With Guy still unable to move, Pete brought him out of the building to the fountain square by their dorms and dropped him on a bench there. Pete had been carrying a boy far bulkier than himself but wasn’t even out of breath—proof he’d learned to channel his mana into his physical exertions.
“…Urgh…”
“Sorry to force the issue. The paralysis should be wearing off. Tell me when you’re ready—I’d appreciate you taking this curse back off me,” Pete said as he settled down on the bench next to Guy.
Pete’s face and tone were totally lacking the edge he’d had against the Barthés. He was only like this with his friends. All his hatred pointed outward, all his love inward. Even if those boundaries were not so easily drawn, this was Pete’s fundamental emotional state.
Smiling at his friend, Pete waited for Guy’s next move. But though the paralysis had long since worn off, Guy said not a word, just sitting there and staring at him.
“What?” Pete said, disgruntled. “We can make out if you want.”
“…So you aren’t joking about that, huh?” Guy muttered, leaning back against the bench.
“You thought I was?” Pete looked offended. “I’ve been dead serious since I first mentioned it. Not just you, either—I want the closest ties I can get to every member of the Sword Roses. Leave myself options for when I have a kid with someone. I’ve got no reservations about doing that with any of you.”
His position felt awfully extreme, and Guy rubbed his temples.
“When’d you get this far gone? Was what we had not enough?”
“Nope. Far too unstable for my needs. I want a rose where the petals will never scatter. I want to make that moment last forever.”
Pete’s eyes were on the night sky. Guy remembered their visit to Pete’s home, and he couldn’t deny this impulse outright. He had many a gripe about the means to that end but knew arguing about those was the last thing Pete needed now.
The right choice was clear. First, meet him halfway, pull his tiny frame in close. Prove the love and warmth within Guy had not gone anywhere. And yet, that was the one thing Guy could not do right now. A painful reminder of that fact, it cut him to the quick—and his next breath was nearly a sob.
“…Fuck, this again? Can’t even slap you, much less give you a hug.”
“Go right ahead. Instructor Zelma said what she had to, but you know a curse won’t attach itself from one or two transmissions. Even if there’s some minor side effects, I’ll deal with it. If it’s for your sake.”
Pete offered a soft smile—as warm as the flinty gaze he directed at his enemies was cold. Guy could tell this was what came naturally to Pete. Here was someone who picked his family and gave them all his love, protection, and affection. The line between in and out was far stronger than Guy’s own, so perhaps it was inevitable his approach was both possessive and rejective.
Guy weakly reached out, lightly touched Pete’s shoulder, and took back the curse energy that had been transmitted orally. He soon pulled away again, and Pete pursed his lips, dissatisfied.
“What, no more kissing? You’re an incorrigible tease.”
“…I’m actually gonna get mad, y’know.”
“Don’t. That one was a joke,” Pete told him. “Good night, Guy. Shame I can’t get a good night hug, but I’ll take a rain check.”
Pete stood up and headed toward the dorm. Too weak to follow, Guy watched him go, feeling so helpless, he could cry.
“You deal with him every night, Oliver?” he muttered. “That’s gotta be rough…”