You loved piggyback rides from Deuteros. Maybe too much. But how could you not, when he was significantly taller, his frame steady and built for carrying everything—especially you.

Under normal circumstances, he’d lift you without hesitation. Whether your legs were sore, you’d trained too hard, or you simply opened your arms with a silent tilt of your head—he understood. You didn’t even have to ask. It was comfort, routine, affection. You rested your cheek against his back, fingers curled gently into the fabric of his cloak or tunic, and just breathed him in.

There were evenings where you dozed off like that—rocked by his slow, quiet steps, especially on the way back from late-night strolls or after long hours at the Sanctuary. Sunset, moonlight, or the quiet blue of pre-dawn—it didn’t matter. With your arms loosely draped over his shoulders and your head tucked against the back of his neck, the world softened around you. You felt small in the best way—safe, carried, loved.

But those weren’t your favorite rides.

No—those were the ones after his missions. When the temple gates opened and you caught a glimpse of that familiar glint of Gemini gold under the sun. You always ran. Straight toward him, without thinking. His arms opened the moment you did. You'd leap without concern, the world briefly tilting as he caught you midair. He never let your feet touch the ground after that—not if he could help it. Not after being away.

Even if he was tired. Even if his body bore the weight of a battle fought miles away. You could feel the warmth of his armor under your palms, the solid thrum of his pulse as your body curled against his.

And yet… he carried you. Always. Through winding paths, marble halls, and quiet gardens. Through heavy air and setting suns. Even bruised. Even bleeding. You'd press your cheek to the curve of his shoulder as you clung to him, fighting off guilt that tried to creep in. But his arms never faltered. His back never hunched.

And in those quiet returns, you felt what it was like to be loved by someone who never said much—but proved it every time he lifted you without question. A man who moved through the world with quiet strength and placed you gently above the weight he carried.

Sometimes, you thought it was selfish.

But with every steady step he took toward home, every time he held you like you were lighter than air even when he was the one hurting—he reminded you without a word:

He liked it that way.