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In the midst of the biting winter of Nod-Krai, snowfall is not rare. Illuga is well aware of this fact — he pulls his coat closer to himself, snowflakes stinging his face as gusts of wind howl across the land.
He'd left Piramida as clouds rolled over the horizon, but he stayed determined to deliver Flins supplies before the storm hit. By the time he arrived at Final Night Cemetery, however, the storm had already begun in earnest.
Final Night Cemetery is always dark, but Illuga finds a striking beauty in it, especially as fresh snow drapes over the gravestones and the beacon of light pierces through the storm. He follows this light, snow crunching beneath his boots and the supplies tucked in the crook of his arm.
The snowfall is heavy and wet, the wind unrelenting. As such, Illuga finds great relief in finally reaching the lighthouse, and in turn, Flins' home. He climbs the ramp up to Flins' door, and knocks once, twice against the metal.
After a few beats, the door opens, Flins standing across the threshold with an almost bemused look on his face. "Oh my," he says, "Young Master Illuga, please come inside."
Illuga gladly does so, stomping snow off his boots before entering Flins' abode. It's warmer inside by a significant degree, and Illuga relishes in that warmth. "I brought supplies," he says, holding out the package for Flins to take.
Flins hesitates, eyes scanning over Illuga's form. "You needn't put yourself into peril for my sake," he says, taking the package and setting it off to the side. "That is not to say I do not appreciate the supplies, but Master Illuga—"
Illuga waves his hand dismissively, "It's just snow," he says, then laughs a little. "Heavy snow."
"Indeed," Flins replies, and it's just for a moment, but he lifts his hand to Illuga's face, then brushing snow out of his hair. Warmth radiates from Flins — the snowflakes on Illuga's face melt at the contact.
Illuga clears his throat and averts his gaze. "Regardless, Sir Flins, I wanted to make sure you were prepared for the storm. I thought — well, I intended to make it to you and back to Piramida before the storm started. Clearly I left too late."
"You've come a long way and faced quite poor weather on your way to ensure my safety. For that I can only offer my sincerest thanks." Flins bows his head slightly, but Illuga catches the hint of a grin pulling at his lips.
"You seem amused," Illuga states plainly.
"Why, I wouldn't say that I'm amused," Flins responds, "I just hadn't expected company during a snowstorm such as this. You cannot head back to Piramida now, and despite that wrench in your plans, the prospect of your company has certainly brightened my day."
Illuga bites at the inside of his cheek.
"Please, come in. I'll fetch you some water." He pauses for a second. "Or would you rather some hot tea?"
"Yes, tea, thank you, Sir Flins."
Illuga obliges to come in — usually when he brings Flins supplies, he keeps the other man company for some time, and it seems today will be no different. It certainly was not Illuga's intention to get stranded on Final Night Cemetery during this storm, but… worse things have happened.
He pulls off his gloves and slips out of his coat, folding them and setting them upon a bench by the door before heading further into Flins' home.
Flins returns quickly to Illuga's side, a cup of steaming hot tea in his hands. He sets it down on the table before them, and Illuga cups it in his own hands, feeling the warmth spread to his fingers and palms.
The biting chill having been chased off, Illuga finds himself greatly appreciating the heat. Flins' home is warmer than any in Piramida, despite its isolation.
"I wonder how long the storm will last," Illuga muses aloud, casting a glance out the frosted window to see it still raging on.
"You are welcome here as long as it does last, and in fact, even longer if such pleases you."
At this, Illuga lets out an involuntary snort. "Please, Sir Flins, you don't have to lay it on so thick."
"Whatever could you mean?" Flins asks with a playful glint in his eyes. "Young Master, I only want you to feel welcome."
"I feel it," Illuga responds, taking a sip of his tea. "You are most hospitable."
Flins smiles, then looks a bit lost in thought for a moment before he speaks, "I must say once again that I thank you for the supplies. Though, if I may, I'd like to request that you not do such a thing again in such a storm."
Illuga tilts his head curiously. "I know you were running low on food, and I couldn't leave you to starve in a snowstorm."
"I would have been quite alright," Flins replies. "I would much rather you prioritize your own safety."
Illuga blinks at him. "That's quite bold of you," he says with a hint of ire.
"I understand your concern, and I am beyond grateful to have someone like you looking out for me," Flins says.
"But?"
"But if you had been caught in the storm — or injured in some way — on your way to deliver me supplies, I don't think I could forgive myself."
Illuga huffs. "You don't need them, do you?"
Flins opens his mouth and then shuts it again, for once seemingly at a loss for words. After a few moments, he finds them: "I appreciate the supplies you bring to me, and your company."
After rubbing at his temples, Illuga says, "Is it impossible for you not to dodge a question?"
"Indeed, it may be."
Illuga laughs humorlessly.
"All I ask is that you think of your own safety over mine, Young Master Illuga. I don't intend to anger you."
A sigh, and a long breath in. Illuga hates the flippancy Flins has towards his own life and his own safety, but perhaps the other man has a point here. If Flins put himself into peril for Illuga's sake, he would be just as angry as he is now, if not more.
"It's just snow," Illuga says again. "You don't need to fuss."
Now, Flins chuckles. "Hmm," he hums, once again reaching a hand toward Illuga's face to brush a strand of hair behind his ear. "I fear I will continue to fuss."
Unwittingly, Illuga leans into the touch. Flins is so warm. Then the words catch up to him, and he lets out another sigh. "Please, don't. People fuss about me quite enough already."
"People care for you, and for your safety, dear Master Illuga. It is not a sorry thing."
"I should say the same to you."
Flins hand stays cupping Illuga's face, hot against his skin.
In truth, Illuga knows there is much more to Flins that he has yet to learn. Yes — he is plenty capable of keeping himself safe. Illuga's trips to bring him supplies may have evolved into a pretense neither of them quite believe nor need anymore, but…
He will continue to be stubborn. He will continue to bring Flins supplies so long as the other man does not turn him away. And Flins — well, Illuga has a hard time imagining Flins turning him away.
Illuga brings his own hand to grasp Flins' that still holds his face, and he squeezes it lightly. He looks Flins in the eyes, his yellow eyes as gleaming as the lighthouse above them, and he feels himself lean in, ever-so-slightly.
Flins, as observant as ever, notices such a thing. He lifts his other hand to cup the opposite side of Illuga's face, holding him and looking at him like something precious.
Illuga lets his eyelids flutter shut. He can't look Flins in the eyes and be so honest. "Flins," he says, "I care about you deeply. When we evacuated Nod-Krai, I couldn't sleep, thinking about you — your safety. Maybe you don't need my supplies, and maybe you even find my care for you silly and unnecessary."
"I believe no such thing," Flins replies.
"Even so, there are things I don't know. Even so, I…"
Flins waits patiently, hands caressing Illuga's face. Illuga is the one who presses forward, catching Flins' lips with his own. As with the rest of him, Flins' mouth is hot, and the heat of the kiss builds as the snow accumulates outside. Illuga's hands come to tangle in Flins' hair, pulling him closer — impossibly closer.
When they part, Illuga finally opens his eyes once again to meet Flins and his soft expression. He leans to press their foreheads together. "Flins, I… just want you safe."
"I wish the same for you," Flins murmurs, breath hot against Illuga's lips.
"If you don't need me—"
"Nonsense," Flins interrupts, "Master Illuga, you are so dear to me. Please, do not misunderstand."
Illuga nods, eyes drifting around Flins' face. He is so beautiful, it almost hurts Illuga to look at him so closely. But he will continue to look, just as he will continue to brave the cold and the dark. Just as he will continue to look out for Flins' safety, regardless of how needed that concern may be. Just as he will continue to love Flins, for however human he may or may not be.
Time will certainly reveal all, but until then, and in fact even longer, Illuga will continue to bask in Flins' warmth.