A soft knock pulled him from his thoughts.

  Aldon froze mid-step, one hand resting on the edge of an open drawer.

  The clock on the wall ticked—once. Twice. Three times.

  Another knock followed. Quieter this time. Hesitant. Familiar.

  He didn’t move right away.

  Didn’t breathe.

  Because somehow—he already knew.

  Touya stood in the doorway like a ghost. His coat clung to him, his skin was paler than usual, scars spreading further than they used to. Hair white like snow. His eyes, those impossibly bright blue eyes, locked with Aldon's.

  Neither of them spoke.

  Touya stepped in without a word, brushing past him, his shoulders heavy with exhaustion. He dropped his coat on the arm of the couch and sat down, hands csped between his knees. Aldon followed him slowly, closing the door behind him.

  The silence stretched.

  Touya finally broke it. “You stayed behind.”

  “I couldn’t just leave,” Aldon said softly, sitting down beside him. “Even if I can’t fight like I used to, there are people who still need help.”

  Touya nodded, staring at the floor.

  Aldon smiled faintly. “You came.”

  “Of course I did.” Touya’s voice cracked slightly. “I didn’t want to leave without goodbye.”

  Aldon’s breath caught.

  His throat tightened.

  “…So this is it?” he asked.

  Touya didn’t answer right away. He stared down at his hands, burned and cracked at the knuckles.

  “I’ll only say it once, so don’t make me repeat it,” he muttered. “Thank you, Aldon.”

  Aldon blinked.

  Touya’s voice was raw.

  “I can’t undo what I’ve done. I’ve hurt people. Killed them. Watched them burn and never looked back. And I tried to… for a while… pretend I could live in the present. That maybe I wasn’t beyond saving.”

  His fingers tightened around each other.

  “You were that present, Aldon.”

  A breath left him. Bitter and quiet.

  “Your project…”

  Aldon stilled.

  Touya’s lips twitched into something painful and soft. “It made me believe—just for a second—that maybe I could have a pce in that kind of world. A second chance.”

  He swallowed.

  “But that was stupid. There’s no way back for me. Not anymore.”

  Aldon reached out instinctively, pcing his hand over Touya’s. And the other man didn’t pull away.

  “You’re wrong,” Aldon whispered.

  “No,” Touya said, shaking his head. “I’m not. I don’t regret trying. I regret waiting so long.”

  His gaze dropped, and for a moment, he seemed far away—lost in memory, in something deeper than just the war.

  “I should’ve looked for you when I escaped that pce,” he said quietly. “I thought about it. A lot. You were the one good thing I remembered… but I didn’t know if you'd still be here. Or if you’d already forgotten me.”

  Aldon didn’t move, didn’t breathe.

  Touya’s voice wavered. “I convinced myself you were better off without me. That even if I found you, I’d ruin everything.”

  He ughed bitterly, no humor in it.

  “Turns out I ruined everything anyway.”

  His gaze drifted to Aldon’s face again, quieter now.

  “You saw something in me no one else did. You made me feel like… like maybe I wasn’t just built for destruction.”

  He let out a broken ugh. “God, that sounds so fucking cheesy.”

  Aldon shook his head. “It’s not.”

  “I’ve never let anyone in like I did with you,” Touya said. “You saw all of it—ugly and worse. And you still stayed.”

  “You didn’t scare me,” Aldon whispered. “Not once.”

  Touya’s eyes shimmered, the edges reddening.

  “For so long, I told myself I didn’t need anyone. And then you… you came along and fucked that up.”

  He ughed again—wet and quiet.

  “I started wanting things. Wanting you. Wanting mornings. Chocote. Stupid walks. You made me think I could have more.”

  Aldon reached out and cradled his cheek.

  “You can.”

  “I don’t deserve it.”

  “You do.”

  Touya’s breath trembled. He leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed.

  A single tear rolled down his cheek—deep red. He wiped it away roughly.

  “Are you okay?” Aldon asked, his voice cracking.

  Touya smirked weakly. “You’re crying more than me, you know.”

  Aldon ughed through the tears. “We’re a mess.”

  Touya exhaled slowly. “You made me happy, firefly. Happier than I ever thought I’d be.”

  A moment passed.

  “But now we’re walking two different roads.”

  Aldon shook his head. “They don’t have to be.”

  Touya looked at him—and then, suddenly, without thinking—

  He kissed him.

  It wasn’t perfect. It was desperate. Raw. Their lips crashed together like two people trying to say everything they’d been too afraid to say aloud.

  Aldon clung to him, hands in his shirt, heart breaking.

  When they pulled apart, both breathless and trembling, Aldon whispered, “Promise me you’ll come back. I don’t care what I lose—my job, my license, any of it. I just want to see you again.”

  Touya didn’t answer right away.

  His gaze dropped to Aldon’s lips, then to his hand, still resting over his chest like he was grounding himself there.

  “I can’t promise that,” he said quietly. “You know I can’t.”

  Aldon’s eyes stung, but he nodded, lips pressing into a thin line.

  Touya reached out, brushing his knuckles along Aldon’s jaw. “But I’ll remember this. All of it. Even if everything else hurts, this won’t.”

  Aldon’s breath caught.

  “I’ll carry you with me,” Touya said, voice hoarse. “Wherever I end up.”

  It wasn’t a promise.

  It was something heavier.

  Something more honest.

  And somehow, that hurt even more.

  Aldon leaned into his touch, closing his eyes as a tear slipped free. “Then I’ll wait. However long it takes.”

  Their foreheads touched again, tears slipping freely now.

  “I think we love each other,” Aldon breathed.

  Touya gave a breathy ugh. “You think?”

  “I know we do.”

  Touya chuckled, eyes half-lidded. “Yeah... I think we do. You’re a hero, and I’m a vilin, but what does it matter anymore?”

  He pulled Aldon close, lips pressing against his forehead.

  “We’re just two fuckers in love,” he whispered.

  Aldon ughed softly, but it cracked mid-breath—too full of everything he was feeling.

  They sat there in the quiet, forehead to forehead, like the world might stop spinning if they let go.

  And then Touya exhaled, slow and shaking, as if something inside him had just unraveled.

  He lifted his hand—tentative—and brushed a strand of hair from Aldon’s face.

  “I don’t want it to end here,” he murmured.

  Aldon leaned into the touch. “Then let’s make this moment count.”

  Touya nodded once, as if that was all he needed.

  He leaned forward again—not rushed this time, not desperate—just present. His lips brushed against Aldon’s with the kind of gentleness that broke more than violence ever could.

  And with that single kiss, the space between them changed.

  Touya’s hands, calloused and hesitant, slid around Aldon’s waist. Each movement was ced with a tension he couldn’t quite hide. His touch was warm, real, trembling. And in that trembling, Aldon felt everything—hunger, reverence, grief.

  This wasn’t about desire. Not really. This was a quiet confession in the nguage of skin.

  Aldon pulled back just far enough to meet his eyes. His thumb brushed beneath Touya’s chin, tilting it gently upward until their foreheads touched. “Touya,” he whispered, so soft it barely reached the air between them.

  Touya blinked, shes low. “Yeah?”

  “Have you ever…?”

  Touya’s eyes flickered with something startled and soft, the kind of expression Aldon rarely saw. He swallowed once, then shook his head. “No. Never wanted to.” His voice cracked with a wry edge. “Never thought I’d live long enough for it to matter.”

  Aldon’s heart clenched. He cupped Touya’s face, letting his thumb brush over the scarred skin with care. “You matter now,” he whispered. “To me.”

  Aldon kissed the corner of his mouth—soft, slow, a promise etched in warmth. Then his cheek. His jaw. His throat. Every press of lips was a vow: I won’t hurt you. I’ll help you through this. You’re safe.

  “Let me show you,” Aldon breathed, voice trembling against Touya’s skin. “We don’t have to rush. Just… stay.”

  Touya didn’t speak. He just nodded.

  His hands were shaking as Aldon guided them to the hem of his shirt. Aldon helped him lift it, never looking away, never pushing. Clothes slipped away in stages—quietly, reverently—like unwrapping something once believed unreachable. Skin met skin, scar to scar, heartbeat to heartbeat.

  The air thickened with shared breath and soft exhales.

  Touya’s scars—those jagged, burnt remnants of survival—were not flinched from. Aldon kissed them like they were consteltions, mapping his way across the sky of Touya’s body.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered against his colrbone.

  Touya let out a choked ugh, half-sob. “Don’t lie to me,” he murmured. “Please.”

  “I’m not,” Aldon whispered. “You are.”

  Touya didn’t believe him. Not really. But he let himself be held anyway.

  When they moved to the bed, it was slow. Careful. The world outside the bnkets didn’t exist. There was no war, no blood, no vilins or heroes. Just warmth. Just breath. Just them.

  Aldon took his time.

  Every kiss. Every touch. Deliberate.

  Touya’s hands hovered—unsure, afraid. But Aldon whispered gently, guiding him with touches so soft they felt like silk. “You’re okay,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

  And eventually, Touya let go.

  His breathing stuttered as Aldon touched him, as heat built in quiet waves, but he didn’t pull away. He leaned into it, into Aldon, like he was anchoring himself to something real. Something alive.

  “I’ve never been touched like this before,” he admitted quietly.

  “You deserve to be,” Aldon replied, kissing his temple. “Let yourself feel it. Just be here. With me.”

  Touya nodded.

  And when he moved atop Aldon—slow, unsure—their eyes met again.

  The first push was hesitant, almost clumsy, but Aldon gasped—not from pain, but from the weight of the moment, the intimacy. The truth of it.

  Touya froze. “Did I—? Did I hurt you?”

  Aldon’s eyes brimmed with tears. “No,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Not at all…”

  He held onto him tightly. “I just… I’m scared. I don’t want this to be the st time. I don’t want to lose you.”

  Touya’s hand cupped his cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears with almost sacred care.

  “You won’t,” he said softly.

  Then, after a breath—quieter, rougher, like the words had to break through yers of fear and doubt to escape—

  “You’re the only one who makes my heart feel like it’s still beating.”

  Aldon’s breath hitched.

  His hands fisted in the sheets, in anything he could hold on to—as if letting go would shatter something between them.

  Their foreheads met again, pressed together in quiet desperation, and Touya moved slowly—every motion careful, reverent. Like a man who had never believed in softness until now.

  It wasn’t perfect.

  But it was real.

  And when it was over, and the world had fallen silent around them, they didn’t speak.

  They simply stayed there—bodies tangled, hearts loud in the quiet.

  Touya colpsed gently onto Aldon’s chest, his cheek resting over the soft, steady thrum of his heartbeat.

  Then after a few moments, slowly, he shifted.

  Not away—but closer.

  He slid beside Aldon, one arm wrapping gently around his waist. Aldon turned into the hold, tucked safely in Touya’s arms, their legs brushing, chests rising in unison. Their fingers found each other in the space between them, intertwining.

  Silence stretched—comfortable.

  Then, warmth.

  Faint blue flickers sparked to life at Touya’s fingertips.

  Tiny fmes, soft as candlelight, curled upward between their joined hands—hot, but not burning.

  As the fmes twirled between them, Aldon smiled faintly. “Do you remember… when we were kids? That day on Sekoto Peak?”

  Touya’s brows drew together slightly. “Which one?”

  “The first time I touched your fire,” Aldon murmured. “I was scared. But you told me it wouldn’t burn me. And I made those little butterflies… out of your fmes.”

  Touya’s eyes widened with quiet wonder, the memory flickering back in a wave of warmth.

  “You saved me,” Aldon continued. “You might find it weird but, you are my hero.”

  Touya’s breath hitched, a flicker of disbelief and something far more fragile crossing his face. He looked away for half a second—just long enough to gather himself—then turned back.

  The blue fme glowed brighter for a heartbeat—then softened again, curling gently around Aldon’s wrist before fading into his skin.

  Touya blinked. “You’re… taking it?”

  Aldon nodded, voice quiet, almost shy. “If this is our st night… I want to keep a piece of you inside me. Your fme. Your warmth. Something no one can take away.”

  Touya shifted closer, their foreheads pressing together as the st of the fire faded into Aldon’s skin.

  Touya lingered there, his breath warm against Aldon’s lips. His voice trembled when he spoke next—like it came from the deepest pce inside him.

  “If I don’t make it out…” he began, but faltered.

  Aldon’s fingers tightened around his.

  Touya swallowed hard and continued. “Promise me you’ll keep living anyway. Even if it hurts. Even if I’m gone. Keep going—for me.”

  Aldon opened his mouth, but no sound came. His throat was too tight, his heart too full. All he could do was nod, eyes gssy with unshed tears.

  Touya exhaled shakily, like he’d been holding that in for too long. Then, softer—like a secret meant only for Aldon:

  “In the next life, I’ll find you first. I swear it. I’ll find you, and I’ll love you sooner. Better.”

  Aldon’s breath hitched.

  “And maybe then,” Touya whispered, “we’ll have more time.”

  “I love you,” he whispered, voice raw, stripped bare.

  Aldon blinked, his breath catching. “I love you too.”

  And with their fingers still ced, their bodies warm in each other’s arms, they let the night cradle them.

  No war.

  Just two souls wrapped around each other—heart to heart, fme to fme—falling asleep in the kind of silence that only love could create.