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Chapter Text

After the battle, everything felt kind of distant and off. Lloyd’s head was spinning, and his body didn’t feel quite right. And to be fair, it wasn’t every day your soul got pulled out of your body and then shoved back in. He felt numb, like pieces of him were still scattered across the battlefield.

But all of that faded the second he heard Arin cry out.

It wasn’t just a tearful sniff or a quiet sob—it was loud and broken, full of panic.

He ran.

His legs moved before he even knew where he was going. He pushed through the smoke and broken stone, leaping over the scattered remains of the fight, until he spotted them.

Arin was crouched beside a huge slab of rock, his whole body shaking as he tried to lift it. His hands were scraped up, his arms straining, but the rock didn’t budge an inch. And under it—trapped—was Ras.

The tiger-like warrior was out cold, his leg pinned underneath the stone. His fur, usually dark and sharp-looking, was dirty and bloody. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and even unconscious, his face looked tense. Fangs poked out from his mouth, and his braids were tangled and stuck to his skin with sweat.

Lloyd didn’t wait.

He dropped next to the rock, grabbed the edge, and with a shout, pushed it up and off like it weighed nothing. The strength came from the rush still in his system, the leftover energy from the battle, and maybe the fear that they were too late.

As the rock crashed to the side, Arin let out a gasp and rushed to Ras’s side. “Ras?!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “Ras, wake up!”

Sora skidded to a stop just behind them. She took one look at the scene and covered her mouth. “Oh no…”

Lloyd didn’t respond. He was already scanning Ras, already thinking ahead. The tiger wasn’t moving. He looked worse than Lloyd had ever seen him.

But he was alive.

And right now, that was all that mattered.

Lloyd stood up, jaw tight. “We need to get to the Monastery,” he said firmly. “Now.”

The next time Ras opened his eyes, everything felt... wrong.

The light was soft. Too soft. There was no smoke, no screaming, no heat of battle. Just warm air and the faint scent of old wood and incense.

He shifted, and pain immediately shot through his leg. A growl rumbled in his chest, low and weak. His hand moved instinctively to reach for a weapon, but there was none. Only blankets. Bandages. A bed.

The Monastery.

His eyes darted around, trying to make sense of it. Then he saw him.

Lloyd.

The Green Ninja sat silently in a chair near the foot of the bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely. He looked tired—really tired—but not surprised. Like he’d been expecting Ras to wake up. Like he’d been waiting.

Their eyes met.

“You’re awake,” Lloyd said quietly, not moving.

Ras’s voice came out rough, dry. “Why am I not dead?”

Lloyd didn’t blink. “Because I wouldn’t let you die.”

Ras snorted, or tried to. It came out more like a cough. “That simple?”

“You were under a boulder,” Lloyd said. “You would’ve bled out if we left you.”

“We?” Ras asked, narrowing his eyes.

Lloyd leaned back in the chair. “Doesn’t matter. It was my decision.”

Ras shifted slightly, testing his leg. The pain was sharp, deep in the bone. Broken. Useless, for now. He hated that. Hated lying there, helpless, being looked at like this. His claws twitched under the blanket.

“You should’ve let me die,” he said, tone hard. “I’m not your ally. I’ve tried to kill you.”

“I know,” Lloyd said calmly. “But you mean a lot to Arin.”

Ras’s eyes flicked away at the mention of the boy. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything.

“I didn’t save you for you,” Lloyd continued. “I did it because someone cares about you. And I don’t let people die if I can help it. Not even ones like you.”

Silence hung between them.

Ras stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, the muscles in his jaw working, his breath slow and steady. Pride kept the words trapped in his throat, but somewhere deep inside, the truth of it gnawed at him.

He didn’t say thank you.

And Lloyd didn’t expect him to.

Lloyd let out a quiet sigh and stood up. “Let me check your vitals.”

Ras grunted, clearly not thrilled about being fussed over. “I’m not a child.”

“You’re not a corpse either,” Lloyd replied, stepping closer. “Let’s keep it that way.”

He crouched beside the bed, lifting the blanket just enough to check the bandages around Ras’s chest and side. They were holding, no signs of fresh bleeding. The bruises were still ugly, deep purples and blacks against his dark fur, but healing. Slowly.

“These aren’t from yesterday,” Lloyd muttered, almost to himself.

Ras didn’t respond.

“You’ve got a cracked rib,” Lloyd muttered. “Could’ve punctured something if we’d moved you wrong.”

“You didn’t,” Ras said flatly.

“No. I didn’t.”

Lloyd checked his pulse next, fingers on Ras’s wrist. Steady, but slow. A good sign. Then he shifted to examine the leg—carefully, gently. The swelling had gone down a little. The break was bad, though. It’d be weeks before Ras could walk without a limp.

The tiger watched him the whole time with narrow, guarded eyes.

Finally, Lloyd stood. “You’re stable. For now.”  

He turned, grabbing the bowl of water to rinse his hands—when Ras spoke.

“…The boy.”  

Lloyd didn’t turn around. He already knew who Ras meant. “Arin?”  

Ras didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.  

“He’s alive,” Lloyd said, carefully neutral. “A little bruised. Nothing serious.”  

He set the bowl back down.  

“He and Sora are here. In the Monastery.”  

Ras shifted slightly on the bed, a flicker of tension across his face. “You let him stay.”  

Lloyd turned to look at him then. “My family didn’t build this place just for people who never make mistakes.”  

The silence between them thickened.  

“I trusted him,” Lloyd said after a moment, quieter. “Taught him everything I could. And he left.” His jaw tightened. “For you.”  

Ras didn’t look proud. He didn’t smirk or gloat. He just looked tired.  

“I didn’t ask him to.”  

“No,” Lloyd said, crossing his arms. “But you didn’t stop him either.”  

That hung in the air for a while. Ras’s expression was unreadable—his red eyes locked onto the ceiling like it might be easier than looking at Lloyd.  

“He made a choice,” Ras finally said. “I didn’t force him.”  

Lloyd exhaled slowly. “Doesn’t make it hurt any less.”  

He turned away again, this time walking toward the door. “I’ll bring you food later. Try not to tear your stitches being dramatic.”  

No response.  

Lloyd paused just before stepping out, glancing back one last time.  

“He stayed by your side,” he said. “When you were pinned. He wouldn’t leave you.”  

Lloyd closed the door behind him.

The door creaked open.

Ras’s ears twitched, and his eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the warm light spilling into the room.

It was Arin.

He held a wooden tray balanced in both hands—two bowls of steaming soup, a chunk of bread, and a small bottle of water. He looked awkward. Like he wasn’t sure if he should be here, but he’d come anyway.

“I brought you food,” Arin said, walking in. “Lloyd said to make sure you eat.”

Ras didn’t respond. Just watched him. Carefully. Quietly.

Arin pulled up a chair and set the tray down on the bedside table. “He said you’re stable. For now. Doesn’t mean you get to skip meals!”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Ras muttered.

“Sure you don't.” Arin reached for the bowl, dipped a spoon into the broth, and blew on it gently. “But you’re getting one anyway.”

He held out the spoon. Ras hesitated.

 Ras grumbled. Still, he accepted the spoon with a grunt.

They fell into a rhythm—Arin feeding him small spoonfuls, Ras making a quiet comment or two every now and then, his usual sharpness dulled by pain and exhaustion. Eventually, Arin spoke again.

“You know,” he said quietly, “Lloyd hasn’t looked me in the eye since we pulled you out from under that rock.”

Ras didn’t answer right away.

“I think he hates me” Arin added. 

“You made your choice,” Ras said.

“Yeah,” Arin muttered.

Silence again. Only the soft clink of the spoon in the bowl.

“I thought I knew what I was doing,” Arin continued, voice low. “I thought… following you, learning from you—it’d make me strong enough to protect everyone. To find my parents. But all I did was hurt everyone around me.”

“He still saved you, you know,” Arin said, setting the spoon down. “Lifted that rock like it weighed nothing. Carried you all the way back here. Wrapped your leg himself.”

“I didn’t ask him to.”

“He didn’t do it for you,” Arin said, sharper than before. “He did it because letting someone die on his watch isn’t something he can live with. Maybe that's what Frak meant. Lloyd is a real hero.”

That hung heavy in the air.

Ras looked away.

“…He hasn’t changed,” Arin said after a long pause. “He’s still the person I looked up to.”

“And yet you left him,” Ras muttered.

“I-” Arin stuttered, eyes hard. “I just didn’t realize what I was walking away from.”

He picked the spoon up again and held it out.

“Eat. You’ll need your strength. He’s not the only one who doesn’t give up on people.”

Ras hesitated, then opened his mouth.

Ras woke up in the middle of the night.

At first, he wasn’t sure what had stirred him—the pain in his leg throbbed dully, his body stiff and sore. But then he heard it. Faint, but unmistakable.

A scream.

One of pain. Of fear. Guttural. Raw.

Another followed. Then silence. Then a muffled cry, something strangled and broken—Lloyd’s voice.

Ras lay still, ears twitching.

The sound kept going for a while before it stopped almost as quickly as it had begun.

He stared at the ceiling. Eyes wide open. Heart unusually tight.

He didn’t sleep again.

The next morning, Arin returned with more food—eggs, flatbread, tea. His movements were quieter today, a little more careful. He tried to act normal, but Ras didn’t let it slide.

“You heard it too,” Ras said flatly, eyes on him.

Arin froze with the tray halfway to the table.

“The scream,” Ras clarified.

Arin sighed and set the tray down. “Yeah.”

“My room,” Ras said slowly, “it’s next to his, isn’t it?”

Arin hesitated. Then nodded. “Yeah. It is.”

“And far from everyone else.”

Another pause. Arin glanced away. “Probably on purpose.”

Ras stared at him.

“Lloyd has nightmares,” Arin said, voice low. “Like, really bad ones. Apparently after the Merge, they got worse. He doesn’t like anyone hearing him like that. And we aren't allowed to go in his room when it happens either. I think that’s why your room is here. He needs to keep track of you, and It’s isolated. No one else would hear it.”

Ras’s gaze lingered on the wall that separated their rooms.  

“Does he talk about it?” he asked.  

Arin shook his head. “Never.”  

Silence stretched.  

“I think,” Arin added softly, “he doesn’t believe he’s allowed to be weak in front of anyone. Not even himself.”  

Ras said nothing. Just leaned back into the pillows and stared at the ceiling again.  

He never thought him and Lloyd would be similar in that regard.

the door opened softly.

He didn’t need to look to know it was Lloyd this time—his footsteps were lighter, more practiced. Measured in a way Arin’s never were.

“You’re due for a change,” Lloyd said simply, setting a small bundle of fresh gauze and salve on the table beside the bed.

He didn’t ask. He didn’t wait for permission. Just pulled a stool close and sat beside him, rolling up his sleeves with quiet efficiency.

Ras watched in silence as Lloyd unwrapped the bandages. His touch was steady—gentle, even. He peeled away the old cloth slowly, mindful not to pull at fur or scabs. The herbal smell rose again as dried salve flaked away with the gauze.

Lloyd’s brow furrowed just slightly as he examined the bruising. He said nothing, but Ras noticed the tightness in his jaw.

“…More bruises showed up,” Lloyd muttered, mostly to himself. “Older ones. You must’ve been fighting non-stop.”

Ras grunted softly. “It was a long walk.”

Lloyd didn’t answer. He dipped two fingers into the jar of salve, warmed it in his palm, and then started applying it to the swelling with slow, careful circles. His hands were surprisingly warm.

“I know this one hurts,” Lloyd murmured, glancing up as Ras flinched slightly when he reached a deeper bruise. “Sorry.”

He didn’t flinch away when Ras bared his teeth briefly—not in warning, but in stubborn discomfort.

Lloyd just kept going. Gentle. Thorough.

“You’re lucky the break was clean,” he added as he began wrapping the fresh gauze around the leg. “Any worse and you’d be on crutches for the rest of your life. Or crawling.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Ras muttered, but his voice lacked its usual bite.

Lloyd tied the bandage off with a small knot, neat and tight. Then he sat back, rubbing the leftover salve from his fingers with a cloth.

He didn’t say anything else. Didn’t ask how Ras was feeling or if he needed anything. He just made sure everything was in place, stood up, and turned to leave.

But just before he reached the door, Ras spoke.

“…You didn’t have to be that careful.”

Lloyd paused, hand on the frame.

“I know,” he said. Quiet. Flat. “But I was.”

And then he left.

Later that day, Arin returned again, this time with clean clothes folded under one arm and a flask of water in the other. Ras was awake, propped slightly upright with pillows. He said nothing at first, just watched Arin enter.

“You’re looking better,” Arin said, setting the clothes down. “More color in your face. That’s something.”

Ras narrowed his eyes. “He came by.”

Arin blinked. “Lloyd?”

A slow nod. “Changed my bandages. Barely made a sound. Hands like he was afraid I’d break.”

Arin gave a small shrug. “That’s just how he is.”

“That’s not how people treat enemies,” Ras growled “That’s not how you treat someone who almost killed you, or your team, or…” His eyes sharpened.

Arin tensed. “He’s not angry like that. Not the way you think.”

Ras tilted his head. “Then what is he? Some kind of saint?”

“No,” Arin snapped. “He’s just… him.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“He doesn’t owe you one.”

The air between them turned tight.

Ras shifted slightly, ears flicking back. “You think I don’t see it? You still want their approval. You think if you just stay close enough, bring me soup and follow orders, maybe you’ll earn them back. You're still weak.”

Arin’s jaw clenched. “I didn’t come here to be dissected.”

“No,” Ras said, voice sharper now. “You came here because you don’t know who you are unless someone else tells you.”

Arin’s face darkened.

“You think he’s kind because he’s soft. But he’s not,” Ras went on. “He’s kind because he refuses to let people see how broken he is. That’s not strength. That's a delusion.”

“Shut up.”

“You don’t want the truth, Arin. You want someone to tell you who to be. Me. Him. Whoever will look you in the eye long enough to give you purpose.”

“I said shut up!” Arin snapped, stepping forward.

The next moment was fast—Arin’s hands curled into fists, his breathing shallow. But he didn’t swing.

Not quite.

“I abandoned them,” Arin hissed. “Because I thought you’d make me stronger. I thought you had answers. But you just keep tearing things down. You break people to feel powerful. You don’t build anything.”

Ras’s red eyes locked onto his. “And yet, here you are. Still at my bedside.”

They stood there in silence.

Eventually, Arin stepped back, trembling. “You don’t get to talk about Lloyd like you understand him.”

And with that, he turned and stormed out, the door clicking shut behind him.

Ras didn’t say a word. 

The door creaked open, slow and quiet.

Ras turned his head.

But it wasn’t Arin this time.

It was Lloyd, his jaw tight, holding off a scowl. He stepped into the room with a tray in hand and not a word, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

“You,” Ras said, voice low. “Didn’t think you'd volunteer.”

Lloyd didn’t answer right away. He set the tray down on the bedside table, not looking at Ras.

“Arin’s not coming,” he said flatly. “Figured I’d get it over with.”

Ras let out a quiet snort. “And here I was thinking you enjoyed playing caretaker.”

Lloyd pulled the stool over and sat down. “I don’t.”

He picked up the spoon without ceremony. No smile. No warmth. Just methodical motion.

Ras watched him, head tilted faintly, eyes sharp. “You’re angry.”

Lloyd paused just a second too long before offering the first spoonful.

“I’m tired.”

Ras took the bite in silence, eyes never leaving him.

“You put me next to your room, to watch my every move” he said after a moment. “Strange thing to do for someone you can’t even look at.”

Lloyd looked at him then—finally. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was calmer when he spoke.

“I didn’t do this for you to amuse yourself .”

“No,” Ras said, leaning back slightly. “You did it to make Arin feel better about himself.”

Lloyd face soften. “He cares about you.”

Ras didn’t respond immediately. Just studied the man in front of him. There was tension in Lloyd’s shoulders, in the way he moved—like he didn’t want to be here but was forcing himself to do it anyway.

“You think I deserve this?” Ras asked, voice lower now.

“No,” Lloyd replied, too quickly. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

He gave another spoonful, this time more gently.

“I don’t let people die on my watch,” he added. “Doesn’t matter if I like them.”

That earned him silence. Heavy. Uncomfortable. But not hostile.

Ras’s gaze softened, almost imperceptibly. “You’re not what I expected.”

Lloyd let out a breath, slow and quiet. “You said that already.”

“Still true.”

Another pause.

“Why are you doing this?” Ras asked. “Why not let me starve?”

Lloyd hesitated, the edge in his voice fading a little.

“Because you’re here. Whether I like it or not. And ignoring that won’t make it easier for anyone.”

He offered another spoonful, and this time Ras accepted it without a word.

After a while, Ras spoke again.

“Do you always carry the whole world like this?”

Lloyd blinked at him, caught off guard.

“…Someone has to,” he said, softer than before.

And for the first time, there was no coldness in his voice. Just the truth.

The visits started to happen more often.

Never announced. Never explained. But somehow, Lloyd kept showing up—sometimes with food, sometimes just to change bandages, and other times… with scrolls.

Ras raised an eyebrow the first time Lloyd set the aged, brittle parchment down on the small table beside the bed.

“Didn’t think the green ninja dabbled in ancient Wyldness lore,” he said dryly.

Lloyd sat down without looking at him. “I don’t. That’s why I brought them to you.”

Ras scoffed, but curiosity pulled his hand toward the first scroll anyway. He unrolled it slowly, claws careful on the delicate paper.

“Where did you even find these?”

“In my monastery library,” Lloyd answered, pulling out a notebook and a pencil. “But most were destroyed. Thought you could help me make sense of them.”

“Using me as a translator?” Ras muttered, scanning the spidery text. “How strategic of you.”

Lloyd didn’t look up. “ It might help in the future, plus I figured you’d like the distraction.”

That made Ras pause. He glanced over, narrowing his eyes.

“You assume a lot.”

“You’re not the only one who’s been stuck in a bed before,” Lloyd replied, quieter this time. “It helps.”

Ras let out a quiet huff. “Fine. But I’m not repeating myself if you forget to write it down.”

Lloyd cracked the faintest smile. “Duly noted.”

The days blend together.

The bruises began to fade. The bandages came off one by one. The swelling in Ras’s leg finally went down enough that Lloyd stopped flinching every time he changed the wrappings.

of course Ras wasn’t healed enough to leave yet. But at least now he didn’t have to suffer being fed by Lloyd.

And eventually, Ras got tired of sitting in bed.

The first time Lloyd walked in and found Ras standing—leaning on the edge of the table, one hand gripping it to keep steady—he didn’t scold him. He didn’t tell him to rest. He just stepped in and slid a chair close.

“You might like this one,” Lloyd said, unrolling a new scroll. “It’s got some glyphs I haven’t seen before.”

Ras grunted as he sank into the chair, biting back a wince. “Don’t flatter me. I’ve seen them all.”

Lloyd raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? So you will translate them on your own instead of making me beg for you to teach them to me?”

Ras shot him a look, claws already pulling the scroll closer. “Tch. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Greenie.”

It became something of a rhythm after that.

They’d work through the scrolls together—Lloyd translating what he could, Ras correcting him, mocking him lightly when he got things wrong, and grudgingly complimenting him when he got it right. Sometimes Ras would point something out and end up explaining far more than intended, pulled into a story or a lesson from the Wyldness. He’d catch himself too late, falling quiet with a frown. But Lloyd never interrupted. Never asked questions he knew Ras wouldn’t want to answer.

And when the silence settled between them, it wasn’t uncomfortable anymore.

It just was .

Today the monastery was quieter than usual.

Everyone had gone out to get some groceries, Lloyd stayed back to look after Ras. which meant for the first time in weeks, Lloyd and Ras were completely alone.

The usual scrolls were already waiting on the table when Lloyd arrived, but Ras wasn’t at his usual seat. The sound of claws scraping faintly against the wooden floor gave him away—Ras was at the window, standing without a crutch, steadying himself on the sill with one hand as he looked outside.

“You’re gonna overdo it,” Lloyd said with a frown.

“I’m not made of glass,” Ras replied without turning around. “And if I sit for one more hour, I’ll lose what’s left of my mind.”

Lloyd approached quietly and didn’t argue. Instead, he glanced out the same window. The courtyard was empty, bathed in sunlight and shadows cast by the high monastery walls.

“It’s quiet today,” Lloyd said.

Ras let out a low breath. “Too quiet.”

Lloyd looked at him, tilting his head. “You’d rather have the kids around yelling about training?”

“I’d rather someone be around,” Ras muttered, then paused—clearly surprised by his own words.

Lloyd blinked. “That’s new.”

Ras gave him a sideways glance, unimpressed. “Don’t read into it.”

“Too late” Lloyd said, fighting back a small smile. 

That earned him a huff.

Eventually, Ras moved back to the table, slower than usual but with more balance. Lloyd steadied a chair for him without asking. They sat. The scrolls were pulled open. The old routine resumed.

Only… this time, the silence in the room felt different . Not heavy. Not awkward. Just quiet. Peaceful, in a way.

“You said once you were taught to believe strength was everything,” Lloyd said after a while, eyes still on the scroll in front of him.

Ras didn't answer right away. He watched Lloyd from across the table, expression unreadable. Then he spoke—quietly, with less bite than usual.

“I was taught that weakness gets you killed.”

Lloyd finally looked up. “You think being here makes you weak?”

“I think being soft does,” Ras replied, but his tone lacked conviction.

They stared at each other for a moment.

Then Lloyd leaned back, folding his arms. “And yet… here you are. Sitting in a place built by people you used to fight, helping someone you used to hate.”

“I never said I hated you,” Ras said.

Lloyd scoffed. “That’s not a denial.”

Ras smirked faintly, then looked down at the scroll again.

“Maybe the quiet’s getting to me,” he said, half to himself. “You lot are rubbing off.”

Lloyd rested his chin on his hand, voice dry. “Scary thought.”

They shared a brief look. Not quite a smile, but not far from one.

The silence between them lingered after that—not heavy, not sharp. Just still. Like the air between words when both people are listening.

Lloyd’s gaze flicked back to Ras, who was still looking at the scroll, but not really reading anymore. His shoulders were more relaxed than usual, the usual tension in his jaw gone. For once, he looked… tired. But not guarded. Not angry. Just there .

Maybe it was the light, or the way Ras had started talking more, trusting him with pieces of himself. Maybe it was the quiet. Or the warmth.

Whatever it was, it made Lloyd shift closer before he could talk himself out of it.

“You know,” Lloyd said, voice low, “you’re not as impossible as you make yourself out to be.”

Ras glanced up, eyebrow raised. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Lloyd gave a small breath of a laugh. “Take it however you want.”

Ras leaned forward, his red eyes narrowing slightly—curious, maybe a bit amused. “And what if I said I didn’t mind the quiet here? Or you?”

Lloyd’s throat went a little dry. He hadn’t expected that.

“Then,” he said, carefully, “I’d probably do something stupid.”

Ras didn’t say anything to that. He just stayed there, watching Lloyd. His gaze didn’t shift, and for the first time, there was no guard in his eyes. No hardness, no hint of distance. Only an open curiosity. 

And something else.

The silence between them thickened, the air heavy with something unsaid. Lloyd’s breath seemed to catch in his chest, his heart speeding up slightly. He felt as if the room had suddenly shrunk around them—just the two of them in it, the weight of everything unsaid hanging there like a quiet storm.

Then, without thinking, Ras reached out to Lloyd.

He didn’t touch Lloyd right away, just hovered there for a moment, as if he, too, was considering what was happening. Lloyd didn’t move, didn’t pull away.

And then Ras’s fingers brushed against his, just a light touch at first—gentle, like he was testing the waters. Lloyd let out a breath, not quite a sigh, and met Ras’s touch with his own, not quite as tentative.

Then Ras’s hand slid over his, palm against palm, pulling Lloyd just a fraction of an inch closer.

Ras’s eyes were fixed on him now, and Lloyd found it harder and harder to pull his gaze away, caught in that intensity. He didn’t move, didn’t back off. There was something magnetic in that quiet, in the way Ras was looking at him.

And without thinking, without realizing exactly when it happened, Lloyd found himself leaning forward.

Ras didn’t pull back.

Instead, he met him halfway. Their lips brushed at first—soft and hesitant, like they were both still trying to figure it out, still working through the confusion of it all. But then, as if both of them couldn’t stop it anymore, it deepened, just a little, just enough for both of them to feel the pull of something larger, something realer.

It was slow. It was careful. But it wasn’t forced. Both of them seemed to be letting themselves be pulled in, just a bit, until the moment felt almost fragile.

Ras’s hand moved to the back of Lloyd’s neck, fingers curling into his hair as he pulled him in just a little closer. Lloyd’s breath hitched, his body instinctively leaning into the touch, his own hand sliding to Ras’s arm, gripping it tightly as if to ground himself.

The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent. Their lips crashed together, desperate and hungry, as if the very air between them was igniting. Lloyd's body pressed up against Ras’s, their proximity undeniable. With a quick motion, Lloyd shifted, his knee nudging between Ras’s legs, leaning over him as he practically climbed onto his lap.

His hands, trembling but determined, slid down Ras’s side, grasping the waistband of his clothes before yanking him closer. The feel of Ras’s body beneath him sent a shock of heat through Lloyd’s veins. He wasn’t sure who was gasping for air more as their kiss grew even fiercer, mouths clashing with an intensity that bordered on frantic.

The kiss became feverish, the air thick with tension, their movements desperate as if neither could get close enough to the other. Ras' hands entered the front of Lloyd gi, and travelled to his exposed waist, making  Lloyd’s pulse race in his ears, his mind spiraling, consumed by the need to be closer—so much closer.

Then, as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him, the sound of a voice broke through the fog of his thoughts.

“Lloyd! We’re home!”

In an instant, Lloyd’s eyes snapped open. His breath hitched, panic exploding in his chest. Adrenaline surged like fire through his veins. Without a second thought, he shoved Ras away—harder than he meant to. Breaking the contact as if it burned him.

He was on his feet before he could even process it, his clothes and hair a complete mess , face red, and ragged breath, a droll going down his chin. 

Staggering back a step, then turning on his heel.

He didn’t say a word. Didn’t look back.

He just stormed out of the room, footsteps fast and uneven, heart slamming against his ribs like it was trying to escape. The door creaked open and swung shut behind him with a sharp thud , leaving only silence and the heavy thrum of everything that had just almost happened.

Ras sat there alone, breath still shallow, lips parted, the echo of the kiss lingering in the air.

Chapter Text

The next day, Lloyd didn’t show up.

Instead, someone else stepped into the room—precise footsteps, no hesitation. Ras didn’t recognize her, and he didn’t care to. She moved with purpose, like someone who didn’t waste time on things like introductions. But she gave him one anyway.

“Hi. My name is Pixal,” she said, pulling on gloves from the drawer without looking at him. “Lloyd assigned me to clean your wounds and check on your recovery.”

Ras’s eyes narrowed. “And where is he?”

“He’s busy at the moment,” she replied evenly.

Busy.

He didn’t respond with words. Just a low, guttural sound of displeasure as he turned his face away.

Pixal didn’t react. She set down her tools, then knelt by the cot. Her hands moved efficiently, cleaning the reopened edges of his wound with practiced care—but that was all it was. Practice. No warmth. No gentleness.

She wasn’t rough, not exactly. But it stung more.

Ras hissed quietly through his teeth.

“Hold still,” she said, tone still neutral.

He clenched his fists. “You don’t have to tell me what to do.”

Pixal didn’t reply. She just continued. 

It made him angrier than it should have.

Ras stared at the wall instead, jaw tight. Pixal worked in silence, finishing the bandaging quickly, and left without another word.

And when the door shut behind her, Ras was alone again—with nothing but the cold press of bandages and the gnawing emptiness of someone who had started to hope for something.

The days passed. 

Lloyd didn’t return.

Instead, they sent someone new every morning—like a rotating roster of people.

The second day, it was Kai. Red gi, fiery attitude, a scowl permanently carved into his face. He didn’t say much at first, just grunted and got to work on changing Ras’s bandages. Ras watched him the entire time.

“I expected you to be more efficient than this” Ras muttered dryly.

Kai’s hands froze mid-wrap. “You know,” he said, tightening the gauze a little more than necessary, “Lloyd might tolerate your crap, but I don’t have to.”

“Then leave,” Ras snapped.

So he did. Without another word.

The next day, it was Nya. And she was calm, still she didn't spoke much. Like she’d already heard about how this would go. Ras didn’t even look at her when she entered.

“You all take turns now?” he said from the bed.

“I volunteered,” she replied, her tone clipped. “Didn’t want the others dealing with you.”

“Tch. Brave.”

Nya didn’t respond. But he saw the tightness in her jaw, the way she avoided meeting his eyes. She was gone in less than ten minutes, muttering something under her breath on her way out.

The day after that, it was Cole.

Cole lasted the longest.

He even tried talking. Joked, tried to make light of the situation. Ras didn’t play along. When Cole accidentally pressed too hard against the healing wound, Ras let out a low snarl and shoved his hand away.

“Get out” Ras said sharply.

Cole’s expression darkened, the easygoing warmth evaporating.

He stood, shook his head once, and left.

And then, on the fifth day, the door creaked open with less force than usual.

Ras turned his head, expecting another stranger. But it wasn’t.

It was Arin.

Same messy hair, same wide eyes, but the usual energy was gone. He hovered near the doorway, as if unsure whether he should come in at all.

Ras blinked. “Didn’t think they’d scrape you off the bottom of the list.”

Arin didn’t smile. He stepped in slowly, letting the door click shut behind him. 

“They didn’t,” he muttered. “I volunteered.”

Ras raised a brow. “How generous.”

Arin exhaled and dropped onto the chair by the bed, not meeting Ras’s eyes. “Lloyd’s not coming.”

The words hit heavier than they should have. Ras kept his face still.

Arin finally looked at him. “He’s been avoiding this. You. He asked all of us to help out in his place—Pixal, Nya, even Kai.” A short pause. “No one lasted more than a day.”

Ras let out a low scoff.

Arin said, serious. “They couldn’t handle you.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, then added, quieter, “They don’t know what happened. Between you and Lloyd. No one does. But whatever it was... it shook him. He won’t talk about it. Just keeps disappearing. Keeps saying he’s busy.”

Ras stared at him, unmoving. Arin continued, the words tumbling now like they’d been held back for days.

“I’m not here because I think I can fix it. I just—” He faltered, then frowned. “He’s shutting everyone out. And honestly? He's running out of ways to cover for himself.”

Then Ras said, voice low, “So you came here to ask me to fix it?”

Arin looked up. “No. I came because you’re the only one he’s running from.”

He stood, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “So whatever happened? It meant something.”

And with that, he turned toward the door, pausing only to add, “Whether you want to admit it or not.” 

He then left. 

The next day, no one came.

Morning bled into afternoon, and the food tray by the door remained untouched—because it never arrived.

Ras waited.

At first, he told himself it was just a delay. Maybe whoever was assigned today had been caught up. He could be patient.

But the hours dragged, and the silence grew heavier. Louder.

By midday, the ache in his stomach was gnawing at him, but it wasn’t just hunger.

It was the quiet. The absence.

No footsteps. No voices. No dry, sarcastic remarks or tired green eyes avoiding his.

Ras clenched his jaw, shoving the sheets off with a hiss of frustration. He swung his legs over the side of the bed slowly, gritting his teeth against the pull in his side. The wound was still healing—slower than expected—but he’d had worse. He could manage.

“Pathetic,” he muttered to himself as he pushed up to his feet. “Can’t even get someone to show up on time.”

The room swayed sharply the moment he stood, but he caught himself on the nearby table, chest heaving. His vision blurred at the edges, and pain sparked down his side like fire laced through his veins.

He took one step toward the door.

Then another.

On the third, he felt it—hot, sharp, wet.

He looked down just as the red started to bloom through the bandages, staining them quickly. His stitches had torn. The strain of standing, of walking, of trying to prove he wasn’t helpless—it had undone everything.

Ras staggered, one hand pressed to his side as if he could hold the pain in place. But it kept coming—thick, hot, and steady—pulsing through his fingers, soaking the bandages and dripping faintly onto the floor.

He barely made it halfway to the door before his knees buckled beneath him. The world tilted, spun. Then the cold hit him—sharp and unforgiving—as he collapsed, cheek pressed to the floor, breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

He barely registered the sound of the door creaking open.

“Sorry, I’m late!” Sora said, light and slightly out of breath. “I had to reheat—”

The words cut off.

He heard the tray crash against the ground, the rattle of dishes scattering.

“Ras?!”

Footsteps—fast and panicked—then a pair of hands on him, trying to lift him, trying to stop the bleeding.

“I’m here! You’re okay—just stay awake, okay?” Her voice cracked with panic. “You tore your stitches—gods, how long have you been like this?!”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t care. His vision was dimming at the edges, Sora’s voice beginning to echo.

He was so tired. His body screamed at him. But his chest—his chest was worse.

he murmured, barely audible. “Why doesn’t he come?”

Sora froze for half a second, eyes wide. But Ras didn’t see it. He was already slipping.

He didn’t want help.

Not from her.  
Not from anyone.

And then, everything went dark.

The first thing Ras noticed was the throbbing in his side, dull but deep, pulsing with every heartbeat. The second was the stiffness in his limbs—he’d been moved. Again.

He opened his eyes slowly, the familiar ceiling of the monastery coming into view through a blur.

And then—movement.

Not beside him, but across the room.

Lloyd stood by the shelves of medical supplies, back half-turned, organizing bandages and bottles with a precision that felt too forced. Like he needed to be doing something with his hands. Like looking at Ras would hurt more than the wound he was trying to treat.

Ras licked his cracked lips. “So,” he rasped, “you do remember where this room is.”

Lloyd didn’t turn. His posture stayed stiff, controlled.

“Your stitches tore.” he said quietly. “You lost too much blood.”

Ras narrowed his eyes. “And that’s suddenly your concern?”

No answer.

Just the rustle of gauze, the soft clink of glass. Lloyd set something down, exhaled slowly.

Then, he looked at him and said “We need to talk.”

Ras jaw tighten.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Ras didn’t respond.

Lloyd swallowed, his voice low. “For leaving. For not facing you. For that day. I shouldn’t have let things get that far.”

Ras’s expression didn’t shift, the air around them almost going still.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen,” Lloyd continued, almost to himself. “We were both tired. Confused. I didn’t mean for it to—”

“To what?” Ras interrupted, his voice a touch too sharp. “To feel like it did?”

Lloyd flinched. His fingers curled into fists at his sides.

“I’m saying it was a mistake,” he said, softly. "Because it never should’ve happened. We weren’t thinking. We were just… caught up.”

Ras let out a slow breath through his nose. “So that’s it?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Lloyd muttered. “It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t right. It just happened.”

“And now you’re here to pretend it didn’t,” Ras said bitterly, eyes narrowing.

“No,” Lloyd replied, voice low. “I’m here because we need to talk about it. Because it did happen.”

Ras looked away, his jaw clenched, arms folded tight across his chest like armor. He didn’t want to give Lloyd the satisfaction of seeing how much it stung—how much it mattered.

“You’re my enemy, Ras,” Lloyd said, stepping closer but keeping a careful distance. “You sent Kai—My brother—into some twisted pocket dimension. You enslaved dragons. You poisoned my own student against me.”

His voice cracked slightly on that last word, and he hated that Ras would hear it.

“We have a deal,” Lloyd continued, eyes locked on Ras. “One neither of us has spoken aloud, but we both understand. The moment your leg heals, you walk out of this monastery with Arin—and that’s it. We go our separate ways.”

He swallowed hard, the words bitter on his tongue.

“We can’t do… whatever this is, Ras.”

Ras didn’t move at first. He just stared at the wall, as if he could burn a hole through it with his silence alone.

Then, slowly, he turned his head, eyes finding Lloyd's.

“Then why did you kiss me?” 

Lloyd looked down, his throat tightening. He didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

“Right,” Ras muttered, leaning back against the pillows, arms still crossed. “A moment of weakness. A mistake. Nothing more.”

“That’s not what I said,” Lloyd shot back, voice hoarse.

“But it’s what you meant.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and bitter. Lloyd ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m trying to protect what’s left,” Lloyd said quietly. “Of the team. Of myself. But you don’t belong here, Ras. You never did.”

“No,” Ras agreed coldly. “But I belonged in that moment, didn’t I?”

Lloyd’s heart slammed hard against his chest. He turned to face him again, eyes dark with frustration.

“You think this is easy for me?” he said, stepping closer. “You think I wanted this? That I wanted to feel anything other than hatred for you?”

“Then don’t,” Ras spat. “Go back to your perfect little team. Let them do your job for you. Forget it ever happened.”

“I can’t,” Lloyd snapped.

Silence.

He hadn't meant to say it, not like that. Not with so much truth.

Ras’s lips parted slightly, but whatever retort was on his tongue, it never made it out.

Lloyd exhaled hard, stepping back again, drawing a line in the air between them that neither of them dared cross.

“This ends when your leg heals,” he repeated, quieter this time. “That’s the deal.”

"Fine."

Lloyd shut the door behind him, pressing his back against it as the echo of Ras’s "Fine" still clung to the air. He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. The hallway was silent now, too quiet, like the whole monastery had paused to watch him unravel.

He hadn’t meant to say it. Not like that.  
Not with so much truth.

It slipped out.  “This ends when your leg heals.” it was easier to cling to rules than admit he’d crossed a line he wasn’t supposed to.

Because he had.

He dragged a hand down his face and finally pushed off the door, walking quickly, like if he kept moving, he could outrun the image of Ras’s face.

That kiss had never been meant to happen. None of it had. And he had planned in never seeing Ras again.

But when Sora had come barreling down the hall, eyes wide with panic, shouting his name—he thought his heart had stopped. She hadn’t even finished her sentence before he was sprinting toward Ras’s room.

He didn’t remember the hallway, or the stairs. Just the blood. Ras on the floor. Pale. Breathless. Still.

It was his fault.

He’d left. He’d stayed away. He thought that if he gave himself enough distance, enough space, the feelings would dissolve. That whatever had sparked between them would die quietly in his absence. But it hadn’t.

It had festered. Grown heavier.

Ras was only on that floor because Lloyd hadn’t shown up.

He’d told himself it was better that way. That staying away was the smart thing. That a kiss—that kiss—meant nothing. But his chest had hollowed out when he saw him crumpled like that, like something had been carved out of him.

He'd carried him back to the bed with blood on his hands and dread in his lungs. He closed the wound himself. 

And now, standing alone in the hall, Lloyd leaned his forehead against the cool stone wall, exhaling shakily. 

This wasn’t just guilt anymore.

It was fear

But fear of what, exactly, he didn’t want to name. He just knew that for one sharp, gutting moment, he’d thought Ras was gone. And that thought had hit harder than it should’ve.

Footsteps echoed behind him.

“You good?” Arin’s voice broke the silence, uncertain but not unkind.

Lloyd didn’t turn. Just nodded once, slow. “Yeah. Fine.”

“You sure?” Arin came to stand beside him, arms crossed. “You’ve got blood on your sleeve.”

Lloyd looked down. He hadn’t even noticed. “It’s not mine.”

Arin followed his gaze to the closed door. He hesitated. “What happened?”

“He got up. Opened his stitches,” Lloyd said flatly. “Could’ve bled out.”

“Oh…” Arin muttered under his breath. “Why would he—?”

“He’s stubborn,” Lloyd interrupted. “Thinks rules don’t apply to him.”

Arin glanced sideways at him. “Still. You’ve been avoiding him.”

Lloyd’s jaw clenched. “Because I have better things to do than babysit a war criminal.”

Arin raised a brow. “Doesn’t seem like that’s all it is.”

“It is,” Lloyd snapped. “I was just doing my job.”

There was a beat of silence. Arin studied him, the weight of unsaid things thick in the air.

“Right,” he said finally. “Your job.”

Lloyd’s eyes flicked to him, something dark sparking beneath the surface. “What would you know about it? You’re the one who let him in. Who trusted him.”

Arin flinched, just slightly, but enough.

“You want to talk about responsibility? Maybe start by cleaning up your mistakes first.”

The words hung in the air like a slap.

Arin’s mouth parted, stunned into silence.

Lloyd didn’t wait for a response. Lloyd hadn't meant it, not really, but after having such a stressful morning he didn't think about it.

 He pushed off the wall, footsteps sharp as he stormed down the hall, the echo of his anger trailing behind him.

He didn’t look back. He couldn’t.

Because if he did, he might’ve seen the hurt in Arin’s eyes. And that would’ve made it real.

He’d come in, say little to nothing, and get to work. His hands moved with precision, but not gentleness, and never lingered. It wasn’t like before. There was no conversation, no eye contact. Just the sterile sound of cloth being unwrapped, water being poured, tape being pressed down.

It was mechanical. Professional.

Because that’s all it was now.

Lloyd had taken the duty to clean the room as well. Mr. Frohicky had all but refused to step foot in the room after the last time Ras threw a cup at his head. Lloyd didn’t blame him. The guy was skittish enough without a pissed-off warlord growling threats from bed.

Frak had offered to help too—surprisingly—but he didn’t seem fazed by Ras at all. If anything, he treated the entire thing like a mildly irritating group project. Ras would snarl, curse, insult his ancestors, and Frak would just blink at him, shrug, and keep talking like nothing had happened. Like the words just bounced off.

Lloyd wasn’t sure if it was bravery or stupidity. Maybe both.

But underneath all of it—the silence, the bandages, the routine—there was still that something in the air. That thing they weren’t naming. That thing neither of them dared to bring up.

And every time Lloyd stepped into the room, Ras would look at him like he was daring him to say something. To act like it hadn’t happened. To pretend.

But Lloyd didn’t. He wouldn’t.

So he just kept changing the bandages. Kept coming back.

Ras woke up with a sharp gasp, breath ragged in his throat.

The room was dark, cool air brushing over overheated skin. His pulse hammered in his ears. The sheets twisted around his legs, damp with sweat—and something else.

His body ached.

Not from pain.

From need.

He didn’t have to look down to know. The evidence was unmistakable: the sticky heat between his thighs, the lingering tension in his stomach, the hardness pressing against the confines of his pants. He swore under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.

It wasn’t just any dream.

It was him.

Lloyd.

He’d seen him in the haze of sleep—above him, beside him, touching him with slow reverence and maddening control. Hands calloused from battle but gentle, trailing along his sides, brushing over sensitive skin with a kind of curiosity that left Ras burning.

And Lloyd’s voice. That damn voice—low, breathless, saying things he never would while awake. His name, again and again, like a plea.

Ras had wanted to shove him away.

He’d pulled him closer instead.

He’d begged for more.

Now, in the silence of the room, all that remained was the ache and the shame crawling hot beneath his skin.

He turned his head, staring at the ceiling, throat dry. The air still felt thick with him, like the dream hadn’t fully ended.

Then—footsteps.

The door slid open.

Ras froze.

A soft beep from the monitor. Then hurried steps.

“Ras?” Lloyd’s voice came low, laced with tension. “Your vitals—something spiked. I came to check—”

He cut off.

Ras couldn’t bring himself to speak. Couldn’t move. He kept his face turned toward the wall, hoping the shadows might hide the flush burning on his cheeks.

Lloyd stepped closer. The light flicked on, soft and sterile. He wore only a shirt and sleep pants, clearly pulled from bed in a rush. His hair stuck up in odd angles. He looked tired.

He crouched beside the bed, scanner in hand, reaching out automatically to press it to Ras’s chest then diwn—until he stopped.

Something changed in his posture.

The silence thickened.

Ras didn’t dare look.

Lloyd’s gaze dropped, just for a moment. His breath hitched.

Then, quietly:

“…You were dreaming about....”

Ras’s jaw clenched.

The scanner hummed to life again, but Lloyd’s hand hovered just above his skin now, not touching. His eyes stayed fixed, as if trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

And then:

“…You're hard.”

Chapter Text

“…You’re hard.”

Ras’s face flushed, a heat rising that wasn’t just embarrassment, but frustration and shame and want all tangled together.

His jaw clenched, and instinct begged him to spit something venomous in return, to deflect, to wound, to drive Lloyd back with the same sharp tongue he’d always used as a shield.

But nothing came out.

He stared at the wall, refusing to meet Lloyd’s eyes, even as the weight of his arousal pulsed between them. His body betrayed him, aching with a need he didn’t know how to tame.

Lloyd let out a shaky breath, his hands shifting downwards.

His fingers hovered above the obvious bulge straining against Ras’s pants. He swallowed.
It would be so easy to give in.

But hesitation rooted him in place. Doubt coiled in his gut.

Still, his hand trembled as he moved closer.

just enough for his fingertips to brush against the fabric.

Ras flinched, a breath catching in his throat, but he didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned in.

Lloyd’s breath hitched as he pressed a little more firmly. The shape of him, the heat, the weight… God, it made Lloyd dizzy. He wasn't even sure what he was doing, his hands moved on his own.

Ras’s fists were still clenched at his sides, claws digging into his palms, but his breath had turned ragged, uneven. His eyes flicked toward Lloyd, guarded but burning, like he was waiting to see how far this would go.

Lloyd looked up and met his gaze.

There it was.

A dare.

That was all he needed.

He started to move his hand slowly, letting his palm trace the shape beneath Ras’s pants. Ras let out a broken noise, the kind of sound you only make when you’re too far gone to pretend anymore. His hips shifted toward the contact.

And then—

Lloyd’s breath caught. His hand froze.

Like something in him had finally caught up.

He can’t do this.

His fingers lingered a second longer than they should have… 

Then he jerked back like he’d been burned.

His hand trembled, and something inside him seemed to crack. His face went pale first, then flushed violently, as though all the blood in his body rushed at once.

He didn’t say a word.

Just a shaky exhale, and then he moved away, stumbling backward like he couldn't get away fast enough.

His chest heaved, eyes avoiding Ras’s completely now. His entire posture screamed panic. And then he turned.

The door creaked as he flung it open with a trembling hand. He slipped out, almost tripping in the rush.

"Stupid Stupid Stupid...!!" Lloyd whispered his face red as he opened the door to his room and closed the sliding door behind him "What was I thinking!"

He jumped and buried his head in the pillow, his screams being muffled by the soft fabric

What is wrong with me?!

His thoughts were a mess, circling back, looping over the moment again and again like a curse. The heat in Ras’s body. The way he’d looked at him. That low, barely-there huff of breath when their eyes met. Like it wasn’t a rejection. Like it was…

Lloyd bolted upright and slapped both hands over his face.

“No no no—nope. I’m not thinking about that.”

Too late.

His heart was still pounding. His face is still red. 

Did Ras want that? Did he mean to look at me like that? Was he just too shocked to stop me? Was he testing me? Was it a trick?

No. No, Ras didn’t play games like that. Not with his pride. If he didn’t want it, he would’ve bitten Lloyd’s hand off.

So then— what the hell was that?!

It was… intense . Like a challenge. Like a dare . 

Lloyd shoved his hands through his hair again, pulling at the roots just to ground himself. He felt like his brain was short-circuiting.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself, pacing in frantic little circles. “Okay. Okay. I touched Ras. I almost —and he didn’t stop me. He was… aroused. Obviously. And I…”

He stopped. Blinked. Covered his face again.

“Oh my gods.”

He was into it.

He was into it.

“Why am I into it?!”

Ras was infuriating. Ras was arrogant. Ras obnoxious , always holding things over people’s heads like he was better. Stronger. Smarter. Ras had hurt people. Threatened the team. Caused so much—

And yet… when he’d looked at Lloyd like that…

Lloyd’s stomach flipped.

He sat back down, burying his face in his hands again. “This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.”

It didn’t make sense.

Why him?

Why now ?

And why did it feel like the thought of Ras wanting him back made something flutter in his chest?

Was it just the heat of the moment? The tension? Or… does he actually feel something?

The thought made him groan again, flopping backward onto the bed with an arm over his face. His mind wouldn’t stop. It just kept replaying that last look, Ras’s sharp, unreadable eyes softening just slightly. Like he’d let something slip. Like he’d meant something.

Lloyd’s heart was still racing.

“…I’m so screwed.”

Lloyd didn’t remember falling asleep, just lying there with his arm over his face, Ras’s eyes haunting him in the dark, heart pounding against his ribs. He’d stared at the ceiling for hours, brain replaying every look, every sound, every moment, until at some point… everything had gone quiet.

Then—
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP—

A groan echoed through the room. Not Lloyd’s.

“Kai?” Lloyd’s voice was sleep-heavy and confused.

There was shuffling, a thump, a muttered curse.

“I swear this thing …” Kai muttered as he fumbled with the alarm clock on Lloyd’s bedside table. “I’ve been trying to shut it off for two minutes, and it keeps going…! Beep. Beep. Beep—argh, shut up !”

Lloyd blinked, then groaned and flopped over, burying his face into the pillow. “Why are you here…”

“Sorry bud, I was trying to let you sleep more,” Kai said, finally yanking the cord out of the wall. Silence. Sweet, holy silence. “Didn’t work. Sorry.”

Lloyd winced, his body stiff from a night of tossing. “What time is it?”

Kai glanced at the clock, then winced back. “Almost ten.”

Lloyd shot upright. “ What?! ”

Kai backed up with both hands raised. “Whoa, calm down”

“I was supposed to check on Ras at eight! ” Lloyd’s voice cracked as he scrambled for his gi. “He’s probably pissed! He’s going to think I’m avoiding him or something—” he wish he could “If he tries to get up his wound—”

“Lloyd,” Kai said, grabbing his wrist before he could bolt out of bed, “ Frak and Sora are already on it. ” Kai then grabs the blankets Lloyd threw on the ground and plops them back on top of Lloyd 

“Apparently all Ras did was try to break a vase on top of Frak’s head, before Frak spit out that you were oversleeping, and that’s why you weren’t there”

Lloyd sighed “Okay...” then he froze. “Wait, Frak and Sora ? Why—why them?”

Kai shrugged like it was obvious. “Frak has a crush on her.”

That stopped Lloyd. “ Frak ?” Lloyd giggled “And you sent him in there with Sora? ”

Kai’s grin was unrepentant. “I’m setting him up. Classic wingman move. Opportunity builds confidence.”

“And letting them deal with Ras is a good date idea for you?”

Kai scoffed “Eh, weird dates can cause a big impression, I’m sure Sora will never forget how Frak dodged that vase Ras threw at him ”

Lloyd laughed, “ Sora would never date Frak. ”

Kai looked far too smug. “You never know. She’s been smiling more around him lately.”

Lloyd rolled his eyes and flopped backward with a dramatic groan, arm over his face again. “You people are insane.”

“Takes one to know one.” Kai sat down on the edge of the bed and nudged Lloyd’s knee. “Don’t worry. Ras ate. Didn’t even complain. Yet.”

Lloyd peeked from under his arm. “…Did he say anything?”

Kai hesitated. “Just asked if you were sick or something. He asked if we could check on you. It looked kind of... off.”

Lloyd’s stomach flipped. He stared at the ceiling again, quiet for a moment.

Kai glanced at him sideways. “You good?”

“…Yeah,” Lloyd said automatically.

Kai raised a brow. “Sure.”

Lloyd exhaled slowly, then sat up, rubbing his face. “How’s Jay?”

That caught Kai off guard. “Jay?”

“Yeah,” Lloyd said, voice lower now. “You said Frak and Sora were on Ras-duty. So… who's been watching Jay?”

Kai leaned back slightly, expression shifting. “Pixal mostly. She’s been on the underground med bay since she came back. He’s stable, but… it’s rough.”

Lloyd looked down at his hands. “How bad?”

Kai didn’t answer right away.

Then, quieter, “His ribs are healing, but he’s still barely talking. Fractured clavicle. Internal bruising. And the burn from using his powers wrong—it’s not deep, but the scarring’s gonna be there. He flinches every time someone touches him.”

Lloyd swallowed. “And the memory?”

Kai shook his head. “Still gone. But he doesn’t look at us like we’re enemies anymore, but... it’s like starting over.”

Lloyd’s jaw tightened.

Kai continued. “He wasn't even remember Nya.”

Lloyd looked up at that, eyes sharp. “Is she okay?”

“She pretends she’s fine,” Kai muttered. “But I’ve seen her. Every time she walks out of that room, it’s like someone’s gut-punched her.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Dense.

Lloyd pressed a thumb to his temple. “We were lucky to get him back at all.”

They were both silenced for a second.

Then Kai sighed, getting up and shooting Lloyd a smile “Go do your morning routine, I’ll make some tea for you”

Lloyd smiled “Thanks Kai”

“Don’t mention it!”

The wind had picked up.

Lloyd stepped outside with his fresh half-finished tea still cradled in his hands, steam curling quietly into the cool afternoon air. The stone beneath his feet was warm from the sun, but the breeze threading through the courtyard sent a faint chill up his spine.

He turned the corner toward the training grounds of the Monastery and stopped when he saw Arin.

The boy sat alone by the wall near the flowers that had poked from the outside, legs drawn up, chin resting on his knees. His grappling hook laid beside him, forgotten. His hoodie was rumpled. His expression, from what Lloyd could see, was distant.

Lloyd almost turned around.

It would've been easier to avoid it. Like he'd been doing for weeks.

But something about the way Arin sat. Shoulders hunched forward, small in a way Lloyd wasn’t used to seeing, made him hesitate. And then, finally, move.

He crossed the courtyard quietly and stood beside the wall.

Arin looked up. His eyes widened a little. “Oh. Hey.”

Lloyd nodded. “Hey.”

A pause.

Then, awkwardly “Mind if I…?”

Arin blinked, then shook his head quickly and scooted over.

Lloyd sat down beside him, careful with the tea. They both stared ahead for a while.

The wind rustled the trees. Birds chirped somewhere off near the cliffs. It was almost peaceful.

Lloyd spoke first.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

Arin didn’t answer right away. His shoulders stiffened.

“I mean it,” Lloyd added. “What you did—it hurt. But you’re still a kid. I know that. I should’ve remembered that sooner.”

Arin let out a soft breath. “I didn’t expect you to forgive me.”

“I don't, but that’s not the point,” Lloyd said. “I shouldn't have… shut you out, either.”

Arin didn’t speak. But his grip on his knees loosened slightly.

“I was angry. And disappointed in myself. But mostly I just—” Lloyd paused. “It felt like I lost you. Like I’d failed you.”

At that, Arin finally turned his head. “You didn’t.”

Lloyd looked back at him. And for the first time in weeks, their eyes met without all the weight of what had happened between them.

Arin swallowed. “I made a stupid choice.” he let out a quiet sob “I thought if I followed Ras, I could've had my parents back!” Arin brushed his tears away “But… They are gone Lloyd… I don't know what to do!” 

Lloyd’s expression softened. Without thinking, he reached out and gently placed a hand on Arin’s back, steady and grounding. Arin flinched at the touch at first—but then he let himself lean into it, like a dam finally cracking.

“I know,” Lloyd murmured. “I know it hurts.”

Arin pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to stop the tears, but it was no use. “I just wanted them back. Just for a second. Just to hear their voices. I thought—” His breath hitched. “I thought if I was strong enough, if I wasn't so weak, maybe—maybe the world would give them back.”

Lloyd pulled him in gently, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, anchoring him in place. “Arin,” he said, voice low and steady, “losing people… it never makes sense. You’ll spend a lifetime trying to find the reason, thinking you did something wrong. I know that feeling. I’ve lived with it too.”

Arin buried his face in Lloyd’s chest, the tears coming harder now.

“But none of this was your fault,” Lloyd said firmly. He tightened the hold just a little. “You’re just a kid. And you’ve been carrying too much, for too long.”

Arin clung to him, shaking.

“You don’t have to carry it alone,” Lloyd whispered. “You have me. Even after everything, I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Arin didn’t answer, but the way he curled closer into Lloyd, and they stayed wrapped in silence. Just the quiet rhythm of breathing, the warmth of contact, and the gentle comfort of not being alone.

Arin’s body had stopped trembling, but he hadn’t moved. His head rested against Lloyd’s chest, arms still loosely wrapped around him like he wasn’t quite ready to let go, and Lloyd didn’t ask him to. He just stayed there, patient and steady, rubbing slow circles against Arin’s back like he had all the time in the world.

Eventually, Arin let out a long, quiet sigh.

Lloyd tilted his head slightly, voice gentle. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah…” Arin said softly, pulling back just a little. His eyes were still red, but the tears had stopped. “A little.”

Lloyd offered a faint, reassuring smile.

But Arin didn’t smile back. He hesitated, chewing the inside of his cheek before glancing off to the side.

“Lloyd… I, uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, looking everywhere but at him. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Lloyd’s expression shifted—alert, but calm. “Okay.”

“I just—I don’t want you to be mad,” Arin added quickly, fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve. “I wasn’t spying, or… or trying to pry or anything, I swear.”

Lloyd’s brow furrowed slightly. “Arin… what are you talking about?”

Arin exhaled hard, like forcing the words out was harder than crying. “Last night, when the alert came through about Ras—when his vitals spiked—I got worried. I thought maybe he was, I dunno, having a meltdown or something. So I went to check on him.”

He paused again, eyes flicking up to meet Lloyd’s and then dropping away just as fast.

“And I… I heard you. I didn’t mean to, but I heard both of you talking. And I—” his ears turned red, and he looked absolutely mortified “—I heard… *stuff.*”

Lloyd’s heart thudded.”You mean—”

Arin groaned, burying his face in his hands for a second. “Like, *stuff stuff.* Like you and Ras stuff. I wasn’t trying to! I didn’t mean to! But I couldn’t un-hear it once I did and now it’s just—ugh!”

He peeked through his fingers at Lloyd, face burning. “So, um. I just wanted to ask… are you two, like dating…?”

Lloyd nearly dropped his tea.

“I—what?! No! No! ” he said too fast, too loud, nearly spilling the cup over the side of the wall. “We're not—we’re definitely not—why would you—?”

But the look on Arin’s face was already too much: mortified, ears red, eyes wide and bracing for impact. Like he’d already convinced himself he’d crossed a line.

Lloyd groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “Okay. Okay. Breathe. Let’s… not talk about this in public.”

Arin immediately looked around, panicked. “Wait, do you think someone else—?”

“No,” Lloyd said quickly. “ No . I’m just saying that this—what you think you heard—wasn’t—”

He stopped. Closed his eyes. Took a breath.

There was no getting out of this without admitting something .

He looked sideways at Arin, who had dropped his hands now but was still beet-red. Clearly waiting for a real answer.

Lloyd sighed and muttered, “It wasn’t dating.”

Arin blinked. “Okay…”

Lloyd stared straight ahead. “It was… a mistake. A bad decision. On my part.”

Arin frowned, expression softening. “But you like him.”

Lloyd flinched. “That’s not—”

“You do.” Arin turned toward him more fully now, voice still quiet, but with a certainty that only came from someone who knows . “You wouldn’t look like this if you didn’t.”

Lloyd stayed silent.

And that was answer enough.

Arin looked down at his knees. “So... what are you going to do now?”

Lloyd rubbed the back of his neck. “Nothing. Hopefully. He’s leaving when he’s healed, and then we can all pretend this never happened.”

Arin looked up at him, brows furrowed. “But do you want that?”

Lloyd didn’t answer.

Because no , of course he didn’t. Not really.

But that was the problem.

Arin smiled, small but genuine.

And then, before Lloyd could get up and escape entirely, Arin added, “You know, for the record? I think he likes you back.”

Lloyd nearly choked on nothing.

“ Arin— ”

“Okay! Okay!” Arin laughed, already getting up also. “I’m just saying! I have ears! And I know Ras is Ras, but still— that tone means something.”

Lloyd groaned into his hands. “This is a nightmare.”

Arin laughed. “You think I’m joking,” he said, grinning as he leaned against the wall, “but I’m actually serious.”

Lloyd shot him a wary look, half-hiding behind his empty teacup. “…Arin.”

“No, seriously!” Arin pressed, eyes wide and a little too excited. “When you’re not looking, Ras stares at you. Like— really stares.”

Lloyd choked slightly. “Can we not —?”

“I mean it!” Arin said, laughing again. “It's not even subtle. He gets this face,like he’s thinking about something really important, or like… like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how. Or maybe he just wants you to look at him a little longer…”

Lloyd looked away, face turning red. “You’re imagining things.”

“I wish I was,” Arin said, still grinning. “It’s kind of intense. Honestly? I thought he was going to murder you in your sleep at first, but now I think he might have other intentions.”

“Arin! Don't make it weird! ”Lloyd rubbed at the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. “Okay, well, I don’t… I don’t know what it is, but it’s not… that.”

Arin tilted his head. “You sure?”

Lloyd glanced at him, then back down at his tea cup. “…No.”

That caught Arin off guard. The grin faded into something softer. “Then why not talk to him?”

Lloyd shook his head. “Because he’s leaving. He’ll be healed soon, and then he’s going with you. That was always the plan.”

“Plans change,” Arin said simply.

Lloyd gave him a look, half-grateful, half-exasperated. “Not this one, with Jay here and Ras this might just be an explosion waiting to happen.”  Lloyd sighed. “And besides, he has his own plans…”

Arin was quiet for a moment. Then he opened his mouth “Ras acts like he doesn’t care about anyone. But that’s not true.”

Lloyd blinked.

“He’s... hard to read,” Arin continued. “And yeah, he’s sharp, and scary, and he makes it really easy to forget there’s anything underneath. But there is. He puts himself above everyone else because he’s afraid of what happens when he doesn’t.”

Lloyd stared at him, unsure what to say.

Arin’s voice softened. “He acts like no one can touch him. But I’ve seen how he treats you. He’s different.”

Lloyd’s grip tightened around his cup.

“You make him softer,” Arin said simply. “He doesn’t show it. Not in obvious ways. But when you’re around, he doesn’t posture as much. He listens. He waits. You make him second-guess things. You make him care. ”

“And it’s not just one-sided,” Arin added. “He does the same to you.”

“You’re always thinking about everyone else. Carrying too much. Trying to be the better person, the perfect leader, the last line of defense. But Ras… he makes you think about yourself, even if it’s for a second. Like last night.”

Lloyd froze.

Arin’s voice stayed calm. “He pulled something out of you. Not just… whatever that was. But the way you let yourself feel something. Let yourself want something.”

Lloyd couldn’t meet his eyes.

“You’re allowed to be selfish sometimes,” Arin said. “And I think Ras is the only person who makes you believe that.”

The courtyard was quiet again, but the weight of it had changed.

Lloyd’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You really think he…?”

“I don’t think,” Arin said. “I know .”

Lloyd let out a shaky breath, dragging a hand down his face. “Why do you sound more like the adult than I do?”

Arin gave him a crooked smile. “Because I’ve been watching both of you fumble around for weeks.”

Lloyd laughed quietly, the sound a little rough. “We’re a mess.”

Arin shrugged. “Yeah. But maybe you’re his mess.”

Lloyd went still again, heart pounding somewhere in his throat.

Arin stood up and dusted off his pants. “You don’t have to do anything about it right now. Just… Don't lie to yourself.”

He started to head back inside, then paused at the top of the steps and turned back.

“And Lloyd?”

Lloyd looked up at him.

Arin smiled, soft but certain. “He’d stay for you.”

Then he disappeared around the corner.

Lloyd sat there for a long time, tea forgotten in his hands, the echo of those words circling his thoughts.

He’d stay for you.

Chapter Text

Hi, I just wanted to let you all know that this fanfic won’t be getting any more chapters. I’m really sorry if you were waiting for an update, but I’m not in the best headspace right now.

I’ve written a lot of fics for this tag, and I’m really grateful to everyone who enjoyed them. But I don’t plan on writing more. After receiving so much negativity, it gets hard to keep going.

I know my writing wasn’t always the best, and at times the stories may have felt forced. That’s part of why I stopped writting for a while before, and probably why I won’t return to it.

I might delete what I’ve already posted, haven’t decided yet.

Thank you for reading and for the support you gave along the way.