It's one of those days. One of those terrifying days when the light vanishes from Mikkel's eyes, to be replaced by a dull melancholy. He sits on the floor, watching the rain splatter against the rectangular glass of the balcony door. He doesn't greet Eirik as he puts his bag down, doesn't even seem to notice his presence.

"Want to talk about it?" Eirik asks, joining him on the floor.

He has a sneaking suspicion what might be the matter. They argued the other day. A proper argument, fueled by angry shouting that made the walls tremble and harsh words determined to wound. An argument that resulted in Mikkel storming out and spending the night at Jan's.

They've since made up, taking the time to analyse just why the fight took place, what they need to change to prevent another from breaking out in the future. Still, the event must weigh heavily on his mind, especially considering how laid-back he usually is, knowing how much he hates hurting those he holds dear.

"It's stupid," Mikkel shrugs.

Eirik tilts his head, a sign he is willing to listen no matter how silly these worries may be. Mikkel could be worrying about his favourite sweet brand being discontinued, still Eirik would listen and advise him on the best ways to deal with it.

"So, I was chatting with Gil and Al at lunchtime. And hearing them talk about Erzsébet and Kiku made me realise what a shitty couple we are. Like, they never argue, they're always gushing about how perfect their partner is, they go on dates every other week. They just seem so perfect, like they're living in a fairytale." He laughs bitterly. "And then there's you and me, who go on proper dates maybe once every few months, argue over the smallest of things, and take each other for granted. I love you, Eirik, and I'd spend my whole life with you if I could, but I sometimes feel like we just... don't work."

Eirik lets the offense and hurt that prickle his skin at Mikkel's harsh words pass over his head. He understands what Mikkel is trying to say, though the words he's chosen have come out wrong. He thinks about Gilbert and Erzsébet, who don't live together. He thinks about Alfred and Kiku, who have been dating since the end of secondary school.

"You can't compare us with them. We're all at different stages of our relationships. Gilbert and Erzsébet aren't ready to move in together, even though they've been going out a year longer than we have. Alfred and Kiku have had nearly four years to work things out. Besides, Gilbert and Alfred aren't exactly the types to admit when something's wrong with their love life, are they?"

"I told you it was stupid."

Mikkel peers down at the people running to avoid getting caught up in the shower. Eirik frowns, wondering how best to ease his boyfriend's concerns. He isn't good at comforting people, but that doesn't matter. Mikkel shouldn't be left to feel this way. Eirik won't accept that line of thought.

"You know," he begins, carefully choosing his words, "I think it's healthy to argue every once in a while. Instead of keeping our thoughts in our heads, to fester and sour our opinion of each other, we let them out. And maybe that means we argue, because we disagree, but we're good at communicating. We always find a healthy compromise. Besides, you talk as though we argue every day. We bicker a lot, perhaps, but there's no malice behind it. We're fundamentally different people."

"But what happened the other day, you can't consider that healthy, can you?"

Eirik shrugs.

"Arguments like those ones are like thunderstorms. Sometimes you can see the signs, sometimes they startle you, they're unpleasant to listen to, but then they go away, you make up, and go over if there's anything you could have done to be better prepared for the next one."

He must have said something right, because Mikkel finally meets his gaze and offers him a tentative grin.

"We'd make a pretty weird fairytale, wouldn't we?"

"I don't know..." Eirik pretends to consider it. "You do have an axe... It's not a sword, but it's close enough. And I'm sure I could pull off a dress, if push comes to shove."

Mikkel laughs. Straight from his belly, it rings throughout the room, loud, mesmerising. Eirik lets it cover his body in a blanket of joy.

"What do you think about this? Prince Eirik has locked himself into a tallest tower of the kingdom. Why has he done such a thing? Because people are annoying. So Sir Mikkel rises to the challenge of 'rescuing' him. With nothing but the coolest axe in the world to accompany him, he sets off on his quest, overcoming any obstacle in his path until he finally reaches the tower. But it isn't locked. And there's no dragon to guard it. Confused, he makes his way up the stairs, knocks on Prince Eirik's door and enters. And is promptly told to fuck off."

"But Sir Mikkel is persistent," Eirik continues, "and somehow manages to befriend the cold-hearted prince. Day after day, they spend more and more time together. They get to know each other, share similar hobbies and interests. They fall in love without realising it."

"And have loads of children and live happily ever after," Mikkel finishes with a dramatic flick of his wrist.

A fit of the giggles rushes through them, as they take a moment to reflect just how ridiculous it all is. Because it is ridiculous. They've only just become adults, only just started living together, only just had their first major argument. They aren't a fairytale; they never will be. But whatever their story could be classified as, it's perfect to them.

Mikkel's eyes have regained their sparkle. He beams over at Eirik, the radiant knight who's saved him so many times, and covers his hand with his own.

"Thanks, Eirik."

Eirik squeezes his hand in response. The rain continues to pour, gaining in intensity until people are either running to escape it or huddling under restaurant awnings. It taps at their door, an unwelcome intruder demanding entry into the warm sanctuary the two men have built.

"Mikkel?"

"Yeah?"

"Think Feliks would make me a dress if I asked him nicely?"