#mhsb

            Your own voice was distant and low, but it did not waver. It had been your job to do reconnaissance on the forest. It was your job to use what you had learned in order to keep a level head. By your side and yet so far away, Satoru made a squawk of disbelief. It barely rose above the thundering of your heartbeat. Hagakure had only given you one piece of advice about the Dark Ward, and it was to run.

            “Um, we walked here,” Satoru whispered harshly, “duh.”

            “The forest really doesn’t like me,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

            A second hand found your arm, just above the elbow. Satoru’s warm weight brushed against your side.

            “Have you considered apologizing to it?” he asked dryly.

            “Ha ha.”

            Conversation died to something omnipresent. You knew that you should probably be running. Hagakure knew this forest much better than you did. You also knew that the forest followed whims similar to your own lucid dreams. Memory of your stifled technique caused a pang of something cold and grey deep within your stomach, but you pushed past it. If you were following lucid logic, there was no reason that the Dark Ward should have appeared to you. In lucid dreams, what you believed to be true would become reality. For inexperienced dreamers, this can sometimes result in nightmares manifesting when they truly believe that something terrifying will happen. You, however, are deeply experienced with lucidity. It’s sort of your whole thing. It was impossible for you to accidentally manifest a nightmare. That left only one option: the Dark Ward wasn’t here for you.

            “Satoshi,” you felt him jump as you broke the silence, “are you feeling nervous? That’s adorable.”

            Earnest conversations went nowhere with that man; you’d have to tease him if you wanted to snap him out of it. If he was the one manifesting, then perhaps you could talk him into thinking in a way that would get both of you to the inverted waterfall instead.

            “Ha! As if!” Satoru barked back at you.

            The dark remained omnipresent.

            “Unless…” his voice dropped to a low purr which you’d find seductive if it were coming from anybody other than the king of teasing, “ooh, Taiga, are you asking me to play the part of the shaking, crooning omega?”

            He’d used your cover name, which meant that the two of you were on the same page. Anybody could be listening. Warmth pressed harder against your side.

            “I’m just so scared!” oh God, Satoru was doing that voice, “please, if only my Big, Strong Alpha would protect me from this spooky-wooky darkness. I’m positively quivering in fear!”

            “Shut the fuck up,” you deadpanned.

            “Make me,” cooed Satoru.

            Satoru had always been very good at hiding his true feelings. It was one of the saddest parts of working alongside him. He had an unbreakable façade that he kept up at all times, lest the strongest sorcerer be knocked down a peg. You wanted to peel it away and hold him. What made you more upset, though, was that he seemed to be truly genuine in this instant. It really did feel like he was playing with you just like he always did. If it weren’t for the fact that you were both still in the Dark Ward, you’d assume he was fine. It made you wonder how well you could actually read him.

            “You want me to make you?” you murmured, and felt his shiver along your right side.

            “In public?” he purred, and his voice was breathier than you remembered, “right here, while everyone’s looking for us?” A hand traced up your chest, to your collarbone. “What if we get caught?”

            You’d forgotten that he was also the king of doubling down. Shit.

            “It’s too dark for them to see anything,” you continued despite yourself, “so I think we’ll be fine, so long as you’re very quiet. Can you do that for me?”

A sharp intake of breath.

            “I don’t know,” his voice was rough and heady.

            Something about the darkness was making you bold. Perhaps it was the fact that you couldn’t see the way his brilliant blue eyes seemed to dissect your every expression. Perhaps it was the way that you seemed to be the only two people in the world, amidst this crushing emptiness. Whatever it was, you had to get a grip. What had you been doing again? Right, lucidity… lucidity required-

            “Then why don’t we go home?” you purred in a voice that you hardly recognized as your own, “and you can make as much noise as you need.”

            “Please,” Satoru whimpered.

            Oh, God, he’d whimpered. You felt it go straight to the pit of your stomach, a bit of heat curling where it didn’t belong. From the spike of musk in his normally-sweet scent, you realized with a start that he’d surprised himself as well. This was getting out of hand. On the bright side, at least both of you knew you were never really going to fuck. Once you got out of here, you’d never talk about this again. Still- you were so close. You couldn’t lose focus. You had him right where you needed him.

            “Oh?” you murmured, “you wanna go home right now?”

            Against your shoulder, Satoru made a strangled noise of assent. You smelled a rush of something sweet and heady and distinctly ozone, and fuck, you couldn’t afford think about that right now.

            “Okay,” you said, and confidently started walking off to your left, “we’re going to go home now. It’s only ten seconds to the edge of this shroud.”

            “Ten seconds?” asked Satoru, “how do you-”

            “Can you count down for me?” you asked, “I’ve done this before. It’ll work as long as you count.”

            “...sure, fine,” he sounded a little disbelieving, “one.”

            Each second drew you closer towards the edge of the darkness. You believed that with all of your soul. It was no different than setting a rule in a lucid dream; it was true because you believed it to be true. This place was a reflection of your mind. Your mind had an exit that was ten seconds away.

“Nine,” Satoru continued, “ten.”