Chapter Text
Edna has an alcohol tolerance that must be seen to be believed. In the span of four hours she has consumed at least half a bottle of vodka, five shots of rum, and three bottles of beer and by some miracle is still not dead. Meanwhile, seated beside Sorey was Mikleo, who has only taken a sip of some fruit juice spiked with a little bit of whatever was within Lailah’s reach at the time, and was now flushed to high heavens and swaying dangerously on his seat.
Sorey watched in amusement as Mikleo brought the martini glass to his lips with both hands, like a chipmunk. “You okay there, Mikleo?” he called out.
“M’ good,” Mikleo said.
“You sure?” Sorey placed a hand on Mikleo’s lower back to steady his swaying, eyes dancing. “You should drink some water.”
“I think I should.” Across the room Zaveid was climbing on top of a table, shirt nowhere to be seen, with Edna, Lailah and Rose cheering him on. Beside them, Alisha’s shoulders were shaking in laughter. Mikleo couldn’t help a small chuckle. So he isn’t drunk quite yet. That’s good. “I should at least be sober for that scene to make sense.”
“Yeah, you do have a low tolerance for alcohol, unsurprisingly. Come on,” Before Mikleo could react in offense Sorey slid his arm around Mikleo’s shoulders and dragged him off the stool. “A little bit of fresh air will do you good. Someone gorgeous like you shouldn’t be cooped up here all night.”
“You know, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re flirting with me.”
Sorey grinned. “Don’t need to. You already know how much I love you. Here, try not to fall down while I open the door.”
The night was cool; at this height there were no buildings to break the wind, and this close to autumn the wind felt like ice against their skin. Alisha’s penthouse offered an amazing view of the city, and lights dazzled beneath them.
Country bumpkins Mikleo and Sorey could only gape the first time they saw this, all those years ago. Mikleo still does, sometimes, when caught off guard. He was more rooted amongst the foliage and clear streams of Elysium than Sorey is.
Mikleo was facing ahead, away from Sorey’s view, but his ears are burning red. “I love you too, you know,” he said. His pale hair danced with the breeze, catching moonlight like an angel’s halo. “I love you very much.”
Sorey felt like his heart could erupt from how much he adores this person. He could feel it tearing apart his insides, filling him with joy and so much affection he thinks his soul might overflow.
There’s a small box sitting in Sorey’s right pocket.
Sorey took Mikleo’s left hand. “How drunk are you right now?” he asked.
“Uhm? A little tipsy, I guess? I mean, I’m aware of what I’m saying right now, so if you think I’m lying-”
“Then-”
Sorey dropped on one knee, and Mikleo closed his mouth so fast Sorey heard his teeth chatter.
“Luzrov Rulay, my beloved Mikleo-”
Sorey took out a velvet-lined box from his pocket. Mikleo covered his mouth with his right hand. His eyes were bright. Faintly they could hear Zaveid’s atrocious singing voice from inside:
Even today we hear Love’s song of yore,
Deep in our hearts it dwells forevermore.
Footsteps may falter, weary grow the way,
Still we can hear it at the close of day.
Beneath them the city lights dazzled.