"What we have is not what it was back then, but it is undeniably something again."

"You wretched creature." The words were as broken as the man who uttered them. He laid his hand on the hot, bloodied skin of his friend's cheek, and Roderich whimpered. "Why do I always have to come bail your ass out?" He was sick of this game, Roderich getting into messes and fights, and Basch having to come pick him up and tend to his wounds.
"I can't help it," the dark-haired boy on the ground murmured, covering Basch's hand at his cheek with his own. "If Prussia wants to take my land and hang my people up in trees, i'm entitled to tell him what I think of his shitty life choices."
Basch rolled his virident eyes and slung Roderich over his shoulder, much to the battered and bruised boy's chagrin. "Here. I'm going to take you home, and I will tend to you. But this is the forty-eighth time I've had to do this in the past five years-"
"Forty ninth," Roderich interrupted, clinging to him and wincing. He was sure he had at least one broken rib and a lovely stab wound from a dagger to his calf.
"Whatever," Basch replied, blowing messy blonde hair from his face with a disdainful roll of his eyes. "I'm not doing this for you again."
"It's kind of sad, isn't it?" Roderich sighed and put his arms around Basch's slender waist. "I was born to fight, but all you do is bail me out over and over."
"Yeah," Basch agreed, "But...I don't mind bailing you out." His words were quiet and nearly hesitant, and Roderich's tanzanite eyes brightened considerably as the green-eyed blonde breathed the final sentence into the cool autumn breeze and Basch sighed.
"I guess I'll always be here to bring you home."