Archive of Our Own ^beta

Calcharo remembers when he had first met Aalto.

Back when the Ghost Hounds were but a budding pack and Aalto had yet to be part of the Black Shores. Younger and more naive, but he still looked back on those times fondly.

Aalto had always had a knack for finding information. Especially with that curious ability of his. He’d quickly made a name for himself as someone who could get his hands on all manner of valuable information— if you had the funds to request his services. It was only a matter of time before his name reached Calcharo’s ears.

The Lawless Zone was a dangerous place. He’d need reliable information if he was going to risk the lives of his pack for the reckless jobs he needed to undertake. There was only one goal on his mind, and he’d see it through. The jobs no other gang would take simply required good intel and preparation. No gamble was truly reckless if one had taken the proper measures and assessed all the risks.

It was something Calcharo was all too aware of its importance. To an almost paranoid degree. Never again would he be paralysed by indecision or blindly trust clients at their word.

He made clear the repercussions of betraying the Ghost Hounds and people were already beginning to wise up after he made an example out of the greedy fools who thought they were easy prey. They were still a young group, afterall.

Aalto had barely batted an eye when he had stated his terms and most importantly— the consequences surrounding a contract with the Ghost Hounds. An easy smile on his face as he looked him straight in the eye and said:

“Now why would I betray a paying customer?”

As if it had been the most obvious thing in the world.

Even if Aalto had done well to survive hopping between the New Federation and the cutthroat world of the Lawless Zone, there was still a set of morals he followed. As much as he’d like to pretend he didn’t have a code— and that all he cared about was his paycheck. It only served to reassure Calcharo that his choice to bet on this new blood information broker had pulled through.

Aalto never lied. Sure, he would embellish his stories and exaggerate a few details to hook people into thinking they absolutely needed to buy information off of him, but his intel was always sound. If Calcharo had to dispose of some dangerous chemical runoff from a shady weapons factory, Aalto’s info of how many rival gangs that would try to steal the material for their own use was always right. The amount of people. Who would show up and from where, Aalto never missed the mark.

He’d offered Aalto a place with the Ghost Hounds before. His skill set and talents were too great to ignore after an amicable working relationship had been formed. Though Aalto was a lone wolf, politely refusing Calcharo’s offer with an apologetic smile. Stating that he didn’t work well with others. Calcharo wasn’t sure if that answer had disappointed him, or if he had admired Aalto for it. Being able to stay true to your own principles could be a double edged sword in this wretched land.

Aalto had proven to him he was more than capable of taking care of himself when the situation called for it. The man was the epitome of ‘necessary violence’ . He took no joy or pride in the ruthless efficiency in which he dealt with particularly unruly clients— simply doing what needed to be done. Though Calcharo knew from experience that you needed to rely on others to survive. There was no such thing as a ‘one-man-show’ in the Lawless Zone.

He supposes it’s why he wasn’t surprised when he suddenly lost contact with Aalto. The days turned into weeks. Weeks to months. Then to years. It was just how life in their particular line of work was. People came and went like mist fogging up glass. You could share a meal with them while staring up at the tranquil beauty of the stars in this desolate wasteland one day. Be able to remember how to laugh as the other shared stories of his wildest clients. Remember that a person’s touch didn’t always equate to pain as he placed a hand over your own. 

And then be gone the next.

There was no security that the people you met would be alive tomorrow. As much as Calcharo wanted to believe otherwise.

Another piece of himself fell to the void. Only able to be cherished as a distant memory. Of one of the rarer, tender moments in his life.

~~~

Years have passed since then. The Ghost Hounds' place at the top of the gang hierarchy had been solidified and their reputation reached to lands far beyond the New Federation. It brought his pack to places most of them would’ve never dreamed of visiting. None of them ever held a particularly strong allegiance to their supposed birthplace, but Calcharo couldn’t help but feel a little conflicted at leaving the place he had built his worth from. Being away from the Lawless Zone felt like leaving behind the memories, the roots he had grown there. There’s a niggling sense of danger that grows within him the longer they are away.

That the rival gangs he’s spent so long putting in their place would begin to question their power. Seek to usurp their ‘throne’ now that he could no longer keep a tight grip on the more cunning gangs. Nightmares of his pack disappearing one by one begin to plague him.

They were in the middle of escorting a small weapons convoy, sneaking into the borders of a land named Huanglong when they suddenly ran into the troops of the local military. Needless to say, their cargo was highly illegal and Calcharo had been more than ready to fight when a tall man with sweeping turquoise hair appeared from behind the squad. Raising a hand to signal his troops to stand down.

And through a laughable twist of fate, Calcharo didn’t have to worry about his men getting massacred in their sleep by rival gangs anymore.

The man had been the General of the Midnight Rangers. Jiyan. And he commanded the troops of Jinzhou .  

Jiyan had heard of his infamous reputation. Both as the cold, calculating leader of the Ghost Hounds and as a man with a rather flexible moral code that adapted to what the situation required of him. It was strange seeing a General patrol the borders with his troops. Nothing like the New Federation officials who simply pointed fingers and treated the lives of their men as a resource to be spent like money.

He supposes it’s why instead of attempting to arrest him like any sane person who found someone shipping illegal weapons over your border, Jiyan listens to his proposition instead.

A permanent base. Basic healthcare and amenities. Free boarding for him and the Ghost Hounds. In exchange for their military might. It was almost a coincidence really. That he’d run into a man who held such bargaining power in the city. Calcharo had been using this escort job as a way to scout out Jinzhou. He was already aware of their war against Tacet Discords, and the amount of casualties they had already suffered. He had plans for Jinzhou, and it was pure luck he could put them into motion so quickly.

The deal had been accepted. As Calcharo knew it would. Jiyan was a level headed man, with a bleeding heart. So unapologetically kind for someone of his position. He’d make the decision to help his troops, just like Calcharo would go to any lengths to protect his own.

Settling in required a bit of adjustment though. He had to set an example for the Ghost Hounds. Wordlessly accepting the new attire the General had brought for all of them. Even if he had his qualms about all the frivolous decorative… bits . 

He put on the clothes without any fuss. It was one of the first steps to solidifying this new deal he had made for the benefit of his pack— and he wouldn’t hear any of his men complaining about having to wear a flower patterned skirt. His skin had crawled with danger whenever the locals greeted him with a smile. Offered him tea or snacks as they welcomed a new face to the city. People were never kind without reason. It was not how the world worked. A part of him hissing to stay on guard, that the General was testing him and trying to make him comfortable and complacent.

It takes a good few months to finally calm his hackles. Recognising that the people of Jinzhou were just overwhelmingly hospitable. There were still cracks within the city in which the type of people he was more familiar with hid in the shadows, but seeing the amount of festivals the city would hold and leave them utterly defenceless; The way they’d celebrate life and the ones who had lost their lives in the war. Calcharo finally realises that maybe… people could afford to just be kind for the sake of it.

The days in Jinzhou pass more peacefully after that. Even if the work he still did was dirty and violent, he could sleep better knowing that the Ghost Hounds finally had a place where they didn’t have to constantly look behind their backs anymore. At least for a little while. The deal had been going well, and Calcharo found himself adopting a more Jinzhou style mindset outside of parroting the local slang Jiyan had taught him. 

Calcharo sits on one of the many rooftops overlooking Jinzhou. A warm halo of light emitting from the cityscape. He fiddles with a rusty nameplate in his hands. The ghosts of the past appear in his mind as he pinpoints every part of the city he thinks the people lost to him would like. The Underdogs would’ve loved hanging out in the town square and causing trouble in the many ponds within it. His former second in command would’ve loved the spicy dishes in Panhua’s kitchen. 

He wonders then…what it would’ve been like to have that person by his side right now. Wearing that same old smile as they looked up at the bright moon together just like all those years ago. What he’d look like if he had gotten a chance to grow up.

And one day, Calcharo doesn’t have to wonder anymore.

It’d been just like any ordinary day in Jinzhou. Jiyan had set up a meeting with him and a talented information broker in order to prepare for their next push against the tacet discords encroaching upon one of their bases. Losing it would mean the people who lived within Taoyuan Vale would need to evacuate. Though all thought regarding the points of interest he required the broker to investigate goes out the window as soon as they walk in.

His hair was still that same shade of warm silvery-white, though it now drapes behind his shoulders in a spiky mane instead of the short, but practical style he used to wear. He was much taller too. Calcharo used to tower over him when they were younger but now they stood almost eye to eye— Calcharo noting he still had a few centimetres over him. But most memorable of all were those eyes . Still that same shade of warm, inviting, molten gold that just made you want to trust him.

His name slips out his lips in a whisper before he can help it.

“Aalto.”

Disbelieving, uncomprehending, but it was him.

The one he had thought he had lost to the cruelty of the Lawless Zone all those years ago, now standing before him in an office on foreign land far from home.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Calcharo?”

Hearing that voice again, albeit a bit deeper and more mature finally cements himself back in reality. That this really wasn’t some horrible dream that his conscience had created. The relief he feels at this realisation catches him off guard. A buzzing, frenetic energy pulses through him and sends his heart into a frenzy; pushing him to do something completely idiotic and uncalled for. Like pulling Aalto in a hug.

He doesn’t though.

Choosing instead to remain at his desk and acknowledging the… extended time between when they last met with a nod. He stops himself from blurting out ‘I thought you were dead’ , and pressing Aalto for answers that he had no right to. They were here on the account of business after all.

“Yeah…the Black Shores ended up asking me to join them and they really piled the jobs on me when I first started.”

Aalto gives a small laugh, rubbing at the back of his head. It’s an act to make him feel more at ease, but there was a hint of sincerity behind those words. Even if the explanation for his sudden disappearance was woefully sparse. 

A welcoming smile— just like he remembers— curls on Aalto’s lips.

“How ‘bout a 20% discount, for old times sake?”

Calcharo is still reeling at having a ghost he had mourned be standing in front of him once more. Too occupied with the cascade of emotions bubbling within him to care about Aalto’s blasé attitude for all the years he’s been gone from his life. Calcharo doesn’t think he had realised just how much he had missed him. The fact only comes to light when those forgotten emotions rise dangerously close to the surface the longer he stares at Aalto. Afraid he would disappear in a blink of the eye, much like the mist he conjured.

“The old times you say…” 

“…I accept.”

~~~

They settle back into some semblance of their old days in the New Federation. An easy back and forth that had sparked the start of their working relationship in the first place. Calcharo strived to be quick, and efficient on the job. No dallying or getting distracted. Aalto was much the same, and being able to work together so often calmed the anxiety that Aalto would disappear again. It seemed that the Black Shores held a lot of interest in Jinzhou as well and Aalto would be here to stay. At least for a while.

They talk in between jobs— technically not breaking Calcharo’s rule of dallying while working— Mostly nonsensical things. Incidents at work. Aalto trying to stifle hysterical laughter while describing Encore’s antics to him. And occasional snippets of what had happened between the large gap of time from when they had lost contact with each other.

Calcharo remembers meeting the bubbly little girl that was Aalto’s work associate for the first time. Taking one look at him before her round eyes sparkled in recognition and she blurted out:

“It’s the big doggy in your stories, Uncle Aalto!”

He had allowed himself a small laugh behind his hand then. Both at Aalto’s horrified expression at being ratted out on talking about him behind his back, and Encore amusingly dubbing Aalto as an Uncle . It was clear the little girl meant a lot to him, and it’s a nice thing to see that Aalto’s kindness had never gone away after all these years.

There’s a small comfort in having a fragment of his past find his way back to him again. A ghost that would no longer haunt him.

There were other things that stayed the same about them. Calcharo would regularly request Aalto’s intel or scouting work and Aalto would also request his protection services. Especially when he needed to travel to some rather unsavoury places that were not fit for a child’s eyes.

It’s another peaceful day in Jinzhou when Aalto asks for his services once more. An escort mission through many different factions of exile territory to reach an informant. Calcharo always personally accompanied him on these jobs. A nod to the past where Calcharo had done it out of necessity when his pack was still wet around the ears. Nowadays, his very presence was enough to deter even the most ambitious exile from trying anything. His ruthless reputation for one, and now that it was widespread knowledge that the Ghost Hounds had the backing of the Midnight Rangers.

Calcharo keeps a hand on his broadblade as he stays by Aalto’s side. Directing his frigid gaze upon those who hung around his periphery a bit too long for his liking. The journey to the informant’s hideout is smooth, as expected. Though Calcharo is always prepared for the worst. Quickly scanning the faces of the exiles that come to look at their arrival for any hint of hostility. Boxes of supplies are scattered around the makeshift base. Various tents were pitched up with rudimentary cooking tools within. A familiar sight from Calcharo’s early gang days. A few exiles raise their heads before quickly turning their attention back to maintaining their weapons upon seeing who had set foot upon their territory. All seemed to be well as one of them went to inform their leader—  Aalto’s informant—  of their arrival.

A tall, muscular man with a ragged mane of black hair appears from the largest tent, waving them over. He had weathered skin from being exposed to the elements and rugged stubble. A few scars curl across his face. A common look to those who lived in lawlessness. There’s a hungry glint to his dull grey eyes when they come to the entrance of the tent. Directed at Aalto in a way that makes something dark bloom in his chest.

They were the eyes of a starving wolf. Calcharo didn’t like it one bit.

Aalto turns over to him with a wink and a small smile. Giving him a two fingered salute before he ducks his head beneath the cloth of the entrance and disappears into the tent with his informant. Always so confident. Calcharo lets it go with a small breath through his nose. Aalto could handle himself. He knows this. He was only there to act as an extra deterrent. Calcharo turns away from the tent and takes a few steps. Mindful to move out of earshot of their conversation. As was part of the etiquette when escorting a client.

He regards the rest of the camp from his vantage point with folded arms. Keeping tabs on each exile, ready to spring into action if he so much as heard a pin drop from the tent behind him. He’s careful not to let any of the gang members out of his sight, in case one of them tries to pull a surprise attack. 

The clutter of the camp grows more apparent with each round Calcharo makes with his eyes. Disorganised and inefficient. No wonder this particular gang was so small. He finds himself inwardly correcting and changing all their mistakes. Such as taking the time to know each one of his pack to learn their strengths instead of throwing the same training routine to all their members. Calcharo spots an exile with a rather lithe frame struggling to pick up a pair of weights in the corner. That one was most likely a fast runner. With potential to be a good scout. Such talents wasted on trying to become a fighter who threw around his weight.

With the distracting thoughts beginning to wander into his mind, Calcharo realises that Aalto has been inside that tent for a long time. Much longer than acceptable. While yes, he had faith in Aalto’s fighting prowess, he couldn’t help the worry spiking into his chest. Mingling with a spark of irritation at allowing himself to get carried away with his daydreaming.

He knows that it would mean breaking part of the unspoken code of never intruding on a business deal. An informant's trust with their broker was a sacred thing and Calcharo could risk putting Aalto out of business with this particular informant if he disturbed them. It goes against all his principles of keeping his head down and only getting the job done but Calcharo’s mind screams at him to check on Aalto. The warning bells sounded in his head, reminding him that it’s really been far too long for a supposedly simple conversation about the recent activity of the Fractsidus in the area.

Fuck it.

Calcharo pads his way over to the tent as quietly as he can. Standing just outside the tent flaps that separates the outside world to the secrets within and he carefully pushes away the edge of the cloth. Just enough to peek through into the dim living area with its occupants none the wiser.

The scene gets burned into his eyes in an instant.

Aalto. Leaning over the man. Straddling their thighs with his face precariously close to the lecher. The fucking bastard has his hands wrapped around Aalto’s waist like they belonged there, creeping down lower to places Calcharo gets furious just thinking about. Aalto himself has a hand on the exile’s shoulder, the other just shy of touching their groin in which an all too prominent bulge tents their pants. It was an imitation of a lover’s embrace. Calcharo can see Aalto’s half lidded eyes from the side, a heart stoppingly sweet smile playing on his lips as he whispers something into his informant’s ear.

The building fury is doused in an instant as he remembers just exactly what he was doing. Acting like a peeping tom and risking the success of this mission. How Aalto got his information was none of his business. Calcharo turns right around, careful not to let any of the emotions that are stabbing into his gut show on his face as he returns back to his post.

An overwhelming sense of dread fills him. Like his very being was being split apart at the seams. Calcharo doesn’t even dare to try to decipher whatever was going on in his mind as the scene he had just witnessed flashes behind his eyes with every blink. The mortification of breaking one of his own cardinal rules. An almost nausea inducing pain in his chest that leaves him desperately confused.

He only just tamps down his reflex to draw his blade when Aalto suddenly appears beside him. Calcharo had barely registered the tent flaps opening and the man coming to stand by his side. He can’t look him in the eye when he notices Aalto adjusting his clothes.

The words that come from Aalto’s mouth sound like they’re reaching him through a layer of mist. Distorted and muffled, but he understands all the same. Business had been conducted. It was time to return to base.

Their journey back had been quiet. Calcharo too occupied with the surge of unwanted emotion every time he so much as glanced over at his charge. Aalto picks up on his prickly mood and forgoes the usual small talk they exchanged after a job well done. They part ways back within the city of Jinzhou. Aalto with a wave and his usual smile. Calcharo with a nod that felt like it would snap his neck from how stiff it felt.

The Ghost Hounds are quick to pick up on his sullen mood when he returns to their base, the concern clear on the faces.

“How’d it go, boss? You good?”

“You alright, boss?”

“What’s goin’ on, boss?”

Calcharo waves them off. Simply stating it had been a long day. When he finally makes it back to his living quarters, he flicks a quick message to his second in command to clear his schedule for the day. Even if it was only noon. He crumples onto the soft couch in a rare show of exhaustion. It was strange. He’d barely worked up a sweat today and yet his limbs felt like there were boulders strapped to them. Calcharo stares up at the ceiling. Sleep evades him despite the fatigue he felt.

The image of Aalto on that exile fucker’s lap kept replaying behind his eyes. His mind scrambled to make sense of why that had made his insides feel like they were turning themselves inside out. He’d always known that others found Aalto to be extremely desirable. A contagious smile and the open, inviting air he exuded. It wasn’t hard to see how many people fell for him. But having that knowledge so viscerally thrust into his face…it was hard to come to terms with it. Something uncomfortable pressing against his chest at the idea of Aalto being touched that way by others.

Pale blue light now streams in from the windows in his quarters. Just how long had he been sitting there in the darkness of the room? Thinking about the way Aalto’s body had looked bent over the man that had been sitting in a position… not at all dissimilar to what he was in right now. He could imagine it then. The glow of Aalto’s golden eyes staring down at him in this dark room. That same warm smile of his directed at him as he sat down on his lap. His imagination is woefully devoid of how it feels to have the weight of another body against his but he wonders if it was anything similar to having a weighted blanket thrown over him. A coil of heat flickers in his gut and Calcharo immediately sits up straight.

He needed a shower.

Calcharo heads to the bathroom with an almost desperate urgency, trying to focus on anything but the image of Aalto smiling at him.

The sound of water spraying against the tiles does little to drown out his traitorous thoughts. Not even when he turns up the temperature to a scorching degree in an attempt to burn them out. His mind somehow manages to use those sensations to fuel his currently overactive imagination, drawing correlations when there should be none.  

The gentle hiss from the showerhead sounded like Aalto releasing his mist. The steam and the patter of water on his skin fills his mind. The humid, heady air encroaches upon his lungs and it gets hard to breathe. Was this how Aalto would feel on top of him? Would the weight of his body pressing into him feel as solid as the wall he leaned against? Would the warmth of his skin evoke the same searing feeling blooming across his own? Would the sound of him whispering in his ear have the same electrifying sensation of water running down his neck?

If he tried hard enough, he could almost imagine it was Aalto’s hands slipping down between his legs and wrapping his fingers around the aching length, not his own. Calcharo sinks down onto the shower floor, the pleasure that sparked through him at the simple act making his knees weak. Aalto would start slow. His sharp eyes on the lookout for what made the loudest noises break past the seal of his lips. Aalto would figure out quite quickly that pressing a finger against his slit and rubbing at it would make him whimper, his thighs trembling at the hot spike of pleasure lancing through him. Next would be the soft squeezing around his shaft as he picked up the pace. Making him gasp out loud and spread his legs wider.

Calcharo bucks his hips up, urging the Aalto in his mind’s eye to go faster. He could pretend that the spray of water hitting his chest was Aalto placing butterfly kisses all over him, that the water running down his collarbones is the wet sensation of his tongue. Pretend that it was Aalto pushing his fingers past his lips and making him suck on them. It gets too much. The pleasure. The heat. All of it swirling into a heady concoction and making him light headed as the tension that had been building in his gut snaps embarrassingly fast. A sharp whine filling the air as he feels his cock pulsing in his grip.

Reality quickly settles in as the fog of pleasure dissipates from his mind. At least he doesn’t have to stare at his cum splattered across his chest as the water quickly washes him clean. But that doesn’t stop the shame welling up within him. How dirty he feels succumbing to his lust.

Where did that even come from? That burning desire; that animalistic drive for pleasure.  

Calcharo curls in on himself. Doing his best to ignore the trembling in his hands as he wrestles with the guilt of using the visage of a work associate as an object for his baser instincts. Did Aalto even remember the laughter they had shared when they were younger? That he was the one who placed his hand over Calcharo’s that moonlit night? That Calcharo had held onto that gentle feeling for so long?

The water is freezing by the time Calcharo finally pulls himself out of the shower.

~~~

The next day, Calcharo is back to being the unshakeable, ruthless leader of the Ghost Hounds. At least on the outside.

He regrets taking the place of one of his scouts today after they had fallen ill with a particularly bad fever. Long periods of being alone with his thoughts as he tracked the mundane movements of an exile group was not particularly favourable with the state his mind was in. 

Calcharo usually enjoyed recon missions. Even if he trusted his pack to do the job well, there was just something reassuring about being able to rely on his own observations, and draw his own conclusions from time to time. This was usually a job ‘below’ his station, but he made it a point to be proficient in all the skills that came with being a mercenary.

A group of three exiles who were ‘patrolling’ their premises come close to his hiding spot. Calcharo had no fear that he would be found out. The fools barely took their job seriously. Laughing raucously at each raunchy joke between them, waving their weapons around with zero understanding of how quickly a life could be ended by a single mistake. Calcharo would never stand for such gross antics in the Ghost Hounds. He stays still, simply waiting for them to pass when one of them says something that catches his attention.

“Hey, you guys hear about that Aalto guy?”

“That white haired dude with the nice ass right?”

“Yeah! I heard from Li Cheng that their boss got lucky with him. Fuck, I’m so jealous.”

Calcharo can feel the beginnings of that same darkness from the day before simmering beneath his skin. He grinds his teeth. Just let them walk away. He was on a mission right now.

“What I'd do to find out if he still has that smile of his when I'm bending him over a table…”

“Think he’d still smile with a cock in his mouth?”

“I mean you guys don’t have to wonder if you just stop spending all your money on porn mags.”

“I heard he does anything for money. Anything. ”

Something explodes within him, snapping what little patience he had left. Leaping out of his recon spot and dropping the first one with a whistling jab to their throat before they can take another step. They gag violently, wheezing for air as they uselessly clutch at their throat. The remaining two fumble with their weapons, fear overtaking them at how quickly one of them had been incapacitated.

He rounds on the one who had commented on Aalto’s body next. They’re still desperately searching for the safety on their gun when he rips it out of their grasp and slams a fist into their gut. A wet gurgling sound comes from their gas mask as they double over. Calcharo uses that instinct to shove a knee into their face. Plastic crumples beneath the force of it and he throws the unconscious fool to the side.

At last. The one who had spoken of bending Aalto over.

They’re frozen in fear as he slowly walks over to them. A dark spot growing in their pants as pathetic sobbing sounds come from their mask. Calcharo wrinkles his nose. They weakly swing at him with a sword and Calcharo easily sidesteps it, grabbing onto their arm and twisting it until he hears a snap and they drop the weapon with a scream. The sound would probably alert the rest of their camp but Calcharo finds he doesn’t give a damn.

Blood is roaring in his ears with only one goal in his mind. 

Tearing them apart . 

He knows his teeth are bared, his face contorted in pure fury as he slams the last exile against a nearby tree and just starts smashing his fist into their face.

The glass from their mask shatters, its jagged edges sinking into his knuckles. He doesn’t care. Calcharo punches him again and again. Even after the mask falls from their face in a broken heap. Even when blood splatters all over his face. He can feel their cheekbones shattering beneath his fist, their nose bridge breaking. It was all so extremely satisfying, but behind every blow was an incomprehensible rage.

Clawing at his insides, directing each dull thud his fist makes at the lecherous bastard from yesterday. Letting out all his frustrations, and losing himself to what he truly wanted to do instead of walking away after seeing that scene in the tent. But most of all… 

Calcharo is angry at himself.

A sobering click of safeties being flicked off reaches past the ringing in his ears.

“Holy shit is that—”

“That’s the fucking leader of the Ghost Hounds—”

The senseless fury slowly ebbs away, suddenly aware of the unpleasantly sticky sensation all over his face. He lets go of the sobbing mess of a man that had been the target of his rage, absentmindedly wiping off the blood that was dribbling down his cheek. He regards the group of exiles that surround him. The fear and trepidation is palpable from them. Hands shaking around their weapons. Their wide-eyed stares. It’s clear that they’re unsure what to do once they realise that they’re faced with him . Calcharo decides to take his leave, before a particularly nervous exile twitches their finger around the trigger.

“They’ll live.”

He surprises even himself at being able to string a sentence together after his violent display akin to a rabid beast. The crowd parts for him, staring at him like he was something inhuman . He can hear some exiles immediately run over to their fallen comrades once he’s deemed a safe distance away. Blood drips from his clenched fist. A radiating pain coming from it. He must’ve broken at least three fingers.

So much for prioritising a mission above all else. 

What a fucking mess he’s made.

~~~

Business has been slow lately and Aalto lets out a sigh. Perching his chin on his hand as he blankly stares at his popup ‘tea shop’ that was completely devoid of any customers. Both normal clients and the ones who knew what business he was really conducting.

Perhaps tensions were high after a recent outbreak of gang violence within the exile groups. It left three newcomers in hospital. One of them in a coma no one was sure he’d ever wake up from. Maybe they were laying low, waiting for the incident to blow over before seeking him out for intel. But that didn’t really explain his sudden drop in business. Exiles were only part of the clientele he received. 

Aalto sighs again as a gust of wind only brings a stray leaf past his open doors.

No Encore to keep him company either in this slump. His work partner off making friends with the local children. Aalto kicks his feet up on the register, rocking back and forth on his chair, just waiting for something to happen. Sitting still made him uncomfortable. Stagnating too long in one place always made his skin prickle with unseen danger.

A jingle from the bell on the door almost makes him trip and send himself careening backwards onto the hardwood floor. Aalto manages to save his fall, scrambling upwards to better greet his first customer in days.

“Welcome to the Wooly Teahouse! Our specialties are the Misty—”

Aalto stops himself mid sentence upon realising it was one of his regulars. A haughty merchant that dealt in weapons manufacturing and was always clothed in the finest silks. It was strange to see her without her usual entourage of bodyguards. There’s an arrogant gleam to her eyes that rubs him the wrong way as she walks up to him. Like she knew something that he didn’t.

“What can I help you with today, Hua Niang?”

“I’m not here for business today, Aalto.” A smirk plays on her lips as she takes a puff from her golden pipe, blowing the smoke into his face.

“I’m here because I’ve taken pity on my poor puppy wondering where all his business has gone.”

Aalto narrows his eyes. It was rare that people weren’t happy with his services. Nothing comes to mind when he tries to recall a bad deal that could’ve happened anywhere in the past week. Customer satisfaction was extremely important to him.

“A word of advice, Aalto.”

Hua Niang bends down. Close enough to see the neat little flick of her eyeliner. 

"You should really put a leash on that guard dog of yours."

She turns away with a sharp laugh after that. The click of her heels echoing within the empty shop.

It all made sense now.

Aalto thinks back to all the discrepancies he had noticed in the past few days but hadn’t thought they had been connected. Beginning to piece together fragments of this unprecedented situation. There was only one person who was frequently referred to as some sort of ‘hound’ in the underworld.

The unexplained bout of gang violence. His subsequent drop in clientele. Calcharo’s sudden change of mood after coming out of his meeting with that exile leader. A blurry image begins to appear in his mind. Just what had Calcharo thought he was doing in that tent? Was it possible he had caught wind of the rumours about his desire for credits he had never bothered to quell?

He had always known exiles liked to talk. It’s how he’s gotten a lot of his information, and caught secrets that could send a few well known figures in the criminal underworld begging at his feet to never sell. The thing was, they were called rumours for a reason. Not intel.

What may have started as a scrap of truth would only be spun into wilder and wilder tales for the entertainment of gossiping exiles who had nothing better to do. The original meaning was lost to the fantastical imagination of a bored mind. Aalto could already guess at what rumour Calcharo had heard about him.

While Aalto did care about money, he wasn’t above using his charms to get the information he wanted. Luring his targets into a false sense of security and covering their eyes in rose tinted glasses to loosen their tongues. A strategic touch to the shoulder. Or a low whisper in the ear. There was always a time and place for those tactics when money was not a good incentive. But that was all it was. An act. Always leaving those people on the cusp of what they wanted, and letting their imagination do the rest . Wrapping them tightly around his finger until they spilled even the most valuable secret to him for a chance to act on their desires.

Aalto never let them.

The ones he’d used his honey traps on were never going to be long term informants in his eyes. Too easily swayed by their desires. Aalto had simply patted the exile leader’s cheek in that tent. Praised him when the information had come spilling out on its own after their patience had fizzled out. Aalto had batted away those desperate hands trying to run themselves through his hair, grabbing at his cloak to pull him down into the body that reeked of sweat. He let himself fade into mist, obscuring the exile’s eyes and stabbing him with a needle. It was filled with a mostly harmless concoction from the Black Shores. Lulling its receiver into a deep sleep filled with pleasant dreams and none the wiser of what had truly transpired. Leaving another satisfied customer.

Another deep sigh leaves him. This was a problem if people were too scared to be his clients. It was rather strange for a man who held himself to such a high degree of professionalism to act on a mere rumour . Aalto knew Calcharo was better than that. He needed to talk to him to get to the bottom of this. Just what had he heard and what had he done that could make even his most cowardly client come and give him ‘advice’?

His first order of business would be to head directly to the Ghost Hound’s base and hear it from the man himself. Aalto can’t help the growing irritation within him at the idea he had possibly lost his entire information network because of Calcharo. He should be acutely aware of the influence he held over the criminal underworld. How his actions would have a butterfly effect on all those beneath him. He’d already tried contacting him through the terminal but to no avail.

An unexpected roadblock meets him as he arrives at the base. The Ghost Hounds knew him well enough from how often he worked with Calcharo, and the first thing that comes out of their guards’ mouths after they greet him is:

“Boss isn’t on base at the moment.”

“It’s fine. I’ll wait.”

The two young Ghost Hounds exchange a look that betrays their uncertainty. They needed a bit more training to better hide their emotions. Aalto supposes it’s only because of the relative safety of Jinzhou that they have such new recruits guarding the entrance to the base.

“Boss… won’t be back for a while.”

“How long? A week? Two? I’m patient.”

Another uncertain look. This time with a hint of anxiety. A sinking feeling settles into his gut and Aalto already knows he’s not going to like the answer.

“W-we don’t know. We just heard that Boss would be out indefinitely until he decides to come back. He left a few days ago, actually.”

The young guard leans closer, with his patrol partner flicking a cautious look behind him as if they were scared of being overheard.

“Don’t tell anyone but…we woke up extra early to see him off and he looked like he was in really bad shape; like he hadn’t slept for a few days. Boss’ right hand was also completely covered in bandages.”

“But he said not to worry, that he’d still be with us. Just not on the battlefield for a while.”

Aalto takes a moment to process all the information the two greenhorns had been so kind to give him. He needed to remind Calcharo to tighten his training regime… 

A heavy weight grows in his chest at the thought of Calcharo looking haggard enough for his subordinates to notice.

Everything about the story was so unlike him. The Calcharo he knew would never allow himself to appear weak before the Ghost Hounds. And he’d also never leave his base unattended for so long without the date of his return set in stone.

“You know…you really shouldn’t be telling all of this to an outsider. You could jeopardise the security of the Ghost Hounds. If word got out that your leader isn’t here anymore…” 

“But you’re not an outsider, are you, sir?”

Aalto finds himself at a loss for words as the young recruit looks up at him with those painfully innocent eyes. The implications of that making his head spin and sent straight to the pits of his mind to be never examined again. He flicks them a shell credit each, just out of principle as he turns around back the way he came. Aalto probably could’ve wrung more information out of them — and the pair would’ve been more than happy to oblige. But the idea of those young faces possibly getting punished for it just doesn’t sit well with him.

His next order of business would have to be what he does best. Gathering intel to better piece together this confusing story.

Though trying to acquire information when half of his network had either cut ties with him or were unwilling to speak with him out of fear was like trying to get Encore sleep after she had eaten a whole box of candy: Nigh on impossible. If his informants weren’t going to talk, then he’d just have to put in the groundwork himself.

Aalto tries not to let the passing days get to him. It’s been a week since he’s heard Calcharo had left the city, and he knows from experience that the chances of finding people grew slimmer with every passing day. Especially if they were a seasoned mercenary who knew how to hide his tracks very well. It had taken him this long to finally figure out what had truly happened to the three unfortunate exiles that had been the object of Calcharo’s wrath.

It seemed that Calcharo had caught the three of them making rather insidious comments about him before he had attacked them. From there, the accounts split off into all manner of wild stories.

“I heard they tried to shoot him but he caught their bullets in his mouth and spat them all back at them!”

“I heard he turned into a giant wolf and ripped their throats out!”

“I heard one of the guys barely knows how to talk now, let alone walk after he was done with them…poor bastard…”

Even through all the varying sources, one thing was clear: Calcharo had exacted revenge on his behalf. Brutally at that. Which only left Aalto with a million more questions than he had started with.

Why would he do that? Calcharo only sought retribution for those who had wronged him, or his own. Aalto wasn’t part of the tight circle that Calcharo had. 

Was he?

The young Ghost Hound’s words come echoing in his mind then. Making his chest grow tight.  

It seemed that his questions could only be answered at the source. He really needed to find Calcharo. Though Aalto already knows trying to find such an elusive man with his already crippled information network would be a fool's errand. 

He only realises now that those two young recruits had been turning to him for help when they let slip that Calcharo was still active behind the scenes. It meant that he was still communicating with his people at least. But he highly doubted the people further up the Ghost Hounds’ command would let him access their communication record so easily… Never mind looking to General Jiyan for help. The man had a tighter moral compass than the belt around his chest. Calcharo would’ve already told him not to disclose his location to anyone who came asking.

Luckily, Aalto hadn’t become such a highly sought after broker by solely relying on his informants.

It seemed it was time to brush off some of his talents from his younger days.

~~~

“Uncle Aalto…you’ve been sitting in your room for so long, what are you doing?”

Aalto has lost another week. His eyes are dry from staring at the flickering blue screen of data records he’d managed to swipe from the Ghost Hound’s base. It’d been surprisingly easy, infiltrating them and placing a chip into their system that gave him a live feed of every message that went through the base. Maybe he was just patting himself on the back. 

It was all he had been doing though. Trawling through the encrypted messages and finding patterns in their codes.

“Looking for someone.” Aalto mumbles, too occupied with the screen to notice Encore playing with his hair.

It’d taken him by surprise. How his need to find Calcharo had completely consumed him. Sure, he still did his duties as a consultant of the Black Shores but…every waking moment outside of it was filled with only the thought of seeing him again. Aalto had managed to figure out which messages were from Calcharo though. Locked beneath a layer of security much tighter than the others.

“But aren’t you good at that, Uncle Aalto? Why is it taking so long? Encore wants to play games with you again!”

“Mmm...Sorry Encore, this guy is very good at not wanting to be found.”

Aalto tries not to sigh too loudly in frustration as he fails to decrypt another one of Calcharo’s messages. They were all a seemingly jumbled mess of numbers and words with no order to them and Aalto struggled to understand the cipher it was encoded with.

“Is it Mister Calcharo?” Aalto immediately stops typing. He briefly considers lying but he gives up. There really wasn’t a point in hiding this from Encore. She could be so observant, and Aalto knows he should be proud of her, even if those difficult questions were directed at him .

“...Yeah…”

“You’ve been looking lonely recently, Uncle Aalto…”

Has he? He honestly didn’t think Calcharo’s sudden absence would affect him this much. All he wanted to do was to give him a piece of his mind for doing something as stupid as breaking the trust of almost all of his contacts. At least the ones that he didn’t already share with Calcharo. Did he even understand how important they were to him? How long it took to build up his network in Huanglong?

“Is that so…” Aalto goes back to trying another cipher on the computer.

He would’ve expected Encore to think he was angry, rather than lonely but… The more he thinks about it, the more he realises… it’s true.

People only knew him as the information guy from the Black Shores. Who was a clumsy single dad or a doting older brother to Encore, or whatever story the situation called for best. There was nobody else who knew who he was before the Black Shores took him in. Except for Calcharo. Sure there were other people from the New Federation who lived in Jinzhou, but they were all upper class elites of high standing. Doing some important research job or the other.

It wasn’t like he could joke around and reminisce about the particularly pungent taste of the woody tubers that grew in the arid lands of the Lawless Zone with someone like Mortefi. Calcharo understood though. He knew how annoying they were to make edible. What herbs to mix into it to make it more nutritious. 

That the dark starry skies in the Lawless Zone were more beautiful than the view inside the towering cities of the New Federation.

Aalto missed hearing his voice. That deep, rumbling laugh when he managed to say something that finally got him to crack. He doesn’t think anyone else in the world knew that even the sight of alcohol used to make him break out into a cold sweat.

Small hands press into his hair. As if sensing his pensive mood.

“Uncle Aalto, you know how I thought you looked like a big grey wolf when I first saw you?”

“Hm? Yeah?”

Encore’s habit of relating people to various animals was rather endearing, but Aalto can’t help but wonder what brought on this sudden recollection of the past. Her voice is soft instead of her usual exuberant excitement. A tone she usually used when she talked about her mother.

“Ever since you met Mister Calcharo…”

“...You’ve kinda turned into a big fluffy dog, just like him!” 

Encore giggles, flipping his hair up like she was throwing cotton into the air. So that’s what she was trying to tell him… Aalto feels a smile cross his face, the muscles stiff at how long it’s been since used them. No wonder Encore was worried about him.

He finally turns around to face Encore, who’s just looking at him with a triumphant grin.

“Got you to smile!”

Aalto feels a small chuckle leave him, his joints popping as he finally stands up for the first time in hours .

“Wanna try set a new record on Metal Slug again?”

“Yeah!”

Maybe a small break would be good. Just to refresh his mind.

~~~

When Aalto returns to his seat again, he solves the encryption around Calcharo’s messages within minutes. It had been so glaringly obvious, that Aalto almost wanted to be frustrated with himself. But he knows he wouldn’t have done it without Encore. Sitting in a dark room crunching through numbers and combinations for days on end wasn’t exactly the recipe for good brain function.

He takes a few days to prepare himself when he finally pinpoints Calcharo’s location. A backwater town rife with lawlessness that bordered the New Federation. Calcharo had travelled very far in his quest to avoid him. Something that Aalto only realised while hunting for his whereabouts.

Encore would’ve jumped at the thought of going on such a faraway adventure with him. But this time, in an impressive display of maturity, she seemed to know that he needed to do this by himself. Hugging him tightly when he bids her farewell. A great leap from when she absolutely refused to leave his side when she had begun to trust him.

“Good luck, Uncle Aalto…Please don’t be sad anymore…”

Aalto pats her on the head, something lodging in his throat at her words.

“Thanks Encore…I’ll be back soon.” He flashes her a wide grin, reassuring her as she looks up at him with teary eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring him back.”

When Encore eventually lets go of him, Aalto knows it's time to take his leave. Lest Encore’s resolve waver and she comes running after him. He can spot her small figure waving at him from the entrance to the Black Shore facilities and he waves back until he can no longer see her smudge of pink hair on the horizon.

The journey to that backwater town is easier now. The routes were made safer by the efforts of the Ghost Hounds over the years. The Lawless Zone was no longer so…lawless. Where a life would be taken for simply having an apple in your hands, there was now order and infrastructure. Aalto could’ve been walking out in a regular countryside if it weren’t for the constant reminder that, yes, this was a place for outlaws.

Aalto keeps his head low as he skirts the armoured patrols moving around each gang’s territory. Playing every part of the unassuming man travelling between towns. While each settlement he passed was made from scraps of building material dumped by the New Federation, there was a liveliness to them that could only be seen in the most affluent gangs in the past. Aalto even sees small groups of children playing within them. It’s a small comfort in knowing that Calcharo had made the Lawless Zone a more hospitable place for those who had been like them. Who had no choice in their origins.

Something grows in his chest the closer he gets to where Calcharo is hiding. Nervousness threatens to suffocate him with its oppressive weight as he finally steps into the town that held the man he was looking for. Night has already fallen, the jumbled assortment of houses illuminated in warm, orange light.

Aalto begins to regret coming here on his own as he feels all of the town’s eyes fall on him. He tries his best to shake it off, slowly walking down the dirt streets. People move in the shadows. Dogs barking at his presence. His senses are primed for a telltale click of a weapon or a flick of a blade. It wouldn’t be surprising if they were all working under Calcharo. Were they under strict orders to keep him from meeting him?

But surprisingly, he’s met with no resistance. The townspeople go about their business. Chatting around a fire, sipping homebrewed beverages—  children still awake and running around in all their endless energy. Aalto scans each rough looking house for a sign of Calcharo. Silvery hair. Muscular build. His heart jumps every time he sees a flash of white in his periphery or someone taller than him.

Calcharo wouldn’t be in an area with such high foot traffic though. Aalto keeps on walking. Taking in how remarkably peaceful the town was in person despite having the worst reputation when he had tapped into the databases. And then he spots it. A messy, unassuming brick house tucked away in the furthest corner of the township. To anyone else, it looked just like any other house within the town. But Aalto knows exactly what Calcharo liked to look for in a safe house.

A solid foundation with no gaps in its walls. Made to appear more rugged than it was with a few pieces of dirty cloth draped over it. It was completely separated from the block of houses that made up the majority of the town. It’s back against two high walls to lower the chances of an ambush. The house screamed Calcharo and Aalto felt his heart leap up into his throat upon noticing it.

While Aalto had initially begun this whole wild goose chase to yell at Calcharo for messing up his business…he just wasn’t sure what he wanted to say anymore. The door to that brick house is in front of him before he knows it. Better not waste any more time, even if he felt woefully underprepared for what lay behind it.

Aalto raps his knuckles sharply on the metal door. More out of habit than anything. He’s more than sure that Calcharo already knew he had been coming, and the chances of him escaping to another town upon being notified of his arrival were slim. The nearest town was hours away, and Aalto had been keeping track of Calcharo's messages to the Ghost Hounds. The last one was just thirty minutes ago. Its location marker was still the same coordinates as this town.

Nothing happens for an extraordinarily long time. Aalto was almost certain that Calcharo was trying to wait him out, but he stubbornly kept his feet planted at the door. Calcharo was definitely  here. A cursory glance around him lets him know that this part of town is completely devoid of people. Most likely instructed not to disturb Calcharo. He’s about to knock again when the door eventually cracks open. A flash of white peeking through the gap of the door.

“What do you want.” 

His voice is quiet. But it easily cuts through the silence in the air.

“To talk.” Aalto puts his hands on his hips. A simple gesture so Calcharo could see where his hands were.

“About what.”

Aalto had thought he’d put his anger behind him, but hearing those clipped answers as Calcharo dodged his questions made it burn back into his chest with a smouldering irritation.

“About what? You know what.”

“I’m talking about you suddenly deciding you wanted to smash some heads in and completely ruining my—!”

The door swings open with a creak. His breath leaves him when Calcharo in all his beautifully unkempt hair stands before him. Brows furrowed in irritation as those icy blue eyes pierce through him.

“Stop making a commotion and get inside.” The words come out in an urgent hiss. As if afraid to hear that sentence finish.

Aalto steps in without a word and Calcharo slams the door shut behind him, flicking a number of locks back into place.

There were countless tablets strewn about. Maps of Jinzhou and the surrounding areas. Data on the recent joint military operations with the Midnight Rangers. A computer is set up in the corner, displaying a report that Aalto can’t make out. Amongst the chaos of all of Calcharo’s work, there were the bones of a home here. 

A kitchen with a stack of empty ration packs all neatly flattened and cleaned. Huanglong issued, not New Federation. A lumpy couch and a coffee table that held sensitive documents people would kill to get their hands on. A bed in the corner with rumpled multicoloured patchwork sheets. There were a string of lights on the ceiling that illuminated the space in warm light.

Judging from the loose shirt and pants Calcharo was wearing, and his messy hair, Aalto most likely woke him up from a nap. He could see his Huanglong garb folded up in a corner, with a pile of more New Federation style clothes next to it. Aalto can’t help the small smile quirking on his lips despite the serious situation. It seemed Calcharo still had his habit of throwing his dirty laundry in a pile until it got big enough to wash in one go.

A small cough and Aalto is quickly reminded of why he was here in the first place. Calcharo has his arms folded, regarding him with that same old ice cold stare. Though there’s a restlessness that betrays him when his gaze jumps to the floor upon noticing Aalto is looking at him. There were dark circles under his eyes and a thick layer of bandages around his right hand. Instead of grilling Calcharo on his impulsive behaviour, Aalto feels his expression soften.

“Are…you okay, Calcharo?”

Calcharo’s good fingers dig into his arm. Instantly turning his eyes away.

“Fine.”

Wrong line of questioning. Aalto tries again.

“Why are you here, instead of with the Ghost Hounds? You know you can do a better job leading them in person instead of… whatever this is.”

Silence. 

Aalto is about to move on before Calcharo clicks his tongue in irritation.

“...Made a mistake…” He eventually mumbles out.

“What did you do?”

This time Calcharo looks up at him with a self deprecating smile. He looks so, so tired as he echoes the words he had spoken mere moments ago.

“You know what.”

A growing tension begins to settle in the air as Aalto draws closer and closer to what he had been searching for. He’s almost afraid of asking the question that precedes it. Though deep down, he already knows what the answer is. Something he had chosen to ignore for far too long. 

The same thing that had driven him to chase after Calcharo during all these weeks. Spend day after day desperately searching for him. A ghost of the past; one that had begun haunting him since that moonlit night out in these wastelands urges Aalto not to let go this time. Not to run away again.

“...Why did you do that for me…?”

Calcharo’s eyes flick around the room, trying to look anywhere but him . It’s enough of an answer but Aalto wants to hear it from his lips.

“I…I…”

The words almost seem to physically pain Calcharo as he shakes his head. Digging his nails even harder into his arm. Watching him be so conflicted with himself hurt like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Aalto takes a tentative step forward, placing a gentle hand over Calcharo’s own. His shaking stops. Releasing the death grip on his arm as Calcharo just stares at him. Eyes wide open in shock.

Aalto slowly, slowly brings a hand to Calcharo’s cheek. Going through motions he knows all too well. Only this time, it wasn’t an act. The tremor in his hands. The frantic beat of his heart. All of it was real . Unstaged and perfectly candid. He sees Calcharo’s hand twitch, as if wanting to bridge that gap between them before stopping himself. 

Their noses brush as Aalto brings their faces closer.

He can see it. The desire swimming behind those shining blue eyes. The confusion, the uncertainty of if this was all part of his persona as Aalto the information broker. 

But no.

This was a side of him he’d never dared to show anyone else before.

Of just Aalto.

The guy who liked to brew tea and collect vintage video games.

Who liked to make children laugh with his mist tricks.

Who had run away from his feelings all those years ago.

Aalto gives Calcharo a soft smile, as genuine as he can be, and everything comes tumbling out in a hoarse whisper.

“I-I’ve always thought about you.”

“You were always there, in my dreams, everytime I felt like giving up.” Calcharo finally drops his arms, grabbing onto his pants as a wave of emotion overtakes him.

“I know you say this to all your clients but…”

“It made me so happy when you said I was your favourite customer.”

Aalto leans closer to him, a warm smile on his face as he looks into those blue eyes. So perfectly open and vulnerable.

“I never lie, Calcharo…”

“You really were always my favourite.”

A soft brush of their lips and a shaky breath, Calcharo finally wraps his arms around him and kisses him.

Aalto wasn’t prepared for the swooping sensation in his stomach when it happened. The stutter in his heart. The tingling in his fingers. How he felt like he was floating away in a cloud of mist before Calcharo held onto him tighter, tilting their heads and deepening the kiss.

He can feel it. Everything that Calcharo struggled to get out in words spilling out of him in their warm embrace. How much he cared for him. All of his restrained desires, his years of yearning . Static buzzes through him from every point of contact on their bodies and Aalto carves it all onto his heart. The heat that Calcharo’s body radiated. The mellow scent of iris flowers that always seemed to cling on to him. Those surprisingly soft lips pressed against his own.

Aalto could stay here forever, in Calcharo’s arms. Basking in the electric feeling of having him pressed so tightly against his own body; the trembling joy and the inexplicable feeling of rightness—  of coming home radiating from him. It’s a shame really, when they’re reminded that they’re only human after all when the burning in their lungs grows too much to ignore.

They break apart in a gasping interlude, savouring the air they had been starved of. There’s an adorable dusting of pink on Calcharo’s cheeks as he absentmindedly licks his lips. That flash of tongue making something curl in his gut. Aalto knows he’s probably no better, considering how hot his face feels. They just stare at each other. Processing that electrifying exchange, and the undercurrent of affection that lay beneath it. The air grows thicker, headier the longer they get lost in each other’s eyes. Completely unable (and unwilling) to let go of each other. Calcharo’s gaze darts over to his messy bed and Aalto feels goosebumps prickle onto his skin at the realisation of what Calcharo wanted to do.

It would’ve been a lot easier if they had just walked to the bed like normal people, but neither of them wanted to break that precious contact between them. Choosing instead to hobble over like a pair of gnomes. A few minor stumbles and a small laugh later, Calcharo’s knees hit the back of his mattress and he pulls down Aalto with him.

His hungry lips are quick to search for his own, running a hand through his hair and undoing the small ponytail as they sigh into each other’s mouths. They stay like that for a while. Tangled up in each other’s limbs, slowly exploring each curve and bump of each other’s body. They need to briefly break apart again when his cloak comes off, but they’re back together in a blink of an eye.

Calcharo’s body felt so wonderful beneath his fingers. The tight muscles of his abdomen. The soft squish of his pecs. Aalto slowly creeps his lips lower, kissing along Calcharo’s jaw as he slips a hand beneath his shirt, desperate to touch his skin. The smooth expanse of his stomach meets his fingers and he feels Calcharo jolt beneath him, a small sound escaping from him. Heat surges onto Aalto’s cheeks at that, a familiar ache beginning to make itself known between his legs. Calcharo retaliates by nosing at his neck, gently running a tongue over his tacet mark.

Aalto bites back an embarrassing sound. His limbs suddenly turning into jelly at how good that felt; turning his head to expose his neck for more . Their breaths grow heavier with each passing moment, their touches losing their languid curiosity and being replaced with a burning need creeping beneath their skin . As much as he didn’t want to, Aalto gently pulls himself away from Calcharo’s inviting warmth. Putting some space between themselves so he could think properly.

Calcharo looks up at him, half-lidded eyes heady with desire as he watches Aalto’s every move. He hadn’t been able to appreciate it before, but Calcharo really did look so good outside of his usual tactical gear. Maybe it was just how… soft  he looked in just a simple loose shirt and pair of comfortable pants. His hair splayed around him in a perfect mess, like a painter spilling white onto a black canvas. The fact that his shirt was slipping off his shoulders and Aalto could see the beginnings of an erection tenting up his pants that were sinfully low on his hips certainly did add to the appeal. Aalto wanted to savour the scene before him a little more, but the need to see what lay beneath those clothes won him over.

Aalto’s mouth feels dry, trying to ignore his shaking hands as he goes to pull up Calcharo’s shirt and expose the body he’d been exploring before. He swallows thickly at the sight of a curly white treasure trail disappearing down below the waistband of his pants. A few tufts of coarse hair peeking out from the edge of the fabric. A spike of pure desire shoots through him, pooling hotly in his gut and Aalto needs to take a breather. God, he thought he was going to faint from how hard that sinful sight made him, and he hadn’t even fully taken Calcharo’s shirt off. Not to mention the hazy eyed look Calcharo was giving him. So curious as to what he’d do next, and yet so accepting of whatever was to come. Aalto needed to buy himself some time before everything overwhelmed him. Set some expectations right before things got any more heated.

“You’ll have to bear with me Calcharo…I’m not too familiar with this.”

“...I was kind of hoping you would take the lead… I’m not sure either…”

Wait.

What?

Calcharo seems to come to the same realisation at the same time as they both immediately snap their heads towards each other.

“You weren’t—?”

“You haven’t— ?”

There’s a brief pause as a searing heat blooms across both of their faces. Aalto’s ears feel they’re on fire, but he can’t help but laugh at this ridiculous situation. It calms his uncertainty when he hears Calcharo’s soft laugh a beat later. They probably should’ve talked about this before getting so carried away but…

Whatever their past relations or lack thereof, it didn’t change what they felt for each other. 

And it certainly didn’t change what they both craved.

It wasn’t like they were completely clueless when it came to sex. It was impossible not to be exposed to it some way or another in their line of work, and Aalto had picked up a few things from the places some of his informants were based in. A general idea of what felt good for someone, and the things to look out for.

“Guess we’ll just have to figure it out. Together.”

Another flush rises to Calcharo’s face as he nods. Aalto finds that he really likes that colour on his skin.

Aalto finally pulls off the rest of Calcharo’s shirt, taking a moment to admire the network of scars all across that pale skin and having it all exposed for him . From the dusky pink of his nipples to the soft shadows cast across all those muscles, Aalto takes it all in. An impatient hand comes snaking up his waist, tugging at his turtleneck and he quickly slips it off. There’s another brief moment where they just stare at each other again. No doubt burning the new sight of naked skin into their minds before they’re drawn together again like magnets. Sharing another passionate kiss between them; now with the added sensation of their chests pressed close. The beating of their trembling hearts resonating with each other.

They’d managed to get better at kissing each other within this short span of time. Aalto finally felt bold enough to delve his tongue past Calcharo’s lips. Gently licking along his upper lip before giving a small, teasing nip. A soft sound rumbles in Calcharo’s throat, he could feel it against his ribcage. Aalto takes it as a good sign, slowly pushing things along. 

Now that there was no fabric in the way, Aalto was free to explore more of Calcharo’s body. He runs a hand over the dip of his torso, before gliding over to his hip. Where he gives a curious squeeze of the round muscle just behind it. A quiet sound leaves Calcharo’s lips. Arousal shivering up his spine and with it, a heady fog that begins to wrap itself around his mind. Blocking out any thought unrelated to bringing pleasure to the body before him.

There’s one place he’s dying to touch with his hands— the rather impressive bulge tenting up Calcharo’s pants, but he hasn’t quite worked up the courage yet. He settles for something else instead. Making sure not to break the contact between their lips while clambering over Calcharo and slipping a knee in between his legs. The contact makes Calcharo twitch hips up; the action puts a tiny amount of pressure onto Aalto’s groin and he gasps. He wants more, his body taking over as he grinds down against Calcharo, this time a loud moan leaving his lips at the pleasure lancing through him. He can feel Calcharo squirm beneath him, tentatively rubbing himself against his thigh. A soft whimper coming as an answer to his desire.

Aalto takes a shaky breath, wrapping his hands around Calcharo’s waist to push down harder. He doesn’t even know what he’s doing, but judging from the strained sounds Calcharo was making, he was doing something right. It’s funny. How he had so much confidence when it came to charming strangers. Being able to pick up on what made them tick, the things that made them melt into putty beneath his fingers. But when it was Calcharo… every strategy, every tactic that he’d known completely disappears from his mind and he’s left desperately trying to keep his head above the water. Trying not to drown beneath the roaring heat within him that yearned so viscerally for Calcharo.

He trails a line of kisses from his mouth, down to his neck. Making sure to press his lips against each scar on that perfect body. A small part of him trying to replace the pain Calcharo must’ve felt from each wound with the gentle, loving sensation of a kiss. There were so many more scars on his skin compared to when he was younger. No doubt a story tied to each one; the sacrifices he had to make for his triumph over the Lawless Zone.

And Aalto would cherish them all. Each a permanent reminder of Calcharo’s unwavering will, and what had ultimately led to them being able to see each other again.

Aalto had been paying acute attention to each of the sounds that made it past Calcharo’s mouth. Each one egging him on, filling him with a heady satisfaction when a choked whimper reaches his ears. When he starts kissing across Calcharo’s collarbones, a red flush makes its way down his chest. Aalto smiles when each one makes him tremble, a shaky sigh coming from above.

And then something that sounded decidedly too much like a broken sob makes him snap his head up.

Calcharo has his hands covering his face, trying desperately to stay quiet. It takes Aalto a moment to realise that Calcharo was not in the throes of pleasure, but rather, tears were slipping past his fingers. He immediately stops what he’s doing. Confusion and dread filled him at the idea of possibly forcing himself on Calcharo.

“C-calcharo? What’s wrong?”

A heaving breath shudders past his shoulders and Aalto’s concern only grows, completely at the loss of what to do at this sudden shift in mood.

“I-I’m sorry, I— “

Calcharo croaks out, his voice cutting off as he takes another heavy breath. Aalto is more than ready to stop what they were doing. There was no rush, as much as his second brain wanted to believe otherwise.

“I just never thought this day would come.”

Relief loosens the strings of tension that had cut into him, something warm and wobbly bubbling up in his chest upon realising Calcharo was just overwhelmed with joy. Not regret. Aalto wouldn’t be surprised if everything that had transpired since he set foot in this safehouse still hadn’t fully sunk in for Calcharo. Such kind emotions were foreign to him, as they were for Aalto. Even he couldn’t still quite believe that they were doing this. 

But they were.

This was real, their feelings were real. Aalto would make sure that Calcharo understood that he adored him, that he deserved it all. Especially after all the hardships in his life.

Aalto gently pries away Calcharo’s hands, wiping away the dampness that had tracked onto his cheeks. Those icy blue eyes shine in the light. So warm, and open. Filled with a palpable tenderness for him that steals his breath away. His attention gets drawn to Calcharo’s bandaged hand. There was something about knowing the violence that this singular fist could bestow upon his enemies, and yet it could also be so gentle. A feather light touch tracing along his jaw as he gets lost in Calcharo’s eyes.

He raises that bandaged hand to his lips. Placing a kiss on the tip of each finger. Careful not to jostle it too much as he does his best to convey to Calcharo that he treasured each and every part of him. There's a glimmer in Calcharo’s eyes before he gets pulled down into a kiss. A delicate, and sweet little thing that was full of passion .

By now, Aalto has noticed that Calcharo really likes kissing him. Maybe it was because he just craved the closeness between them. Maybe it was a way for him to not have to look into his eyes anymore— especially if Calcharo also felt that same pressure growing in his chest every time they stared at each other for too long. Like his heart might explode from all the adoration that spilled from those eyes. Or maybe… Calcharo knows that kissing him was something only he could do.

The simmering heat that had taken the back burner sparks back to life as Calcharo’s hands wander down his back. Each brush of those fingers leaves a searing echo of his touch on the bare skin before slipping to his front and fumbling with his belt. Aalto helps him, no doubt a task difficult with only one hand. Breaking their kiss and leaning against that strong body beneath him as he shucks off his pants. Their breaths mingle. Panting. Impatient as Aalto pulls off the rest of Calcharo’s clothes in one smooth motion.

He has to stop himself from gawking at the impressive erection that springs out. Aalto already knew Calcharo had been rather… well-endowed if the size of the bulge in his pants had been anything to go by. But finally being face to face with it, rather than only being stuck with his woefully inadequate imagination makes heat crawl incessantly beneath his skin. The pretty flushed head bobbing in the air as Calcharo shifts on the bed. How heavy it looked as it waved around, almost begging him to wrap his hand around its girthy length. Aalto gulps dryly as all manner of delightful things run through his mind at the sight. Blood roars up into his ears the longer he stares, before Calcharo’s burning gaze brings him back to earth again. Pointedly flicking down to the tent in his own underwear, waiting with an almost indignant air at being the only one who was so…exposed at the moment.

Aalto can’t help but feel a little awkward when Calcharo looks down between his legs so expectantly as he pulls down his underwear. Cool air wraps itself around him, tickling the dampness that had already made itself known on his tip. He knows he’s decently sized, but he can’t help but feel a little… small compared to what was in front of him. It’s a mere observation though, as wanton desire quickly fills his senses now that there was nothing barring them from admiring their bodies.

They’re in such close proximity with each other, he can feel the burning heat radiating off his partner. The idea barely passes through his mind before he’s glancing up at Calcharo and slotting their hips together.

A startled moan leaves Calcharo’s mouth before it’s quickly held back with a bite to his lips. Aalto wraps a hand around the both of them, rocking his hips against that silken heat. A deep groan leaves him when he feels Calcharo’s cock throb against his own, a wetness dripping down onto his shaft and making each push against each other smoother, hotter.

The pleasure that crawls up his body is pure sin. Punching the air out of his lungs with a trembling gasp, driving him to squeeze his fist tighter, to place wet kisses all over Calcharo’s chest. A shaking hand comes to cup his cheek, bringing his head up. There’s a dazed look in Calcharo’s eyes, a flush high on his cheeks as sweat begins to bead up on his forehead. Aalto doesn’t stop grinding against him, and seeing those white lashes flutter, brows furrowing in pleasure makes a dangerous pressure grow in his gut.

“Ugh…fuck… please, Aalto… ”

Calcharo sounds so breathless, his words petering off into a quiet whine. Hearing his name falling from his lips in such a wanton whisper does something to Aalto, his cock twitching violently in his grasp. 

It takes him a moment to realise that Calcharo didn’t want him to go faster, but rather pay attention to a different part of his body. He feels him shift beneath his weight, slowly making Aalto get off his thighs as he turns onto his side and gingerly draws his legs up. Just a touch, so Aalto gets a lovely view of Calcharo’s balls squeezed between his thighs and the twitching ring of muscle that lay further below it. 

The realisation of what Calcharo wants him to do slams right into him. A dizzying cocktail of arousal and pure, unadulterated lust rockets up to his mind. Aalto is honestly surprised he doesn’t blow his load right then and there. He takes a few shaky breaths, trying to wrestle his unhinged thoughts into some semblance of order that didn’t involve immediately pulling Calcharo onto his aching cock.

“I-um…don’t have any lube…” Aalto manages to whisper. Voice hoarse from barely controlled desire.

Calcharo simply brings a hand to rummage through one of his bedside drawers before bringing out a half empty bottle and pushing it into his hands.

“I do.”

Despite the steadiness of Calcharo’s words, the immediate rush of red onto the tips of his ears gives him away, ducking his head beneath an arm in embarrassment. Aalto tries not to let the implications get to him of firstly: What it meant that Calcharo had such a thing in his safe house, and secondly: How Calcharo had been so quick to find it for him.

Aalto decides that some questions are better left unasked. Especially since he could almost see the steam rising from Calcharo’s head at how red his cheeks were. He tries to save Calcharo some face as he mutters out a quick ‘thanks’ and quickly squeezes some of the lube out.

It had seemed almost fated that they would be doing this in such a dingy place. Hidden away in the dark corners of the Lawless Zone. There was something comforting and familiar about it. The ragged blankets that were bunched up around Calcharo’s body. The dirty yellow lighting from lightbulbs that deserved a place in a museum shining upon their sweaty skin. 

A quiet whimper leaves Calcharo when he gently pushes in one finger. Carefully exploring the soft walls twitching around him and curling his finger. Maybe he should treat Calcharo next time. Take him to a cosy little inn within Jinzhou. Where the sheets were softer, and he could admire how Calcharo’s body shakes when he adds another finger beneath the soft pale moonlight. With the windows cracked open and the scent of lotus flowers drifting in the air. Aalto almost laughs. Chastising himself for already thinking about their next time, when really, he should be focusing on giving his all to Calcharo now.

He won’t lie though. The idea that there would be a next time already makes him giddy.

Aalto narrowly dodges a kick to his head as a consequence for his wandering thoughts. A choked whine echoing in the room when he absentmindedly brushes over something that makes Calcharo’s whole body jump. He does it again, and he can see how tightly Calcharo squeezes his legs together, no doubt the pleasure that radiated from that spot on the cusp of overwhelming him.

Calcharo snakes a hand down to his cock when he starts scissoring his fingers, his thighs slick with precum. A desperate whine coming from the man as he touches himself. Aalto tries his best not to hurt Calcharo, as much as he wants to rush prepping him and give him what he so clearly aches for.

A shaky moan directed into the mattress comes out from Calcharo as he slips in a third finger. His slick walls squeezing down at the intrusion. Fuck. That should be enough, right? Aalto was a patient man but he had his limits. And he was at his breaking point right now with Calcharo’s body so perfectly on display for him. He gives a few quick pumps of his fingers, letting Calcharo adjust to the stretch before slowly removing them. Watching that pretty pink hole clench around nothing makes his cock jump. Calcharo catches onto the eager air radiating from him, wordlessly bringing himself onto all fours and placing his ass at the perfect height for him to push right in.

Aalto’s heart stutters. Pupils blowing wide. Desire pools heavily in his gut as he takes in the erotic line of Calcharo’s body. Every second he spent with Calcharo felt like he was getting rewarded with a different facet of his wonderful body that he had never noticed before. His silvery hair draped over his shoulders, framing his well trained back muscles. He can’t help but squeeze the rotund curve of his ass, spreading him apart slightly just to see the lube glistening around his hole. The sensation makes Calcharo gasp, turning his head around just enough so Aalto could see those hazy blue eyes looking at him through the mess of silver hair draped around his head.

Impatient. Desperate. And yet he waits for him. Letting him take in his fill of the raunchy view despite the flush prickling onto his shoulders. Aalto stares for a moment longer, his imagination already fuelling his mind with the sounds Calcharo would make when he pushes in. How the soft skin of his ass would ripple with the impact of each thrust. But… 

No.

He reaches out for Calcharo’s waist, gently tugging him to one side.

“...Turn around, Calcharo…” A soft sound of confusion comes from him.

“Your hand is hurt right? That position can’t be comfortable.”

Calcharo obliges a beat later. The sheets shift on the bed as he lays on his back with a quiet fwump of the mattress. His hefty cock bounces against his stomach at the movement, making Aalto swallow thickly. While he did worry about the state Calcharo’s hand was in… Aalto had just really wanted to see his face. It would be a waste, really. Not being able to see those handsome features contorting with pleasure that he would be giving him.

Aalto carefully leans over Calcharo. Placing his hands on either side of his head, mindful not to tug on his hair. Their breathing comes quicker, shorter as they catch each other’s eyes.

Gods. This was really happening. 

Calcharo opens his legs a little wider, welcoming his body as he shifts their hips closer together. His tip brushes the slick entrance and Calcharo’s eyes flutter shut. Ready to give himself over to Aalto so completely and utterly. It makes his heart constrict with something unnameable, and Aalto finds himself scrambling to cherish the priceless thing Calcharo had so easily given him.

His trust.

A burning heat begins to envelop him as he slowly pushes past that ring of muscle. He can feel Calcharo’s walls twitching around him. So delightfully sweet and it takes everything in him to not shove his hips forwards. He can feel Calcharo’s chest heaving beneath him as he fills him out. That deep, rumbling voice permeating the air with breathy gasps.

He tries his best to keep his head up, gripping onto the bed sheets as he searches Calcharo’s face for any hint of discomfort, any sign he was going too fast. But he finds none. Those soft lips part ever so slightly around the quiet sounds leaving them. Those eyes scrunched up in pleasure as he slowly stretched him out. It gets unbearably hard to concentrate, a wave of breath taking ecstasy overtaking him when he finally bottoms out.

For a few moments, all Aalto can hear is his heartbeat pounding in his ears. His shuddering, uneven breaths. The feeling of Calcharo around him is overwhelming . So hot, so tight, so good; he can barely keep himself upright as he buries his face into the crook of Calcharo’s neck. Mindlessly mouthing at his skin as he does his best to ground himself in reality.

Calcharo’s heated body against his own. The ever present scent of irises that Aalto dimly realises comes from that silvery hair he loved. Their sweaty skin pressed so tightly against each other. It takes everything in Aalto not to float away in the cloud of pleasure encompassing his mind. A quiet whisper by his ear breaches the fog. A gentle, bandaged hand coming to caress the nape of his neck.

“I can feel you shaking…”

A desperate need to see Calcharo fills him despite having him right in his arms. He raises his head, heavy with desire. Something threatening to spill past his lips as he meets those cool blue eyes once again.

It was amazing, really. The depth of emotion that swam behind Calcharo’s eyes. Usually hidden beneath a frigid glare. Anger, fury. Amusement, elation. Shame, bashfulness. Such a range so rarely able to see the light of day, and now? 

Aalto was blessed with pure adoration radiating from the man beneath him.

So open and unapologetic and warm and— 

“I-I… God…”

The words get lodged in his throat. Too much for his already fragile heart. Aalto almost wants to laugh at his inability to string a sentence together, when he’s supposed to be so eloquent and quick-witted. 

But words would never be able to truly describe what he felt for Calcharo, and he decides to take a leaf out of the mercenary’s book.

Dipping his head down to capture those sweet lips. Feel him moan into the kiss as he slowly, but surely adjusts around him. Aalto does his best to fill each touch to Calcharo’s body with the love he couldn’t eke out in words.

A soft squeeze around Calcharo’s waist as he gives a curious roll of his hips. The butterfly kisses he presses all across his fluttering eyelids and rosy cheeks. Heat prickles onto his skin as Calcharo wraps his legs around him, urging him to move faster. Aalto is all too happy to give Calcharo what he wants. Snapping his hips up into him and relishing in the surprised sound that leaves him.

Calcharo’s knees tighten around his body, pulling him in for more. The soft atmosphere from before melts away as their baser desires begin to overtake their senses. Lust. Arousal. A desperate desire to partake in the pleasure their bodies gifted to one another. It had always been simmering in the background, but now with Calcharo egging him on, it's the only thing Aalto can think about.

He picks up the pace, a string of choked sounds leaving Calcharo’s mouth when each thrust sends the rather lewd sound of their skin slapping against each other echoing the air. Calcharo’s frame shudders beneath him when he manages to brush over his prostate. A loud moan spills out from Calcharo’s lips, making goosebumps break out on his skin. Aalto can feel his cock twitch violently inside of Calcharo. 

Aalto wants to hear it again. Burn it inside his mind and have it echoing in his ears even when they’ve long stopped making love to each other. A feral hunger cracks open inside of him as he picks up one of Calcharo’s legs and sets it on his shoulder. Driving his hips home as he desperately searches for the spot that would make Calcharo scream.

Calcharo’s voice gets higher, sweeter before it abruptly cuts off mid whine when he bites onto his lip. An arm gets thrown over his face, a flush creeping down onto his chest in a mixture of embarrassment and arousal as he catches onto what Aalto was trying to do.

He tries curling his hips at the end of his thrust this time, getting immediately rewarded with a strangled moan. He loves the way Calcharo’s cock bobs in the air with each smack of hips. The pretty flushed tip flicking precum onto him as it waves around. Aalto wants to wrap that heavy length in his hand again, but something stops him. The fraying edges of his lust-addled mind supply him with the satisfying image of Calcharo cumming from nothing but his cock.

Calcharo could probably do it, if he tried hard enough. If the wanton sounds coming from him are anything to go by. Aalto can see his cock twitching with each targeted thrust he makes, and the subsequent squeezing around his cock that makes his mind blank out. Even though Calcharo had purposely hid his face from him, he can still see him peeking down at their coupling bodies. Features slack with pleasure as he watches each thrust Aalto makes into his willing body.

He can feel Calcharo’s thighs beginning to tremble around him, a sporadic twitching of the walls around him as the sounds he had been desperately trying to hold back come breaking past his lips. What little restraint Aalto had leaves him. Calcharo just sounds so good around him. Feels so good around him. The sensations fanning the wildfire that had been growing in his gut to a searing degree. Desperate hands come clawing at his shoulders, whatever control Calcharo still had over his voice losing the battle to the pleasure wracking his body.

They hungrily search for each other's lips, their mouths smashing together with a click of teeth as Calcharo moans into him. The sound vibrates against his tongue, rumbles against his chest as they desperately try to close whatever minute distance that was still between their bodies. Calcharo’s nails dig into his skin, his cock smearing pre all over where it rubs against Aalto’s stomach with every thrust he makes.

“Aalto… Aalto…! ”

Calcharo’s body arches up against his, a heated line of sweaty skin as he clings onto him. The pressure in his gut, the borderline painful aching of his cock boiling over at the sound of his name being called out in a voice completely lost to the pleasure overwhelming his body. The tension within him explodes, just as he feels something warm splattering against his stomach. Calcharo’s spasming muscles send waves of toe curling, mind numbing ecstasy through him with each delightful squeeze. His thrusts get slippery with his release, and what had brought him so much pleasure before quickly errs on the wrong side of overstimulation when all his nerves light up in stinging passion.

He can vaguely hear himself whimpering out Calcharo’s name, curling his body and pressing his face against Calcharo’s neck. Trying to bury himself in the heat of his partner’s body as it all gets too much for his overstimulated mind. Finding comfort in the feeling of Calcharo’s erratic heartbeat pulsing against his lips.

A haze settles over them as the blinding pleasure that had overtaken them slowly ebbs away. Leaving tingling sparks trembling within their bodies in its wake. Their panting breaths fill the air as they bask in each other’s presence. Loathe to let go of each other after such an intimate display of their emotions. If Calcharo thought he was heavy, collapsed on top of him, he doesn’t show it. Choosing instead to run soothing fingers through his hair as their limbs begin to work again.

Aalto wants to lie there forever. Sweaty bodies and mess be damned. 

Their own little haven tucked away in what was supposed to be a rugged wasteland, but had been the start of everything. The dim lights and the mismatched curtains… Aalto wonders if it felt like home simply because Calcharo was here with him. He looks up at Calcharo through heavy eyes. Tracing nonsensical patterns on his chest. The joy that radiated from Calcharo was more than apparent, even through the sleepiness beginning to overtake him. The rare sight of a smile graced onto his lips. Aalto grins up at him, elation bubbling up in his chest.

Whatever it was, all he knew was that he wanted to be by Calcharo’s side.