6

After a good few hours of questioning the locals, Sol and Yohan finally take their leave with their singular tent in hand, as Sol dons his brand new robe.

"I doubt I'll ever want to take this off!"

Sol skips ahead of Yohan. "It feels so great! "

He leaps across a dirt path with steps of joy; the robe is much less form-fitting than the ones he is used to wearing, it hides every part of his body that has never felt quite right, whilst giving it the hint of a shape he considers more masculine.

Upon receiving the robe, Sol quickly took notice of the ways it had been altered by the tailor—a few stitches to make it fall in ways that diminish the presence of his hips, added volume to his shoulders through the use of new pads, sewn into the garment itself—the improvements, though subtle, made all the difference. To think the tailor had done all this in the span of a few mere hours, Sol realized the moment he donned it again that the man likely was not judging him back then, only thinking of how he could make the robe better fit the shape of his body, as it perfectly does now.

Truly, he went above and beyond.

In his mind Sol had apologized to the elderly man many a time. As he'd thanked him within the walls of his boutique, he'd left the tailor with a hefty tip of an extra three gold pieces and the guilt of having misunderstood his nature.

Though Sol is certain that some day, he may indeed run into the odd disapproving glare, he decides against lingering on the thought—right now, he is grateful for all his blessings, that have led him into the hands of such good company.

Yohan laughs at Sol's display of complete, unadulterated glee. "With the way things are going, you may not have to for a while!"

he tells Sol, and he is not wrong, it seems they still have quite the journey ahead of them. Whether graduated or not, while on the road all mages are required to wear a robe to signal their status to others: both to avoid deserter warlocks tricking oblivious travelers with their forbidden crafts, or, so that passersby may know who to reach out to in times of magical emergencies.

Sol smiles as he ponders on the thought— he is glad that, this time, he can wear this robe with only pride.

"Sol, take a look!"

Yohan points toward the base of the mountainside that has gotten closer in view with each step they've taken since their departure. "Seems we've arrived,"

the knight mutters under his breath with a nod of determination, as he stares at their destination. "We should cook a filling meal, get an early rest before the sun sets, then climb before dawn rises."

Yohan glances at Sol from over his shoulder; the violet hues from the setting sun above reflect a lilac sheen against his armor, his eyes. "Do you feel up to it?"

Sol nods, he feels up to anything right now, he wonders if he could even fly. "Sounds good."

They walk beside each other in silence for a little while longer. There are creatures lurking in the woodlands—Sol can hear them croaking, howling. And if he cares to look, pairs of yellow eyes, sometimes singular orbs, glow in the bushes. But they all seem to be wary— afraid, of Yohan. So, they stay away.

Soon, Yohan clears his throat. "That Siegfried fellow sure was helpful, wasn't he?"

Sol nods whilst he thinks back to the man who claimed to be a butler of some sorts. "He seemed to know a lot."

More than is normal for someone his age. That man had a stench to him, not quite like Yohan's but… it was ancient, unnerving, Sol isn't quite sure what to make of it; it's not like he could do anything about it now. "I'm glad he was able to inform us."

Yohan smiles. He reaches for Sol's hand, yet, he does not grab it. The knight merely grazes his fingers across Sol's knuckles, softly, a reminder that they are still here , together. The tree leaves rustle against one another. Yohan's voice is a whisper lost to the wind, as he turns then tells Sol, "Let's set up camp, shall we?"

Sol decides he will raise their tent with much enthusiasm tonight, however his confidence soon falls from its graces, once Sol struggles to even get the stakes properly into the ground. Indeed, this is a much harder task than he'd anticipated, even after observing Yohan do it barehanded and flawlessly on multiple occasions.

Before Sol can call for aid, Yohan's hand is on his again, angling the stake between Sol's grip a tad to the left. "Like this,"

Yohan whispers beside Sol's ear. "It will go in easier, if you push it in from here."

Sol cannot help but notice the welcoming warmth of the knight's skin pressed to his, as the ground finally gives beneath the stake that pierces the soil. "See?"

If Sol is being honest with himself, he was a tad too distracted to get all of that. "Your hands are nice,"

he finds himself blurting. "I-I mean—it's nice that your hands have shown me how to… well."

What is he even saying? "Um, I'm sorry."

Sol's head hangs low as he sighs. "Would you mind showing me again?"

Yohan laughs, he caresses Sol's hair. "You've no need for the apologies, Sol."

He leans forward, and presses a kiss to Sol's forehead, and Sol can hear the smile in his voice. "Here. I'll show you as many times as need be."

Eventually, after a few awkward tries, Sol does get the hang of it. And by the time the moon's pale eye observes them amid a canopy of stars, Yohan and Sol are feasting on a dinner of soup, bread and mutton from the local butcher, cooked just right over their campfire.

Sol is leaning against Yohan, shoulder to shoulder, when a thought crosses his mind. "You know, for a cursed knight, you don't seem too inconvenienced."

Yohan stares at him, deadpan, he looks behind Sol as if something has revealed itself in the wilderness. "I can sense when the living will die,"

he mutters, the firelight casting dark shadows across his face. "That is why it is a curse."

The crackling of flames fills the sudden silence between them.

"And, there are…other things,"

the knight suddenly tells him as he clutches at the bowl between his grasp, he presses his lips together. "But, I would rather not dwell on them, if I can help it."

Sol blinks. "O-Oh. Oh. Right. Of course."

But sensing death… he wonders, how that works. He did not expect such a blunt answer from the knight.

Yohan stares at Sol for a few more seconds, before he parts his lips again. "You look like you have questions."

"I mean…"

Sol scratches at his cheek. "Well, if it's okay to ask… can you sense yours?"

"Unfortunately."

The fleeting cries of crows fade then vanish. A moon moth flies into the woods. Yohan's words from yesternight ring in Sol's mind.

You've a long life ahead of you, after all.

"Yohan…"

Sol brings a pondering fist to his own chin, there is a faint hope in his heart, that Yohan merely jested at that time. "When you mentioned my lifespan a few days ago, was that—"

"Do you truly want to know?"

Yohan's features are somber, stern as the flames that lick at the chilled cerulean in his eyes, leaving auburn strokes in their passing. Burnt blood across the sea.

"I…"

Shit, Sol realizes. He's serious. "It… depends." He gulps.

Sure, Sol had always assumed he'd love to know when his life would end to better prepare for that moment, but… what if it turns out to be tomorrow?

Now that things are finally looking up, now that he is finally finding joy in the world, could he live with the idea of disappearing by sunset? "In either case,"

Sol crosses his arms, he huffs, then leans his weight a tad more into Yohan. "That sounds… stressful,"

a mumbled concern as he stares right into the fire's heart. At the brittle wood being bent, crackling and halved in two split parts before they break into dozens of smaller, insignificant pieces. Ashes and dust.

Yohan nods slowly, before he forces a polite smile, an expression that seems rather practiced. Like he is on the verge of telling a lie. "I am—"

The knight's words catch in his throat, he averts his gaze, and his palm curls into a fist as his jaw tenses. "I cannot be anything but used to it."

Used to it , what a dreadful choice of words. "Can I ask you something?"

"You've already been asking, dearest."

The knight chuckles again and the sincerity returns to his voice. "But, go ahead."

Yohan's grin is warm, welcoming; even so, Sol can't shake the feeling the knight hides more than he can imagine. "I'm listening."

"How… does a Rider come to be, in the first place?"

The practice is never stated in the legends. It is as if they come out of nowhere. As if they are pure magic.

A grim ghost of tension casts itself across Yohan's features. The knight's lips are pressed together in a thinning line. Sol raises a hand to place it on his lover's shoulder—he is on the verge of telling Yohan that it doesn't matter, he does not need to know; when Yohan parts his lips to speak again. "Fabricated,"

he says. As he leans forward he clasps his own palms together. He stares into the fire. "When one Rider dies, it is imperative that the curse in their body be transferred to a new vessel."

Yohan brings an open palm to his chest. "In this case, that was me."

"Why—"

Sol stares up at Yohan, his chest tightens, concern gnaws at his heart. "Why does it sound as though you had no choice in the matter?"

"Because I didn't."

Yohan spits the words like raw facts and not tragedy as he continues to gaze deep into the flames. "I was a poor orphan child, I could barely keep myself fed, let alone warm. The King wanted someone who would not be missed—and, Gods, did he get what he bargained for."

A pained smile takes Yohan's lips, when he stares upward to the sky for the first time in the hour. "Sometimes, I wonder what life would have been like if they hadn't chosen me, until I remember it is unlikely there would have been a life left to live."

"S-Still…"

Sol's head hangs low. What can he even say to that? "You must have grieved being stripped of your ability to choose."

Yohan nods, slow and steady. "At first, yes. However…there was no time to grieve. I was seven when they abducted me. They trained me to be one of their champions, they hoped I would become a perfect sword—they believed in me more than I believed in myself."

He laughs, yet the sound is hollow, full of old pain. "From where I hail, orphans rarely live past the age of five, I suppose the royal court thought that meant something about me was special, perhaps. They let me live a rather lavish life until my thirteenth birthday, and then…"

Yohan's fists tighten, until the once tan skin across his knuckles pales to pearl whites. He grits his teeth. "Then, I became a Rider, always busy out on the King's rabid hunts. Always doing things, I… did not like . And now that I am older, now that I survived"—Yohan's shoulders drop alongside the deep exhale he lets out, from hearing him alone, one would think he has not breathed in years—"finally, I am allowed to retire."

Yohan turns to Sol, a weak smile takes his trembling lips. " Finally… they are letting me leave."

An owl hoots into the distance.

Sol has to force himself to pause. "I…"

His blood boils with rage. "I don't know what to say."

Bastard King , he thinks, though he would never dare say it aloud. Bastard. Gods-damned. King. "Do you not despise them in the slightest?"

"That is…"

Yohan sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "A complicated question. As much as I wish I could've had a choice— every man does —freedom is a luxury sometimes. And in that moment, it was not mine."

He glances upward, until his eyes meet with Sol's. Yohan reaches for his hand, he squeezes it, once. "Trust me when I say, I have reflected on the matter for years… had I been given the choice, I'm sure I would have agreed, in the end. Because there was nothing else I could do."

Without giving it second thought, Sol leans in. He wraps his arms around the knight's shoulders and embraces him deeply. "But it's so unfair,"

he whispers into the crook of Yohan's neck. Sol has never cried for another before tonight—and yet here he is, unable to help himself, his tears falling as freely as yesternight's rain.

Yohan doesn't reply with words. Instead, he nestles his head against the thick wool cape draped across Sol's shoulders, then rests his palm against the curve of Sol's spine. He cups Sol's jaw with a tender motion and kisses him, soft, loving and slow. His fingers are threaded through the back of Sol's hair. And in the mid of night the crickets sing, the flames crackle then rise, until it is only darkness once again.

* * *

If it wasn't already, it has now become very apparent to Sol just how much Yohan is used to these sort of outings, while Sol… isn't. " How do you do this constantly ?"

Sol pants and heaves and wallows in the misery of the climb as he observes the knight, who is twice his size, scale up the mountain as if he were lighter than a bird.

Yohan offers his hand to Sol. "Here,"

he shows Sol a reassuring smile. "Let me be your aid, sweetest."

Sol flutters his eyelashes at the nickname as he looks to his left—out at the scenery, the trees risen across the mountainside rocks. They remind Sol of the moss he would sometimes find stuck under his windowsill, back in the dangerous comfort of his small hometown. If Sol squints then stares out into the distance, past the strange forest, he can barely make out the silhouette of the village they left behind yesterday.

He takes Yohan's hand.

The trek upward is a merciless foe, and Sol wonders how he's going to get back down by sunfall— when he can barely stand to keep going —once he arrives at their destination: the mountain's halfway point.

"You all right?"

Yohan pushes the question out between two pants as he stretches his arms—for once he, too, is out of breath. This surprises Sol.

So he tires, after all, Sol thinks to himself whilst he heaves in the clear mountainside air, the only thing keeping him going at this point. "I'm fine…"

Or so he says but, Gods, does Sol feel out of breath. He rests both his hands against his knees, then takes a careless swig from his waterskin, spilling a few drops that trickle down his lips. Yohan takes the liberty of stepping toward Sol as he reaches for him, he wipes the water off Sol's chin.

The knight's palm lingers against Sol's jaw for a moment. His brows are knitted together in the ways they tend to be, whenever Yohan loses himself to a thought. "Why don't we take a short break?"

"If we do that"—Sol pants—"then we won't make it back by sunfall."

"Ah, and you are so certain of that?"

For reasons Sol ignores, Yohan sounds rather amused.

The knight hums, and raises his arms beside him in the air. With a click of his fingers, Yohan has summoned three dark, translucent eggs. A black fog rises then swirls around them, until the eggs hatch into strange shadows carved in the shape of fiends.

Sol has never seen anything like this before: they are unlike all the summons he has dealt with and learned of through and through his studies. Only, they carry the same reek of sulfur that gave Yohan away as a Rider back in Featherlaine, and so does that fog.

The fiends seem to linger by the knight's feet, giving the illusion of floating as they await Yohan's next command. Yohan motions for them to listen, obey . "I need you to find a plant for me,"

the knight says, whilst he provides them with a description of the herb in question. "Return before the hour ends. Don't waste my time."

The way Yohan speaks to these creatures catches Sol off guard. As the impish creatures hop away like strange children who have just been scolded by a parent, Sol cannot help but raise a brow at Yohan's stern display. "That's an… interesting way of talking to another living being,"

Sol says before his rear finds the ground once more, he sits to gather his bearings. He stares up at Yohan. "I've never seen this side of you before."

Is your kindness a mere facade for something uglier that lies within you? The words are left unspoken, but Sol is certain Yohan hears the hint of distrust that mingles with Sol's own tone.

And then it is that old fear which settles in his gut, returning as it makes him nauseous and weak in the arms—Yohan might not be the man Sol believes him to be. A monster that dwells preying upon men.

A monster wearing the face of a lover.

A monster.

A monster.

A monster—

"I have to, unfortunately."

Sol blinks. "What?"

"I have to,"

Yohan echoes as he brings a fist to his lips, he lets himself drop to the floor, beside Sol. The knight rests his elbows against his knees; his silver armor clinks then glimmers like oceanshine under the afternoon light. "If I am not careful, they could devour me whole. And then, we would have a significant problem on our hands. I must show them no emotion nor fear—men who are anything but cold before beasts of their kind have their memories stolen, their feelings channeled and used against them, ‘til they turn mad."

Sol rises on instinct from where he'd laid, his eyes widening, as he pictures the gnarly scene. "Gods, Yohan, why do something so dangerous when we could have just looked for—"

"Ah."

Yohan tilts his head and stares at Sol blanky. "You've no need to worry: they are only capable of attacking those who summon them. You are not at risk."

"That's not what I meant!"

Sol shakes his head. "What about…"

A cringe takes his features, before he glances to Yohan again, concern swimming in his blood, his gaze. "What about you?"

"Me?"

Yohan scoffs. "Who cares about me?"

He motions to the fiends up ahead, who are scavenging through the bushes, searching for the plant. "I have dealt with them more times than I can count. I will be well."

Sol is silent, frozen at the words for a moment, until he sits back down again. He leans his weight towards Yohan, then rests his head against the knight's chest. "I care about you…"

he mumbles, his lips pouted into a frown as he stares at the ground.

Yohan does not reply, and Sol doesn't blame him. He supposes acknowledging the statement may cause him to show emotion, to feel.

The two sit in silence, side by side, shoulder to shoulder. Sol thinks about life—more specifically, Yohan's life. It was rather easy to forget Yohan truly is one of the Old Kings Cursed Riders when they were merely traveling together. Yohan had no need to rely on what Riders were most feared for: their prowess in taboo magical arts. Wielders of the darkest nights.

To think, Yohan was not hardened by such a life, and still manages to remain gentle and kind despite the monstrosities, the horrors he must have endured as a man forced into this difficult role… Sol isn't quite sure he would have it in himself to love anything again, after being put through such trials. He admires Yohan, yet fears him all the same: the knight is an enigma. How can he simply shrug this all off and retire?

How could he not want to see the world burn?

Sol was wrong—Yohan is the opposite of a monster, he is more human than anyone ever could be.

The two of them watch the shadows, the fiends working, without exchanging another word—until the hour passes, and the creatures return. They've plucked more than is necessary from the ground. Yohan soon dismisses them with another snap of his fingers. The fiends disappear, fading into thin air, faster than they had arrived. The herbs and plants they'd swiped fall to the ground with a featherlike sway, as if an invisible force delivers them slowly, across the light breeze.

Sol rushes toward the herbs, he quickly gathers them inside his bag before the wind can have its way with his ingredients. Once finished, Sol huffs and wipes the sweat away from his brow with the back of his arm. "I think that's all of them,"

he says, when Yohan wraps his arm around his waist, then pulls him in close for a hug.

"Sol,"

Yohan murmurs the word into Sol's hair. "Could you promise me that you will be silent—still?"

"W-Why?"

Yohan points to the sky. "It's getting dark, the sun will be down soon. Making our descent by foot would be dangerous."

Sol stares at the knight and a frown takes his lips. "How do you suggest we get down?"

"Not by foot."

Yohan raises his arm in the air as he readies himself to snap his fingers again. "Promise me, Sol, that you will not make me feel. The curse waits for such moments, to sink its teeth in me."

"Yohan,"

Sol steps forth. "Stop. You're playing with fire, you shouldn't be—"

"I know."

Yohan traps his lower lip between his teeth as his gaze meets the dirt by their feet. "I know all too well. But, this will be the last time. Afterwards… I hope to never have to depend on them again."

And then, as Yohan's fingers hit one another, he summons another beast out of an invisible abyss. The clicking of hooves hit the mountain floor. A Shire made of the darkest shadows materializes before them, its bright eyes glow a deep yellow shade and flicker as if made of dying candlelight. It stares straight at Sol. Sol feels see-through beneath its gaze, it is like looking la mort in the eye. Perhaps, it is death itself.

From the shire's body, a black fog emerges and licks the air.

"Come,"

Yohan jumps onto the horse's back, he holds out his hand for Sol to take, "unless you want to stay out here and freeze."

Sol gulps. He can find no argument against that. He grabs hold of Yohan's hand—and they ride. Past the forest and the rocks, down the perilous mountainside. Sol holds on tightly to Yohan's waist, the two of them are carried downhill like a slither of mist.

Sol had only heard of mounts formed from Oblivion's depths in old tales, legends he would hear as bedtime stories. To think Yohan has summoned one with such ease, right before his eyes… what a peculiar journey this all has been.

In so little time, Sol feels as though he has touched the world and the world has touched his heart.

They meet the ground again soon. When Yohan snaps his fingers again, out fades that glorious mount, it leaves a trail of glittering darkness in its wake before the void claims it once more. " Wow ,"

Sol breathes, awestruck at the sight of specks of magic from the crepuscule that float across the air around them. He turns to face Yohan. "Yohan, that was—"

Amazing —the word lingers on Sol's tongue, yet it does not make it past his lips, for Sol freezes upon seeing Yohan on his knees. Yohan panting, as if he'd walked for miles. Yohan keeling over, his fist grabbing at the dirt ground. "Yohan! What's wrong?"

Yohan's back rises then falls as he takes a deep breath in, out. He tilts his chin upward to face Sol once more. Terror shrouds the usual brightest sky that inhabits his gaze. "I—"

Yohan's eyes widen. "I almost lost control,"

he speaks the words like a sin confessed, "when you held onto me, I…"

The knight's voice breaks then trembles under the weight of his gnawing panic. "I felt it eat at my heart. Its claws were inside me. It latched onto my—"

Yohan takes another deep breath. He falls silent as his gaze meets the ground once more. "Onto my…"

"Your what?"

Sol doesn't mean to raise his voice, but his thoughts are faster than his logic, every emotion he feels spills out of him like blood from a bad gash.

"Onto me."

Yohan's breaths are heavy. He dares not face Sol. "It latched onto me. It had me, for a moment, it—"

"Yohan."

Sol steps forth with the intention of placing a hand against the knight's shoulder, yet his palm hovers above silver, he hesitates. "But isn't it fine, now?"

His lower lip quivers. "You're here. You're still here." Right?

"I…"

Yohan shakes his head and shuts his eyes. "I didn't ever think there would come a time where I would be unable to control them. It is… so unlike me."

It isn't hard to hear the loss in Yohan's voice. "But, it seems I cannot call upon them again."

"Must you?"

A light drizzle falls upon the land.

Yohan falls back onto his thighs. He is covered in dirt as he kneels before Sol, with his fists rested atop his own legs, he gazes upward— to Sol. "If we face any greater threats on our way to the palace,"

Yohan opens his palm then glances at it with a blank, hollow stare. "I won't be able to rely on the curse's ancient power."

He shuts his eyes, and anguish sews his brow into a tight line. "What good is a Rider who cannot protect? What good is a weapon that cannot cut a man down? What good am I now, then?"

"Yohan,"

Sol whispers again, softer and this time, he places his hand atop Yohan's shoulder. The mud and the grit from the knight's armor are cold against his skin. "You are strong. So much stronger than you believe yourself to be. You climbed that mountain like it was no challenge even while aiding me, and carrying both our belongings, you don't… That power, that curse , you don't need to rely on it."

He smiles, his lips are upturned in a bittersweet manner. "It is clear you've outgrown it. You are not the helpless orphan boy they picked up all those years ago, not anymore."

Sol shakes his head. "You are a good man—and that, I believe, is better than any good Rider could be."

Yohan places a hand over Sol's knuckles; Sol feels him squeeze, before the knight takes his palms and presses his lips atop Sol's fingers in a soft, comforting kiss. "Sol, have you ever wished for something so much so, that you find yourself fearing it once you find it?"

I have, Sol wants to say. It's happening right now. "Is that what this is?"

Yohan's eyes widen at the words, but he wallows in his silence, shame spread across his features.

"Is that why you think you are not worthy?"

"Did you not find it odd, Sol,"

Yohan finally mutters, "that I was so old?"

Sol raises a brow at him then cringes. "You are not that old! You are not even forty yet."

"For a Rider, I meant."

"Oh…"

Now, it is Sol who falls quiet. It is true that Sol had heard many a tale of Riders dying young—in fact, those very stories were used to scare him as a child, to ward him off from wandering into the streets late at night. Should the Old King's curse catch you, you will no longer be yourself—by the time you are old enough to see the snowfall with your first love, a creature born from the night will have taken your place, your soul.

The words echo amid the silence, a scar of the past that fills Sol's mind. When Sol looks to Yohan again, he wonders if he is staring at a ghost. For Yohan is right, he should be long gone.

"I'm not a demon, if that's what you're wondering,"

Yohan huffs.

"Oh. Um."

Sol can feel the heat rising to his face. "Sorry."

Yohan rises to his feet. And his cape flows in the gentle spring winds. He stares down at Sol. "I am here because of the way I have lived life up until today,"

he tells Sol. "When I understood feeling love, sadness, pain— any sort of emotion, would mean being devoured by those wretched creatures, I isolated myself on purpose. I never wanted to be needlessly distracted."

He brings a hand over his heart as he continues to gaze at Sol. Yohan chuckles. "But now, look at me… Feeling again. It is so difficult to keep it all in after holding back for all these years, Sol, as much as it would have served me to be a cold, cunning man, I am only a pretender when it comes to this sort of heartlessness. I am only…"

Human. I am only human , although Yohan leaves the words unsaid, Sol can hear them, lingering in the space between them. "It's okay."

Sol runs his hand down the mid of Yohan's chest and pauses. He never thought he'd be saying this, until recently, when Yohan showed him there were other, brighter ways to live his life. "It's okay to feel."

Sol's eyes are lidded, his shoulders draped in grief as he considers his next words. "You don't have to keep doing this."

Sol smiles at the odd, beautiful havoc that has emerged from this situation. "You'll be a free man soon, Yohan. In fact, in some ways"—he blinks and looks to the knight—"wouldn't you say you already are?"

"Perhaps."

Yohan steps away from Sol, and Sol stares at his lover's back as he makes for their next destination: a tunnel of trees, a bridge, the entrance to his Kingdom at last. "If I can be honest,"

Yohan mutters, his hand pressed to the hilt of his sword. "I do not feel free. And I fear I will only truly be, once I feel it in my heart. Which is not now."

He marches forth—thick, dark mud sticks to the soles of his silver boots, as the rain hits the land with a heavier might.

Yohan lets out a broken chuckle. "As long as I remain a prisoner in my mind, what good will freedom do me?"

he asks Sol.

And Sol wishes he had the words to tell him it would be okay.

But he has a feeling Yohan would not believe him. So, he stays silent and follows him, quiet worry murmuring sorrow into his heart.

* * *

"Are you awake?"

It is dark and by now, the crickets have long stopped singing. But Sol cannot find sleep. Earlier in the evening he watched the sun set purple bruises in the sky alone, while Yohan retired early for their tent—yet now here he is, tugging on Yohan's sleeve. As Sol tries to summon a quarter of the bravery Yohan holds, he tells the knight, "I want to know."

And Yohan turns around. Their eyes meet. He's awake, Sol realizes. Has been awake all this time. "I want to know about my death,"

Sol knows it is a silly thing to say after everything that happened today, but the silence is unbearable, and talking about intolerable subjects would make it at least a little better because then there would be sound, something to ground them in their existence. Yohan's voice.

Yohan's words.

"Do you, now?"

Yohan's tone sounds lower than usual, there is something bare and raw about it, as the knight reaches out to caress Sol's cheek.

Sol's heart beats in the crux of his throat. He swallows, hard. "Yeah."

The moon's gentle light shines through the tent's roof, permeating soft tissue like the sun does to skin, it illuminates their faces in the melt of a pale milk glow. "You are aware,"

Yohan tells him, "that there will be no taking this back—once you know."

Despite his warning, a strange joy coats the knight's features, as if wants to share this secret with Sol.

"You want to say it,"

so desperately, you do , Sol thinks whilst he whispers the words before he can think. " Why? "

Yohan thumbs at Sol's face. His brows arch upward in a sincere gesture, he takes a deep breath in. And then, exhales, shaken. Unlike today, when he did all he could to appear unaffected—he is letting Sol in. "Yours…"

Yohan shuts his eyes. "Is close—"

"Close!"

Sol finds himself shouting the word. " Close? "

Worry jumps at his heart until—

Yohan brings his hand up, between them, and shakes his hand a tad. The knight's face is flushed, regretful. "Close to mine. "

He coughs into his fist, then clears his throat. "I'm sorry. You didn't let me finish. I'm sorry if that frightened you."

"Oh."

Sol feels like an idiot, but he breathes a tad easier now, knowing that… well, he doesn't know anything at all really now, does he? He pauses, blinks, the vague thought of dying as Solange and not Sol tugs at his heart. "Um."

Sol's voice rises in pitch, awkwardly, this is not going as he had planned for it to go. "H-How close?"

Yohan's head disappears into his shoulders. He looks away. "It is…exactly the same as mine,"

Once he speaks the words, Yohan immediately freezes against Sol.

"What?"

Sol eyes widen. "How could that be?"

The weight of Yohan's hand suddenly feels heavier atop his skin.

"Who knows."

Nothing but earnest helplessness settles in Yohan's grin—Sol realizes, the man is not lying. "This has never happened before."

Yohan squeezes at Sol's hand. "And I doubt it will happen again."

"Is…"

Sol mumbles, before he stops himself. He bites his lip, and he prays that this does not signify they will die together on this trip. "Is it soon?"

"No,"

Yohan shakes his head, "not at all. I did not jest, when I said you had a long life ahead of you. Only"—he laughs—"for some reason, it seems our fates are intertwined."

The revelation is an odd one, indeed. Though, Sol does find comfort in the fact that he will have enough time to grow into himself. To grow old. It was hard to picture sometimes; inside his chest, his heart weighs a little lighter.

Neither of them say another word, and a short moment passes, until Yohan sighs again. "I am sorry,"

he starts, "I hadn't been completely honest with you. But now that you know everything, now that you know the truth: part of why I felt so fond of you was because of this—this inexplicable link we seem to share. You intrigued me, greatly… however, if you were to feel betrayed by this revelation in any kind of way, I would understand and I would not…"

As he listens to the knight's confession, it occurs to Sol that neither he nor Yohan have been entirely truthful until now. And in some ways, he is relieved. Sol pursued Yohan because of those visions. And Yohan… because of his lifespan.

If anything, this seems quite fair.

"I'm… somewhat of a seer myself,"

Sol blurts, and he does not know why he phrases it that way, when all he did was hallucinate while medicated.

"You—"

Yohan stares at him, in the blank way that the rabbits would in Sol's childhood backyard, when they'd straighten up after hearing an odd sound late into the night. "You are?"

The knight pauses, then smirks. " Oh. Did you foresee this?"

Sol giggles, then reaches for the knight's hand. "There will be no taking this back—once you know,"

he echoes, words that had once resided in Yohan's lips, when they were still strangers to each other's secrets.

Yohan leans, inward, he presses a chaste kiss to Sol's mouth and smiles in his handsome, gallant way that drives Sol mad. "I would not want to take back knowing you, dearest."

Sol's lip jerks downward and tears blur his eyes. "Y-Yohan."

He whimpers as he wraps his arms around Yohan's shoulders, he holds the knight closer. It has been so long. So long since he had wished and prayed for this moment to arrive.

Sol tells him everything: from the first vision where Yohan was but a mere silhouette, even though his voice was clear as the sound of water flowing down a stream. To the vividness of his image that revealed itself to Sol, slowly throughout the years, until Sol could bask in him fully like he does tonight.

Before long, Yohan is laughing and kissing him, leaving little gentle touches up across Sol's spine, down his arms. Sol sighs against his lips.

He remembers his fear of what will happen after—of the world that awaits them both beyond the visions—but Sol is pulled into Yohan's orbit like stars follow the moon. He wants to disappear inside him, to create something new out of every piece of themselves they both grieved tonight, until they are a constellation, two tangled bodies who refuse to yield to this always trying world; which time and again tries to bend them at its will. Being together like this, is an act of resistance.

A symbol of freedom.

Rebirth.

"Yohan. Yohan, "

Sol pants, as the two of them shift, tumbling, lost to the kisses they share—Sol finds himself straddling Yohan's waist, he feels the knight's erection pressed to his cunt, and lets himself melt into him. He has waited for this day, for years; to finally feel him like this, to know Yohan isn't a dream that will evaporate from existence, once he wakes…

Sol doesn't want to pull away.

And, judging from the desperate look of wanting Yohan is giving him, neither does his lover.

"Sol."

Yohan cradles the back of Sol's head in his palm. His breaths fall hot, onto Sol's lips, before they kiss again. Again . And Sol moans into the knight's mouth, never has he heard himself make a sound so filled with the appetite of lust; then again, his head has never spun like so, from being kissed alone. Yohan has engulfed his senses in velvet warmth. And Sol hungers to yield. To the feel of Yohan. On top of him. Touching him. Loving him.

"Touch me,"

Sol whispers. "Yohan."

He shuts his eyes. "Touch me. Please. "

There is a silence, Sol's deep exhale after his plea, answered by the feel of Yohan's large, warm palm that slides down his back and comes to rest atop his waist.

Yohan is in no rush, and Sol likes that. He likes that Yohan waits, just a moment, before slipping his fingers up Sol's robe. He likes it, when Yohan rubs gentle, slow circles into his bare skin. Being touched by him is as exhilarating as it is a comfort. Sol's heart races—for once, not with fear, but anticipation—and he wonders if this is what safety is meant to be.

If this, is love.

Sol wants to sink, deeper into him—to drink and to be drunk on all the pleasures his knight has to offer. Yet, as he relaxes, so does his mind tangle into a wild, unpredictable thing. One minute, Sol is tugging at Yohan's shirt, urging the knight to slip his tongue into his mouth.

The next, Sol is frozen—filled by a dread that makes his legs as heavy as stone. "Sol?"

Yohan's voice is tender enough to serve as reassurance, the deep rumble of his words reminds Sol how to breathe again.

But he is trembling now. His blood cooled with a venom of scorn for his own self. I was doing so well, Sol thinks. And yet! And yet—

"My love, breathe,"

Yohan threads his fingers through Sol's hair—he cradles him closer, his lips meeting with Sol's forehead. It's warm. "You're safe."

It's warm, and Sol blinks.

Yohan's so warm.

"Yohan,"

Sol whispers, as he clings to the fabric of the knight's shirt that falls over the broadness of his chest. "I-I— I want to do it with you, I want to be closer to you. But I…"

He buries his face into the crook of Yohan's shoulder, his voice soft, when he mumbles the words, "I don't know how."

Yohan embraces him ‘til no space remains between them. His strong, muscular arms are a safety net to Sol's fears. Yohan kisses Sol, from his eyelids to the tip of his fingers, he washes away the tension that had lived in Sol's body with the sweet brush of his lips. "We will figure it out."

The knight presses his mouth softly to the corner of Sol's lips. He gives Sol's hand a caring, tender squeeze. "Together, I promise you."

And Sol is so full of joy he fears he may cry, in fact, he does. "Yohan."

Sol rests his head against the knight's deft shoulders. "I like this."

He runs his mouth across Yohan's neck, then breathes words so soft and silent, that he wonders if Yohan will even hear. "I like you."

Yet, when Yohan's lips find his cheek, the knight smiles. "I like you, too, sweetest."

He thumbs at Sol's jaw, and Sol cannot resist leaning in to kiss his lover.

"I have an idea,"

Yohan says, before he leans in, to utter sweet ideas in Sol's ear. And at his knight's suggestions, Sol's face reddens. Yet, he finds, that he quite wants to try.

"I'd…"

Sol bites into his lower lip as he nods. "That sounds… pleasant, actually."

He surprises himself by saying the words, but it is true.

Yohan leaves one final little peck against Sol's forehead. "Tell me if you ever want to stop, my heart,"

he hugs Sol tightly, "we won't do anything you don't want to, I promise."

The words warm Sol's chest as Yohan urges him onto his back, two hands deftly pressed to Sol's waist. Yohan moves slowly, steadily until he is between Sol's knees, undressing Sol from the waist down; he slips Sol's undergarments down his legs.

Sol looks to him, expectant, a tad over-excited yet nervous. His heart is beating loudly in his throat like footsteps nearing toward a door Sol prays Yohan will open. "May I?"

The knight's eyes meet Sol's anew. He is waiting, patient, as Sol's thighs tremble beside his head.

Sol gulps, he takes a small moment to recollect his bearings; eventually, he nods and Yohan reaches for his hands. He threads their fingers together.

Yohan dips his head downward, until his breaths ghost against Sol's sweetest warmth and Sol shivers, he bites into his lip again to try and keep his voice down, yet a whimper escapes him anyway. And, Gods, does it feel good. His mind is flooded with memories of the visions— how many years had he longed for this? Being close to Yohan, being touched by Yohan, being here in this man's strong, loving arms.

"Relax, my handsome man,"

Yohan whispers as he stares at Sol through lidded eyes, he leans forward to kiss , all across Sol's warmth. And Sol does not expect this—the gentleness, the way the knight takes his time, it is different from his dreams. It is so much more. "Want me to suck your cock, sweetest?"

Yohan asks, and Sol's eyes roll to the back of his head.

" Please, "

Sol gasps before Yohan's mouth is on him fully. " Gods. "

Sol chokes on a moan, he squeezes Yohan's hands. His breaths quicken then hitch, when Yohan enters him with his tongue. " Gods. "

The feel of him is hot and mellow, and Sol's his back arches, he unravels into the knight's touch. "I-I'm—"

Sol tenses. "I'm gonna—"

He holds his breath. What if something goes wrong? What if he can't climax properly?

What if—

Perhaps, Yohan notices the way Sol's brows arch up in worry, for the knight hushes him. "Sol,"

he whispers. "It is all right. Let it consume you—I have you."

"O-Oh—"

Sol blinks away his tears of pleasure that slip down his cheeks as he stares down to Yohan, he hadn't realized how taut his body had been until Yohan's soft, encouraging words help him breathe again. And they are all he needs, before he is shutting his eyes again, coming with Yohan's tongue pushed, deep inside him—and the fleeting thought that the knight can feel everything briefly flitters through him; but that self-conscious worry is soon replaced by a numb, celestial heat when Sol whimpers Yohan's name, over again like an odd prayer. "Yohan. Yohan. "

Yohan , Sol's mind is full of him, tears line his eyes anew; ones that Yohan soon wipes away as he brings Sol in for a cuddle against his chest, whilst Sol catches his breaths. "That was…"

"Pleasant?"

Sol flutters his eyelids upon hearing the word, he laughs. "More than pleasant."

Sol presses a kiss to the knight's jawline. "It was the first time I'd…"

Sol pauses, " felt that in years."

A brief, pained expression flashes across the knight's face before it disappears, as quick as it had arrived.

"Say,"

Sol mutters again through a groan. He shuts his eyes. He rests an open palm atop Yohan's heart and concentrates on the knight's pulse. Yohan's erection presses into the curve of his pubis. "Should I take care of it for you?"

There is a pause and then, Yohan kisses the crown of Sol's head yet again. "Do you want to?"

Sol does. Truly, there is nothing he wants more. But…

Tonight has been quite a lot.

He tenses against Yohan as he wonders what he should do, what he should say, but Yohan speaks up before Sol even has a chance to articulate an answer.

"We don't have to do everything today, my heart."

Yohan glances down at Sol with a caring look of kindness, a smile. "It is okay to take your time, we've more than enough years, after all."

The knight's face pales as he speaks the words, as if he has said something wrong. Yohan tenses.

He clears his throat then adds, "If…that is what you want, of course."

And… Oh , Sol realizes.

That is what this is about.

Sol takes Yohan's hand, he brings the knight's fingers to his mouth. "Yohan, being with you brings me much joy and glee—I'd like to see where this goes, too."

He shows Yohan an earnest grin. And the two hug again.

And they kiss again for hours that night, before finally falling asleep, under the rain.