Hrafn waited a moment, his claws clenched deep into the wood of the doorframe, before he emerged. He’d held his promise to Ha-Rin. His gut twisted horribly and threatened to rise to his throat—but he’d kept to his word. The issue of Haneul’s family was one far more complicated than he’d originally presumed. One that he understood now why Haneul refused to leave.

Haneul himself stood at the entryway, his hand hovering above the door handle with a shaking reluctance.

He didn’t know if he should call out or turn away. What was needed for this moment? Perhaps they were both stuck beneath the mantle of duty and need…

“I can’t leave,” Haneul whispered, breaking the silence. “There’s a saying, a widower knows a widow’s sorrow. My dad and I are going through the same thing. And I can’t leave him here to deal with it all himself, because I know he won’t. He stays out of obligation to my mother…and I stay for him.”

“Is that really your burden to bear, though?” Hrafn asked. But he supposed the answer was similar to what his own would be. Why he fought so hard for his people. Why would he do anything to make sure the council could not torment those who did not want to fight. He didn’t want to leave behind people who could not or did not think they could defend themselves.

Haneul smoothed back his hair and flexed his shoulders, the material of the blue suit jacket bunching into garish wrinkles before relaxing and smoothing out. 

“We all have something, don’t we?” He smiled. “Like you, trying to get home. I saw you had a productive night! Did you have any luck finding the location of your planet?”

“Haneul…” Hrafn tried before he was immediately waved off.

“None of that,” Haneul said, sauntering back to the study. “I think both you and I have had enough depressing bullshit for one day. Let’s try to focus on some good news if you have any.”

The warlord found that he had no appropriate rebuttal so reluctantly he conceded. “Did you like your morning meal?”

Haneul’s attention snapped and beamed at him with something exquisite and genuine. “So you made that all by yourself! Don’t tell me you’ve been watching cooking shows while I’m at work.”

“It’s some of the only television Ha-Rin will sit down and watch with me,” Hrafn huffed. “Although over-easy eggs are nothing to boast about.”

“But the eggs!”

“Hush. We’re not going to talk about that.”

Together they both went back to the study, the softness of their amusement lingering in the hall. At least for now, things felt the slightest bit normal. 

Hrafn would be lying if he said he was not worried, however. The extreme mood swing from last night had upended his approach for today—although he wasn’t sure what the course of action would’ve been precisely. But instead of rounding his actions as if he were on tenterhooks, he found himself explaining the development of his star maps. Intricacies about his home that he’d never considered to be abnormal before were in fact unnatural to an Earth lense. His home galaxy was an irregular entity, slowly unraveling with each passing turn of the universe. The amount of oddities around Earth were not at all as numerous as one would think given the magnitude of open space.

But one thing Hrafn hadn’t taken into account before was Trunadur had been trying to send him to Meotl during the escape. He had begun to punch in the coordinates. Which meant for the accidental launch, Haneul’s planet had to be near in proximity. Granted give or take a few thousand paces of light. But near enough to mistake Meotl for Earth.

“I found my galaxy,” Hrafn said. “It’s referred to as the Canis Major galaxy by the people of Earth. My people just call it the Satikal. It’s a neighboring one to yours, and I firmly believe that it holds all the characteristics of what my people have researched about our own world’s location.”

Haneul’s voice sounded distant and awed, placing a hand tentatively on the star map. “You found it.”

“I did,” Hrafn said, a bit softer. “It’s quite a distance and without a known Star Warp to teleport to, it makes sense that not even merchants have made it out this far.”

“Star Warp.” Haneul sat on the edge of the desk. “That’s how you got here, right?”

“Mm. It is a very old technology—no one knows where they came from or who constructed them for that matter. But almost every planet has one.”

“Wait, do you think there’s one here?”

Hrafn nodded. “No one knows if it was a wayfaring race or the celestials themselves. The technology is magnificently simple—enough to replicate with ease. And yet there are no existing records of any race having instituted them.”

“Where would one be hiding on Earth?” Haneul murmured.

“They’re quite enormous structures. Tall and large, they need to send star ships into space and they need to be sturdy enough to withstand the interdimensional pressure they house. They draw their power from the life force of a planet to bend time and space. It’s an extremely volatile state. Does that bring to mind anything?”

Haneul massaged his temples. “Time travel and teleporting? Now we’re getting a little too fantastical for me.”

Chuckling, Hrafn nudged the human with one of his wings. “The possibility of my existence had also been fiction once for you. And yet here we are.”

“Well, I’m certainly all the better for that.” Haneul’s hand brushed the offending wing playfully. His fingers were smooth and warm against the midnight plumage. 

Hrafn realized with growing alarm that he’d played himself. 

“You called these your strengths and weaknesses last night. Do you think life would be easier without them?” Haneul ran his fingertips down the feathers with an absent minded fondness. 

“I could not miss what I’ve never known, Haneul.” Hrafn’s shoulders shuddered. “But life would still be something to struggle and strive for. There would be plenty other weaknesses and strengths.”

“You’d be nearly human at that point.”

“Would you prefer that?”

“No,” Haneul said, a stern look crossing his face. “Absolutely not.”

A sigh escaped his lips, and against his better judgment, Hrafn leaned down and bumped his forehead against Haneul’s. “You are so bizarre to me, dear human.”

Something changed in Haneul’s gaze, his gilded eyes darkened—but not cruel or cold. He did not edge away or recoil. Instead, he gently guided the wing in his hold over them to once again hide them away from the world. 

“I think we should talk now.”

Hrafn’s voice died in his throat.

“You said that last night, that we should talk about what this means to you.” Haneul paused, looking away with a mixed look of conflicted shame and hurt. “Why you keep letting me touch your wings however I please when they hold such a great meaning to you. It’s not that I mean to disrespect that meaning for you…”

“I want you to—” Hrafn croaked out. Had he not been prepared for this as he thought he had? “But now…now is not the time to talk about this.”

“Why not?” Haneul was suddenly closer, reaching up for him. “We’re right here. We’re talking.”

Without question, Hrafn leaned down. The gentle hands of a human cupped his face and cradled his jaw. He’d never known a touch like this before, never wanted a touch like this before. Not until Haneul. So many things in all of his existence, not until Haneul. His breath trembled past his lips and it took all of his will to lighty wrap his hands around human wrists—so, so careful not to knick his claws against delicate skin—and remove Haneul’s hands from him.

The hurt and confusion on Haneul’s face tore him to pieces. “I thought…I thought you also…” There was a fragility there that was different from last night.

“I do,” Hrafn reaffirmed, again against his better judgment. “But this is not the right time for either of us. You are going through something right now with your father and another human. You do not need my own affections and problems to muddle how you handle things.”

“Do not dictate what I need or don’t,” Haneul’s voice rasped out harshly. 

“Fine. Then I will dictate what I need and don’t. I want you, that much I cannot deny.” Hrafn said. “But I do not need to put someone I care for in danger with my own problems again. Is it of no concern to you how after all this time you’ve never pried into how I’ve fallen to Earth, how I appeared one day injured and unconscious?”

“You weren't injured in the fall?”

“Haneul, I’m a warlord from another world, surely you've surmised I have enemies. You knew I was fleeing, that much you know,” Hrafn sighed. “But things that even scare myself, I've kept close to breast…if only for my own coping. My closest friend died helping me flee during an assisnation attempt by my ruling council. My council is trying to ensure my rule will not usurp their own political machinations. I am hunted. The moment they come here, there will be no stopping until I'm killed, including any collateral that should fall in their path. Meaning every moment I’ve yet to leave puts both of us at further danger.”

Haneul recoiled, as if burned. 

That was that, Hrafn supposed. Still through it all, he smiled the same half-broken smile. 

He’d wanted to tell Haneul how he’d felt for some time. Perhaps from that moment he first heard his human laugh on the rooftop among the roses. He would need to ask to contact Ha-Rin. It wouldn’t be wise for him to join the outing today with the others. Haneul needed his friends to cheer him up, not some fugitive, moon-addled warlord.