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For some odd reason, Flins always knew what Illuga wanted. There were even times when Flins already knew what he was going to say before he said it. Not that Illuga was complaining, though. It was just strange.
–
In between his fingers, Illuga played with the pen he had in hand while his mind focused on the pile of (apparently) important documents he was tasked with reading. His company, more like distraction, had taken his leave quite some time ago. The sun was setting over Piramida, filling the sky above with beautiful pink hues and a reflection so warm that it turned anything in its sight gold.
He sighed, resulting in strands of his hair being blown upwards, and set his pen down, slumping onto his desk. Once the night set in, he would have to set out on patrol. He should have been resting rather than pretending to do important business for the last six and a half hours. When he stood to slip his coat over his shoulders to prepare to head out to grab some dinner, the door slowly creaked open. At the door was the company that had left maybe less than two hours ago with a bowl of steaming hot soup in his hands.
Exactly what he was silently craving all those hours ago. He didn’t think too much of it, as it wasn’t the first time Flins had shown up with exactly what he wanted. After all, they knew each other well enough to memorize all their favorites, routines, irrelevant facts about each other, and anything else that good friends shared.
Illuga’s face lit up with relief. “Sir Flins,” he smiled graciously, “is that for me?” He felt dumb for asking; he already knew the answer. He never knew how to respond to Flins’ flattery, but he had to say something.
“Of course, Young Master. Who else would I bring food to besides you?” Flins set the bowl gently on the very little open space on the desk. “That is not a ‘stupid’ question, if you were wondering.” Knowing yellow eyes shot a quick glance at him before he returned to setting out Illuga’s utensils.
Every single time Flins happened to answer questions he hadn’t even been asked, Illuga’s brain short-circuited. Did Flins know him that well? Or is the look on his face saying what he was thinking inside? Warmth crept up his neck in embarrassment as he took his seat back in the overworked chair. “I– thank you, Flins.”
“You’re very welcome,” he spoke at the exact same time Illuga attempted to express his gratitude. “There is no need to thank me, though,” he laid his hand royally to his chest.
“You have to accept it,” Illuga retorted.
“I am only doing what friends are meant to do,” Flins responded with the tiniest smile. The smile only Illuga would be able to recognize on the typically blank-faced man. “You do more than enough for me. I simply just return the favor.”
Illuga had problems accepting anything from anyone. He feels responsible for making sure everyone is well cared for before considering himself. So, when he wasn’t the one offering services, it was difficult to take it without question. Illuga tapped the spoon against the bowl that waited to be devoured within minutes.
Flins tilted his head to the left, looking at him with curiosity similar to that of a puppy. Illuga had to admit that he looked much cuter than a dog did with the same expression. “Will you be around tomorrow?” he cleared his throat before asking.
Illuga glanced up at him as to say “obviously.” without having to mouth the words. Flins always understood the silent responses Illuga would often shoot him. They just knew each other that well, so some of their answers or conversations did not need to be vocalized. Plus, it was their routine that Illuga visited the cemetery every Tuesday at 4:45 pm sharp. It was an oddly specific time, but it remained unchanged. It had become some unspoken “rule” between them, Illuga assumed.
Flins bowed nobly before leaving Illuga alone in his study.
–
“A day off wouldn’t hurt,” Flins honeyed voice broke the silence that sat over them. He was in the kitchen of the lighthouse he resided in, out of sight from Illuga. He always made a feast when the fellow lightkeeper paid him a visit. “You must learn to care for yourself, too, master.”
It was like Flins swam directly into his brain and tore his exact thoughts out and verbalized what Illuga would not. He hated it sometimes, honestly. Somethings he wanted to be left unsaid and unheard. Like the silent groaning about his nightshift that he kept locked in his mind. He shouldn’t complain about his job. It is a life he truly does enjoy, but it gets exhausting every so often. It wasn’t just the workload and responsibilities that drained him– he rarely slept more than a few hours a day because he was worried about unrealistic, but potential, possibilities that could happen while he was unconscious.
Illuga picked at the wood of the circular kitchen table he sat at, his cheeks pressing down on the cold top of it. “I do,” he muttered back grumpily.
Flins waltzed over to him with a cup of water just for him and held it out for him to grab. “You wouldn’t be upset over that statement if that were true.” He gestured the cup insistently at the poor, tired ratnik.
Hypocrite, he thought as he grabbed the drink. Flins cocked a brow, but he didn’t say anything. He pivoted back to where he was before. “You’re unbelievable!” he called out after sipping nearly half the water.
“Am I?” His tone was sly and amused as ever. Even through that smooth, unwavering voice that failed to reveal intent behind any of his words, Illuga could hear it.
“You could use some self-care, too, you know,” he murmured under his breath so Flins wouldn’t hear him.
Flins bent around the corner so Illuga could see him. “Is spending time with you not self-care in itself?” He had that cheeky smile that sparked something inside of him every time he did it. Quickly, his head snapped away from the enchanting pair of eyes Flins looked at him with. Illuga bit down on the inside of his cheek, trying to reduce the sudden flush that spread on his face.
He rubbed the nape of his neck and decided not to respond to that intimidating figure in the kitchen. Not that he was actually intimidating to Illuga. The feelings that unraveled when in his presence were intimidating and something he wanted to avoid as long as possible.
And that same figure he’d rather not be facing in the current moment joined him at the old, worn-down table. But he didn’t say anything. Which was odd in Illuga’s opinion. Usually, he’d be going through his mental dictionary that listed every way he could push Illuga into further flustered frustration.
Unwanted thoughts he had no conscious control over crossed his mind for a split second;
Every time he talks to me like this, I want to grab that stupidly pretty face of his and shut him up.
I wish he’d stop pestering me so much before I do something I will regret.
When he pulled himself out of his humiliating brain, Flins’ stare was nothing short of.. It was a look he had never seen before, actually. He slumped in on himself and looked everywhere else that wasn’t those intoxicating golden eyes.
“I–uh,” he started quietly, “I guess it is if… you consider that to be self-care?”
“It is,” his words were quick to leave his mouth.
Illuga caught a glimpse of a colour he had never seen before on his peer’s pale face when he rose and returned to the kitchen. The lightest pink dusted so lightly on his cheeks that anyone ordinary would have missed it. Illuga furrowed his brows and lingered on the spot where he had sat just moments ago.
For as long as he has considered himself to be close to the graveyard lightkeeper, he has always wondered what the “un-phasable Flins’” weak spot was. He wanted the upper hand for once when it came to rebuttling against his teasing, and he finally got what he was looking for.
-
Something was different. There was something not quite right with the way Flins engaged with him over the last week and a half.
For starters, his visits to Piramida occurred every day. A man who claims to be so mysterious and dark and prefers to maintain that appearance, a man who did not often enjoy leaving his island very often unless he was working, and the occasional visits to Nasha Town. That same man spent as much time as he could by Illuga’s side. And, Illuga was not one to shy away from the public as his opposite did. He really didn’t mind it, though; the company made the hard days a little easier and a little nicer.
But what didn’t help those days was the racing of Illuga’s heart trapped in his ribcage, itching to burst out and confess how it feels. How it somehow ached in disappointment when Flins was absent, and beat with excitement when he was there. He told himself he was an idiot for feeling such a way toward Sir Flins. It was utterly impossible for it to be a reciprocated feeling. He wished Flins would disappear for days again and only leave him with wondering if he was alive. It was better that way. There were no strange feelings he struggled to push away every time his gaze was reciprocated by those enticing golden eyes when he was silently away.
There were moments when Illuga would look up after drowning in his thoughts–rather than doing the work he was supposed to be doing–Flins was already looking at him. As if he was waiting for something, and he didn’t know what that something was. Then he would walk away without command and return minutes later with the treat, the drink, the book, and really anything Illuga quietly starved for. It was an interesting predicament, to say the least.
And every time, he couldn’t help but feel like his reactions to these gestures were being chased by his generous companion who knew him way too well.
Flins was comfortable around Illuga. Illuga felt accomplished knowing this. Knowing that it was possible for Flins to want to develop connections with others. He chose Illuga to be that first person. It was an honour in a way. To be the first to crack the mask of a melancholy man. When townsfolk surrounded him with excitement for whatever Flins' next story was, there seemed to always be a time limit. He would disappear without a single soul noticing when the escapable moments presented themselves. He did not seem to have that social battery issue with Illuga.
That special feeling inside of him turned into butterflies without even a chance to object to his own emotional development.
Two gloved hands grabbed his shoulders from behind and gently squeezed them, prompting Illuga to look up at the perpetrator. Just as he thought, it was Flins looking down at him through strands of dark blue hair that hung over his face.
“Don’t do that!” he said after realizing who it was. Flins just smiled back at him.
“You don’t know when I am in your presence?” Flins tilted his head as he asked the question.
“No!” Illuga grumbled and returned to the disorganized mess on the table below him. He could pretend that his stomach wasn’t churning with nerves due to that sliver of a smile and try to remember what he was even doing in the first place. But that wouldn’t work to silence the buzzing in his brain that consumed him when Flins was around. He hated the way Flins unknowingly had control over him.
“Oh,” was all he replied with amusement. He sat in the vacant spot on the bench Illuga was sitting on–he sat so close that they were shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh. He let his chin rest on Illuga’s shoulder, which was new.
Illuga tensed up under him and tapped his fingers anxiously on the metal top of the table. He assumed he was playing those feelings off well. His mind spun a million words per second, trying to connect invisible dots in an attempt to piece together what was happening inside and outside of his body. He bit down on his bottom lip tightly. All he could think was: I want this every day– Why is he doing this to me? Is he toying with me? He’s messing with me, and it’s so stupid that I’m falling for it. That has to be it. That is the only logical conclusion for this behavior! Does he know how my body yearns for him when he isn’t around, and wants to make it worse?! The panic was loud on his face despite doing his best not to reveal it.
“No,” Flins blurted as if Illuga had asked that question himself before turning his head to rest on the shoulder rather than moving away with such a sudden declaration.
Illuga furrowed his brows, “What? ‘No’ what?” He looked as closely as he could without forcing Flins to revoke his newfound comfort on his shoulder. Flins innocently glanced up at him without a single expression on his face. He slowly lowered his gaze without responding. While Illuga remained nothing short of dumbfounded. I hate when you do that, he snarled inside.
The corner of Flins’ mouth twitched just enough for Illuga to notice it. He had been through gruesome expeditions, tiring shifts, rescue missions, and battles he’d rather not recall– but this was what left him in the most frustration he had ever been in. He would never run away from any of those responsibilities he carried daily–but it was this that made him want to run and hide and pretend there was nothing strange going on.
Rather than the scolding he wanted to pretend to have inside his imagination, he instead could only formulate one sentence. One singular thought, despite the terrible circumstance at hand: He is so unbelievably cute.
Illuga carded his fingers through his hair and averted his curious eyes once again.
There was no “run and hide” from these overwhelming feelings that shackled him down. He had to admit that he wanted life to look like this forever. Quiet company with someone he… loved(?) every day for the rest of time. And he remained extremely oblivious to what on all of Teyvat was happening between them.
-
“Is it good, Master Illuga?” Flins queried in the chair he pulled up to sit right next to the ratnik currently indulging in the lakkaberry pie he had surprised him with.
Illuga rolled his eyes at the title Flins never failed to address him as. He understood that Flins had some kind of admiration for the person he was, but “Master” was a bit much. After Flins had shut him down from telling him not to refer to him as that, he hadn’t mentioned it since. It would do no good–unless he needed to hear Flins gush about his abilities (which he hadn’t realized until now that he kind of is what Flins praised him for, and it was thanks to Flins himself that he was pulled out of a mountain of insecurity and fear) for the confidence boost if he really wanted it.
Or, maybe the idea of the man he found himself embarrassingly smitten with speaking highly of him gave him a small sliver of hope that maybe… No, that was just delusional. And that’s why he kept his mouth shut when Flins called him Master.
Instead, “this is the best pie I have ever eaten,” he commended through a mouth full of it. “Where did you get this?”
“I made it myself. Once I found out you were obsessed with this dish, I went home and tried baking it myself.”
Illuga’s eyes widened, and he dropped his fork to his plate. “How did you… You didn’t have to…”
“I wanted to,” Flins said at the same time.
“Oh..,” his voice trailed off. He was completely stumped about how Flins could have possibly learned that. He couldn’t recall ever talking about it. Maybe he slipped it when he was drunk a few nights ago. That was the most reasonable conclusion. “Thank you,” he cleared his throat. “It’s….it’s amazing.”
Is there anything he can’t do? Why does his stupidly pretty face have to be stupidly good at everything he does?
“For you, I would do anything.” He proclaimed as nonchalantly as a human being possibly could.
Illuga turned his beet-red face away, attempting to shield it from Flins’s sight. His failure to control the temperature that crept up his neck was mortifying. If Flins knew how he felt, how would he react? Would he leave? Never want to see him again? Think it was out of this world? Whatever it was, Illuga did not want to find out. He cherished their friendship too much to watch him walk away over silly feelings he didn’t intend to develop in the first place. It wasn’t his fault that Flins illuminated like the most beautiful full moon on a starry night, and talked to him in that voice made of sugar and honey.
Illuga scoffed lightly, “You don’t have to do that, Flins. Really… I don’t even know as much about you! It’s unfair if I do say so myself.” Anything? Would you kiss me if I asked? But, if I asked, would it be real or just an obligation to follow my every word?
When Flins failed to answer, Illuga glanced up ever so slightly to find that he was just blinking at him. Flins, the master of pushing his buttons in the most kind, but excruciatingly frustrating, way, was rendered speechless. “Is… Is everything okay?” Illuga squinted at him with as much curiosity as his confusion. He studied the traveling pink dust taking over his cheeks and those pointy elf ears of his.
Was Flins listening to him? Or did he not realize he had said those thoughts aloud? Did he do that?
They stared in absolute silence, neither one willing to break the tension that filled the room. Illuga’s fingernails carouselled on the table, becoming the only noise left. Flins’ unreadable eyes darted from spot to spot on Illuga’s face.
It was a ridiculous and totally not possible thought, but Illuga wanted to put a theory he had just come up with to the test. He already knew it was outlandish to think, but was it possible Flins had been able to hear his thoughts this whole time? And how?
I want you to kiss me, Flins, he demanded inside, foolishly expectant of a response.
Flins remained unmoved.
“Flins?” Illuga swallowed hoarsely. His awkward laugh was weak as he forced himself to return to the pie he no longer had much of an appetite for.
Delicate fingertips swept under his chin to caress the side of his face, to guide his attention back to the location of the owner of these gestures.
Illuga inhaled sharply when gentle lips pushed against his own. His wide-eyed shock did not stick around for very long, as it was ridiculously easy to melt into the sudden kiss. He had no idea how desperately he craved this–him. Not until it felt as if the brightest sparks from Naganohara Fireworks all the way from Inazauma were exploding at once. Electricity tickled his spine and left an unpleasant linger when Flins pulled away. Illuga frowned and chased his lips, but retreated as soon as he realized what he was doing–realized what had just happened.
He fluttered his eyes a few times in his best efforts to make sense of what had just occurred. Quickly, his shocked expression morphed into a neutral, dumbfounded one. His brows furrowed as understanding set it– “You heard everything?!” was the first thing he exclaimed afterward.
“Only when I wanted to.”
“Which was…?”
“All the time,” Flins bluntly revealed. “I am flattered by the way you think of me.” his smile was almost too cocky for his own good. When Illuga stayed quiet; “I wanted to,” as if answering a question that hadn’t been asked but was very obviously plastered on his face.
“So..,” Illuga chewed on the inside of his cheek, struggling to say the words he wanted to say. “As in all the time… you mean, everything?” Illuga recalled the senseless worlds his mind betraying traveled to on occasion. There were some worlds that were certainly not meant for anyone else’s knowledge except his own. He cringed as the confession hit him embarrassingly hard. He dragged his palm down his face, pulling on it as his hand moved. “And that’s how you know…about me,” he muttered into the hand that now covered half his face as if it was going to conceal the disaster the colour of his face was.
“Yes. Are you upset, Illuga?” Flins tilted his head.
Illuga let his outgrown hair fall over his face since it helped him hide a little more. “No,” he grumbled. “I’m just recalling everything you might have learned,” he rolled his eyes in response.
“I’ll have you know I feel the same.”
Illuga started laughing at the absurd situation he had been put in. “Then why did it take you so long to do anything about it?” he pushed teasingly. But, Illuga didn’t care for whatever excuse Flins could lay out. Without giving him a moment to answer, he grabbed Flins by the collar of his coat and reunited their lips. Fuck you, he cursed without voicing it. He felt Flins’ sly grin against his lips as they kissed.
Flins snaked his hands onto the waist of the shorter lightkeeper and tugged him out of his chair and then to straddle his lap. He drowned in Illuga’s relentlessly needy lips.
Still with Flins’ coat tightly in his grasp, his other hand explored the soft head of long, luxurious blue hair of the man under him. He kissed him with the passion of every single thought Flins might have heard, and he refused to let go.