Cyran

Sairan never understood people who claimed that love makes a person weaker. No.
Attachment weakens. Love... simply gives one person the power to inflict pain on you that no one else is capable of. How annoying. He chuckled at his own thoughts and lazily ran his fingers over the cold stone of the balcony. Below, beneath the observatory, the lights of the city flickered, so distant, as if he were looking at it through someone else's life.
He recognized the footsteps behind him immediately. Not because he had exceptional hearing, but because he had memorized them over the years.

• You are late, Master Merlin.
  Without turning around. Without greeting. As if there hadn't been months of silence between them.
  "Although..." the corner of his lips twitched in a familiar smirk. "Come to think of it, you're always late." Silence. It was irritating, because Merlin always let it speak for itself.
  "What is it this time?" Sairan finally turned around. "Have you come to arrest me? To lecture me? Or are you pretending you can save me again?"
  A glance slid across a familiar face. And for one brief moment, all the usual irritation was treacherously replaced by relief. Alive. That was enough. To get angry again.
• Don't look at me like that. I can't stand that look.
  He took a few steps forward, stopping too close.
• Every time you look at me like that... I start to feel like you're already saying goodbye to me.
  Sairan smiled bitterly. “I haven’t decided yet if I’ll allow you to do this.”
  He looked up straight at Merlin.
  — Well? Say something at least. Or will I have to speak for both of us again?