7

Sol loves the fresh, mountainside air. However, what he does not appreciate, is what the mountains have done to his now- aching back. He crouches over and kneels amid their temporary campsite, as he picks at the ground. "When I get home, I'm going to take the longest bath…"

Sol is already fantasizing about the concoctions he so often creates with the potion shop's leftovers—one of them that he invented early in his time as Androles' apprentice, is a potion that warms water and gives it a nice rose scent, and Sol simply cannot wait to get a hold of it again—but before that, his mind wanders briefly to last night.

To Yohan. And how the knight touched him.

Sol isn't sure what he is doing, here, messing around with this man he has—in theory—only just met.

This journey is like a strange cocoon, and Sol feels as though he is growing his wings.

He pauses to ponder on the thought, when the odd sound of uncoordinated clank, and clinks of cooking pans catches his attention. Sol turns his head to his left, a little further into their camp, where Yohan is neatly packing away all their leftover food from this morning and taking down his cooking pot. The way he moves is meticulous. Sol wonders how often he has had to do this in the past. "You know,"

Sol observes him from afar. "Your attention to detail is impeccable."

"It has to be,"

Yohan tells him with a casual hum as he wraps the bread they'd used for breakfast back inside a clean cloth, before popping it into his satchel. "‘Else I doubt I'd be very good at fulfilling my duties nor my dream once I retire."

Sol falls silent; the world seems to speak to him louder than usual, as the rural sounds from the forest and fauna all around permeate his ears. "Dream?"

He blinks, and then tilts his head sideways. "What dream?"

"I did not tell you?"

Yohan shuts his bag again. He rises to his feet with a contented huff and stares at his handiwork, a satisfied grin taking his features before he looks back to Sol once more. "I'm opening a tea house."

The wind carries a leaf which flies between them, as Yohan's declaration settles in the air.

"Really?"

Sol steps forth, his fist is pressed close to his own heart, and he holds it there in wait of Yohan's reply. "Where?"

"I was considering Featherlaine, actually."

Well, that does make sense, Sol supposes. "But, why a tea house, out of all things?"

Yohan hooks an arm around the back of his own neck, an awkward snicker escapes him. "During my first year as a Rider, the palace walls never truly felt like home. But,"

the knight smiles again, as if recalling a fond memory, "whenever I'd travel to isolated villages or towns, and stumble upon a teahouse there—it was always a comforting sight."

Yohan rests his palms against his hips, he huffs. "It would not be an exaggeration to say I made my most fond memories there… bringing that kind of comfort to even one weary traveler seems like a nice way to live out the rest of my life. Not to mention"—he rests a fist to his lips then clears his throat once more—" I think I could very well use the sense of normalcy it could bring me: no strange creatures to summon, no cursed lands to roam, no life or death missions, only… little cakes to arrange in the morning, flowers to water before your shop opens, and herbs to crush on the daily."

Yohan sighs like he is lost to a pleasant dream. "How I long for those simple days."

"I'm not sure if it's that simple,"

Sol mutters whilst he strides up to Yohan. "Running a shop's a lot of work, you know."

He stares up at the knight. "But if anyone can do it—I'm sure it'll be you, Yohan."

As he watches the knight's cheeks flush deep carmine at the compliment, Sol leans in to wrap his arms around the knight's waist then holds him there, for a moment. "And, I agree."

Sol's lips break into a smile. "Our town definitely needs a place like that."

"Would—"

It is sudden, yet Yohan sounds a tad choked up. "Would you…"

Sol pulls away to glance up at his knight "Would I?"

he asks with his hands posed across the crook of Yohan's elbows; it is then that Sol notices the beet red flush in Yohan's face has darkened, and Sol chuckles with a raised, playful brow. "Would I what, lover?"

"Would you be my first customer?"

At the knight's blurted question Sol cannot help but frown, before the light, soft sound of his laughter is carried by the wind across blooming spring fields. "Yohan,"

Sol wipes a tear of joy away from his eyelid. "You truly needn't ask."

As he stands on the tips of his toes then slips his arms around Yohan's shoulders this time, Sol giggles again, beside the knight's ear. He presses a chaste kiss to the knight's cheek. "But I would be happy to, beloved."

Then, Sol pauses. He blinks—whispers, "You're hard again, Yohan."

The sigh Yohan lets out is long, desperate and slow. "I know,"

the knight's voice is hushed, tangled with the smother of morning lust.

Sol finds himself longing to touch him now. "Yohan,"

Sol rests his head against Yohan's heart; it is beating so loudly. "Can I?"

he asks in a mumbled tone, his lips pressed to the knight's chest.

Yohan peers around at their environs; the clothes they'd hung up to dry at dawn, that are all still slightly damp; the half-packed campsite whose air is tinged with the faint burning of ashes from this morning's firewood; every little sign of a life that has been lived between them. Yohan hums, before he leans down to embrace Sol—and Sol thinks he will never get enough of this semblance of safety that being in the knight's arms brings him.

"I suppose, we have time."

Yohan threads their fingers together. He leads Sol by the hand, towards the abandoned barn they had slept in last night. Beneath their feet a twig crackles in two. Sol follows him in; the scent of dry hay that fills the air anew has always been an odd respite to him.

As Yohan takes a seat on a square hay bale, Sol kneels by the knight's boots.

"Oh. Sol."

Yohan brings a hand to Sol's cheek. "You do not have to—"

"I want to."

Sol meets the knight's gaze again; there is a fire in his eyes. "Can I?"

he asks Yohan.

Yohan's face sinks deeper into his own hand. "I might not last very long if you were to…"

he grumbles, "do that. But—"

Yohan reaches for the belt strung around his pants, he unbuckles sterling silver that is soon undone with a brief clank. "You may,"

he tells Sol with his face red, his hair disheveled as it falls to cover his eyes.

Yohan takes his cock out of his pants, right before Sol's face. And Sol watches, he thinks, Ah, so that is what it looks like. Of course, he had seen medical diagrams in the past, and the visions gave him somewhat of an idea, still… "You look… very handsome, Yohan,"

he blurts without giving it second thought.

"Th-Thank you—"

Yohan hisses whilst he squeezes at the base of his erection, he leans back with another sigh, his eyes flutter shut.

At the sight of Yohan letting go of himself, leaning backwards with his shoulders now pressed to the wall in a vulnerable show, Sol feels himself soak through his breeches. He didn't expect the knight's manhood to find him squirming and pressing his thighs together like this. But it is exciting, and fun, and Sol cannot help the smile that tugs at his lips that he licks with deep anticipation. At first, Sol reaches for Yohan with a hesitant, gentle grip.

But when he starts to move, Yohan's breaths grow heavy as he pants, Sol rubs his fingers across the tip of his slick wet cock. The knight throws his head back—he thrusts, on instinct, into Sol's hand.

Sol feels Yohan's pulse race across the vein that travels up the girth of his cock. He continues to rub him between his hands, gratified by every reaction, every moan and twinge of the lip this gets out of Yohan. The flush in Yohan's face, the way his hair falls in a perfect mess across his forehead will forever be etched into Sol's memory. "You're so handsome, Yohan,"

he whispers, sweet arousal tugging his mouth back into a grin again as he continues to touch Yohan with a soft, attentive caress.

Yohan reaches for Sol's face—he runs his fingers through Sol's hair. "You are, too,"

he tells Sol with a languid smile as he looks to Sol, his eyes lidded by arousal. "Such a handsome man— ah. "

A meagre, awkward laugh leaves Sol's lips. If he is honest with himself, even when Yohan compliments him in such ways, it feels hard to believe. "You keep saying that."

Sol lowers his gaze. "You know, you don't have to lie."

"Lie?"

"I know that I don't…"

Sol traps his lower lip between his teeth. "Most people would think I am more pretty than handsome."

Now, it is Sol's face that Yohan cups with his palm. "And?"

the knight asks, as Sol continues to kneel before him. "Am I not allowed to see the man in you, Sol?"

Sol feels Yohan twitch between his hand.

There is a moment of silence between them, until the knight mumbles again between his rugged pants, "Am I not?"

Yohan's brows arch upward in a meek show of concern.

Sol's face warms at the words, without giving it much thought, he continues to rub at Yohan's tip with three of his fingers; as he mutters the words under his breaths, "Then, I wish I had your eyes…"

Because I don't see him yet , Sol thinks.

Not like that.

And it's upsetting.

"Oh—Gods, Sol, "

Yohan moans, his thighs tremble, he thrusts into Sol's hand. "S-Sorry."

The knight chuckles then smirks, before he faces Sol once more as he tries to regain his bearings—only for Sol to work at his cock until it is spilling, translucent pearl spread onto his fingertips. "What was it that you said?"

he pants. "I was a little"—he fucks into Sol's hand again with a grunt—"distracted."

But Sol shakes his head. "Nothing."

Nevermind. He pumps Yohan's cock harder, then parts his lips at the sight of every bead of slick heat slipping down the knight's erection. "Wow, a lot came out."

"Of course, that would happen…"

Yohan sounds a lot more flustered than what Sol would have expected. "I've not…"

Sol's knight brings a palm to cover his face, then groans in what sounds like both pleasure and mild embarrassment. "It has… It has been a while for me, too."

"Oh."

Sol supposes it never occurred to him. "Are you like me?"

"Not exactly."

Yohan sighs into his palm again; Sol watches the steady rise and fall of his chest. "However abstinence, and everything in between, has made this entire journey feel like a moment of firsts once more."

"I see."

Sol smirks. He leans forward, until his lips are dangerously close to Yohan's cock. He wonders what it would feel like for Yohan to be inside him. His beloved is so big and warm… Sol imagines himself straddling Yohan's hips, slipping his breeches off, then pushing Yohan into his heat. He stares up at the knight. "Your cock arouses me so much…"

He loves how Yohan twitches at his confession.

As Sol draws circles around the head of Yohan's cock, he observes with pure delight when Yohan's come sticks to his fingers. He breathes, hot puffs onto the knight's slick, before he parts his lips then licks his own fingers clean.

Yohan's breaths quicken.

Ah , Sol thinks, what is this feeling? He is having too much fun. He never thought sex could be like this . He wants to wrap his lips around Yohan's cock and watch the man unravel beneath him. Perhaps, Yohan guesses what is on Sol's mind with a single look at his face, for the knight starts panting as keeps Sol's gaze; his cock twitches again and more thick white seed spills down his erection, Sol has rarely seen him look so aroused.

The expression on Yohan's face does things to Sol that drive him to a lust he hadn't known he owned. He wants to have this man.

He wants him.

He wants him.

He needs him.

"Sol, I am—"

Yohan tries to pull away, however both he and Sol are too lost swimming in their own excitement, to be quick enough to do so. Yohan comes with a growl, all over himself and his armor, and on Sol's face, too. " Shit, "

the knight looks to the world around him in daze. "Fuck, I apologize, there's so much—"

But Sol begins to lick the knight's seed off his lips. "I knew this might happen when I kneeled for you."

He is indifferent, albeit a little proud and happy, that he was able to make Yohan climax like this. He smiles as he stares up to his knight again. "I don't mind it, Yohan."

"Still—"

Yohan thumbs at Sol's cheek, and accidentally drags some of his come along with the movement. "We should go clean ourselves up."

Yohan pauses, before he leans down to kiss Sol, loving and slow. "Thank you, Sol, that was…"

Sol tilts his head. "Yes?"

Yohan looks away from him, he lowers his voice. "I've never felt as wanted as that."

Sol parts his lips, he considers reminding Yohan that he has pined for him for years now, yet he settles for merely embracing the knight with all his strength. There will be time for that talk later. "I want you more every day."

It is Sol's truth. And it scares him, sometimes.

Yohan doesn't reply with words, instead he rests his face into the crook of Sol's shoulder and holds him close. "Sol,"

he whispers, after a moment—and there is so much love, so much intimate longing in his tone, that Sol feels as though the knight's voice embraces him alone. " Sol. "

He cannot say for how long it is that they remain this way, yet the two of them linger well past the sunrise, lost to each other's warmth as they exchange the heat of each other's skinship, body and soul.

At some point, Sol rests his head against Yohan's thigh and watches, silent, when Yohan becomes erect again. A wanting stirs inside him. "Yohan,"

he whispers, whilst clenching his thighs together. "I want…to feel you in my mouth."

"My heart,"

Yohan traps chestnut strands between his fingers then pushes, tucks the hair back behind Sol's ear. "Stop whenever you want,"

he whispers before he runs his hand through Sol's hair and lets it rest there, tender, against his head. "All right?"

Sol's eyes flutter until they are half-lidded again, and his gaze fills with hunger, excitement . He slowly kisses Yohan's cock in a tentative manner as Yohan holds his hair, the knight strokes the crown of his head in gentle encouraging motions. Soon, Yohan lets out a heavy breath—in it, Sol can hear tension; how the knight is holding back, likely from moving, thrusting into his mouth.

When Sol has gathered the confidence, he parts his lips and drags his tongue across the thick vein running down Yohan's cock—and it is then that Sol feels Yohan shiver.

Yohan bites down on the growl that reverberates in his throat—the low, drawn out sounds he makes whenever Sol licks him in every right place only feeds Sol's cravings for this man. Sol presses his lips to Yohan's balls in a soft kiss before he sucks on the knight's wet cock again, he is consumed with a growing appetite and greed to experience his lover, who twitches in his mouth, spurting hot nectar down his throat. "Sol, you— "

Sol tilts his head forward then parts his lips again, he will taste every part of his beloved, until the memory, the weight of Yohan's cock heavy against his tongue is one he can feel on command. He moves, in a rhythm so slow that it is painful, however Sol yearns to take it all in. He looks Yohan in the eye as Yohan continues to caress his hair; he doesn't ever break away from his gaze.

The sloppy, wet sounds that fill the barn are indecent, Sol cannot believe his lips on Yohan's cock are the cause. He is finally, finally indulging in the man of his dreams, and oh how divine that is. He suckles on the tip of Yohan's manhood, licks circles into the perfect cleft of his cock, like he had pictured himself doing so many a time in his imagination— but none of those visions could ever compare to the real thing. Not when Sol can glance upward and be treated to the sight of Yohan being undone by his lips; the knight's face reddening, his mouth aquiver as he grunts, Yohan's eyes cross slightly for an instant before he keels over with another gasp. Yohan briefly squeezes Sol's hair and then, the warmth hits Sol's tongue.

The taste is unique, to say the least, but Sol swallows everything like a parched man.

When he pulls away from the knight, a content smirk is smeared across Sol's mouth. "That was fun."

Sol glances up to Yohan, who is still catching his breaths.

He reaches out, to lock his and the knight's fingers together. He tilts his head. "Yohan,"

Sol mumbles. "Was it good? I… I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Hurt me?"

A soft, breathy chuckle leaves Yohan. "Now, where did that idea come from?"

Sol blinks, twice, before he looks away briefly from his lover; he thinks back to Yohan's face mere seconds ago. "You um… seemed like you were going through a lot. Physically."

Yohan leans in to kiss him. The knight's tongue pushes Sol's teeth apart—and soon, they are exploring each other's mouths, languid and slow.

When Yohan pulls away, he is smiling. "I was,"

he tells Sol, his voice is low and soft. "I was going through so much, my heart,"

he chuckles. "You've no idea. Nobody has ever… kissed my cock like that, as if it were my mouth."

Yohan reaches out to thumb at Sol's jawline. "It was quite the sensual display, and I was madly aroused."

Sol's face warms. As his shoulders give in to a flustered rise, he isn't sure what to do with himself anymore. Eventually, he leans forward to wrap his arms around his beloved knight's broad shoulders, then buries his face into the crook of Yohan's neck; the knight's scent is intoxicating. " Ah. "

Sol's voice is trembling as the morning's events all catch up to him. "I'm glad,"

he whispers. "I was as well, and I'd hoped…"

That you felt the same.

Amid the brightness of birdsong and the delicate sounds of a rustling nearby river, they remain in the barn for a couple minutes longer, until Yohan eventually rises to his feet.

Sol tries to follow in his footsteps—but his knees quiver then shake, almost giving under his weight before Yohan swiftly catches him, with one arm wound tight around his waist. "Dear heart, are you unwell?"

"I'm fine."

Sol shows his knight a weak grin. "I only got up too quickly, don't look so worried."

Sol reaches for Yohan to leave a caress of endearment against his cheek, when he shifts and notices an uncomfortable dampness in his undergarments; with a gulp, Sol makes a mental note to change his attire once they've both cleaned up.

The two opt to use the riverside for the sake of convenience and speed. For the first few seconds of their journey there, Sol leans against Yohan, until his legs do not feel as numb. Around them, the drifting sounds of nature's rustic beauty float through the air as Sol and Yohan walk through a minute patch of the forest. Sol wonders when it was that he started to find himself truly comfortable with the idea of depending on Yohan.

It all happened so naturally, as if it has always been.

And now, Sol looks forward to the days where they may grow ever closer. He yearns to dive into the ocean that Yohan is, despite all the risks, he wants to swim.

He wants to live.

He pours water on his face from the stream.

It is cold, and that is new, because for once Sol is not numb. He realizes he's been feeling a little more like himself lately. The world has more color than it once used to. The sounds all around are clearer. His heart is lighter to-day.

Yet, when Sol catches his reflection in the stream staring back at him in the visage of Solange, that very discomfort returns. He squints at the water then plunges his closing hand inside it, as if catching a bug, until his fist erases her reflection.

"What's wrong?"

Yohan's sudden voice slices his train of thought in two.

"H-Huh?"

Sol pulls away from the water, he blinks, his fingers are dripping wet as he stares at the knight. "Why would something be…"

Sol bites his lip, and down on the words. He supposes, there is no use in pretending—Yohan already knows.

As the water continues to flow downstream, ricocheting across its rocks within, Sol huffs and grasps at pieces of his hair between his thumb and forefinger that fall over his shoulders. "I want to cut it."

"Right now?"

Sol shakes his head. "Eventually."

He smiles. "One day."

Yohan nods. "Well, I'm sure it'll suit you,"

he returns Sol's grin then ruffles his hair. "You'll be even more handsome than you are now."

Idiot , Sol thinks. "You keep saying that…"

Even though Sol feels it isn't true. And yet it makes him happy, more grounded in some ways—Sol wonders if he may not be the fool, here, considering how good Yohan is able to make him feel with but a few trivial words. "We should get going,"

he mumbles, as he rises to his feet with his arms tense by his sides. "Our clothes are probably dry by now."

Sol shies away from Yohan's gaze. "And, Yohan?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Sol's fingertips dig into his palms, leaving pale crescent moons behind, he sighs, his voice soft. "I don't really know how to explain it— perhaps, it is silly to even say this —but traveling with you, and meeting you… I feel like you have opened my heart."

Yohan finds Sol's hand, he gives it a squeeze. As the birds continue singing in the sky, as the sun bathes the lands in golden light, Sol takes another breath. "Thank you."

I'm glad I met you.

* * *

One night over the campfire, Sol learns Yohan was a great consumer of his and Androcles' teashop brews before they eventually closed that odd chapter in their lives. As much as it amazes him how they'd been connected in more ways than he'd initially assumed, the rest of their travels are rather uneventful…

In the mornings, Yohan always kisses Sol long and slow, until they finally rouse hours later from their shared tent.

By noon, Sol already burns through great portions of his ingredients, that he grinds into a multitude of potions in the name of Yohan's King: crafting such intricate medicine on the road is far from easy and in fact quite the demanding task, however, Sol's mentor has taught him well. Sol finds himself grateful with each passing day, for the knowledge Androcles has left behind for him to use like some odd, invisible keepsake.

At dusk, Sol and Yohan always collapse from exhaustion—Sol, especially, sleeps like he has never slept before. It feels as though he is finally getting proper rest after all these years, despite the lack of any Gods damned potions his slumber weighs heavier than Yohan's, who spends most of his nights watching over their camp the closer their journey brings them to his King.

But, all of these things were yesterday's problems.

Today is different.

Today, they have finally arrived.

The city streets are bustling with more faces than Sol has seen in years—last time he was surrounded by such thick crowds, was back when he still studied magic in that wretched place . The air is thick with an uncomfortable heat, the pavement burns warm beneath his feet. There are so many people around, banners floating abovehead between buildings, and travelers visiting from afar for what seems to be an ongoing festival—the fear of running into an old, familiar face seeps into Sol's veins. A face he never wants to see again. A face he wishes he could forget.

Sol takes a step back on instinct—until he and the dark silhouette that once laid by his feet are hidden beneath a building's shadow, a little behind Yohan. Sol hugs his arms closer to his chest. "It's so noisy,"

he mutters.

"Come, then,"

Yohan tells him, as he holds out his hand for Sol to take. His smile is warm, welcoming, as he glances to where Sol stands. "The palace will be calmer."

Sol swallows, hard. He does not want to walk out in the open again, but… it isn't as though he can linger here all day. After staring at his boots in quiet dismay for another second, Sol eventually steps forward, then grabs Yohan's hand without ever looking back at the crowd.

"Gladly."

Sol would rather not know if his old mentors or comrades are around.

Yohan leads him through the city, past marketplaces where everything from fresh fruit to strange trinkets are proudly on display. Plenty more banners of color fly through the air, alongside wisps of confetti, all of them float thanks to the aid of magic. Yohan never lets go of Sol once, until they have made it past the celebratory chaos and Yohan has guided him to tall stone steps guarded by many a soldier, guards neatly aligned like perfect statues adorned in a wash of pristine silvers.

The weight of the medicine Sol has crafted suddenly weighs heavy in his satchel. The young apothecary gulps as he steps forward and prays that his skills alone will be enough to save the old King. Yet, before they even have the opportunity to enter the palace, a guard comes running toward Yohan. "Yohan!"

he calls out.

Sol observes the way Yohan's back tenses as the knight straightens up. It does not seem as though this meeting was planned. "Is—"

Yohan swallows, hard. "Is His Majesty—"

Dead? Sol wonders before Yohan can even speak the word. Deep dread washes over him as he stares at the hexagonal tiled pavement, there is a dizzying buzz in Sol's mind, the steps seem to give and swirl under his feet, it finds Sol wondering, Were they too late, after all?

"Nonsense!"

The soldier laughs, and suddenly, Sol can breathe again. "Don't look so serious. Man, you've always been so uptight! But we wouldn't let him die that easily—we merely moved him to his estate so that he may rest in a safer, quieter location until the festivities die down! I've come to escort you on his behalf, in his carriage. Royal orders, ye' hear."

The soldier nods Yohan's way. "You must be tired of traveling on foot, aye?"

He peers over Yohan's shoulder—right at Sol. "The young lady, too."

Sol tenses, and his heart aches. Walking through the wilderness by Yohan's side had been a respite from the assuming gazes of others. But now, it's happening again. "Yes…"

Sol shrinks in on himself. "I suppose…"

He doesn't mean to sound so dejected and empty when he speaks, but this entire hour has been akin to opening one's eyes and violently being ripped awake from a happy dream. Sol forces a smile as he wills himself to stare at the guard, he sinks again, into a lie whose weight he'd once gotten so used to carrying. "It would be nice, thank you."

Ah … Sol thinks to himself as his grin sours to a bittersweet quiver. This is so much more difficult now that he knows what freedom, what existing, feels like.

The guard walks on ahead and exclaims for them to follow with great enthusiasm, and Yohan takes Sol's hand in his. "Sol."

The knight sounds worried. "You could have told him, it was all right."

"I…"

Sol parts his lips, then stares at the ground in silence anew. "I don't want to cause trouble for you. Not when you're leaving so soon, too."

Yohan squeezes Sol's hand as he, in turn, lowers his voice to a whisper. "Sol, my heart, I understand where you're coming from but—please, do not hold your soul back from being itself for my sake. It would pain me more to know you are choosing my entourage's opinions over your own discomfort."

Yohan releases Sol's hand, then steps forward to follow their guide. "The King needs you, Sol."

Yohan clears his throat. "It feels wrong to say it this way, however… even if they were to have opinions about you, I doubt they would choose to voice them aloud, considering you are here to save His Majesty's life: they've no choice but to treat you as an honored guest."

Sol scoffs. "Right. But they could also threaten my life, keep me in a dungeon, and force me to work, and—"

Sol's breaths are quickening as his thoughts race. He needs to calm down. "I-I would have no choice in the matter, but to obey if I wanted a chance at surviving."

Yohan stops in his steps—as he pauses, his arms tense by his sides. "Sol,"

the knight glances at Sol from over his own shoulder. "Do you truly think I would let them take you? Do you truly think…"

Yohan reaches for Sol's wrist, then looks him in the eye. "That I would let them do that to you?"

Sol's brows arch in an upward pained manner. He had never even considered that Yohan may come to his aid; in his mind, he was still powerless, alone. "I…"

Sol averts his gaze away from Yohan's. "N-No. No, of course not, but it's hard not to question whether I've even earned the right to stand beside you. When I'm just…"

His voice trails off. Sol purses his lips together. Tears well in his eyes. Gods, please—he does not want to cry. Not now.

Yohan releases him before he rests a palm against Sol's shoulder. The weight and reassuring pressure of the knight's big strong hand causes Sol to look upwards, his lips agape in a vulnerable show. "Please,"

Yohan tells Sol in earnest, "be at ease, and make yourself at home"

He shows Sol an honest, welcoming smile. "You belong here just as much as anyone else does, Sol."

"Yohan? Miss?"

The soldier calls out from the top of the stairs. "Are you both well down there?"

Though Yohan's brow twitches, likely upon hearing the title of miss being applied to Sol again, he waves back effortlessly at the man. "We will be right there!"

Clearly, the knight is better at pretending than most would give him credit for.