Archive of Our Own

“You have got to be joking.”

Yun was sure that their current situation left no room for jest. But he agreed all the same.

Alas, the same lone bed did not magically duplicate itself into two no matter how much they stared at it. Or, in Elias’ case, glared. The night wasn’t young—a little past twelve, Yun guessed, which wasn’t all that unsurprising. The expedition had drawn out longer than expected, and it left them exhausted enough to reconsider traveling back. Today's operation didn't exactly happen that far from headquarters—only a few towns apart, in fact. But the idea of collapsing on a mattress and just straight up passing out as soon as possible easily triumphed over the effort to make the long trip. 

Spending the night at the nearest—and safest, Yun assured—lodgings was a unanimous decision, and frankly, they were too worn out to look any farther, nor were they bothered with how the inn they found was nearly packed and left with one vacancy. What did bother them, however, was the sudden realization that they either had to share the bed, or one was taking the floor. 

Silence stretched, unintended and empty, as they stood at the doorway. As if it could get even more comical, the quiet gave way to a song of crickets, drawing a contrast to the hustle and bustle of the townspeople half a day ago. Under normal circumstances, Yun would’ve broken out a laugh. But then again, there's only one bed, and he's pretty much as stuck as Elias was.

It took him a while to finally get his legs to move. He was just about dead on his feet, and his shoulders sagged when he set down his bag. He wordlessly studied the room, taking note of the minimal furniture—pointedly ignoring the blatant undersupply of proper sleeping accommodations—when Elias decided to break the silence. 

“I get the bed.”

Yun quickly bit back the groan threatening to tear out of his throat. If this were to escalate like any of their other arguments, he should be unleashing a monologue any second now about his superior contributions for the day. Not once had Elias ever one-upped him when it came to having things swerve into favor, anyway. But today's incident seemed increasingly adamant to weigh him down, both bodily and mentally, that he downright wouldn’t mind sleeping on any flat surface at this point. The floor it was, then.

“I take first use of the bathroom,” he declared, blindly digging into his bag for a change of clothes before making a beeline towards the door adjacent to the bed. 

Once he was sure that the door was locked behind him, he let himself lean against it, finally basking in a moment of reprieve. Gods, he was thoroughly drained. Everything that happened was almost a blurred montage, powered purely by a surge of adrenaline that’s now absent from his limbs. Exhaustion came at full force. His arms and legs were most likely adorned with bruises, if the soreness flaring up in his joints when he stretched were anything to go by. It’s going to be annoying to move for the next few days. 

The job hadn't exactly been difficult. It was just the usual info-gathering errand Yun preferred to do on his own—and by 'on his own', he meant to do it himself, but with Elias as the default extension. One couldn't be too careful, after all. 

Now, the arrival of government troops hadn’t exactly been an unforeseen prospect. A fight had broken out right when they were supposed to make their leave, and it left them no choice but to retaliate. Actively taking part in fieldwork was like throwing yourselves into the line of fire after all, and in hindsight, it was a risk they both knew they’d be forced to take now and then. 

What Yun hadn’t been expecting, however, was that when he made the order to fall back, a certain Everstied swordsman thought it was the brightest idea to turn deaf and engage. In a flurry of uniforms and clashes of steel, Elias crossing blades with the superior officer was the last thing Yun had seen before he found himself charging back in, intent on making his way through the skirmish and dragging the idiot away if push came to shove. It took one smoke grenade to disperse the men and grab ahold of him.

Disoriented by the smoke, the crowd hustled into a frenzy, and it made it easy for them to slip away without any more unnecessary conflict. There had been little to no resistance from Elias when Yun pulled him away. A little odd, thinking back on it now. Everything passed by in a blur after that.

Look, Elias Everstied was a man of reason, and probably a dash of composure. Yun knew that. The guy might come close to committing complete slaughter whenever Yun pushed the right buttons from time to time, but he’d never actually gotten to the point of downright abandoning rationality and his inherent poise in the face of trouble. So for him to lose both so suddenly in the midst of battle was enough to set off red, blaring alarms. 

They’ve been working together for months now, and Elias had never once acted out of recklessness ever since, even when he had his temper as a driving force. Elias was always prudent, and Yun could recount multiple instances to prove that. Of course, he also had the annoying tendency to act on his own, but he only ever did so when he’d come up with his own way of dealing with the situation. And whenever he did choose to act alone, he was always certain that it would work.  

What happened earlier was absolutely not dealing with the situation. Yun had made it loud and clear that they needed to retreat, and he only used that card whenever he determined that there’s nothing more they could do—or at least nothing that would do more harm than good. He wasn’t stupid. He knew and carefully understood their limitations well, otherwise, they’d be having more needless casualties in their hands if he didn’t. 

There had to be something else, some other plausible reason why Elias decided to dive back into the fray. 

Yun sighed, way too heavy to be a mere expulsion of air. All this pondering only fueled the fatigue anchoring down his limbs. He mentally swore he would figure out a way to breach this issue in the near future. For now, he needed to shut down. And fast.

Moving on autopilot, he took a quick bath and threw on the clothes he’d picked up on random before stepping back out. Elias was standing by the end of the bed, shuffling through his things and paying no mind to Yun’s presence. 

The swordsman was quiet ever since the fight, which, in fact, wasn’t entirely uncharacteristic of him. Yun figured out from their first meeting that Elias wasn’t exactly a man of many words, and he’d grown used to their usual dynamic of him spitting a thousand words per minute and Elias mostly letting those words travel in and out his ears without batting an eyelid. Sometimes he would pitch in his opinion whenever he determined that the conversation required his standpoint, particularly during the long and careful strategizing for their next objective. Other times he’d do nothing more than announce his presence and then proceed to be as wordless as a rock. 

Yun didn't usually mind the lack of spoken participation though. He could remember Cassius casually saying one time that Yun talked enough for the both of them, and he left it at that.  

But something about Elias’ silence this time somewhat suggested that this was different from his general disinterest in starting or keeping up a conversation. The obvious tension that pulled his shoulders taut, despite the tranquil atmosphere, was enough evidence. 

And, with a sudden burst of impulse that utterly came out of nowhere, Yun tossed ‘in the near future' out of the window.

“Want to talk about what happened?”

The shuffling stopped, and even with his back turned Yun could picture the faintest look of surprise on his face as he let what Yun said sink in, before expertly schooling his face back to its usual indifference. “No.”

He returned right away to whatever he’d been busy with. Yun hummed. “Is that so? Should I start expecting the same answer if you do it again?” 

“It’s none of your business.”

“When it comes to your welfare and of everyone else concerned, it is my business.”

“Look,” Elias chucked the clothes he snatched up back to the bed, finally turning around to look at him. “Yes, I know I lost it there. No, I can’t promise that it won’t happen again. But what I can promise is that if I ever mess up on my own and get killed in the process—or whatever the consequence turns out to be—that’s my fault to bear, not yours. So quit trying to patronize me and lay off.”

Not bothering to hide or dampen his ire, he took a random shirt and headed straight for the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a loud and heated slam. Silence enveloped the room once more as Yun remained rooted to his spot, eyes still trained on the bathroom door as his brain slowly processed what just transpired. 

Obviously, he approached this the wrong way. At the wrong time too. Whatever happened to ‘breaching the issue in the near future’? 

He huffed. That exchange did nothing but sap away the last of whatever was left of his energy. If only it wouldn’t end up increasing Elias’ bad mood to catastrophic heights, Yun would’ve claimed the bed right then and there without further thought. 

But, come to think of it, it’s exactly the absence of ‘further thought’ that made everything escalate this way. 

Technically speaking, he’s not new to being placed at the receiving end of Elias’ irritation. It’s almost a day-to-day experience at this point. But with exhaustion and whatever had Elias so bothered backing him up like fuel to the fire, Yun could daresay that this was a far cry from the common display of annoyance he was used to. Elias tended to be aloof, something Yun picked up ever since they met for the first time in that room. Way back then, he also had the arguable belief that this was Elias’ default setting in some way and that he couldn’t possibly get any worse. But now he’s officially proven wrong as the locked bathroom door stood in front of him, as if it’s specifically made and placed there for the sole purpose of saying how stupid he’d been to believe that. 

Brushing this off and thus choosing to not address it would only worsen the case. Yun could deal with a quiet or an aloof Elias, but having him run off with a barely sensible thought in mind, sword brandished and geared to cut down every offender he pinned his anger on, was an Elias Yun simply could not put up with. He needed to get to the bottom of this, no matter the method he’d end up using because a rampaging swordsman was the last thing an already battered Anwei needed. 

After he got himself some sleep.

He had already put it on hold for too long. He's pretty sure that by now, his body's only running on whatever reservoir of strength he never knew existed. The ache in every limb and joint was enough reminder of the fact that he’s physically and mentally unable to hold a normal conversation—both of them were. At this point, none of them would be able to keep a clear head.

Hence, his resolve to enforce ‘breaching the subject in the near future’ returned with renewed and unshakeable vigor.  

When he was on the move to actually get some rest for real this time, it hit him like a square brick that the floor would be accommodating him tonight. He could take the single chair situated by the plain wooden table, but he’d greatly appreciate waking up with little to no more soreness added to the ones that had already found shelter on his arms, legs, and back. He had no qualms about sleeping on the floor—well, other than the fact that it’s going to be very cold to lay on bare.

“I’ll be downstairs to get some bedding,” he called out to the bathroom door, deciding that it would be best if the other knew of his whereabouts despite the current strain in their situation. “Be back in a while.”

Which should actually be a little more brief than just ‘a while’ if he didn’t want the innkeeper finding his body slumped against one of the corridors by sunrise. 

When he received no response, he promptly made his way out, intent on getting the first thing closest to a mattress he could see. 

About fifteen minutes later, Elias re-emerged from the bathroom, refreshed and considerably feeling a lot better than he did a while ago. The thankfully warm water was a great help, even when the quick wash and whatever he did for the rest of the time he’d spent in the bath went past in a haze. Truth be told, how he managed to finish despite his mind blanking out was beyond him. He remembered Yun calling out, at least. But that’s it.

Whatever. The only thing that mattered now was that the bath had somehow elevated his mood—regardless of the boost’s extent because he didn’t exactly feel like rainbows and sunshine right now—and he was ready to pass out on the bed after he made sure that his belongings were packed back into the bag. 

Quietly, yet desperate all the same, he prayed that sleep wouldn't evade him tonight. 

And packing his bag before passing out to sleep was indeed what he would've done, hand already rising to fish out the first article of clothing he left discarded on the foot of the bed, when an object sitting on the bedside table—which hadn’t been there before, mind you—caught his gaze.

A white, ceramic cup, with a transparent, brown liquid filling it to the brim. Tea, he realized upon closer look. 

Since when did tea magically appear on people’s bedside tables? Elias was no believer of children folktales, but he was pretty sure tooth fairies left coins and Father Christmas left presents, not cups of tea. 

A piece of paper the size of a card was perched against it, and Elias wasted no second in recognizing the penmanship when he picked it up.

‘Might cool you down. Get some rest. You clearly need it.’ 

He snorted, taking his eyes off the paper to look at the duvet-covered lump across the room. Yun’s down for the count, which wasn’t surprising. 

He was fairly oblivious to the small tilt at the corner of his lips. “Thanks.”

Throughout his life, from the early days to the present, Elias Everstied had admittedly made a great deal of mistakes. Despite his reputation as a prodigy, he wasn’t as faultless as other people thought him to be. Fisting a locust was a mistake. Poking the dark-furred dog with his wooden sword was a mistake. Sneaking out at night was a mistake. Losing in his first friendly match was a mistake. Telling his father ‘no’ was a mistake. Disappointing his mother was a mistake. Letting her leave was a mistake. Allowing those self-proclaimed democrats of Anwei to ruin his family and make light of their honor was a mistake. 

But there was one thing he knew for sure. 

Raising his sword against  him  had not been a mistake. 

And he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. 

General Aguin was a venerated man, as shown by the carefully arranged medallions pinned on the breast pocket of his   government-issued uniform. Both the medals of valor and service hung side by side on the far left of the row. The bronze one, representing meritorious achievements, was next in line. And to the far right, crested in gold and fastened by a red canvas ribbon, was the medal of Anwei. Only imperial officers of the highest station and the grandest attainments were granted with it, and the mere idea that someone like him—respected to the highest degree and had therefore held the faith of many, even the former royal family—had enacted the greatest form of treason, sickened Elias to the deepest depths of his guts.

Back at the fight, one of the things new to the sight of General Aguin   were the gold epaulets resting on his shoulders. Everything else was just like how Elias had remembered him, particularly the silver pin clipped to his uniform’s collar, carved with the emblem Elias saw when the ADP made their move against the Everstieds.

But the one telling feature that perhaps brought the smallest spark of pleasure whenever Elias laid eyes on it was the red line that ran from the man’s   left eyebrow down across his cheek—the scar Elias gave him not so long ago.

With startling vividness, he could still remember the thick shackles locked around his wrists. He remembered the heavy iron chains that linked them together, and the black bag shoved onto his head as he was taken away. He remembered his mother and father being led to a different carriage, one he failed to see before his sight was completely obscured. But he saw that they also wore chains identical to his. 

He could still faintly recall what the jail warden looked like. Not that he cared to make the effort of accurately committing it to memory. The only attribute that made Elias recognize him was his laugh, obnoxiously loud and brimming with haughtiness. ‘How the mighty had fallen’, he’d often say, alongside a vast stockpile of insults he never hesitated to spit out. When Elias only responded with indifference, though, the warden made his blatant irritation known by depriving him of food and water for two days, and then deliberately setting up a feast to dine with other soldiers in front of his cell. He remembered the taunts, the threats, the announcement of his death sentence. 

He remembered the one question they kept asking. 

‘Where is your sister?’ 

General Aguin didn’t have his epaulets yet, but he still towered over Elias' hunched form, his presence dominating the room. The same question came out of his mouth, over and over again. 

‘Where is your sister?’ 

Elias had steeled his resolve, adamantly keeping his mouth shut as he glared straight into those dark green eyes, watching them visibly dim with disappointment and impatience as time ticked by. He could still taste the blood pooling in his mouth from all the blows his face had received, could still visualize the large hand enclosed around his throat, dangerously squeezing in warning. 

But the feel of broken glass digging into his fisted palm diverted his attention from the rapidly constricting airways of his throat. Black dots had started to prance around his vision, but he ignored it. The target had already been put in place, and he took pride in the fact that whenever he set a clear aim, chances of him missing the shot plummet to impossible depths. 

He remembered with vivid accuracy the sharp rim he purposely left uncovered, out in the open, but still hidden as he kept his lower arm out of sight… 

…could very much remember the echoing screech when that glass tore skin in one single swing. 

Despite the numbing pain in his cheeks from all the bruises, Elias managed a grin, not bothering to hide his delight at the sight of a green iris now crossed with angry red. 

Elias made himself a promise back then. 

The next time they cross paths, no matter the circumstance—tranquil or heated, civil or hostile, skies cleared or obscured by rainfall—he  will  drive a blade through this man, far sharper than a piece of glass, deadlier than a shallow cut, and he will allow this man to atone for all the transgressions he’d done to his family by taking his life.

Who would have thought that the chance to make good on that promise would come today?

The room was already shrouded in darkness when Yun got roused from sleep, the stark white ceiling meeting his sight as soon as he opened his eyes. Even with the bedding he laid out, the floor was still hard against his back. Granted, the sheet hadn’t been too thick in the first place, so perhaps the discomfort was expected. And be that as it may, it’s still decidedly much better than waking up with aches all over his back if he had ever decided to go with the chair. 

On the bright side, the room had managed to encompass the night’s chill, and the duvet he found was plump enough to protect him from it. So the temperature couldn’t have been the one to break him out of sleep. His position on the floor was rather difficult, true, but it wasn’t disturbing enough to thoroughly bother him to the point of waking. He’d slept on arrangements far worse than this, after all. 

Offhandedly, he took note of the fact that tonight’s silence was trailing very close to deafening, save for his own breaths and the room’s other occupant.

Which was, by the way, unnaturally erratic.

This immediately had Yun sitting himself up halfway, using his elbows as leverage to hold him upright. With the moonbeams sneaking in through the glass windows being his only source of light, he had to squint and wait for his sight to adjust before he was able to properly see the bed. He didn’t really know what he should expect on seeing, even when a clear difficulty in one’s breathing should already entail a distinct set of causes. But finding the restless state of Elias’ silhouette was, admittedly, still the least of everything he thought he’d find.

He sat up straighter, raising a fist to rub off the remnants of sleep from his eyelids as he tried to look over more closely. Elias was tossing around on the bed, his blanket discarded in a heap around his hips. His legs were trying to kick them off but the violent movement only made the entanglement worse. There were low, incoherent mumbles spilling from his mouth. His expression was pinched, eyebrows furrowed and lips arched into a deep frown, as if he’s being plagued by something unpleasant in his sleep.

And by the general looks of it, he actually might’ve been. 

Yun propelled himself up, now wide awake as he got to his feet and made his way towards the bed. Frankly, Yun didn’t feel like disturbing him. Elias looked like a time bomb ready to go off, thrashing and twisting with an almost pained look on his face. Yun really didn’t want to find out how he would react to anything in the state he's in now. But the guy was already too distressed to even get some proper sleep. What harm could a little more prodding do?

Quite reluctantly, Yun lightly nudged Elias' arm with his finger. “Everstied, wake up.”

Elias only flung his head to the other side, eyes closed, and not showing the barest hint of waking. So Yun tried again, nudging a little more persistently. “Wake up, Everstied. You’re dreaming.”

He got a response this time, only that it wasn’t coherent enough for Yun to understand correctly. He was slowly leaning closer when the swordsman suddenly grumbled, immediately catching Yun off-guard and halting his advance. “Don’t . . .”

“What?”

Another groan. “Don’t . . . no . . .”

Yun almost dropped his head in frustration. Who would’ve thought that Elias’ stubborn attitude extended at such a large-scale it even acted up when he’s asleep? 

Opting for a less subtle approach, Yun planted a hand on his shoulder, starting with a few light taps. “Everstied. Everstied, wake up.”

When he got no evident reaction once again, the taps accordingly increased in intensity. 

“Eversti—”

Elias suddenly screamed—loud, jarring, wounded.

And as if doused in cold water, Yun all but froze.

Elias’ cry echoed in his ears, an insistent tune that couldn't seem to die down any sooner. He wasn’t waking up—not even the slightest hint of a reaction to any of Yun’s attempts. Whatever had him seized in his sleep was unmistakably strong enough for him to be this unresponsive. If this went on, the consequences might be no less than damaging. 

In an instant, Yun felt like something had dropped an anvil onto his chest. Concern, he realized. And Yun knew that it never boded well whenever he was struck with it; because concern always led to anxiousness, and anxiousness could then stem to uncertainty, and uncertainty could lead to the complete collapse of everything he’d been working on. Pair that up with a more intense flare of frustration and he was hitting Elias more vigorously now, planting both his hands on the man’s shoulders to shake him awake. “Everstied, you need to wake up. Everstied.”

His lidded eyes were beginning to clench. Not a good sign. Elias was spiraling, getting even more difficult for Yun to gauge a reaction out of him. 

“Not her . . .” A breath hitched. Yun wasn’t sure if it was his own or Elias’.

“Everstied, wake up!” His hand came forward to tap on his neck, the other tightening its hold on the swordsman’s shoulder to keep him from flailing. But even when asleep, Elias had his—currently troublesome—strength, already making it a challenge to hold him down. 

And still no response.

Panic reared its head, frigid and dense, as it seemed to twist Yun’s guts into tightly braided coils. The stark realization dawned on him then: nothing was helping. Elias was being driven deeper no matter what he did. This ugly feeling of helplessness, rendering him unable to do anything—Yun really didn’t like it. 

“Not . . .”

“Don’t be like this. Come on, Everstied. Wake up! Everstied!  ”

Nothing. No groan of acknowledgment. No sign of his restlessness subsiding.

“Evers-”

Yun sucked in a breath.

“Elias!” 

Half a second clicked past, and just like a switch being flipped, hands flew for capture, swift like a predator securing its grasp as tight and heavy as iron. Fingers that uncannily felt akin to talons dug on skin, and its nails were dangerously close to cutting their way into the flesh through tiny crescent-sized scratches.

It took Yun two seconds to realize that they were Elias’ hands.

On his throat.

“Not her!” A guttural yell came from below, and dread instantly drove a hefty blow to Yun in the stomach when he saw that Elias’ eyes were still clenched closed, agonizingly oblivious to what was going on. Warning bells set off in Yun’s head, a gasp tearing out of his mouth, and his own hands left Elias’ shoulders to hold on to the ones enclosed around his neck. 

“Elias,” He tried, momentarily wincing from how strangled his voice had come out. He mouthed at the open air, trying to coax what little he could into entering his rapidly struggling lungs. He needed to breathe. Gods, he needed to breathe. 

As if enforced with steel, the hands remained firm, which only amplified Yun’s panic as he struggled to get free. His own nails buried themselves in Elias' wrists, hoping to hold on and at the same time wake Elias because Anwei, he couldn't breathe! 

His rear dropped to the bed when black spots started to dance around his vision, flitting from all corners and speedily growing in size. Damn it, he was getting lightheaded. The pulsing organ housed on the left side of his chest was all he could hear echoing in his ears, beating loud like drums meant for war. He was running out of ideas, and that was alarming in itself because if he didn’t resolve this anytime soon, he would most definitely meet his end sooner than he thought he would.

He’d once imagined various ways of how his death was going to happen, and he’s sure that he cataloged ‘asphyxiation’ on the bottom part of the list among others.

And it’s only because of instances like these that he’s then forced to turn to harsh, drastic measures.

Left with no other choice, he lifted a fist, rearing it up with all the strength left that he could muster—and he desperately prayed it was enough—before bringing it down in one mighty hit towards Elias’ chest, pouring all his hopes into that one strike and willing it to work because if it didn’t, his downfall would surely be sealed by the hands of Elias Everstied. Literally. 

Mercifully, at last, Elias’ eyes blew open, and Yun never thought that there would come a day where he’d say it, but he’s immensely grateful at the sight of those red irises. The hands instantly fell from his throat, allowing air to re-enter his lungs—way too quickly, in fact. Coughs didn't waste a second to rack his whole frame, and he had hit his own chest to settle it down as his other hand came up to carefully touch his neck. Oh Anwei, he’s never taking for granted his ability to breathe ever again. 

It took some time for the coughs and the breathing strain to recede, but once it did, he greedily inhaled abundant gulps of air. It felt good, incredibly good, to have air circulating in his lungs again. The phantom feeling still lingered on his neck, a ghost of fingers locked around it. His heartbeat still drummed in his ears, but at least his vision was now clear and the haze in his head had dissipated. For good, he hoped. 

Slowly, he peeled open his eyes, breathing in and out for a moment before finally remembering the other occupant of the bed. He turned to look at Elias, who’d already sat up and was burying his face in his hands, still audibly panting. 

“Hey,” Yun called, silently willing his voice to not crack, praying for Elias to not notice how he sounded, or that there wouldn’t be anything to notice at all. A few empty seconds passed by with Elias not budging from his hunched form, but Yun eventually heard him hum in response to let Yun know he was paying attention.

“You alright, now?” He asked, looking at the other up and down. “That seemed pretty intense.”

Elias huffed weakly. “That’s one way to put it.”

Yun reached for the bedside lamp, which thankfully wasn’t too far, taking a moment to blindly find the switch before flicking it up. A warm amber light gradually flooded the room. Satisfied, Yun sat back, looking expectantly at Elias’ quiet form. Besides, there’s no way either of them was getting back to sleep anytime soon after all that. Might as well chase away the unneeded darkness. And then, tentatively, “Do you want to talk about it, or . . .?” 

Elias moved to rake his fingers through his hair, sweeping it out of his face to reveal his pale complexion underneath. He always had a light skin tone, but even in the room’s lighting, Yun was quick to observe how he was much more blanched than normal this time. “No, I’m alright,” he said, letting his hands fall to his lap. “It’s nothing.”

Yun’s lips twisted in discontent. Still as difficult as ever. 

He didn’t tear his eyes away from Elias for a few more seconds, and then he sighed. If he would persist to be as immovable as a brick wall, Yun definitely didn’t have the steel-like determination to keep pushing. Not in their current state, anyway. Weariness, tonight’s most unwelcome visitor, was starting to creep back into his limbs as the situation died down, returning to the initial silence the room once harbored. He threw his abandoned bedding a glance, and for a moment he thought twice about retiring back to it because part of him already knew how proper sleep won’t be coming to his aid tonight no matter how tired he felt. Knowing his own mind, chances were his thoughts would either be too loud to even allow him some rest, or that he’d be the next one awoken with night terrors. 

Someone’s going to travel dead on their feet come morning. Fun. 

His gaze eventually fell to the bedside table, where a familiar cup sat alone. It’s empty.

One corner of his mouth curled up. “I guess the tea didn’t help much.”

Elias sat up straighter beside him, eyes still downcast to his lap. “No. It did. It helped. Thanks.”

Yun’s eyebrow arched at the uncharacteristically clipped response.

“It’s just . . .” Elias trailed off, and Yun very nearly missed the confused tilt his words had faded to.

“Something wrong?” He asked.

Stupid question, honestly. Right now, nothing could exactly be considered as ‘alright’, not after everything that went down. Both of them were just pointedly ignoring the elephant in the room—or at least Elias was. Trying to carve a crack into the walls Elias had erected around himself was no easy feat, and all of Yun’s attempts would either end up rudely ignored or an utter failure. Which, in retrospect, wasn’t completely unexpected. Despite the months they’ve spent working together, something like this was uncharted territory. Neither of them really felt comfortable with showing their shortcomings, even when they’d already established a certain level of trust. Their individual prides clash too much to allow that. Perhaps the only thing that’s a little reassuring now was the fact that Elias most likely felt the same degree of awkwardness as he did. 

But as Yun closely studied Elias’ form, he noticed how the swordsman remained tense—if not even more tense than before—despite his breathing returning to normal. Yun pursed his lips, quietly debating if he should persist on prying and thus submit himself to the other's predictable irritation, or persuade him to open up on his own because frankly, this situation wasn’t something he could brush under the rug. Not this time. 

However, if Elias would continue to hold up his walls even then, so be it. It’s not like Yun had the patience of a saint.

Mulling over what he should say, Yun opened his mouth, another question at the tip of his tongue.

And he paused.

He wasn’t sure what changed, or how it even did, but refocusing his gaze on Elias now led him to notice the laser concentration the swordsman was directing at something. His eyes had cleared, the previous lack of clarity now replaced by sharp attention and something else that Yun couldn’t put a name on. Puzzled, he immediately looked to find what Elias was staring at. It wasn’t too difficult. Sitting on the same bed as him and having a better source of light than the moon made finding the root of Elias’ apparent interest easy. 

What he found, however, instantaneously made his throat sink to his stomach.

Elias’ hands were laying flat on his lap, his wrists revealed out in the open . . .

. . .as in the wrists now riddled with rows of angry dents—those dents roughly resembling small half-moons, some of them lined with molecular specks of red. 

. . .as in the wrists now braced in a thick, dark shade of pink, almost like a pair of manacles had tightly clasped around them. Yes, those wrists. 

Yun could practically see the gears rotate in the swordsman’s head.

“Did I hurt you?”

And those gears clicked.

Yun’s eyes were glued to the hands on display, suddenly rendered so frozen and at loss for words that he absently swore he’d even stopped breathing for a while. The strike of panic felt uncanny, as if he was watching a rock from the cosmos collide with another. His mind sped into overdrive, going past multiple avenues of thought as he tried to come up with an excuse or really just anything to get him out of this.

He didn't want Elias to know. As much as possible, he wanted to keep him in the dark, no matter how inconsiderate that sounded. Yun figured that Elias had still been out of it by the time he broke free of his nightmare, so he might’ve not realized the unconscious damage he’d done. And on the off chance that he truly did not, Yun wanted to keep it that way. 

Frankly, he didn't know how he would even attempt to hide it in the first place. But adding guilt to the stockpile of Elias’ locked-up emotions did not sound like the best idea to Yun at the moment. Not to mention, it certainly wasn’t helping that Elias suddenly felt like being the most stubborn, uncooperative idiot in all of Anwei. 

“It’s late, Everstied.” He waved a hand dismissively after finally finding his voice. The stretch of silence before that was too obvious, too strained, too revealing of his short moment of panic, that he knew he’d be lucky if he could still freely walk out of this one. He turned away—too quickly—when he felt Elias’ gaze on him. It burned on the back of his head. “As much as I’d like to keep this conversation going,” he coughed. “I’m tired. We both are. So why don’t we go catch some sleep before morning catches us first, eh?” He reached for the lamp, intending to switch it off to aid his point and discreetly prevent Elias from seeing anything more than what he needed to see. “We leave at first light. Good night, Eversti–”

A hand flew to his wrist, forcefully stopping him from even touching the switch. A sudden weight haphazardly thrown on him pushed his back against the headboard, and he momentarily winced at the impact when his head harshly connected with wood, before he opened his eyes to come face to face with Elias.

And by face to face, he literally meant Elias’ face being right there, so close, in front of his.

Yun’s breath hitched in his throat, eyes widening to the size of saucers when he realized the meagerness of the distance that separated them. The lower half of Elias’ torso was practically pressed up against his in a tangle of limbs. A hand—Elias’ hand—beside his head was the only thing anchoring the other from completely colliding with him. But even so, that did nothing to the mere inches of space between their noses. 

Elias’ own wide eyes reflected his shock. He didn’t assess his maneuver well, that much was clear. The look of shock on his face was enough to tell that he wasn’t expecting to end up like this either, whatever his initial objective had been. They could only sit, paralyzed in the moment, as their breaths—seemingly loud gasps to their ears—intermingled in front of them. Silently, Yun prayed to every benevolent deity out there, hoping that he was the only one aware of the tiny shiver slithering its way down the stretch of his spine. 

Back up. Did the room’s temperature spike to a humid level just now, or was it just them? His cheeks burned, which was all kinds of strange. And normally his automatic response would be to hide as soon as he realized it, but then his mind all but stuttered towards the fact that the face in front of him also donned the same shade.

Before, one particular feature that had always caught Yun's interest was Elias’ eyes. Word had it that the Everstieds were the only family in Anwei possessing crimson irises, which only proved how unique their bloodline was. Yun would be lying if he said that he wasn't fascinated by the sight of them when he met Elias for the first time.

He’s immediately reminded of it now that he was looking at them much, much more closely.

Neither was aware of how long they sat pressed against each other—minutes, hours? But then there was a rather loud exhale. None of them was sure whom it came from, but it was loud enough to break the daze that had them seized. As if pulled out of a reverie, Elias quickly leaned away. But not too far off, Yun noticed. He was still close enough that the hand against the wood beside Yun’s head remained planted there. 

Yun blinked, gulping once because why was his throat so dry as he felt the question fly out of his mouth. “What is it?”

If his voice came out to be uncharacteristically hoarse and quiet, Elias thankfully didn’t mention it.

Yun then noted, belatedly, that the other’s hand was still enclosed around his wrist, holding it in place and away from the lamp.

He wasn’t sure if he should ask Elias to let go.

And it was with faint surprise when he realized that he also wasn’t sure if he wanted Elias to do so. 

No answer came from Elias, and under normal circumstances, Yun would’ve been spouting a sharp complaint by now about the swordsman’s pending uncooperative attitude for the entire night, but even he’d found himself surprisingly speechless. Elias’ unblinking gaze remained on his face. And truthfully, if it weren’t for the growing discomfort at their current predicament, Yun would have no qualms in staring back. If Elias wanted a competition, then he most certainly would be getting one, even when it’s something as mundane as testing who among them would break the stare first.

Right when Yun found his voice again to bring out another question, Elias finally tore his gaze away. Yun briefly sighed in relief when the laser attention left his face, only for his breath to hitch in his throat when those pair of reds, which he'd expected to look away, descended instead. 

When Elias’ eyes landed on his neck, he stilled once again.

The world ground to a halt—or so it seemed, because Yun was a hundred percent certain of red handprints being there, encircled around almost the entirety of his neck and bared out in the open with the lamp’s light shining on it. The mere sight of it practically served like a glowing, almost sardonic, placard that told all those who could see it about his near encounter with death. 

It was all the affirmation Elias needed. 

Yun wanted to pull away, maybe place his palms against Elias’ chest to push him and make space for Yun to squeeze out and leave—utterly disregarding the fact that Elias could easily overpower him—or perhaps he should’ve thought twice when he changed out of his jumpsuit before going to sleep. The high collar would’ve hidden the damage better than anything.

But Elias Everstied could be adamant if he wanted to. Yun could go straight up thrashing and kicking and Elias would still be able to hold him down without breaking a sweat, all for the sake of confirming his suspicions. And at a proximity this close, any chances of hiding it from Elias completely plunge to oblivion. 

So much for not letting him know.

He could only guess that it was an ugly sight. The way the expression on Elias’ face slowly twisted into something grim the more he stared at his neck told Yun enough.  

He sighed. “It’s nothing, Everstied.”

Insulted by how Yun even thought he was gullible enough to believe that, Elias’ head snapped up to glare at him. 

And Yun suddenly felt indignant. “Now you know how it feels.” 

Again, Elias didn’t reply—seriously, did the guy grow mute without him knowing?—and those eyes fell back to his neck again. Yun sagged with defeat. “Look, you were having a nightmare. You didn’t have full control of yourself, and that’s completely understandable because you weren’t even lucid. This wasn’t your fault.”

“You do know that that’s not going to work on me, right?” Elias questioned, finally deciding to speak up.

Yun hummed. “I do know that your stubborn tendencies far exceed all of the idiots in Anwei put together, yes. But it’s still worth a try.”  

Elias loudly scoffed. He didn’t bother with anything more than that. 

For a moment, Yun wondered what it actually looked like. He took pride in his imagination, but it was during times like these that he needed more than just the imagery put together by his brain. The damage was embedded on his skin yet he’d never exactly seen it yet with his own eyes. Inwardly, he cursed the inn for not providing mirrors in their rooms.

However, he did remember what Elias’ hands were like. They weren’t that big, yet it would be wrong to say that they were small in size either. His fingers were long and lithe, each proudly displaying calluses that most likely came from his lifetime training with the sword. His nails clearly showed careful maintenance, and Yun could guess it was due to a force of habit ingrained from his days as a swordsman. Of course, Yun only managed to gather the details from the times he’d seen them. 

Feeling them on him, however, was a different thing entirely.

There’s still a ghost of them being wrapped around his neck, holding on impossibly tight and clenching like shackles around his throat. The palms had been ice cold when they first connected to his skin, but Yun gradually lost his sense of them when he began to feel himself blacking out. This time was different, though. This time, it was like someone had left dying embers around his neck. They felt hot, and sometimes, right when Yun thought that the sensation was dissipating, it tended to come back, bearing the same original intensity as if it had never faded from his skin.

Yun figured that he wouldn’t be getting rid of that anytime soon, no matter how he willed himself to ignore it.

That’s why when he saw those same fingers reach up for his face through the corner of his eyes, he flinched.

Severely.

Elias retracted his hand fast, and Yun almost unconsciously released a shaky breath as he met his eyes. Those pair of reds were now blown wide, gleaming with poorly hidden surprise and worry.

“It’s okay,” was Yun’s attempt at reassurance, quickly averting his gaze. That anvil, intangible and deep-rooted, was back on his chest, only this time it wasn’t because of concern. “Just . . . it’s probably best if you keep your hands away from my face for now.”

He hated to put it into words. He deeply, truly, didn’t want to acknowledge it. But it had to be said. He wasn’t going to sugarcoat and say that it didn’t incite a spark of panic inside him. Yun was talented with words, but his ability to bend the truth tended to shut down whenever he was hit by something too powerful to gloss over. And this time, that ‘something’ was pure, visceral fear.

He felt the bed shift in front of him then. “I’ll go grab you a cold pack,” Elias said, rising to his feet.

He quickly sat straight. “That’s not necessary.” 

To which earned him a look. “It’ll help with the bruising.”

“But it’s late. People are asleep.”

“So should we. But we won’t be unless your neck is tended to.”

“My neck doesn’t need attending to.”

“I disagree,” Elias said, slipping on a coat over his nightshirt as he made his way out the door. “Be back in a minute.”

“Everstied—”

The door clicking shut cut him off.

The chains felt real. So, strikingly real. 

It’s as if someone had hoisted them straight out of his memory. They were cold, they were heavy, and they were locked so tight enough to hold his hands together in place. Darkness lingered like a vignette in his vision as he trained his stare down on the leather boots, standing a meter away from his own bare feet. There was a commotion outside, loud enough to be heard beyond the cobblestone walls and the iron door that sealed his cell. He could hear men running about and yelling jargon he couldn’t understand. 

And it begged the question, why could he not understand? 

Where even was he in the first place? And who were they? 

He couldn’t remember seeing any faces. Scratch that, he could barely remember anything at all. There were traces of images, like a broken tape, flashing in his head every once in a while. He still remembered his parents, and the black bags on their heads as they were led away by unfamiliar people. He could still remember his sister, faintly this time, and the nearly unnoticeable crack in her mask when she left the mansion years ago. Everything else besides those fractured pieces of memory left him at a loss, eventually leading him back to his initial state of alarm. 

The ruckus outside his cell was growing louder by the minute, and it did little to help the inner dilemma he’d currently found himself stuck with. Did he know these people? What did he want with them for him to come to this place? 

Or rather, more forebodingly, what did they want with him? 

Something in the way his face had twisted at the thought must’ve indirectly reflected his silent conflict, because there was suddenly a very amused chuckle above him—one coming from a voice that rang an all too familiar bell inside his head. 

“It seems like they found her.” 

Somehow, that did not sit right with him. 

Found who? 

An uneasy feeling—dread, he soon realized—twisted his guts as the graveness of the situation dawned on him, and breaking out of these chains suddenly felt like the most important thing he needed to do. He still didn’t have a clear grasp as to why he felt like he had to do it, but his instincts were almost roaring at him to break free. And break free, he would. 

But, as if his thoughts were being projected openly, the same voice answered again. 

And his blood turned ice. 

“Your sister.” 

Like a train running outside of its tracks, everything went to a screeching halt. 

Mia. 

He didn’t know when he started thrashing, pulling, shaking his body to wrench out of the chains. His hands clenched into fists. 

How? 

When? 

She wasn’t even supposed to be back yet. Not now. Not today. Not yet. Not her. 

So how… 

“Don’t.” 

It fell on deaf ears. 

“Don’t.” 

Louder this time. Still nothing. 

It took him a while to realize that those words had come out of his mouth. 

And that the man he’d been telling them to was looking, not listening. 

Slowly, the room dimmed, right when the gravity of everything fully settled in. It wasn’t shadows in his vision anymore. The darkness spread, crawling out from the corners of his cell and intending to shake the very walls of it. 

They were going to kill her. 

The wind knocked itself out of his lungs, leaving him alarmed and breathless as he felt the walls closing in and the noises outside sounding impossibly louder. 

It couldn’t be. 

Not her. Anyone, but her. 

And then faintly, slowly, he noticed that someone was laughing. Someone shamelessly found joy in his agony—never thought twice about the life they were about to take. 

Someone who lingered at the edges of his memory. Someone he knew. 

The name Aguin wasn't unfamiliar, and along with it came an onset of bitter memories and a rebellious spark that sent his instincts blaring. 

A scream echoed through the walls, barely heard through the cobblestone but heard all the same, and it took him a second to realize who it was calling out to. The voice was a stone’s throw away from hazy, but still, from the far reaches of his hearing… 

…he heard his name. 

And break free, he did. 

There was a blur of movement, and long before he knew it, hands—his hands—had reached up above him to grasp on the first thing it could hold on to. He didn’t see what it was, or who. And truly, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. The chains clanged between his wrists, but he paid the weight no mind. 

And so he clenched—harder, tighter, wordlessly willing his strength to gather on the fingers securing his grip. 

One way or another he was getting out of here, and to do that he had to be sure that no one stood in his way. 

This man in front of him was, and that needed to be changed. 

Until a sudden impact to his chest put him out. 

“And what are you doing?”

Yun froze, caught in the act, his hand left suspended mid-air. The duvet he’d been picking up instantly fell back into a tangled heap on the floor as he twisted to face the door. “Going back to sleep, what else?”

Elias huffed. “No, you’re not.” 

After making sure it was locked behind him, he made a beeline towards the bed, and Yun immediately eyed the small basin he was holding on one arm. “Come on, sit down.”

With furrowed eyebrows, Yun grumbled. “I am sitting down.”

The taller man shot him a flat look. “You know what I mean.”

“I know this to be completely unnecessary.”

“We talked about this.”

“No, we didn’t.”

Did Yun ever mention that Elias could be really annoying if he tried?

Elias could be really, really annoying whenever he tried.

The swordsman heaved a sigh. “Being stubborn isn’t going to help you here.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” He countered. 

“Changing the subject won’t get you anywhere either.”

“And how are you sur—”

“Yun.”

And he drew up short, mouth slamming shut as he looked, like really looked at Elias this time. The guy practically had tension written all over him, from the way his lips pursed into a thin line to how rigid his shoulders were set. It gave Yun pause. 

He wasn’t talking his way out of this one. Not this time.

For a second, he half-expected that to not sit with him. Yet strangely enough, it didn’t.

Yun held his stare for a few more seconds, letting silence permeate the air out of sheer petulance before finally giving in. Sometimes, he forgot that the swordsman could be just as equally persistent as he was irritating sometimes, especially whenever he felt like getting on Yun’s nerves for once. And this time, it’s working, much to Yun's chagrin. 

He rose to his feet, fully abandoning his duvet as he retraced his steps back to the bed, slackening his pace on purpose. But Elias suddenly went to dump the basin on top of the bedside table, rummaging through its contents with his back turned. From all the ensuing noise, Yun could guess it was ice.

Half a moment later, Elias faced him again with an arm outstretched, wordlessly gesturing to the bag of cloth in his hand before he lowered it to the bed, leaving it there for Yun to pick up on his own.

“I wasn’t able to grab much,” He said, resuming to busy himself with the basin. “Just enough to ease the redness.”

“Wasn’t expecting you to.” Yun seated himself on the foot-end of the bed, carefully grabbing the bag to eye it more closely. “Hardly anyone is awake in this hour. I’m more surprised that you managed to find ice to begin with.”

“It’s nothing a quick and discreet visit to the kitchen couldn’t handle.”

“Should I be worried about a break-in alert the next morning?”

Elias lightly scoffed. “Do you think I’m an amateur?”

“That doesn’t make it any better, Everstied.”

The swordsman let out a low chuckle, still sorting out the ice. And with a start, Yun found that it somehow abated his own worries. Marginally, at least. Perhaps, he found reassurance in how Elias’ shoulders were no longer as taut as they had been a while ago. Carefully, he raised the bag to his neck, instinctively going rigid at the first freezing touch. It took him a few seconds to get used to it, but he sagged eventually, dragging along the bag to let it make further contact with his skin. 

The chill was a welcome feeling, and no sooner than later he was leaning towards it more than he realized. He methodically pressed it around his neck. It’s not that he was still in pain, really. The sting had just about faded, even before Elias returned to the room. But, as the other had said, the ice could help with the redness. And Yun knew that even with the pain gone, the marks were a different story. Alas, getting rid of bruises had never proven to be that easy.

The room was quiet for a while, with the only sound being the ice crunched under every squeeze of Yun’s hands and whatever Elias was busying himself with. Yun was fine with the quiet, though. Faintly, if he searched for it, he could hear the songs of crickets just right beyond the window. The night atmosphere was calming, and for once, he reveled in the silence with fear of disturbing it

It was quite some time before he noticed that he’d closed his eyes, and because of this, he nearly missed the bed dipping beside him moments later. He paid it no mind, and was steering his hand to press the cold pack to his neck when–

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Yun’s hand froze, opening his eyes to look at Elias from the side. The man was sitting against the bed’s headboard, one knee propped up and bent while the other leg was left hanging off the mattress. He was pointedly staring at the wall, and Yun sighed.

“Not your fault,” he said, resuming his ministrations. But, after silently pondering over how he should bring up the subject—because neither of them was getting any ounce of sleep tonight if they kept ignoring the elephant in the room—he added tentatively. “It must’ve been something, though, seeing as it was enough to get you shaken up like that.”

The huff he got, which suspiciously sounded like a laugh despite lacking the expected cheer, slightly assured him that it hadn’t been the wrong thing to say. 

“I don’t know if ‘shaken up’ is the right word for it, but yeah. I guess.”

Yun frowned. “Does this always happen?” Elias’ face contorted with a questioning look, so he elaborated. “The night terrors.”

“No. Not all the time, at least.” Elias crossed his arms, and Yun quietly recognized the action as a means to erect some form of security. “But when I do get them, they usually hit hard.”

“Just like tonight?”

“Just like tonight, yeah.”

“Ever considered telling someone about it?” Elias’ face quickly fell to a scowl, guarded, like the flick of a switch, and Yun immediately backpedaled. “Look, I’m not going to compel you into exposing your vulnerabilities to me, Everstied. Contrary to common belief, I’m not that insensitive.” He wisely ignored the small scoff from the taller man. “But over time, my own horrors taught me that it’s better to recount them to someone who can lend an ear.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m not really good with words.” Elias shrugged. “Unlike you.”

Yun tilted his head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not spelling it out just to fan your ego,” Elias spat, deadpan. 

He felt himself grin. “Is that your way of saying I’m amazingly eloquent and my power of speech is worth some praise?”

“Case in point.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment.”

Elias rolled his eyes, dropping his head back against the headboard with a wooden thump and an exasperated sigh. “Whatever.”

A small lapse of peace emerged after that, neither of them wanting to sever the lull that settled into the room as they sat there, unspeaking, in each other’s presence. It wasn’t uneasy, per se, and it should really warrant a lot more shock because the casual, comfortable air was most certainly not a common thing whenever they’re put in the same room, but here they were and Yun had zero complaints. 

“Alright then,” Yun eventually said, setting his sights back to his abandoned duvet. Its sorry state was enough to remind him of rest—or the lack thereof. And that thought alone sent him standing. “I’m going to go catch some more sleep. Really,” He added, briefly glancing at Elias to see if the swordsman was still nowhere near believing him. “Thanks for the ice—”

“Tell me what you know about Mia Everstied.”

Yun halted mid-step, eyes narrowed. “Your sister?”

Elias nodded, his gaze calculating as he turned to him.

A little taken aback by the sudden inquiry, Yun paused, training his gaze on the far-off wall as he shuffled through his memory. “Well, there hadn’t been much to find about her when I was studying your family. All I’ve been able to take into account were her biographical records, a couple of tabloid entries about her collected merits, and news regarding her departure.” 

One flawless eyebrow arched, and Yun wasn’t sure if it was due to suspicion or disbelief. “That’s it?”

Yun shrugged. “Mia’s public presence all but pales in comparison to yours. I’m honestly not too surprised that I wasn’t able to dig much about her.”

Considering this, Elias hummed, mildly letting up as he averted his gaze. 

“What brought this up, Everstied?” 

Yun didn’t miss the contemplative look that encompassed the swordsman’s face, lips curved and eyebrows dipping, as if he were quietly mulling over what he should be saying next, or if he should even say anything at all. 

It was after a short lapse of careful silence that he then decided to speak. “That dream. Can’t exactly remember much, but,” Elias threw him a side glance. “I heard that she’s been captured. By them.  ”

‘Them’ was ambiguous. Without context, ‘them’ could be a passing circle of bandits. ‘Them’ could be any random constabulary, or even the civil force of the country Mia had fled to. But in this circumstance, ‘them’ traced back to one diplomatic party, and that diplomatic party eventually linked to today’s most recent skirmish, and it clicked. 

“The men we fought today,” Yun put forward, intentionally impartial on the off chance that he was wrong. “That general you fought today.”

Elias cemented his speculations with a nod.

“But that’s unlikely. Like I said, your sister’s not in Anwei.”

Elias lightly shook his head. “If the news ever reached her, I’m positive that she’s now halfway across her trip back home, if not that she’s already back.”

“And you’re worried that if she ever makes it back, the only thing waiting for her is a cell in one of the dungeons,” Yun added.

“That too.” 

Yun hummed, subconsciously crossing his arms as he shifted his weight to his other foot. “So she was the ‘her’ you were yelling out in your sleep.”

Elias’ head briskly turned him, caught off-guard by the abrupt revelation. “I was yelling?”

“Mm,” Yun affirmed, his tone suspiciously light. “Enough to shake the entire inn.”

At that, Elias loudly scoffed. “Please,” He drawled, rolling his eyes, “That’s more up your alley.”

Yun answered with his own huff. “Call me if a liar if you want—”

“I do.”

“—but your hands definitely weren’t the only ones strong enough to damage something tonight.”

He spoke it in jest—half an attempt to counter Elias’ jibe and half to keep up the lightening mood.  

But as he watched Elias’ face slowly contort from looking extremely self-satisfied to downright apprehensive and finally to sheer, transparent guilt, he realized that it’d been counterproductive.

And that the words had flown too quickly out of his mouth for him to re-word it. 

“I’m so—”

“Apologize one more time and I swear to Anwei I’m going to rat you out to everyone in this building and tell them you were the burglar who ravaged the kitchens in the middle of the night.”

The instant switch in Elias' demeanor was awfully hilarious.

“Burgla—” Unmistakably affronted, he snapped. “I did not steal anything!”

“Where’d you get the ice, then?”

“From the kitchens!”

“With permission from the inn’s personnel?”

“I—” Elias’ words caught up in his throat, and Yun viciously had to fight the glee from showing in his face as he watched the guy inwardly struggle, before quietly ending with a “. . . no.”

“Called it.” Yun smirked, triumphant.

. . . all the while conveniently leaving out the fact that his own visit to the kitchen for some tea may or may not have been directly permitted as well. Elias didn't need to know that.

Defeated, Elias slumped back against the headboard, this time crossing his arms with an almost unnoticeable pout on his lips—and Yun knew the swordsman enough to predict that he would fight tooth and nail for the sake of denying that detail if it’s brought to light. Could you blame Yun then, when he straight off found himself shamelessly comparing the swordsman to a petulant five-year-old? The resemblance was rather remarkable.

“How’s the neck, at least?”

Yun admittedly understood the question a second too late, and when he did, his first instinct was to chide him. But he backtracked, thinking twice. No harm in indulging his concern, right? Settling for a plain response, he said. “It’s fine. Not as sore as it had been earlier.” Elias instantly sent him a doubtful glance. “I’m telling the truth, Everstied.” He raised both hands in surrender. “The ice helped. Really.”

Elias pressed his lips into a thin line, looking uneasily contemplative. “I should keep my distance then,” he said, leaning further against the headboard, as if beseeching the wood to open up and swallow him whole.

And, although it wasn’t exactly a statement that offered room for discussion, Yun immediately came to realize that that did not sit well with him as soon as the words left Elias’ mouth. This should be a little strange, in hindsight, but suddenly the idea of distance became something he found himself disinclined to. 

And this time he didn’t think twice to make it known. “That’s not necessary.”

Before the predictable ‘what?’ could be voiced out, he added. “You don’t have to tiptoe around me, Everstied. If you’re worried about provoking some sort of reaction in any way, then I promise that you won’t.”

“I never said I was worried.” And yet the way Elias’ eyes sharply fled to the other side of the room somehow told otherwise. 

Yun bit back an amused smile.

Really, all things aside, he couldn’t deny that Elias’ concern was within reason. True, he had been shaken, enough for it to weigh over his head for at least the next few days. 

But he’d rather be damned than to willingly submit to it. 

Among the vast collection of lessons he learned from his earlier years, one, in particular, told him about how fear should be properly dealt with. See, fear could be a powerful teacher. It could help consider one’s boundaries, and test the strength of their mentality by questioning what they think and believe to be true. But, like the two faces of a coin, fear could also be a menacing puppeteer, making it fully capable of holding one hostage and gaining absolute control.

He never liked the sound of the second one.

And if it wasn’t clear enough yet, he was impatient, with an inherent tendency to be exceedingly stubborn—Elias could vouch for that. Beating around the bush was never his thing, and he’d rather face the subject head-on instead of hesitating around it. 

Call him stupid, but this situation was no different.

“You told me earlier that you didn’t want my hands anywhere near your face,” Elias eventually said, the image of Yun recoiling at the sight of said hands ruthlessly flashing in his head. “What changed?”  

Yun found himself shrugging. “Just my resolve to let it hold me down, I guess. I’m not really big on facing one’s fears and all that jazz but, I can’t exactly have myself drawing back all the time whenever I see my partner’s hands, can I?” If he had only been looking, he would’ve caught the pensive and almost inscrutable glint in Elias’ eyes before it was quickly blinked away. 

Elias ever so slightly scoffed, going for a brutally blunt response of, “I think you’re just scared of being seen as weak.”

“Who isn’t?” was Yun’s response, immediate and equally candid. He turned to meet his eyes then. “And for the record, I believe this makes us even.”

Elias hummed. “Fair point.”

It took a while—more accurately, a few seconds of wordless staring, waiting for the first one to cave in—but Elias eventually eased. If stiffly sitting on the bed with arms folded was what you'd call Elias ‘at ease’, anyway. 

“So,” Yun piped up, diverting Elias’ attention back to him. “How do you feel about a visit to the Everstied Estate?”

This effectively broke the swordsman out of his stance, and Yun watched as Elias’ face speedily morphed from one of nonchalance to one of pure, utter surprise. 

“What?” He asked, finally unraveling his arms as he sat up straighter. “Why?”

“Well, we can’t let the ADP have another Everstied behind their bars now, can we? And besides,” Yun shrugged, somehow oblivious to the mildly baffling turmoil he’d unintentionally kindled in Elias. “Your sister’s going to want to see a familiar face instead of an army of people she’s better off cutting down.”

“But we don’t even know for sure if she’s at the mansion, or if she has even returned to Anwei at all.” 

“If we’re going to look for Mia, your home’s the best place to start with.” 

“. . . That’s true.” And Elias still gaped, looking like Yun’s words had come out of nowhere, spontaneously sprouted hands out of thin air, and slapped him across the face. “But, you’re serious?”

Yun fixed him with a frown. “Do I look like I’m joking? And if you’re just going to say that my face looks comical on its own then—”

“No, no, it’s not that. Just,” Elias sharply went to stare at the bed instead, suddenly shrinking. “. . . thank you.”

Now it was Yun’s turn to be taken by surprise. Thankfully, Elias had been looking away, otherwise, he would’ve seen his face and Yun was positively sure that the sudden heat on his cheeks wasn’t due to any form of humid weather at all. Elias expressing his gratitude was almost as rare as water in the desert, and add that to the fact that Elias rarely missed any chance to make a mockery of him. He would always find something to pick on, whether it's something Yun had said or something he’d done. Seeing Elias hold back from goading him for a change only served to puzzle Yun more. 

This, however, did nothing to stop him from taking that chance himself.

Inwardly smirking, he made a show of picking his ears, feigning confusion. “What was that? Not sure if I heard clearly. I must be cleaning my ears the wrong way these past few da—”

“I’m not saying it again,” Elias promptly snapped to him, firmly deflecting any further advances.

Yun only grinned, and Elias had to blink twice, because he was sure that for a brief moment there, the light was tricking him into thinking that the wide upturn of Yun’s lips oddly looked more genuine than the ones he’d seen before. 

“Let’s just go back to bed, alright?” Yun said eventually. “We’re dropping by the headquarters before we head to the Estate, and we’re going to need all the rest we can get.”

Abruptly, Elias sat straight when Yun stood up. “Where are you going?”

“To my bed.”

“But the bed’s right here.”

He paused in his tracks, his confusion completely genuine this time. “Yeah, and you’ve claimed it yours.”

“It’s big enough for two.”

Yun swore his eyebrows practically ascended to his hairline. And, in the most deadpan tone, he said, “Really. You? Willing to share with me?”

The glare sent his way was keen, yet half-hearted. “You make it sound so unbelievable.”

“I’m actually half convinced that you’re about to grow a second head any moment now.”

Elias gravelly sighed, leveling Yun with a blank stare. “Just come here, will you?”

Yun, however, remained rooted to his spot, clearly still skeptical. “If you didn’t want the bed, you should’ve said s—”

“I’m not saying I should take the floor and you take the bed instead, you dunce.” Elias corrected.

“Then what are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying the bed’s more comfortable than the floor." 

“I have a duvet.”

“And we need to sleep for tomorrow—”

“I was fine before you woke me up with all your—”

“Fine, you know what? Die in the cold for all I care.” Elias shifted to lay on his side, aggressive as he trailed at the edge of his patience. Deliberately, he faced his side of the wall and buried himself back in the covers with a murmur that suspiciously sounded like, “Asshole.”

Yun had to reel back the amusement bubbling inside him, all the while noting that Elias had purposely shifted to the other end of the bed—settled so close to the edge that Yun swore he could make him fall over with just a flick of a wrist—to give ample space for another person to lay on it. 

He didn’t have to hog all the covers, though.

With muted steps, Yun went over to pick up the duvet he’d discarded on the floor, gathering it in his arms before backtracking towards the bed. He paused at the empty side of the mattress, a little too long might he add, secretly contemplating the open space supposedly left for him. 

When he got no reaction from Elias as he slowly crawled in, one knee after the other, he sagged, finally letting himself fall back to the mattress with a subdued thump. 

Alright. He’s not going to lie. It was infinitely more comfortable than the floor.

And as he felt his eyes begin to droop, the tendrils of sleep gradually reaching for him, he found himself subconsciously mumbling to the silence. “Goodnight.”

He heard it returned, in a much lower baritone, before he slipped into unconsciousness at last.