Samandriel woke up slowly. He wasn't sure where he was, and he didn't feel safe opening his eyes. The room was warmer than the attic where he slept. The bed was a lot softer, too, than his cot. He was under a pile of warm blankets that were comforting. He pulled the blankets up to his neck and just lay there for a minute.

Samandriel needed to figure out where he was. He wanted to be able to predict what would most likely happen, and he couldn't if he wouldn't open his eyes. He wanted to just fall back asleep, but that wasn't the safest option. Samandriel had learned a long time ago to always go with the safest choice. He opened his eyes.

The lighting was dim, but he could see the texture of the cream paint on the ceiling. He tried weakly to sit up, but his head spun and he fell back onto the pillows. That scared him. If he was this weak, anyone who came along could hurt him, and there wouldn't be anything he could do. He made himself look around the room. It was a hotel room, and it was empty.

That was confusing. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep on the street in a strange city. Why would someone bring him to a hotel room? He struggled into a sitting position.

"Um, hello?" Samandriel called. "Is anyone- is anyone here?"

There was no response. He was alone.

Samandriel looked around more carefully. There had to be something here. Nobody would've just brought him to a hotel and left him there. He noticed a plastic water bottle on the nightstand. It was generic enough that it could be from any gas station or grocery store on the continent. The only other thing in the room was a small black suitcase against the far wall.

Samandriel got out of bed and went over to the window. He pulled back the curtains. The parking lot looked normal, and the sign designated this as Comfort Inn. There were thousands of Comfort Inns, so none of that was helpful for determining where he was or how he'd ended up there.

He walked back to the bed and sat down, trying to think. He got distracted by his thirst. The water bottle looked really appealing. He wondered if he'd get in trouble if he drank from it. There was nobody around to hit him, so he decided it was worth the risk. After he drank the water he hid under the blankets and tried to look as small as possible.

Time passed, a lot of it, and he didn't keep track. The blankets were the softest he'd felt in a long time, and it was hard to worry when he was so warm and comfortable. He was hungry, but he didn't want to leave the blankets to try to find something to eat. He was happy and content just lying there.

Samandriel caught a fistful of the blanket and rubbed his cheek against it. The movement exposed his left wrist, and he froze, staring at the black bracelet looped around his wrist. He'd been marked! So, Michael had found him somehow. At least now he understood why he'd been taken to a hotel room.

Samandriel shivered fearfully and clutched at the ebony black bracelet. He tried to cover it up, but it was all he could see. He wasn't sure what to think, but then he got so scared he just couldn't think properly at all. He was terrified of Michael. There was no escaping him now that he'd caught him, and there was never any fighting him to begin with. That combination was frightening.

And now Samandriel had the bracelet, and he knew that Michael was one of the most powerful people he would ever meet. Samandriel was not looking forward to that meeting. Except that wasn't true at all. He wanted to meet Michael. He wanted it more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life. And that made the whole thing even more terrifying. He wasn't going to be able to resist Michael, even emotionally, where he should have had a little control. He wasn't going to have anything.

Samandriel started crying. Not because he was more miserable than usual, not because he was so torn he didn't know what end was up, but, honestly, because he hadn't gotten to meet Michael yet and he couldn't stand waiting. And then he felt like the world's biggest idiot for crying about how he hadn't met the person he was most scared of. It was a mess.

And Samandriel couldn't even cry in peace. A soft tingling sensation on the back of his neck told him that Michael was writing out his name. He found himself smiling, which was ridiculous, because he was supposed to be crying. And he was crying, he was just smiling at the same time. Was it sunset already?

The curtains were still open like he'd left them, and he could see that the sun was high in the sky. It had to be at least an hour before sunset. Wait, an hour. The time zones. Uriel must have taken him far enough that he was a time zone off from Ohio. So Michael was writing an hour before sunset now. He hadn't forgotten Samandriel yesterday, Samandriel had just gotten mixed up and not paid attention at the right time.

It was a little overwhelming. Samandriel had an unbelievably faithful and attentive soulmate who also happened to be ridiculously powerful. And even with all that power, Michael had never once forgotten their little tradition with the writing. Samandriel burst into tears, why he wasn't sure. It wasn't a little overwhelming; it was overwhelming, period.

The spacious hotel room felt tiny and cramped, giving Samandriel claustrophobia. He was freaking out, and he couldn't stay there. He didn't know what was wrong with him, but he got up and ran outside. He didn't have a plan, and he knew leaving was stupid, but he couldn't help it. He just ran on instinct.

Samandriel was weak, feverish, hungry, tired and cold. Fear and panic gave wings to his feet, but the confusion in his heart tore him down. He slowed from a run to a jog, from a jog to a walk, from a walk to a stroll, and finally to a stumble. His heartbeat echoed in his ears, and his breaths were weak and ragged.

He'd chosen his path intuitively, and it led him to an empty road. The second car he saw was a taxi, and it was coming toward him. It blew past him and uied. The car came to an ungraceful stop beside him. He stared at it uncertainly. He wasn't hitchhiking or anything, so why had it stopped?

A young man with black hair and blue-green eyes climbed out of the back. In Samandriel's opinion, he was the handsomest man in the world. He was tall, and built like a dancer or a gymnast. His face was calm and unexpressive, except for his eyes. His eyes conveyed more depth than most, and there was a fierce light to them, as if he were a warrior. His posture was relaxed, in a way that seemed prideful without being cocky. He looked as if he could spring into action without even a moment's warning.

Samandriel swallowed hard, then realized to his embarrassment that he was standing frozen under the man's cool gaze, like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. He choked, and tried unsuccessfully to tear his eyes away from the man. It didn't work.

"Michael," Samandriel whispered. It wasn't a question, just a statement. There was no uncertainty in Samandriel's mind as to who this was.

Michael took two slow steps toward Samandriel. They looked unconscious, like he didn't even realize he was moving. Even with just those two slow steps, he displayed a grace and power that left Samandriel whimpering in fear and something like awe.

"Samandriel," Michael replied softly. The word was like a caress. He looked right through Samandriel, as if he could see straight to his soul. "It's good to see you awake."

"I-I… I," Samandriel stammered incoherently. He stumbled backward and tripped over his own feet. He tried to stop his fall with his hands and scuffed them on the rocky ground. Tears filled his eyes. "Ow," he wailed.

Michael crossed the space between them with a few quick steps, kneeling beside Samandriel and studying him concernedly. He brushed Samandriel's shoulder with his hand. Samandriel flinched away, breathing heavily, eyes wide with fright. He caught Michael's gaze and found he couldn't look away.

"Don't be afraid," Michael said. His words were gentle, despite being almost an order.

Samandriel tried to remember how to breathe.

Michael's head tilted to the side. He laid his hand on Samandriel's forehead and let it rest there. Samandriel flinched and trembled at first, but relaxed after a few moments. He leaned into Michael's touch, whimpering pitifully.

"You can calm down," Michael said, voice sounding almost puzzled. "You'll be ok." He pulled Samandriel to a sitting position and cradled him on his lap.

All of Samandriel's instincts were telling him that he was finally safe. He was in his soulmate's arms; he could relax and quit worrying. Michael would take care of him. Unfortunately, Samandriel's consciousness was screaming at him that he was in horrible danger. With a black bracelet, Michael's power was nearly absolute. And Samandriel's bracelet was white, leaving him completely exposed. Michael had to be mad about Samandriel's bracelet, unless he liked how completely at his mercy it left Samandriel. And that would make Michael scary anyway.

Samandriel felt that he ought to pull away from Michael and run as far away as possible. But that was such a traumatic idea emotionally that it paralyzed him. All he could do was sit there clinging to Michael like a frightened child. He tried to remember how to breathe and keep from crying. He pressed his face against Michael's shoulder, trying to hide from everything.

Michael carried Samandriel to the taxi and sat with him in the backseat. Samandriel fought off fear. The last time he'd been in a car headed to an unknown destination, Uriel had dumped him in a strange city. What if Michael did the same? Maybe if he asked Michael where they were going, and Michael answered- then maybe he wouldn't be so afraid.

"M- Michael?" he asked timidly.

"Yes?" Michael asked immediately. He focused on Samandriel and waited patiently.

The contrast with Uriel, who had ignored Samandriel and then told him to shut up, could not have been stronger. That gave Samandriel a little more confidence.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Just back to the hotel," Michael said. "You're freezing again. Why did you leave in the first place?"

"I d-didn't- I don't know," Samandriel stammered in a whisper.

He knew he'd get in trouble for not answering properly, so when Michael's hand came up he was expecting a blow. He flinched and whimpered. Michael rested his hand gently on Samandriel's head. He carded his fingers through Samandriel's tangled hair. Samandriel couldn't help leaning into Michael's touch.

"Please don't fear me," Michael said.

It was strange. Samandriel could've sworn Michael was sad that Samandriel feared him. But that didn't make sense. Samandriel was afraid of everyone, and nobody had ever cared before. Michael was different. He didn't act like anyone else Samandriel knew, so Samandriel couldn't predict him at all. Unpredictability was certainly scary, even if Michael had yet to hurt him in any way.

Samandriel snuggled closer to Michael, wishing halfheartedly that his body hadn't betrayed him. He was supposed to be scared! He should at least be tense. Instead, he was more relaxed than he'd been in years. He felt so undeniably safe in Michael's embrace. It was confusing.

The taxi stopped, and then Michael was carrying Samandriel inside. Samandriel recognized it as the very room he'd fled from just three quarters of an hour before. Michael flipped on the lights before setting Samandriel down so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Samandriel was reluctant to release his hold on Michael's shirt, but Michael made him. He whined softly in protest.

Then Samandriel felt utterly pathetic. He barely knew Michael, and he was already ridiculously attached. What was the soulmate bond doing to his head? Or maybe it was just Michael himself effecting Samandriel so heavily. He did seem like the sort of person it would be easy to get hopelessly attached to.

Michael didn't seem to mind the actions Samandriel thought were so stupid. He entangled his fingers in Samandriel's hair reassuringly. It wasn't a big deal as gestures go, but Samandriel found it was massively comforting. Michael seemed to pick up on that, perhaps because he could read Samandriel's aura.

Too soon, Michael let Samandriel's hair alone and stood facing him. He was studying Samandriel carefully with a stern expression. Samandriel felt horribly self conscious and struggled with the urge to cower. His lip quivered. Michael's eyes were calculating, and Samandriel felt intimidated.

Michael exhaled softly. "When's the last time you ate?" he asked suddenly.

Samandriel blinked at the unexpected question. It was an odd question, almost like something you'd ask someone you cared about. It wasn't anything Samandriel was used to.

"Err- dinner; the night before last," he replied uncertainly.

Michael wasn't an easy person to read, and Samandriel wasn't sure how to interpret his actions. His face was impassive; his posture was inconclusive. He left without giving any sign of what he was planning.

It was silly. It didn't even make any sense, but Samandriel was panicking. He was worried that Michael had left because Samandriel had said something wrong, and Michael was mad about it. He knew he was freaking out about nothing; there was no reason for Michael to be mad that Samandriel hadn't eaten anything for a while. And leaving didn't necessarily mean that Michael was mad. It wasn't like he was leaving leaving.

Samandriel sat there, waiting for Michael to come back, for what felt like hours but was probably only about a minute. He wanted Michael to come back. He wasn't sure he could survive it if Michael didn't come back. Michael had to come back. And then maybe he could find a way to convince Michael to keep him around for as long as possible.

Samandriel was trying to come up with a reason for Michael to keep him around, and failing miserably. He felt so worthless, and had been told so many times that he was worthless. There weren't any reasons for Michael to let him stay.

Michael came back in and sat down next to Samandriel on the edge of the bed.

Samandriel twisted his hands together in his lap, staring at them intently. He sat hunched over, hoping that he would run less risk of bothering Michael if he appeared smaller. Michael was watching him carefully, so it hadn't worked.

"Hey, are you ok?" Michael asked gently.

Samandriel nodded, quickly and unconvincingly. His eyes were blurry with unshed tears.

"Sammy, your aura looks awful," Michael said worriedly. "What's wrong?"

Samandriel shifted, uncertain of how to answer. His aura looked awful? What did that even mean? Was it bad? Was Michael mad at him now? He didn't sound mad.

"Hey, look at me," Michael said uneasily. It was somewhere between an order and a plea.

Samandriel tried to look up at Michael, but he couldn't seem to move. I'm a disaster, he thought. First I'm a mopey, weepy mess, and now he finally starts being normal and ordering me around, even if it did sound more like a plea than an order, and I can't even obey him. This is the worst time to freeze up!

A tear slipped from the end of Samandriel's eye and dropped down his cheek. Another followed it, and another. The tears splashed down onto his pale, interlocking fingers.

Michael's hand came up and gently cupped Samandriel's chin. Samandriel didn't resist as Michael turned his head so he was looking up into Michael's eyes. Michael softly brushed the tears from Samandriel's cheeks with his thumb. More took their place, so he pulled Samandriel into his embrace to try to comfort him.

Samandriel broke down completely, clinging helplessly to Michael like he had on the roadside. Michael rocked him and carded his fingers through Samandriel's hair. The tears came as a relief for Samandriel. At some point he stopped crying, but Michael didn't let him go.

It had been a long time since someone had just held Samandriel like that. It was really nice, and Samandriel felt safe enough to fall asleep on Michael's shoulder. He liked feeling safe.

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