They had been travelling for the past eight years. A long circular of all of Mikleo's favourite places had brought them back full circle, to Camlann and Artorius' throne. In the past thousand years the area had been left uninhabited by humans, but with malevolence cast away the area had been overrun with flora and fauna.
Mikleo was perched on the base of a broken column, watching Sorey. He was sat a little way away in the grass, leaning so his head was nearly on the ground, eye level with the carved script he was trying to translate, muttering incoherently to himself, occasionally piping up with a query for him.
Mikleo's hair hung around his shoulders. He liked it there, he didn't feel so young, but it wasn't so impractical and heavy, he could tuck it behind his ears and tie it back it high winds. Sorey had decided he liked his a little shorter than he had when he was younger. It wasn't a big change, and he looked good with it, even if it made his ears look bigger, but it did cause a dissonance in Mikleo's head, between the Sorey stood in front of him and the crystallised image of Sorey formed in his absence.
But there was only ever one Sorey. In the earlier years of Soreys return, Mikleo couldn't help but mourn the loss of 'path A' Sorey, the Sorey that never lost his memories, never slept for a thousand years, never became a seraph. He mourned for the human life he could have lived, the human children and family he might have had. The Sorey who still knew him inside out.
But 'path A' Sorey was only ever fiction. He had Sorey right here. He had spent longer than he was proud of looking at every one of Soreys actions thinking, 'would path A Sorey have done that?'
'Would path A Sorey have changed his hair?' was a thought that had popped up in the back of his head almost every time he looked at him. Possibly, but there was no way of knowing because path A Sorey is utter fiction.
But now, eight years later, those thoughts were gone from his head. They had spent so much time together, Sorey knew Mikleo almost as well as he knew him. Most of Soreys old memories had slowly filled in and they had made eight years of new memories together. Sorey was Sorey. Just as Sorey as he'd ever been, and Mikleo could see it without straining himself through the obscuring lenses of his own making. They were both content.
Mikleo looked over to Sorey, his eyes were so focused, his hair fluttering in the breeze.
It had taken so long for things to get back to normal, they were best friends and partners, as good if not better than as in their youth.
And now Mikleo was going to ruin everything.
"Sorey," he called.
Sorey stood up, turning to face Mikleo. Once eye contact was made neither broke it. Mikleo made his way towards Sorey in long, uneven strides, ignoring the debris hidden in the long grass at their feet. Mikleo had promised himself he would do this after they had come back here, back full circle together.
He placed a hand at the back of Soreys head and brought him forward to his lips. His were as soft as the last time. Sorey was tense but he seemed to start to relax-
Sorey pulled away. Mikleo felt like his heart was made of lead. Sorey stared up with big green eyes. I swear they were never that big before.
"Mikleo."
Sorey slowly moved his hand to the nape of Mikleo's neck and kissed him back.