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Ache

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The sun had long since set and for a moment, Lancelot thought he might've missed Siegfried altogether.

But Siegfried was there, off in a corner of the training yard, quietly cleaning his greatsword. And for a silent moment, Lancelot just watched.

"Lancelot?"

Ah, far be it for his presence to remain undetected. Lancelot wasn't actually surprised he'd been noticed, even in the shadows.

"It's just me," Lancelot replied, stepping closer. He'd come for one reason, one that now threatened to escape him entirely, like it always did.

His feelings for Siegfried were complicated, even on the best days. Even when he'd tried to tell himself there was nobody he loathed more, old unrequited desire still threatened to bubble up. Not a drop of it had ever been noticed, to the best of Lancelot's knowledge, and now that they could be close again, the ache had returned with force.

Siegfried looked up from his blade, slit-pupil eyes fixed on Lancelot.

"Is there something you need?"

The words were innocent, yet left the opening Lancelot was sure he needed to actually let his feelings tumble out. Even if he was refused, he needed to finally say something.

"Yes," he said. "There is."