May Minsan Lang na Nagdugtong
( English Translation: There are only a few that connect )
A scene that I wrote for a friend! With all the smiles and laughs she’d gotten from me, I’d want to return the favor and brighten up her day! ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡ This is for you, @smitten-lass.
[Scene beneath the cut, nothing nsfw wwwww]
Thump, thump, thump, thump—
At the echo of an unbearably familiar heartbeat slipping into his sensitive ears, Lilia merely closes his eyes in response to the sudden tightening of his chest.
Thu-Thump, Thu-Thump, Thu-Thump, unsteadily goes his own heart. Unconsciously, he lifts his hand and places it over his chest where he could feel its excited beating.
He doesn’t make any effort to look over his shoulder.
After all, no other would have a heart’s song as beautiful as yours.
No other would ever compare to how the continuous pulsing of your life would always invoke a sense of tranquility to settle deeply into his bones, to seep right into his veins, to soothe him in a way that was no less but still so different from the feeling that Silver or Sebek of even Malleus would leave on him.
He’s not sure if he’s been blessed or cursed to be one of the few capable of hearing such a sweet song from your chest.
“Lilia?” Your even sweeter voice resounds out. “What are you doing up here”
He hears your question loud and clear, as he always does with what comes out of your mouth, but he merely sends you a smile as he pats the area beside him.
“Will you sit with me?” He asks you, the groove in the roof’s tiles the only thing he can feel through the fabric of his gloves. Sneakily, his mind whispers a thought to him.
What would your hair feel in his hand?
He shakes the thought from his head when he feels you settle down beside him, your presence a warm comfort to him in the midst of this cold.
“It’s kind of dangerous to sit here, you know,” you tell him, trying to sound nonchalant, but Lilia has known you well enough to understand the concern in your voice. “Wouldn’t it be better to sit inside? I could prepare something warm for us to drink,” is your kind offer.
As much as Lilia wants to enjoy something prepared by you, he knows that it would only furtherly muddle the conflict within him, the thoughts raging inside of his mind, the feelings he has kept within his lungs.
“But it’d be so difficult to watch the sunrise from inside,” is what he tells you, a crooked smile adorning his lips. He’s sure that something must show in his eyes, because a frown graces your features.
“…Lilia,” you say his name again and oh, oh, what a delight it would be if his name would be the first to fall from your lips every morning, would be the last name you’d say every night.
He realizes that he’d probably zoned out for too long, his mind at a place that has yet to be of reach to him (will it ever be?).
When he finally focuses back on reality, he sees you reach out to him, cautiously, because you probably remember the last time you’d attempted this.
However, in stark contrast to how he’d flinched away from you the first time, Lilia leans in ever so slightly until the tips of your fingers brushes against his forehead.
It takes you a moment to build the confidence to properly place your hand over his forehead, the warm skin of your palm a soothing balm to his cold skin.
“…Are you really alright?” You ask him, a furrow between your brows that he’d so love to gently rub out.
He…doesn’t quite know how to answer that question.
Yes, would be a lie, but so would a, No.
To answer with either would be a lie that would burn on his tongue, leaving it to fester until all he can taste for weeks on end is ash—after all, Lilia had never even once told a lie to you, never could no matter how much he may twist his words.
And, by the way his gut curdles with something dreary and unignorable, something he won’t be starting any time soon.
“My days have been enjoyable as of late,” he tells you instead, a wistful smiling curling his lips into something softer and kinder than usual. It’s not a lie, technically, since he has been enjoying himself for the past months.
After all, how could he be anything but that?
Never in his wildest dreams had he ever believed in this, much less expected this; yet, here you were, an enchanting being with a song so sweet, becoming a part of his life.
“Silver and Sebek are still always fighting, of course,” he continues, his voice sounding faint even to his own ears, or maybe that’s just the cotton filling his head? “But they wouldn’t be to stretch their wings out if they let themselves slack off from their training. The two are great points of motivation for the other…”
He pauses, though, when his attention hyperfixates itself to your touch. His heart sinks when you pull your hand away, your skin leaving his, but his heart stops, though, when, instead of taking back your hand, you instead places it atop his head.
“Is this okay?” You ask him, something hesitant and nervous crossing your features. You’re trying not to meet his gaze, but it’s like there’s something there in his eyes that calls out to you the very same way your heart calls out to him.
Thu-Thump, Thu-Thump, Thu-Thump—
Ah.
Something clicks into place in his mind at that very moment, realization pulling the heavy weight off of his shoulders.
Lilia has always been aware of his attraction to you—from the way his heartbeat would quicken whenever you were in close proximity, the warmth that would always linger on his hand through his glove from when he’d pat your head or hold your shoulder, and to the way he’d surreptitiously listen in to any topic about you, an insatiable thirst to get to know you better.
Yet, it was this kind of attraction that….gave him this problem in the first place.
He’d be lying if he’d said he wasn’t afraid of what the future holds, of what might happen to him, to his family, to his liege, and, most of all, to you.
Time had always passed by much too quickly for him, and it wouldn’t be long before these days would turn into nothing but memories for him to look back on.
And…when even more time would pass, he might even forget about all of this.
Lilia didn’t want that. He didn’t want to forget about someone like you, something that is you, everything about you. Just the very thought of it is enough to send a faint tremble to his fingers.
Yet…what reason did he have to doubt himself?
What reason did he have to stop himself from accepting his feelings—from loving you?
All the things he’d forgotten about had been inconsequential, had been about things and people who were long gone and hadn’t left a single mark on him.
So how could he, who’s been moved and affected by even the littlest things you’d do, ever forget about you?
He raises his gaze to meets yours, holds it for as long as he can as the sun finally climbs over the horizon to grace your features with a canvas of red and orange light.
He digs his fingers into the roof, feeling some of the tails depress beneath his strength.
To hope for a life with you…
To wish for a future where you were by his side…
To finally act out on his feelings for you…
It would be alright for him to be selfish, yes?