SWY 84

The voice that came out, soft and low as if muffled, brushed past Sharhan’s ear like a breeze. It made him feel ticklish, so much so that he had the urge to claw at his chest with his nails.

“I, I wouldn’t have done something like that…”

“You wouldn’t have?”

“Of course not.”

“Then what do you call it when you sat beside me without a word or held my hand every time I was struggling?”

He wanted to deny it, but the truth was, he had done exactly those things.

“I only did that because you were slumped over looking miserable, which was boring. It wasn’t comfort or anything… it’s just that you’re more entertaining when you’re snapping back at me like usual. Definitely not comfort. You misunderstood.”

The truth was, seeing Lestel wilted and lifeless like a dying plant had been unpleasant – no, pathetic – and it had weighed on him, so he’d tried to bring things back to normal. But comfort? No way.

‘If that counts as comfort, then it’d mean I’ve had special feelings for Lestel since we were kids. Seriously, words like ‘comfort’ don’t suit us.’

No one had said anything, but Sharhan muttered defensively in his head. He tried to slip out of Lestel’s arms, but failed. As soon as he started to pull back, Lestel caught on and tightened his hold.

“Let’s just say you did.”

“It’s not ‘let’s just say,’ it’s what really happened. Now let go, will you?”

“If I let go, you’ll pull away.”

“Of course I will. Did you think I’d stay in your arms forever? Let go already.”

“That’s why I can’t. Just hold me a little longer. I still need comforting.”

“You don’t need anything. You’re already back to your usual self.”

“No, I’m not. I still feel awful.”

“Do you think I don’t know you? I can tell how you’re feeling just from your voice. Now let go!”

“Just a little more.”

Even though Sharhan was telling him to let go, he couldn’t push Lestel away forcefully. It was because of that same familiar feeling, fine, I’ll let it slide again.

Lestel, who always knew the exact moment Sharhan weakened, used it as an excuse to cling to him shamelessly. And deep down, he hoped this warmth would never leave.

***

After struggling to freed himself from that so-called comforting embrace, Sharhan had drifted off for a short nap. He woke to the sound of a gentle knock, and found Lestel sitting on the bed, quietly staring at his face. Sharhan met his sparkling green eyes and frowned in disbelief.

“What are you doing?”

“Admiring your sleeping face.”

“And why the hell were you creepily staring at other people’s sleeping face? You’ve always been like this.”

Back when they competed fiercely, Sharhan would often collapse from exhaustion and fall asleep wherever he landed. Many times, even when they’d fallen asleep together, he’d wake up to find Lestel wide-eyed, staring at him.

“Other people? After we’ve had sex?. And I’ve thought this since we were kids…”

“What?”

Sharhan’s eyes narrowed. He was bracing for more nonsense. Lestel reached out and played with the ends of Sharhan’s slightly frizzy hair.

“You… look ugly when you sleep.”

Sharhan’s brow scrunched. He’d tensed slightly, thinking Lestel might say something meaningful.

“And you think you look good when you sleep?”

“Obviously. I’m a flawless beauty whether my eyes are open or closed.”

“You’re funny. Lestel, wake up. You drool in your sleep.”

“Shan, lying is a sin. I’m perfect even when I sleep.”

Lestel looked genuinely offended.

“It’s not a lie, it’s the truth.”

“Ha! You say I drool in my sleep? Where’s your proof? Witnesses?”

“No physical proof, but I’ve got a witness. Me.”

Sharhan sat up and pointed proudly at himself. Lestel scoffed.

“Come on, I always wake up before you. When did you ever catch me sleeping?”

“That’s not true. Don’t you remember when we were eight? We bet on who could stay up longer. That day I woke up first.”

It had started as an argument over who had more stamina, then turned into a stubborn endurance race, who would collapse last from running. As usual, their pointless pride-fueled competition escalated, and even when they were dragging their feet from exhaustion, neither gave up.

They eventually collapsed at the same time and fell asleep. That time, Sharhan had woken first. He remembered turning his head and seeing Lestel sleeping beside him, looking completely spent, and how strangely happy he’d felt. Probably because, “I won this time!”, a childish victory.

He’d planned to tease Lestel the moment he woke up, but instead, he’d just watched him sleep.

Now that I think about it… he had drooled a bit, but I barely noticed. He looked so pretty that I just stared, totally mesmerized, didn’t I?

If nothing else, he had to admit Lestel was beautiful, especially as a child, when he’d looked like a porcelain doll.

He remembered that day feeling… different. The way the sun glinted off Lestel’s silver hair, his long lashes casting shadows under his eyes, a few freckles on his cheeks, slightly parted lips, a glimpse of red tongue, and sweat glistening on his forehead and neck.

The late spring wind had gently blown, rustling his silver hair, and somehow, it had stirred something deep inside Sharhan.

His heart had raced uncontrollably, his cheeks flushed, his palms sweated. And then he’d felt an absurd urge, to kiss Lestel. If Lestel hadn’t opened his eyes just then, he might have done it.

‘If I had kissed him and he’d opened his eyes… I probably would’ve run away and never looked back.’

The embarrassing thing didn’t happen, but the memory had stuck with him. He hadn’t even been able to tease Lestel afterward. Instead, he pretended nothing happened and avoided him for days. Even if no one else had seen, it had humiliated him. He’d buried that brief, inexplicable urge deep down and tried to forget it.

“Th, that day… I was just really tired…”

Lestel remembered it easily, he remembered everything that involved Sharhan. After they parted that day, he’d wiped his mouth and noticed the dried drool. He’d been relieved Sharhan hadn’t teased him, but apparently, he had noticed after all. Even though it had happened so long ago, he found himself flustered.

Knock knock.

Another knock came, perfectly timed.

“Right. You should go answer that.”

Sharhan, only just remembering that the knock had woken him up, gestured toward the door. Lestel got up immediately and opened it to find Derry and Simon, each holding a tray.

“Were you asleep?” Simon asked politely.

Lestel gave a sheepish smile. “Ah… I dozed off. Is it dinner time?”

“Yes. The dining area was too crowded, so we brought your meal here. May we come in?”

“Please.”

Lestel opened the door fully. Sharhan had already gotten up from the bed and was fixing his hair and clothes. Derry and Simon set the trays down on the table. Dinner was simple, flatbread, sugared fruits, roasted potatoes, and water.

“Apologies for the modest meal. We’ve been rationing food, so this is how we eat these days. Not just me, everyone eats the same, and only twice a day.”

“This is more than enough. There’s even fruit.”

“We’d kept it for trading, but now, thanks to the stockpile, we can afford some even in times like this. We only take it out on special occasions. Please, eat.”

“What about Elieas’s group?”

“They left as soon as the conversation ended. They asked me to send their regards to you and Lord Sharhan. I also heard more about the Delos incident… sigh.”

Simon’s eyes briefly darkened with anger. But seeing Lestel sitting safely before him, he calmed himself.

“They said they’ll leave dealing with those bastards to you.”

Lestel gave a small nod. The four sat down and began their meal. Even while eating, Simon’s posture was impeccable, back straight, never chewing with his mouth open. His graceful, disciplined manners mirrored Lestel’s.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Caught staring, Sharhan looked away and answered awkwardly.

“Ah… sorry if I offended you. Your table manners are just… really proper.”

“It’s habit from childhood. My father was a fallen noble. He always told us, my brothers – if we ever regained our title, we’d need refinement ingrained in us or we’d be rejected by high society. So he trained me and my brothers…”

Simon paused for a moment at the word “brothers,” then continued as if nothing happened. Lestel’s expression dimmed briefly too.

“He passed away after a long illness before reclaiming anything. We couldn’t pay off the medical debt, so we were on the run when I met the master.”

“I heard you saved Lestel.”

Simon glanced at Lestel, who was quietly eating.

“All I did was find a rope. It was the master who saved us, really. Do you remember, Master? What we looked like when we first met?”

“You were skin and bones.”

“We looked like walking skeletons. I could barely tie the rope around the tree stump, I was too weak to pull you out.”

“When I finally pulled myself up with the rope, you and Alum were lying by the stump, and I thought you were corpses.”

They both laughed, reminiscing. It must have been a desperate situation back then, but now it had become a fond memory. Sharhan, chewing a surprisingly dry potato, looked at the two of them with a complicated gaze.