#because crack

“It can’t hurt to say it out loud…” he hears himself say, and Sorey swears he can feel the intensity of Mikleo’s gaze on him as he nervously rubs at his shoulder. “Well,” he starts again. “When it comes down to it, when I’m with you, it’s the best, because…”

Just say it already! His thoughts have been reduced to a dull roar of anxiety, and all he can think about is Mikleo, drawing closer now, so intent, and he cannot mess this up again.

“Mikleo, I love…” -- amethyst eyes widen in shock, and suddenly he’s flooded with panic-- “Your armatus!”

Wait, what? From somewhere outside himself, Sorey watches himself blather about bubbles and arrow rains, feeling as disoriented as Mikleo looks. “We’re unbeatable!” he declares triumphantly, internally reeling, and is that a flash of disappointment in Mikleo’s eyes? What am I doing? Fix this, now!

He reaches for Mikleo’s face, pulling him close. “Unbeatable,” he repeats emphatically, locking eyes with Mikleo, and no, that isn’t right at all, what is he thinking? Mikleo turns red, pulling away with an awkward cough, and this is it, he’s spoiled everything.

“Yes,” Mikleo says lightly, turning away. “The armatus. It’s great.”

Sorey forces himself to beam, taking Mikleo’s hand and dragging them onward. He doesn’t know what to do besides act like nothing is wrong. Mikleo, however, is tense next to him, a frown painting his lovely features, and a sharp pang of guilt forms in Sorey’s chest.

“You okay, Mikleo?”

“I’m-- fine!” Mikleo snaps, pulling away from Sorey and walking ahead even faster so Sorey can’t see his face. “I was just… expecting something different, I guess.”

Now it’s Sorey’s eyes that widen at the wistful tone of his best friend’s voice. Maybe there’s still a chance! He sets his face into its normal expression, scratching the back of his head in what he hopes resembles innocent curiosity. “What’s that?”

“I thought you were going to say… I wanted you to say…”

Here it comes, Sorey…

And then Mikleo sighs. “Oh, never mind. It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

“Maybe it does,” Sorey says quickly, and his words come out harsher than he intended.

It’s enough to make Mikleo bristle, turning his head to shoot a warning look in Sorey’s direction. “Then maybe you would have said it.”

“Then…” Sorey’s left floundering for words, surprised at Mikleo’s sudden hostility. “Maybe you would have!” It’s a weak comeback, but it gets Mikleo to stop walking, whipping around to face him.

“Maybe I was waiting for you!” His voice is irritable, louder, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Sorey crosses his arms, feeling petulant. “Maybe I was waiting for you!”

“Maybe--” Mikleo starts, then cuts himself off with a frustrated groan, turning beautifully pink again. “What are we even talking about?! Let’s just go already.”

“Oh,” Sorey says, disappointed, as Mikleo turns around again and marches forward. Just when it had seemed like they were getting somewhere, too.

They walk together in tense silence for a few minutes. With every step, Sorey curses himself for being such a coward. Why can’t he just say it? It makes no sense for him to get so tongue-tied, after all this time. And Mikleo looks so upset… he deserves better, Sorey thinks as Mikleo sidles up to him.

“Snacks are ready,” Mikleo says, his voice flatter than usual, and Sorey isn’t sure how he manages to make such delicious-looking soft-serve while they’re travelling like this, but he certainly isn’t about to complain.

“Thanks!” He takes the vanilla cone, swipes his tongue across the creamy dessert with a happy sigh. It was just what he needed-- cool, sweet, silky smooth. Perfect, as Mikeo always is. “It’s so good… I love you, Mikleo!”

The last falls out of his mouth before he has a chance to think about it, and the shock of hearing himself say the words petrifies him. He feels a cold drip on his hand as the treat begins melting and he finally thinks to look for Mikleo’s reaction.

He’s standing just as stock-still, completely and utterly dumbfounded. His lips are pressed together, hand gripping his staff so tightly his hand is white. One of his eyes is twitching violently. In short, he looks done.

Sorey laughs nervously, sure he’s about to be engulfed in a wave of water, just like Mikleo would do when they were kids and Sorey made him angry. The laughter falls flat, and Mikleo doesn’t respond. “Ah… Mikleo?”

Mikleo closes his eyes, holding his head in his hands. “I’m in love with an idiot,” he mutters, and Sorey perks up immediately. Mikleo rolls his eyes at the inquisitive sound Sorey makes. “Yes, you,” he says, and Sorey recognizes that tone; it’s the one Mikleo uses when he’s trying to pretend to be disapproving but is actually enjoying himself.