The morning light filtered through the sheer fabric of the tent, soft as breath and pale as honey. Dew shimmered on the leaves outside, and the faint call of a spirit bird echoed across the distant canopy.
Yu stirred, his lashes trembling as his mind clawed its way back from the haze of sleep. Every muscle felt heavy, his body oddly languid, as though the forest itself had drained him.
A faint ache coiled through him — not sharp, but deep. And beneath that ache was warmth, the kind that carried memory.
His gaze drifted downward. His robes were gone, replaced by clean ones folded neatly beside him. The faint scent of herbs clung to his skin, mixed with something warmer, something that made his ears burn.
"...Lian?"
His own voice sounded rough. The last thing he remembered was… the poisonous mist, the burning heat that had devoured him from the inside, Lian's voice whispering his name again and again through the haze—
Yu's breath caught. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for the hem of the blanket, pausing when he saw faint red marks blooming against his pale wrist.
He looked away immediately, his heart beating too fast.
What happened last night…?
No — he remembered some of it. The heat, the trembling, the sound of Lian's voice—
He bit his lip and buried his face into the pillow.
"...I'm never going to survive this kind of shame," he muttered to himself.
From the entrance of the cave sound of footsteps were heard.
Lian entered, his expression composed but shadowed with fatigue. He carried a pot of water and a small bundle of food. His long black hair was tied loosely behind him, a few strands sticking to his neck with sweat.
When their eyes met, time seemed to halt.
Neither spoke.
Yu looked away first, pretending to fix his sleeve. "You're back early."
Lian's voice was low, steady — too steady. "The nearby river still has clean water. You should drink."
He poured some into a wooden cup and set it by Yu's side. The way his hand trembled slightly did not go unnoticed.
"...Thank you."
The silence that followed was unbearable. The forest outside buzzed with life, but inside, every heartbeat felt too loud.
Yu picked up the cup, then hesitated. "Lian…"
Lian froze mid-motion, his hand halfway to his belt.
"About… last night—"
Both of them spoke at once.
"About last night—"
They stopped. Then looked at each other. And — absurdly — laughed. It was awkward and nervous, but it broke something tight between them.
Lian sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I should apologize."
Yu blinked, startled.
"I lost control," Lian said quietly. "The aphrodisiac's effect was strong, but… it wasn't only that. I should've—"
"Stop," Yu interrupted, his voice softer than intended. "You don't need to say it like it was some kind of crime."
Lian's gaze flickered, searching his expression.
Yu turned his head away, his cheeks coloring. "I mean… I was the one who…"
He trailed off, his fingers curling into the blanket.
For a moment, the only sound was their breathing.
Then Yu muttered, "It's fine. Just… don't look at me like that right now."
Lian's lips curved, faint amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Like what?"
"Like you remember every detail," Yu hissed, glaring.
Lian's chuckle was quiet but rich, sending a shiver through Yu's spine. "Then you should stop blushing like that."
Yu threw a pillow at him. "Shut up!"
Lian caught it easily, laughter lighting his eyes — a rare, unguarded warmth that made Yu's heart stumble.
---
They ate in silence after that, though it wasn't quite the same silence as before. It was filled with small glances, fleeting touches, and the soft rustle of shared space.
When Yu tried to tie his cloak, his wrist slipped. Lian stepped closer without a word, taking the fabric from his fingers.
His calloused hands brushed Yu's skin — warm, grounding.
Yu stiffened. The scent of pine and steel clung to Lian's clothes, and when their gazes met, something unspoken passed between them.
(… … …)
The moment stretched too long, then broke when Yu abruptly turned away. "I can do it myself."
Lian said nothing — only smiled faintly and stepped back, watching him fumble with the knot again.
It came loose twice. The third time, Lian reached out again, this time tying it deftly.
"There," he murmured, his voice close to Yu's ear. "You're hopeless with knots."
Yu's breath caught. "…Maybe I just wanted you to do it."
That earned him a look — startled, then amused, then something darker.
(… … …)
Yu coughed, pretending to focus on the food instead. "Anyway, next time, don't lose control."
Lian raised an eyebrow, lips curving. "So, you're saying there'll be a next time?"
A pebble hit him squarely on the shoulder.
Lian only laughed, low and rich, before stepping closer — not too close, just enough that Yu could feel the warmth radiating from him.
(… … …)
The kiss that followed was soft — just a brush of lips, nothing more. A promise, a question, a quiet acknowledgment of everything that couldn't be said aloud.
---
When they finally packed to leave, the forest mist clung to the ground like silver smoke.
Yu walked a few paces ahead, determined to look unaffected. His steps were steady, though the slight stiffness in his movements betrayed otherwise.
Lian trailed behind, pretending not to notice, though his gaze never strayed far.
At one point, Yu stumbled over a root. A strong hand caught his elbow instantly.
"Careful," Lian murmured.
"I know," Yu mumbled, but didn't pull away.
A heartbeat passed before he added, quieter, "...Thank you."
They walked like that for a while — sometimes side by side, sometimes one leading, their shadows merging and separating under the dappled light.
Lian offered him half of his dried meat (snacks)without a word.
Yu hesitated, then took it — their fingers brushed briefly.
He didn't look up, but the corners of his mouth lifted just a little.
As the sun dipped low, painting the treetops gold, they found a ridge overlooking the valley below. The wind carried the scent of wild herbs and the faint hum of distant mana.
Yu sat down on a rock, drawing his knees up. "You think this poisonous valley will ever ends?"
"Eventually," Lian said, sitting beside him. "Everything does."
Yu shot him a sideways glance. "That's depressing."
Lian smirked. "Then I'll rephrase — everything changes."
"Better," Yu said softly.
For a while, they just sat there, the silence no longer heavy. The last light of dusk brushed Yu's face, softening his sharp edges into something almost serene.
Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe peace — but for the first time since last night, he laughed quietly, genuine and unguarded.
"Maybe…" Yu murmured, resting his chin on his knees, "the journey won't be so unbearable with you."
Lian's gaze lingered on him for a moment — the curve of his smile, the way the light danced in his eyes.
"Then I'll make sure it never is," he said simply.
---
The wind carried their laughter into the fading light, the shadows stretching long and thin — and somewhere deep in the forest, unseen eyes flickered awake, watching the two figures disappear into the mist once more.