Little Light Lord [BL]

Chapter 12 - Summit of the Lords (IV)

Phos scoffed.

Dead? You're dead. Your entire family is dead!

A bit annoyed yet indifferent nonetheless, Phos glanced up at Pyre with a frown.

The Fire Lord's irises, deep and iridescent, held traces of red, which flashed like turbulent clouds for a split second before disappearing completely.

Just as Phos did a double-take, surprised, Pyre's gaze flitted away. His eyes contained no hint of what Phos had just seen.

The Light Lord wondered if he needed to take a break for hallucinating. Perhaps, just as Pyre had insisted all this time, he had long been dead... or something.

Lost in his thoughts, Phos barely registered the warmth seeping through a black glove grabbing his wrist, pulling him away from the edge of the cliff and towards a blinding white. He looked up to see Pyre beaming at him.

...He smiles like an idiot.

Under their feet, specks of light floated up, resting in their hair, on their shoulders. The rust-coloured stones felt smooth, little nudges to Phos's bare feet. As they walked, Pyre bent down, picking up a pair of white-heeled boots. He turned to the little Light Lord, a flicker of teasing in his expression.

Phos tensed, a bit embarrassed. He'd forgotten about those. Upon closer inspection, patches of blood camouflaged into the red ground underneath.

His soles hurt.

Pyre seemed to notice this for the first time. He handed Phos his white boots before reaching out to carry him. With a single, fluid motion, Phos found his arms wrapped around Pyre's neck, clinging to the back of the man's soft trench coat, his legs anchored at his knees with his feet hanging in the air.

While this gesture appeared romantic at first, coupled with the blood dripping down from Phos's pale toes and splattering to the earth, he couldn't exactly call the scene intimate' in any way.

"What are you doing?"

When Phos called Pyre out, he received a laugh in response.

"Put me down."

"No."

"I'll report you for invading my personal space." Holding a deadpan expression, Phos stated this with his blunt voice.

"I didn't know you had any." Pyre strolled to the border of Eos and Nephele, his smug eyes never leaving the Lord of Light.

A fleeting thought passed through Phos's mind.

Pyre isn't a bad person.

But it quickly drowned in the flurry of opposing ruminations.

'He has two brain cells.'

'He seems evil.'

'Didn't he try to kill me twice?'

Reason overpowered Pyre's small gesture of warmth, and Phos snapped back to reality.

"Why were you at the cliff?" He kept his complexion stable, neither positive nor negative—ready to either smile and play along or glower and take up his gun.

"Me?" Pyre looked surprised. "I was just..."

His eyes flashed red once more.

"Preparing to lava dive." Coughing, Pyre averted his gaze.

Phos's face turned ugly. What the hell? Externally, he looked disappointed and sighed.

However....

This time he'd seen it clearly. The colour in Pyre's irises.

Red.

An emotion of love.

Hate.

Danger.

If Pyre didn't want to answer truthfully, Phos wouldn't push it. After all, who knew exactly what the Lord of Fire was hiding? Phos could never forget the night in the alleyway. The accuracy and speed of a sharpshooter.

Pyre wanted his life.

The air between the two turned stagnant, and Phos eventually looked down as well. His fingers interlocked at Pyre's nape, lacing together, clutching the fabric like a lifeline.

Their silence carried over to Nephele, where Pyre gently put Phos back onto his feet. The clouds, soft and floccose, absorbed the pooling blood, turning a soft pink before fading back to pure white.

Perhaps it was raining blood on Earth. Phos couldn't tell.

"We're here now. Where will you go?" Tentative, he asked first.

"Wherever you plan to." Pyre grinned.

"Are you a stalker?" Phos mulled over his words. "Evidently, you are. Seeing as to how much you like following people while wearing dark cloaks and carrying a sniper rifle."

He purposefully referred to that night in the alleyway, testing how Pyre would react.

"Well, yes. But that was to kill you." Pyre unabashedly declared, crossing his arms.

"So did you succeed??" Phos frowned up at the man as he began to walk.

To where? How would he know? He'd just follow his feet.

Seeing the cotton-like clouds, Phos couldn't help but think of a certain silver-haired Lord. Also tall, not as tall as Pyre, and with a monotonous voice.

Right... what was the signal for meeting up again?

"What a nice whistle you've got there." Pyre seemed to have read his mind. "I hope its sound is to your liking."

"Very much so." Phos thought for a second that the Fire Lord had read his mind.

Tugging the whistle out of the folds of his flame-like scarf, Phos brought it up to his lips.

"I'm going to blow it now." He stared at Pyre, menacing.

"Go right ahead." Pyre gazed back, amused.

A shrill note echoed through the air.

Kass and Nymph had finally made it to the golden castle, linked arm-in-arm with each other as they pointed out the stalls and lanterns.

"Isn't that such a beautiful shade of silver?" Nymph beamed as she looked towards Kass.

"Mhm!" Kass nodded.

The two had literal flowers blooming around them, scaring the Lords walking by into running away.

But this warmth would not last long. The harsh sound of a whistle tore through his head, making Kass jump as jagged metal pierced through the flowers around him.

"What's wrong?!" Nymph jolted, grabbing Kass's arm.

Did the Lord of Metal get seizures? She wondered how much research she had to do to help him in the future.

"Sorry, Phos is calling me—I need to go pick him up." Anxious for another whistle, Kass turned on his heel and dashed away.

Nymph froze. Phos?? Why was Kass running? With so many questions flooding her mind, she found herself following the Lord of Metal to wherever and beyond.