These Paper Pages

to you & a thousand splendid suns [reilo]

"it suits you," gently, rei tucks the stray lock of hair behind his ear. in the same motion, rei delicately pushes in the tiny bundle of blue flowers into his hair, his smile breaking into a grin as he keeps his hand pressed against the profile of arlo's face. beneath the golden haze of the summer afternoon sun, arlo finds himself breathless as he stares into his eyes.

"forget-me-nots..." he starts, leaning their foreheads closer, "the flowers really match your eyes." 

arlo is more than a thousand years old, and yet cradled in the arms of his lover and their lips pressed together in a chaste kiss, he has never felt younger.

when the smoke clears and the fires settle into smoulder, victory is theirs to claim. blood thrums in his ears as the adrenaline runs its course and arlo, arlo looks around, searching for the familiar shade of pine green amongst the cheering crowd. a dreadful feeling takes hold of him as he pushes through the sea of survivors and soldiers, eyes frantically searching for a glimpse of the man who gave him more than he ever thought he deserved.

"please," he whispers to the wind like a prayer, "please be alright."

arlo meets rei at the foot of the valley on the first day of spring.

oh, he thinks, oh.

bathed by the quiet radiance of the early morning sun kissing the evergreens and the dewy blades of the overgrown field, here is a man at the cusp of godhood. pine-green hair, fair skin, the sunrise held captive in his eyes—this man will move mountains and carve his name in the stars, arlo can see. he can see it in the flecks of gold dotting the light encompassing him, can see it in the golden threads woven into the very fabric of his being. 

"show yourself," and arlo moves before he can even think, enraptured by the voice calling to him. he stops in his step when cold steel rests lightly above his throat, golden eyes sharp and focused on him. arlo watches as those eyes widen in surprise, the blade lowering slowly as the tautness of the man's shoulder relaxes.

"oh," he says, oh. sheathing his blade away, the man straightens his posture as he places a hand on his chest while he tucks the other behind his back and bows curtly. 

"forgive my manners," he says, a tinge of redness colouring his cheeks as he offers arlo a smile. "my name is rei." 

replicating his posture, arlo replies, "arlo, a pleasure to meet you." 

and like a thousand splendid suns bearing down on him, arlo finds himself blinded by his smile.

"it suits you." 

the oxygen in his lungs burns but arlo continues to run, run, run. the trees and the ashen skyline blurs together in the periphery of his vision as he pushes through the thicket and through the scorched land, eyes searching for the familiar shade of green so embedded in his memory. 

"rei!" he calls out, ignoring the way his voice cracks as desperation claws at his throat. it's the adrenaline that keeps him moving, keeps him on his feet despite how his body protests. his ears are ringing as hot blood courses through his vein, searching and searching and searching.