Sol feel soft, supple pink skin Sol has dreamed of kissing for years. Yohan smiles. And Sol remains still, agape in fascination, transfixed on the mouth that he is about to taste. "I can do it slowly,"

Yohan mutters against Sol's finger, before he kisses Sol's knuckles as he looks Sol straight in the eye, "like that."

Sol's breaths quiver. He leans, then topples forward, into the knight's embrace—his lips crash into Yohan's. He whimpers when Yohan's large, warm hand settles against his back and moans into the knight's mouth. Sol should stop. He knows he should. But he doesn't want this to end, this strange, raw, ephemeral moment that will soon be lost to time.

Yohan feels better than anything he has ever felt before.

"Yohan,"

Sol pants. " Yohan— "

Yohan traces the hind of Sol's neck with his fingertips. He growls, " Sol, "

and Sol's knee jerks, his back arches off the ground instinctively. He can scarcely hear the rain anymore through the sound of their heartbeats; he breathes in the scent of Yohan, of the petrichor in the air.

He takes it all in.

When they pull away again, two tides drawn back into the vastness of the ocean, Yohan caresses the side of Sol's face with slow, gentle touches. He looks to Sol for answers. "How was that?"

Sol barely registers the words over the sound of his own beating heart, thumping through his throat, the blood that rushes to his ears. He kissed someone. He kissed Yohan. He blinks twice, in a daze as if having just woken from a dream. Sol grounds himself to the feel of his palm resting atop Yohan's elbow, he presses his own lips together, so that they may spare him in the way they tremble so. "My heart can't stop beating."

Yohan raises a brow in amusement at him. "I should hope so, my dear."

A chuckle reverberates down his throat. Yohan takes a piece of Sol's hair, he slips it behind Sol's ear. "You've a long life ahead of you, after all."

Sol yearns for another kiss when a sudden, strange unsettling fret swarms his mind. Now, he daren't ask for more. If Yohan were a wyvern, Sol would have strayed dangerously close to the beast's lair today, he needn't go inside.

But he wants to.

But he won't.

He leans back slightly, though, not enough to stray from Yohan's arms.

There is an odd comfort in being connected like this, skin to skin, heart to heart. Sol wonders if he could ever get used to this—playing with untamed fire, without ever worrying about whether or not he will burn. "Is this really okay?"

he whispers, as he locks his hands with Yohan's, and stares to the tarp that moves alongside the howling of the wind. Sol swallows, but his throat is tight. "This is all… very new. I worry my lack of—well, everything , may complicate things."

I worry the relationship I have with my body will affect the relationship I could have with you.

Yet, Yohan only lets out a light, doting chuckle. "I am one of the Old King's Cursed Riders, complicated is second nature to me."

Sol hums. "Maybe…"

He rests his head against Yohan's and thinks of the future, of the stars and uncertain destiny. "Right now though, you're just Yohan."

Yohan wraps his arm around Sol's shoulder and kisses the crown of Sol's head, he grins. "And you're just Sol."

Sol shuts his eyes. He laughs, "Yes."

Sunlight trickles through clouds above, and the rains lighten across the lands.

* * *

"Well, shit."

Sol stares at his bag—or rather, the lack thereof. Amid the empty space where his tent should have stood, stands a replacement that takes the shape of a tiny, pitiful pebble. His robe, too, is missing. The only reprieve from the elements Sol has being one of Yohan's spare shirts now, its thick fabric draped across his shoulders, long and large enough to serve him as a makeshift dress. "We either ran into a very bored and talented mage, or some bastard bandits."

Yohan scoffs as he inspects the scene in turn. "Definitely the mage."

Sol's eyebrow twitches as he continues to stare at the ground in disbelief, where a thin coating of sparkling rosy powder still shimmers inside the dirt. "Definitely."

He shouldn't have left his belongings outside. He should have remembered it was hazing season. " Gods , what now?"

Yohan pauses. "I'm sorry about your robe."

"It's all right…"

Sol reaches for Yohan's sleeve and gives it a small tug. He smiles at the knight. "At least we're both unscathed."

They both stare at each other in silence for a moment. Until Yohan finally parts his lips. "Regarding the remainder of our arrangements for the journey… My tent is big enough for two, if you are comfortable. Not to mention, the next inn isn't too far off. Or, I could sleep outside tonight, if that is—"

"D-Don't be ridiculous!"

Sol averts his gaze. He bites into his lip, then brings a hand to his own elbow and squeezes.

The idea of sleeping next to Yohan intentionally , every night, makes Sol feel in ways much different than merely passing out beside him in accident. But… "I just can't let you sleep out here. It'd be much too dangerous."

Sol raises his eyes until he's looking at Yohan again. Something heavy grips at his gut.

Sol's mind swims with blurred memories of his old teacher treating him with kindness, only to follow those actions with betrayal of the foulest kind. Poison. Lies. What if Yohan is like that, too? Sol hates himself for thinking so, however he cannot help it. The visions only showed him so much—a good time, a fleeting temporary moment—who knows what may await them in the weeks to come, after that?

But the fact that this night hasn't occurred yet reassures Sol, for it means that up until then, at the least, everything will be okay. He is safe.

"Sol?"

Yohan leans forward to get a better look at him. "If you would like to tie me up while we sleep, I have no qualms against that."

"Yohan!"

Sol cringes. "What…"

His voice trails off. "What a dismal idea."

He sighs with a smile, then looks to the ground, before he faces Yohan once more. "If we are attacked again, you can't rely on an apothecary to defend you while you are tied up, Harbinger of Malice."

"Oh?"

Yohan grins. "So, I am not just Yohan anymore?"

"Of course you are, you fool."

As the comforting sound of Yohan's laughter fills the space between them, guilt threads itself through Sol's heart; he lets out a breath he hadn't realized to be holding. He wonders how he could have ever doubted him. It isn't that simple, of course, but… Sol wishes he could heal.

He wishes he could trust Yohan like the Sol from his visions and his dreams trusted him.

Yohan clears his throat. "Shall we pack away our belongings and make for our next stop, then?" he says.

The knight needn't ask him twice, Sol is more than happy to agree. "Please,"

Sol tells him as he stretches his arms to the sky. He was growing quite weary of laying around in a tent and letting his anxiety consume him, getting on the road on such a nice day sounds like it will be a much needed change of pace. "Let's go."

The two travel through fields of sunflower and gold wheat, sometimes adjoining hands for a brief moment, whenever their fingers accidentally touch. "Say…"

Sol mutters as he squeezes Yohan's palm. "Something's…been on my mind."

He hadn't wanted to say it nor linger on the matter, out of fear that it would ruin the moments they've shared together; but amid the quiet, burning questions only grow louder in Sol's head. "Can I ask you something?"

Yohan squeezes back. "Of course, Sol."

And Sol pauses, takes a breath, before he blurts, "Even though you told me you only enjoy men's company in that way, you were interested in me when you thought I was a woman, and it confuses me. I worry…"

He bites into his lower lip. "I worry…"

That you might actually see me in that light—why is it so hard to say it?

Sol soon realizes he has no need to properly formulate the question, however, for Yohan seems to understand. "Oh, that?"

The knight scratches at the back of his head and chuckles. "I must admit, even before you told me, there was a certain air of masculinity about you…it attracted me. And there is… something else , but perhaps, that talk is better left for another hour."

As warm, orange tones settle in the sky, Yohan points toward the village they'd sought to find. "We've arrived."

As much as he is curious, whatever Yohan was about to tell him didn't seem all that important, Sol supposes it can wait.

At least, for now.

They walk a tad further, until they arrive safe and sound within the village walls. Yohan looks around in silence and takes one long, hard glance at their new surroundings. He squints, then hums. "I fear it may be a tad too late to question the villagers at this hour."

He's right, everyone seems to be rushing back home for dinner, as most of the shops close down for the day. Sol's brows arch upward, a pained cringe takes his features. "Will the King be all right?"

They aren't traveling slowly—far from that—still, Sol wonders if they should consider working through the nights.

"Let's say he is holding on."

Yohan immediately heads toward an inn he'd been eyeing, without giving it second thought. "We've healers back at the palace caring for him night and day. Granted…"

he mutters before he takes a step inside the aged building. "For His Majesty's sake, it would be best to hurry, so that we may put a halt to his sufferings. But he will not perish so soon, that is for certain. And we…"

Yohan turns back to gaze at Sol. "We shouldn't be lenient when it comes to resting either, our deaths would doom him, too, remember that."

Behind him, Sol gulps as he follows Yohan in. "I see…"

He grasps at the strands that adorn his shoulder. "I will be quick to make that potion, then."

"Be thorough,"

Yohan tells him, his voice earnest and clear. "If you can be quick, that is appreciated. But we would rather you take your time, if it means better results from the medicine you'll craft."

"O-Of course! Of course, I'll… do my best."

Perhaps the gravity of the situation should have occurred to Sol much earlier, however, having the weight of a King's life in his hands is only starting to dawn on him now. And what a terrifying thought that is. As Sol walks forth, he can only pray he will manage and that the ingredients he is to fetch will not, for some odd reason, be less potent than their usual counterparts. He would hate to be executed for failure. Not that Sol planned to fail, he knows the recipe by heart, has recited it many a time in his mind, but still—

Sol runs into Yohan's back with a yelp. "I'll— M-Make the greatest potion ever!"

he blurts with a shaken voice.

Yohan stares at him from over his shoulder, with confusion written all over his features. "What? I was merely asking if you wanted to share a room."

"Ah."

Sol forces out a laugh then scratches at the back of his head. "Are there any left with two separate beds? If so, that might be more… convenient."

"Are you certain, Sol?"

Yohan stares at him, he pauses for a moment, until he parts his lips again. "His Majesty is funding this entire trip—if you wish for a separate room, we can certainly arrange for that."

Sol blinks, then presses his lips together. "That is… You wouldn't be offended?"

Yohan squints. "Please,"

he laughs. "I am not that juvenile."

Red warmth flushes Sol's cheeks. "Right."

He shows Yohan a subtle nod before staring at the floorboards. "Then, a second room would be best, please. Thank you, Yohan."

Yohan leans forward to stroke his hair softly. "No need to thank me. You are the one aiding me and our Kingdom, Sol. It is quite all right."

He turns to the counter again to speak with the innkeeper.

Sol watches the knight in silence. He takes in the bustling sounds of the inn's customers, who order more pints of ale at the bar, their shouts echoing across the quaint rustic entrance.

The flames from the lanterns all around reflect pale amber against Yohan's skin. Sol takes in the sight of him for a moment; he wonders what sort of story the lines across his face tell, what sort of life Yohan has lived up until now, when their paths only just so happened to cross.

Yohan turns towards him again and holds up two sets of keys. He hands one set to Sol and smiles. "I managed to get two that are beside each other! I… hope that is all right by you?"

"More than fine,"

Sol tells him. In truth, although Sol did not want to share a room, he had hoped they wouldn't be too far from one another.

The two walk up to the second floor without wasting much time near the bar. When they both stand before their own respective rooms, Sol reaches for Yohan's hand. Why, he doesn't know—it is like instinct, fate, pulling him towards this man.

Yohan grins and tilts his head to get a better look at Sol. "What do you want to do, my sweet?"

His tone is so loving and soft, that the fear around Sol's heart can only melt.

Sol stares up at Yohan and bites his lip. "Wanna… come in?"

Yohan steps forward. He wraps his arms around Sol and pulls him into a warm embrace. "I would love to, Sol."

The floorboards creak beneath their boots as the two enter Sol's bedroom hand in hand. Sol catches a glimpse of the outside world from his window, where the nighttime view gives way to a tailor's boutique—behind the exposition glass, lit by magical ornaments hung inside the railings, are clothes on display; robes made for men working in the enchantment and apothecarial arts. Sol's attention cannot help but drift towards them. He has yearned to wear such a robe for so long, yet his concern for the stares of onlookers and whether it would even fit him—or float around awkwardly on his shoulders, as if he'd borrowed the robe for dress-up from an older mentor—have always held him back from getting one of his own.

"Should we buy it?"

Yohan strides up beside him and observes the robe in all its glory, with his hands locked together behind his back. "I like it,"

he tells Sol. "I think that emerald shade would suit you."

Sol takes a step back and flicks a strand of his own hair behind his ear. "It's okay, to be honest…"

he mumbles, "I know what I look like."

"And what is that?"

Yohan questions. Sol wonders if the knight is humoring him.

"Like a woman."

Why must he make me say it? He sighs. "Isn't it obvious?"

Sol motions to himself with an angered sway of his hand. "Even you thought so at first, until I told you."

At Sol's statement, Yohan raises a brow. "I only thought so because you introduced yourself as Solange, the woman."

The knight crosses his arms. "Had it been any other way, I wouldn't have—"

"Come on, Yohan, even when I don't introduce myself this way everyone assumes I-I'm…"

Sol's voice trails off; he doesn't want to say it again. He's tired.

Perhaps, inviting Yohan inside his temporary room wasn't the best idea, after all.

The knight reaches for Sol's hand. "But, am I everyone?"

He asks, and Sol cannot help the small breath he lets out, before their eyes meet again. "Am I, Sol?"

"N-No, but…"

Sol looks away and bites his lip. "It's strange, that—"

Sol stops himself. Was he about to call a man strange for accepting him?

"Strange?"

Yohan raises his brows then scoffs. He releases Sol's hand. "Is it not the rest of the world that is odd for assuming they know everything about a person before ever meeting them?"

Sol ponders on the matter for a moment—he recalls the apprehensions he himself had held about the Old King's Cursed Riders, and he wonders, if this is how Yohan's worldview came to be.

He purses his lips together. "Well, maybe so… but that still doesn't change that most people don't think like you."

Sol's shoulders tense, as do his fists by his sides. "I do not want to be mocked for looking ridiculous—or even worse, ostracized."

Yohan sighs, he raises his arms and rests both his palms atop Sol's shoulders. "Why not give it a go before resigning from the possibility of change?"

he tells Sol. "Trying a simple robe on, in a foreign village, doesn't pose much of a risk. The only people who might catch a glimpse of you wearing it would likely only be the tailor—and possibly myself, too, if the urge to show me takes you then."

The knight pauses. "Unless, I am mistaken, and you do not mind the current situation. In that case, there isn't anything wrong with remaining as you are—"

"No!"

Sol blurts the word before he can think. This conversation has brought up so many unpleasant feelings that have not bubbled to the surface of his life in years— feelings he yearned to hide from himself.

Because it is too painful to remember sometimes.

"No…"

Sol whispers with his head hung low; his throat tightens into a dull, fretful knot. "I do. I do mind it, I think. But, I am so disconnected from myself, I barely feel my pain anymore. It's…"

A tear blurs his vision and falls down his jaw. Sol's eyes widen as he wipes it away. "Numbing,"

he says. "Sometimes, I wonder if what I feel is even true. I-I'm scared it might not be. And yet… it makes me so irrevocably happy, and fills me with the most joy when I am made to feel like a man. I—"

Sol squeezes at his elbow. "I don't know what to think. Gods , the elvenfolk would get a rise out of me if they saw this—most are so comfortable living as their true selves, and yet here I am, still confused and scared like some witless fool after all these years."

Sol wraps his arms around himself, his fingers tremble as he hunches over nothing, he sniffles. "No wonder nobody takes me seriously."

I can't even take myself seriously.

Yohan steps forth and wraps his arms around Sol. And Sol loses himself in the knight's embrace. He presses his face into Yohan's chest and lets out an ugly, broken sob. These feelings he had kept locked away in the deepest part of his heart, they are all pouring out of him like blood spills from an open wound—Sol can't keep them in anymore.

He can't. "Shit,"

Sol swears the word under his breath. " Shit, I was doing so well."

If only I had continued to ignore this, I could have been normal.

I could have fit in.

I—

"Were you?"

Yohan asks. He caresses the back of Sol's head. His hand is warm. "Were you doing well?"

he echoes, before the two of them pull away and look to each other again; Yohan's palm lingers against Sol's jaw. "Weren't you just surviving?"

Sol's lower lip quivers. He doesn't know what to say. It is as though he has been shot through the heart with the land's greatest arrow—because it hurts. It hurts. It hurts, to feel this.

To feel everything , after having experienced a void, nothingness for so long, where it was neither cold nor warm. It just was. He just was.

He was Solange—at least, he tried to be.

He prayed every night that he would wake up—and that the odd, uncomfortable sentiment that tugged at his heart every waking hour of his life would one day come to disappear: if only he tried hard enough, to be her.

But deep down, Sol knew he never even got close.

He falls to his knees and away from Yohan, as he breaks down into an ugly, crooked sob. "No, Gods , why did it have to be this way?"

Sol whimpers and holds his arms close to his chest as he keels over; his nose is so close to the floorboards he can smell its wooden scent. "I wish I wasn't Sol. Yohan, I wish—"

He chokes on his grief. "Why was I not strong enough to push these desires away?"

"Sol…"

Yohan sounds pained as he kneels then holds out his palm for Sol to take, their fingers meet atremble. "There are no desires here."

He hushes him softly, until they both rise together again. Sol's head is lowered still. Yohan squeezes his hand. "It is human nature,"

the knight tells him. "It is in the nature of everyone, to be yourself, to gravitate towards that which makes one happiest."

Sol leans into him, and Yohan welcomes him with open arms as he rubs at Sol's back, Sol lays his head against the knight's shoulder. "Sol, you do not have to deny yourself happiness,"

he says. "You need not keep yourself from your truth, it is okay, to be Sol. Just like it is okay for me to be Yohan. And how it is okay for your mentor to be Androcles."

Yohan kisses the crown of Sol's head, he lowers his voice to a whisper. "It is okay, Sol."

Sol heaves in another breath. "Yohan?"

he asks weakly, as he wraps his arms around the knight's back, he rests his cheek against his chest and listens to Yohan's heart with closed weary eyes.

"Yes, Sol?"

Sol takes a deep breath. He parts his lips. He didn't think he would say this, but— "Would you stay with me tonight?"

Sol needs him.

He needs Yohan.