“The sky is gray today.” Petrai said. It was not a lie- Petrai never lied, especially not over something so trivial. Above her was a vast, unknowable void of cloudy gray. It was the color of snow, mixed with soot.

Beside her, Yeonaixho hummed, and gently patted her where their arms intersected. He faced away from her, shielding his still-recovering wounds from her sight. If Petrai didn’t know any better, she might’ve thought him simply interested in a far-off object, perhaps one of the birds flitting about the distant courtyard wall. She did know better, though. That was the pain of it.

“Does it look like storm?” Yeonaixho asked, when Petrai did not acknowledge his hum.

Petrai started, and shivered. She looked up at the blank-slate sky. “No. It’s cloudy, but there’s no storm brewing.”

“Ahhh…” Yeonaixho’s voice rasped, like it belonged to a man much older than he. It had always been that way, and Petrai remained ignorant as to why. It was not her place to ask. “Well, if it’s not storm, it’s a pleasant morning.”

It was a pleasant morning, for a Loucari winter. Each bare surface of the courtyard before then was blanketed in a thick layer of snow, mirroring the white of the sky above them. It was harsh on the eyes.

“It is a pleasant morning.” Petrai nodded, only realizing that Yeonaixho couldn’t notice it after the motion was complete. She adjusted the clasp of her outer cloak with her free hand.

The wind picked up speed, and Petrai leaned close to Yeonaixho for support. He was far taller than she, and right now, far more stable on his feet. He didn’t seem to notice.

The pain in Petrai’s stomach crescendoed, causing her to stumble into Yeonaixho. She caught her spit with her hand, and prayed she wouldn’t cough up anything else.

“Petrai!” Yeonaixho yelped at the sudden contact, and supported her in regaining her balance. “Are you doing alright? How is your pain?”

Petrai kept a hand over her stomach, as if merely touching the source of her agony would ease her pain. “I’m fine.” She lied through gritted teeth. “I just need to sit down.”

“Sit down, yes. Yes.” Yeonaixho kept Petrai standing with an arm around her shoulder, and swerved around, as if he forgot he could not see. Petrai’s heart panged with guilt, and then again with sudden pain.

“Ah, Petrai,” Yeonaixho said, humility foreign on his tongue, “Could you guide us to the nearest bench? I’m afraid I’m not much use at that, anymore.”

“Right.” Petrai mumbled, and latched onto Yeonaixho’s free arm. She guided them both over to a nearby bench, and all but collapsed onto it. Yeonaixho sat by her, and kept his gentle hand over her shoulder. Slowly, it traveled down her body, til it rested on the small of her back, over her bandaged exit wound. Petrai instantly recognized what he was doing.

“Do you need me to heal you?” Yeonaixho asked.

What was Petrai to say? She desired- deeply and truly- to indulge Yeonaixho in this, to let him heal her and be free of her pain, if only temporarily. She could not escape the worries that came with such thoughts. What kind of Watcher would she be, if she received the Lifebringer’s gifts? Certainly, not a very devout one.

“No.” Petrai replied firmly. She had suffered pain before, she could suffer it again.

“Petrai…” Yeonaixho dared, “I know you’re hurting. I can help you.”

Petrai could not force a word to escape her lungs. She stared at her shoes- black leather stark against the snow beneath them. Yeonaixho’s shoes were a beige-toned canvas, a simple servant’s boot. She hadn’t seen him wear such modest shoes since he had entered the palace as a dedicant. She wondered what he had done with his sturdy student’s boots.

As Petrai’s gaze traveled over Yeonaixho, taking note of his thick winter cloak and his worn, long hands and the way he gripped onto his new staff like letting go of it would mean meeting death, she realized how impossible it was to avoid looking at his face. Once she caught sight of it, she couldn’t stop the wave of unidentifiable emotion that crashed into her.

There was not much exposed face to actually look at. The lower half of Yeonaixho’s face was bare to the cold- his soft lips already chapping from the wind. Petrai could almost notice a warm flush over his cheeks, though those were disturbed by the stark, clean lines of his under-eye wounds, now freshly scarred. When Petrai had first seen his wounds, she had thought him crying. He still looked like he was crying.

Yeonaixho’s eyes were covered by strips of pale bandages wrapped tightly over his strong features. Inexplicably, it felt like a mockery. A painful reminder of everything Petrai didn’t want to remember. Yeonaixho was blind, nearly all of his sight gone, forever. Worse than that, he had blinded himself for her- to gain powers the Lifebringer wouldn’t use to save her. She was only alive because Yeonaixho was stupid enough to break the rules in all the worst ways.

She hated him. She wished he was smarter, less impulsive. She wished he had thought over his choices before making the brashest one. She wished he had better options. She wished he hadn’t ever met her. It would’ve been better, for him.

Blind or not, Yeonaixho must’ve been able to sense Petrai’s gaze. His hand went to the bandages covering his eyes, and he traced them gingerly. He lifted the corner of one, just so much that he might be able to see-

“You aren’t supposed to remove the bandages. The doctors said your eyes are still healing.” Petrai said automatically. Instantly, she regretted even speaking.

Yeonaixho’s hand swiftly traveled to his staff, as if it had never been by his bandages in the first place. “I know, I know…” There was a pained wistfulness to his voice. “I was just wondering how much I can actually see. These bandages… well, if I have any sight left, they’re obstructing it.”

Misery cut through Petrai’s heart like a knife through fruit. Of course. Of course he would wonder. It was so much like Yeonaixho to think of the remainder, of what could be saved. That damned resiliance was what had landed them both in this horrible situation in the first place. “Still. You shouldn’t risk damaging your eyes more.”

At that, Yeonaixho scoffed. What a horrid contradiction that was. His gentle, lilting voice, the voice of a man who had never harbored an ill thought to anyone, til these last few weeks, creating such a tired, sardonic sound. How could he find light enough to mock her like this? What on earth could he find to laugh at her for?

Seconds passed, and he offered explanation. “It won’t matter. It’s not like I’m going to recover. Might as well, since I want to know.”

Petrai hadn’t eaten anything that morning but warm broth, yet her insides roiled. What could she say, to that, when it was her fault he was like this in the first place? How could she comfort him? Was she supposed to ease his pain, as he had hers? How was she to repay this debt, which she had never asked from him?

The only response she could come up with was horrid and crude, something a weak, wounded child might say. Somehow, it escaped her lips, “You might recover… someday.” What a horrid, hopeful thing to believe. What an ignorant hope, that things could be reversed to the way they were before. Her wounds could be healed- Yeonaixho had assured her of that fact- but his could never. That was the nature of the deal. The deal he had made.

Petrai had expected Yeonaixho to laugh again, to mock her childishness. She braced herself for the pain of ridicule. The gentle sincerity of his tone tore into her heart more than any mocking laugh would’ve.

“Petrai…” Yeonaixho said, in a tone as fragile as glass, as bone. “I’m not going to recover. This… is permanent.”

She had known that. She had known that since the moment she had learned he had blinded himself in the first place. It cut into her all the same.

What a wretched truth.

Petrai couldn’t help but keep over, pressing her abdomen to her legs. She couldn’t look at the sky, or the earth, or any of it. Her wounds screamed at her, she knew she shouldn’t have moved in such a way, yet- what choice did she have? Her misery compelled her to curl up like a newborn baby, to infantilize herself til she could pretend she was a small child again, and that all that she had lived through was but a nightmare.

Her misery also compelled her to cry.

Petrai had never been a quiet crier.

Yeonaixho instantly rushed to her aide, his warm hands gracing her arm, then her shoulders. “Petrai-” He dared, “Are you alright? Is it the pain? I can heal you here, or- or, if you want, we can head back inside. I’m sure they can give you some medicine or something.”

Petrai could not immediately reply, her breath saved only for her gasping sobs. She felt like she might retch, if there had been anything in her stomach.

“Petrai, please. Speak to me.” Yeonaixho begged. “I need to know what I can do to help you. Please.”

How dare he suggest giving her any more, when he had already given everything to save her?

“Petrai…” He continued. “Petrai, if you’re in pain, I can help. I am here to help.”

She couldn’t stand it any longer.

Through stolen breaths, she managed, “Why?”

That gave Yeonaixho pause for a time. Too long of a time. Eventually, he whispered. “... What? Petrai, I want to help you, you’re in pain-”

“Why did you do it?” She stammered. Something inside her shifted, converting her sorrow to rage. “Why did you- why did you do that to yourself?!”

Yeonaixho grew alarmed, and defensive. He gripped his staff in both hands, as if trying to ward of some threat. “Petrai, I was trying to save you! You were dying!”

“You should have let me die! It was my duty! The rules are in place for a reason, the Watchers are not to receive the Lifebringer’s gifts! That’s the way it’s always been, and that’s the way it should be!” She could not stop her tears. She could not stop the warmth of the tears running down her face, trailing down her chin and into her mouth. They tasted like salt. “It is not your job to change the rules. You- you shouldn’t have done it.”

“And what was I to do? Simply watch you die?” Yeonaixho shouted. Petrai had never heard him raise his voice like this. She wondered what had made him change. “Petrai, you know that I can’t do that! I’m a healer, we’re supposed to heal! I couldn’t just- I couldn’t watch you die!”

“You couldn’t watch me die, so you blinded yourself.” It was simple. That was his answer. He had done everything but say it himself.

Yeonaixho did not reply for a still, stagnant moment. Even the snow around them seemed to slow.

“Yeonaixho…” Petrai dared. She could not bear to live in silence any longer.

“Petrai… I just…” His words were slow. “I wanted you to live. Even if I… even if I can’t see any more, you’re alive, and that’s what matters to me. I just want you to be safe. I love you, Petrai. I couldn’t bear to loose you.”

He did not understand her grievance. He did not understand the situation he had put her into. “I love you too, Yeonaixho.” She whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Yeonaixho did not reply, but seemed to relax. He stared off into the courtyard- into nothingness, and Petrai could stare at nothing but him.

Her best friend. Her savior. Her eternal debtee.

As long as they lived, she would never leave his side. This, she owed him.

She could not give him more if she tried.