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“You’re quiet.”
Gil flinched. He hadn’t even noticed himself freeze, his hands still on the sword he was supposed to be cleaning. Eleven had gone off somewhere, doing whatever it was Eleven did. Gil would rather not know. That left just him and Lizel, with the echoes of the day’s events still hanging between them.
Had he really gotten that lost in his head? That wasn’t like him. He prided himself on his focus, his discipline. But ever since a portal opened, revealing first Lizel’s father, then his king—the man Lizel kept calling his most precious person—Gil’s thoughts kept slipping through his fingers.
His chest felt heavy. Not with fear, not even jealousy, but with an emotion quieter and harder to name. Lizel had a way of drawing these strange new feelings out of him like no one else; this was yet another one for the collection.
“Isn’t this how I usually am?”
Lizel sent him a knowing glance. There was something bittersweet in the curve of his smile that told Gil he knew what this was about, despite Gil’s weak attempt at deflection.
Because of course he did.
“Not like this.”
Gil didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to, not without letting too much slip. Lizel turned back to his book, mercifully letting the subject drop. Paper rustled as he turned a page, and Gil’s eyes followed the elegant motion of Lizel’s fingers before he caught himself.
One day, those fingers would turn pages in another world—a world Gil had no place in. A world that needed Lizel. Loved him. A world he belonged to.
And there was nothing Gil could do to stop it.
“You know,” Lizel said without looking up from his book, “you’re staring at me like I’ll vanish if you blink.”
Caught again.
Gil’s jaw tightened. “Aren’t you?”
This time, Lizel did look over. The corners of his mouth quirked up in a carefree smile Gil knew better than the back of his hand. “Maybe. Who knows?”
Gil huffed, tried to match the tone of their usual banter, but his heart wasn’t in it. The ache in his chest lingered, dull and constant.
Lizel set the book aside. His expression shifted as his brows drew together in a worried frown, his eyes clouded with concern. It was rare to see him like this.
“Gil, I—”
“I’m fine,” Gil cut in, sharper than he meant to, and winced at the sound of his own voice.
What was he getting so defensive for? He was sure Lizel had seen through his thoughts already. Any denial was pointless.
He cleared his throat and tried again.
“I guess I was just reminded today you’re not staying forever,” he said. “That is all.”
Silence fell again. And then came Lizel’s voice.
“Will you miss me?” he asked, teasing, but not quite.
What a ridiculous question. Lizel had wedged himself so firmly into Gil’s life that the idea of a future without him felt hollow. And going back to solo adventuring? Impossible. Laughable. Unthinkable.
Lizel laughed softly, the sound low and warm. It tugged Gil back, out of his reverie. He turned to respond, words on the tip of his tongue—
Lizel was suddenly right there, so close Gil’s focus narrowed to the shade of his eyes—amethyst, impossible to ignore. He barely had time to register the movement before Lizel leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
Gil’s breath caught in his throat. The kiss was featherlight, but he was sure he would feel its ghost on his skin for a long time. He blinked at Lizel, at a loss for words.
“Then let’s make the most of the time we have, shall we?” Lizel said. His eyes twinkled with a promise of many adventures yet to come.
Gil stared at him for a moment longer, then finally laughed, soft and helpless.
That guy... Always catching me off guard.
“Yeah,” he said, smiling at last. “Of course.”