Feo remained pressed close to Lucius, the soothing motion of his hand through his hair doing more to calm him than he cared to admit. He let the words sink in, each one grounding him a little more. Lucius's confidence was almost enviable, the way he carried on with such unwavering determination. Feo wished he could believe in his own strength the same way Lucius seemed to believe in his.
Rest. It sounded simple, logical even, but Feo’s mind churned restlessly beneath the surface. His fingers idly traced a small pattern against Lucius’s side, his mind juggling the weight of everything that had just happened. Aera might have been an illusion, but her words weren’t, and neither was the threat she represented. Still, Lucius’s perspective helped ease some of that burden, even if Feo didn’t entirely agree.
“I don’t know if I believe that she’s not a threat,” Feo murmured, his voice quiet but steady. “Even as an illusion, she managed to get under my skin, dredge up things that I’ve buried for years. And if she can do that, what’s stopping her from taking it further? From coming after you?” His voice tightened on the last word, and he hated how raw it sounded.
He shook his head and let out a small sigh, finally pulling back just enough to meet Lucius’s eyes. “I know you can take care of yourself,” he said, his tone softening. “But the idea of her—or anyone—hurting you because of me... I don’t know if I can handle that.” Feo’s brow furrowed slightly as he looked away, his fingers flexing unconsciously against Lucius’s arm.
“But you’re right,” Feo conceded after a moment. “One step at a time.” The words felt heavier than they should have, as though he were trying to convince himself more than anything. He glanced toward the small suitcase of their rushedly bought belongings, thinking about the journey ahead. A part of him wanted to drop everything, to just stay here and pretend the outside world didn’t exist. But that wasn’t an option—not for them.
Feo reached up to push Lucius's hair back from his face, a rare flicker of vulnerability crossing his features. “I’m... glad you’re here, Lulu,” he said quietly, his voice almost hesitant. “Even if I don’t say it enough. I don’t think I’d still be standing if it weren’t for you. I.. I love you too.”
He let the moment hang in the air for a beat before exhaling and leaning back into Lucius, letting himself relax just a little more. "Okay," he muttered, closing his eyes briefly. "We rest now. But after that, we plan. And we keep moving. Because if she thinks she can stop us, then she doesn’t know who she’s dealing with.” His voice carried a faint edge, a spark of determination that hadn’t been there a moment ago.
Feo’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze drawn upward to Lucius’s face. For a moment, he just stared, letting his eyes trace over every familiar feature—the sharp lines of his jaw, the warmth in his expression, and, of course, those impossibly vibrant sapphire eyes. They were breathtaking, even in the dim light, like pieces of the sky had been stolen and set into his face.
A pang of guilt coiled in Feo’s chest, sharp and insistent. He cursed himself silently, his throat tightening. He was so stupid. He had let his feelings for Lucius shine so clearly, so openly, that they had become a target. People like Aera saw how much Lucius meant to him, and they exploited it. Feo wanted to protect him, to shield him from all the chaos and danger that seemed to follow in his wake. But how could he protect Lucius when he was the reason trouble found them in the first place?
Yet, no matter how much he tried to convince himself to pull back, to guard his heart, Feo couldn’t help the way it soared when he looked at Lucius. He couldn’t stop the warmth that spread through his chest when Lucius smiled, or the way his pulse quickened when those sapphire eyes locked onto his own. Feo was hopeless, absolutely hopeless, and he knew it.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Feo’s lips as he thought back to their first kiss. Gods, it had been awful—awkward, rushed, and far from what he’d wanted it to be. He had been so nervous, so unsure of himself, and to make matters worse, he’d been shapeshifted into a female form at the time. He cringed inwardly just thinking about it. No wonder it had been uncomfortable for Lucius. Feo had spent much too long replaying that moment in his head, kicking himself for how poorly he’d handled it.
But this time... this time, he would make it right.
Feo shifted slightly, his arms loosening just enough to give him room to move. He hesitated for a heartbeat, his eyes flicking between Lucius’s gaze and his lips. His heart pounded in his chest, every nerve in his body buzzing with anticipation.
Then, slowly, carefully, Feo leaned up. His hand moved to rest gently against Lucius’s cheek, his thumb brushing over his skin with a tenderness that made Feo’s chest ache. He tilted his head, his breath mingling with Lucius’s for the briefest of moments before he closed the gap.
The kiss was soft, unhurried, and infinitely more certain than their first. Feo poured everything into it—his gratitude, his adoration, and the quiet, fierce love that he could never quite put into words. It wasn’t about proving anything, or making up for past mistakes. It was simply about being in this moment, with Lucius, and letting him know, in no uncertain terms, just how much he meant to him.
When Feo finally pulled back, his lips lingering near Lucius’s for a moment longer, he opened his eyes to meet that piercing sapphire gaze once more. His voice was soft, almost a whisper. “I... I hope that was better,” he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
For the first time in a long while, Feo felt a small flicker of hope—fragile, but real.