After their first attempt at more physical and involved connection, Amidatelion had decided to be much too proactive to Layle’s frequent discomfort and dismay. The Yuke, failing to understand what they are doing to him, slowly drives him mad. Ignorable desires are stoked and left to burn out on their own because he simply does not have the time for himself let alone Amidatelion’s antics. Before he can get it through their thick metal helmet that being hard doesn’t always mean anything, he might die. A goblin nearly caved his skull in because he’s so wound up and distracted.

Layle rubs the back of his tender skull, feeling where he’d been struck. “Such an inconvenience.”

The day only seems to drag on the more his mind drifts, creating problems for Keiss and the new Selkic military forces who came all the way to the Lett Highlands for experience. It’s his job to keep his eyes peeled for Selkies frozen in fear or dangerously bold before they can be severely injured or, if they’re uniquely unlucky, surrounded and killed by a group of goblins. Layle does well enough, keeping them far out of harm’s way even when he’s thinking about what could have happened if he blew Keiss off and stayed with Amidatelion, but his back was completely open. He doesn’t learn from his close encounter with the goblins and so Keiss lands a strike on the back of his head for his carelessness.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked.

“I’m just distracted.” Layle admitted, but he intended to spare his old partner all the extra details. It’s nothing he wouldn’t know about, or couldn’t guess if he were so inclined, but it just makes Layle feel even cagier about anything that involves Amidatelion, too. “I probably just need to get more sleep.”

Keiss made a sharp noise of disbelief. “You spend all your free time sleeping already, crystal bearer!” The pathetic attempt to derail the conversation failed, dragging his attention right to the heart of an issue Layle does not want to hash out with his former partner. “It’s the Yuke, isn’t it?”

His shoulders tense. “There are a lot of Yukes.” Layle scratches the crystal on his face.

“You know I mean Goldenrod. Don’t play dumb with me.” The use of their old nickname makes him laugh under his breath while Keiss scolds him. “I’m not going to force you to tell me, but I do want to know if this is the kind of problem that you can solve in a night or a week.” He gestures to the group of armed Selkies celebrating their victory. “Dealing with you isn’t my priority out here. You should be able to handle yourself.”

As cold as Keiss put it, he isn’t going to convince anyone if he can’t lose the worrying mother hen expression plastered on his face. “I’ll be fine.”

Fine is relative to frustration. It comes and goes, ranging from a nagging thought to an enraging shove. Layle can’t predict it any more than he can control it. That’s why, on the second batch of monsters, he’d gone overboard. Everything within his reach had been destroyed, the monsters were thrashed before the gathered soldiers could organize a plan, and Keiss looked at him like he just wanted to thrash him, right then and there, in front of everyone. He doesn’t, though, because they both know Layle would kick the Guild Master’s ass instead right in front of his own men. All he wants to do is go home, back to Amidatelion, and sort things out.

The push and pull, hot thoughts and splashes of cold reality, are getting under his skin.

“I knew you were having issues.” Keiss grabs him and drags him off to the side. “Look, I’m willing to listen if you need advice. Just stop thrashing everything before they get a chance to do anything.”

Layle inhaled deeply before admitting his guilt in a rush under his breath. “I snapped at Amidatelion this morning.” Saying it out loud made him feel even dumber than he did when the guilt hit him halfway out of New Shella. “They didn’t mean to, but...”

Keiss twirls a finger. “But...?”

His hands slide up to hide his ears because Keiss is never going to let him live this down. “They blue balled me.” His old partner burst out into a howling fit of laughter, drawing the attention of every person and animal present their way. His knees buckled and he wheezed, holding onto Layle’s shoulder for support. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“I am s-so sorry, my bad. I- I thought-“ Keiss has to stifle a new bout of laughter before continuing. “I thought things weren’t working out, you know? Turns out, you really don’t change.”

“Hey!”

“Layle.” Keiss shakes his shoulder lightly and wipes a stray tear from his eye. “If you’re anything like you used to be, and believe me you probably are, you’re need to be a team player. Stop doing everything yourself.”

“Amidatelion has enough on their hands.” Layle rests a hand on his hip. “Like you and Althea, they’re a tribal leader. They are too busy to... deal with me and my shallow issues.”

“If you told me something like that before, I would have kicked your ass, crystal bearer.” Keiss gives his old partner and ex-lover a playful shove towards the path back home. “Go talk to your, uh... Yuke? I’m not sure what’s going on there, but you shouldn’t be out here making these kinds of choices alone in that useless head of yours.” He nods towards the armed Selkie who have occupied themselves with some kind of absurd activity that involved chasing birds around the field. “I can handle the rest of the training for the day.”

“But what about-“

Keiss points his sword in its scabbard right at him. “If a Selkie can handle it solo, that means we’re better when we work together.” He grinned. “Now get lost and go apologize.”

Apologize, huh?

It’s not that he doesn’t want to, but Layle is so used to being wronged and met with demands for apologies that he’s resistant to the idea. He has the entire walk back to get over that much, but he also has been wronged. Not intentionally, but Amidatelion had a hand in this disastrous situation by pushing him for reasons he can’t piece together. They lacked the parts and the drive, something he’s been assured of, so did they think his desires were needs? Like food and water? That Layle would just starve and wither away without?

The thought stopped in his tracks, marveling at the glaring imbalance. Amidatelion explained their lack of such desires, making sure that Layle understood, but he did not do the same. His expectations went unvoiced. “Looks like Keiss is right again...”

Guilt sends him on a small detour through Alfitaria Capital City in search of materials to soothe it. There’s no way he could afford the fancy ink they prefer, nor the sturdy and durable parchment they’re always scrawling on. Books they’d like are even more expensive. All he buys is metal wire, various colorful beads, and a prism. Those, while expensive still, are within Layle’s budget. Being a hero doesn’t pay much, and he refuses to be the tribal leader of the Clavat when he feels so disconnected from everyone. Everything he has is hard earned and he wants to believe that it gives his craft that much more weight and meaning.

Outside the city, on the steps to the Queen’s Garden, he carefully crafts an earring of sorts. Even if they don’t wear it, Layle wants to give Amidatelion his best effort and a genuine show of his remorse. It is shoved deep into his jacket pocket before he takes a rental chocobo back to New Shella. Plans flashed through his mind, the kind he’d never considered because he's so focused on making as much gil as he can to prove his worth. Amidatelion couldn’t appreciate normal food and drink the same way he does, but they have admitted to liking the aroma of tea. Books in their study were always in a state of disarray, but he could put them up. All these little things for his ultimate goal.

If Amidatelion seems far too busy, he’ll have to make time for them to talk.

The Yuke at the bottom of the bridge outside of New Shella just waves, used to the crystal bearer’s antics. His infamous impatience has him launching himself off his chocobo and over the massive gap. Layle kept the momentum going, augmenting his sprint with his own magic, and flings the door open to their home only to end up standing back in the middle of the Lett Highlands. A goat stares at him in silence, chewing grass, confused but otherwise unbothered by his sudden, unexplainable appearance.

“Did I just get teleported?” It just baahs at him. “I think Amidatelion is really mad this time.”