[Mixed Signals]

It was morning, and against his wishes, the birds chirped just as happily as if nothing happened the night before. Shielding his eyes from the light, Miklotov groaned, soaking in sweat and ready for a shower. Camus, on the other hand, had just woken up from a deep slumber and was still rubbing his eyes.

"So how was the date?" Camus asked Miklotov who was looking for a towel. Miklotov intentionally avoided the question and didn't even acknowledge the question. "It didn't go so well?" Camus then asked, seeing that his partner was not talking.

Miklotov turned around and glared at him, much to Camus's surprise. "I'm 'boring', Camus," he spat out. "Even you don't want to talk to me."

Camus seemed hurt by the statement, but Miklotov didn't care. "What do you mean?" he asked. Miklotov glanced at the door before returning his gaze to Camus, who now was standing up.

"You have a date tonight, don't you?" Miklotov said, knowing the answer already.

"Well, yeah…" Camus began, but Miklotov cut him off.

"Well that's why," Miklotov responded, walking to the door and turning the knob. He felt a sense of urgency…he knew that if he stayed longer, he bend over and listen to Camus like he shouldn't have done before.

"Mik…wait a minute!" Camus shouted to his back. Miklotov responded by firmly shutting the door. The sound had somewhat of a pleasant sound to Miklotov's ears as he whistled his way to the bathing house.

*****

The funny thing is that he is going out with the same girl I did the night before. Talk about not being attractive.

Miklotov stood behind a brick wall, eavesdropping on Camus's date. He was just returning from training when he had seen her come in to Camus's room. Spying from a corner he saw her leave with him, her hand in his. Unlike how they had silently exited last night, tonight the girl was already rambling on about some subject.

Miklotov followed them quietly on the way to the restaurant. He was jealous over the amount of affection Camus already received in the first few minutes. She was walking awfully close to Camus and many times whispered into his ear.

Suddenly he heard his name. The girl was talking about the date she had last night. Miklotov scowled as he listened to what she said. Look at this girl trash me. He's even nodding to her. At first, he was ready to doubt that Camus would truly do that…would truly think the same way that the girl did. Though with each affirmative nods he became more and more disgusted. I'm going back. I can't watch this anymore.

Miklotov trudged back to the room, feeling angry. So that's how he really feels. Well I'll show him what he's missing.

However, as the moon's white gaze swept over the city and Camus did not return, Miklotov began to feel less angry and more depressed. I guess I don't amount to much. He won't be missing much by losing me.

Miklotov kicked up his covers and forced himself to fall asleep.

*****

"Miklotov…" someone whispered with a strained voice. Miklotov first dismissed it as a figment of his imagination but when the person started shaking him, he almost hit the person. He found that the voice belonged to Camus, who was hovering over him, his hands on his shoulder.

"Why are you shaking me?" Miklotov asked grumpily. If it wasn't an emergency, Miklotov was probably going to punch Camus. Considering all he has done…

"Please sleep next to me tonight," he whispered. Miklotov looked annoyed. Is he a child or something? Expecting me to bend to his will each time? Though it was a strange request, especially since Camus hadn't slept in the same bed with him since they were 10.

"Why?" Miklotov asked, refusing to get up.

"Just…do," Camus replied quietly. "Please," he said pleadingly, but did more of the pleading with his eyes. I can't believe I'm letting myself do this…

"Okay…" Miklotov mumbled, crawling out of bed, but Camus instead curled inside Miklotov's bed, his weight sinking the bed a bit. Okay…one more time. That's it.

He fell asleep, but not before noting that Camus had wrapped his arms around Miklotov's waist, hugging him like a stuffed animal.

*****

Miklotov returned from practice to find Camus awake and fully dressed for once. After a brief hello, Camus said nothing of importance and Miklotov paid no mind. Instead he was lost in his thoughts. He didn't even remember. Camus was now talking about the weather and Miklotov did not care. Then why do I feel disappointed?

"Miklotov?" Camus prodded, probably noticing that Miklotov had shut his ears to him a while ago.

"Oh Camus, how was Theresa?" Miklotov asked.

Camus seemed shocked that Miklotov knew the girl's identity. "Oh Theresa… She was really nice," he replied. Miklotov sighed. I knew that already…

"Oh," Miklotov mumbled, making a motion to leave. Camus, unlike last time, physically stopped Miklotov by grabbing his wrist. Miklotov turned around and looked at him blankly.

"What's wrong?" Camus asked, refusing to let Miklotov leave before answering.

"Nothing," Miklotov replied. He broke free of Camus's grasp and stalked out the room before Camus could say a word. At a hurried pace he reached the dining room and found a place where he would not have to sit with Camus. He noticed that Camus kept looking at him during the meal, but he avoided the looks by staring down at his place. He successfully avoided him on his way to training, and when he reached the dojo, he felt relieved. Good job so far.

*****

"Can I have a moment with you, Miklotov?" the instructor asked Miklotov while he was taking a water break from drills. The man was a well-built, a brunette with short hair, blue eyes, and a big mouth.

"Yes?" Miklotov said when he was pulled aside to a more private place.

"I want you to go to Muse to deliver a message for me," said the man. Miklotov waited to hear an elaboration, a more detailed explanation of the mission, but it didn't come.

"Is that it?" Miklotov asked, chastising himself for sounding like a fledgling.

"Bloodthirsty, Miklotov? You have ways to go before you see real combat," the man laughed. Miklotov knew that the man would misinterpret his tone but felt no need in correcting the man's misconception.

"Oh," Miklotov replied. He looked around him, a bit uncomfortable now because others were wondering why he was talking to the instructor.

"Well actually I must compliment you on how you are doing so far," the man said, surprising Miklotov. "You are by far the best student I've had in years," he commented. "I think you should take a break."

"Thank you, sir," Miklotov politely replied. It was a great honor to receive such words of praise from such a tough man, and Miklotov relished it.

"Don't be so stiff. I won't hurt you," the man laughed, patting Miklotov's back. Then seeing that the students were quietly waiting for his instructions, he said, "Oh, I have to go back and lead those rambunctious new ones. Be ready to leave tomorrow."

"Yes sir," Miklotov immediately replied. He took one last sip of water before he too went to pick up his sword for another drill.

*****

Camus entered the room while Miklotov was throwing in the last things that he needed for his trip. The red-head looked confused and asked, "Miklotov, why are you packing?"

"Uh…" Miklotov began, but stopped. He had decided to avoid talking to Camus as much as possible. If Camus didn't want to be his friend, then he wouldn't share the good news with him.

"You're leaving?" Camus guessed. He almost looked scared…as if he was losing something special. Miklotov didn't care to discern what it exactly was…he'd get it wrong anyway.

"To Muse," he answered curtly. He closed up the sack with the provisions and then threw the bag into a corner.

"Muse?" Camus repeated, probably wanting clarification.

"For a mission," Miklotov said dryly. He refused to look at Camus but stared at the floor beneath his feet.

"Congratulations, Mik! That's awesome," Camus said as he approached Miklotov.

"To deliver a message," Miklotov added. Camus stopped where he was and realized that there wasn't much skill involved for that task.

"Oh," he said, but still proceeded in walking towards Miklotov.

"Yes," Miklotov continued. "Not everything is so great, is it?" he said, turning around to face Camus.

Camus sighed. "Come on Mik, you'll get a better mission next time," he said, smiling.

Though Miklotov did not return the smile but frowned. "Right," he said sarcastically. "I'll get a girlfriend, a friend who won't betray me, and good missions."

The room was silent for a few seconds until Camus suddenly shouted, "Miklotov!"

"I can't believe you went out with Theresa right after you set me up with her!" Miklotov shouted angrily, turning away from Camus and heading towards the door. Camus waved his hands around and shook his head.

"Miklotov, that's not it…" he said, probably trying to plead with Miklotov.

Miklotov glared back at him. "What is it then?" he asked Camus. "I think it is clear enough."

With that, he slammed the door and ran away from the problem…ran away from Camus.

*****

I won't be seeing you in a while…can you believe it? We'll be separated for more than a few days. He stared down at Camus's dormant shape, curled up in the sheets that covered the bed. In the morning he would say goodbye to the same shape, probably rolled over on the other side of the bed. The thought made Miklotov laugh inside, but his lips remained firm, thus disallowing any sound to escape.

"I'm going to miss you Camus," whispered Miklotov before he shut his eyes. Though you wouldn't miss me at all, would you? He would have to wake up extra early tomorrow to have a head start towards Muse.

To be continued…