A/N: Since I already have a few more Sorey/Mikleo fics in the works, I thought I'd might as well compile them into one story. These oneshot collections are starting to become a trend with me anyway. Hope you stick around for more chapters including more of the Zesty cast, and of course, these adorable dorks :)

Based on Ep 11 of Tales of Zestiria: The X when Sorey gets hurt after fighting/purifying the hellion

"Sorey?" The Shepherd was sitting on the shabby inn bed when he heard the low, gentle voice of his water seraph from the other side of the door. His back was currently to the doorway, his hand grazing his tender shoulder, testing to see how much pain he was in now—just a few hours after the attack—but he quickly forced that hand back down before Mikleo saw him in any discomfort.

"Come on in," Sorey invited him.

The squeaky old door swung open, and Mikleo entered gracefully, latching the chain lock before heading to Sorey's side. Sorey turned to watch him as he entered. Mikleo was so beautiful, even when performing the simplest tasks. Each stride he took appeared as if he were walking on water, each step fluid and soundless. Maybe that's what being a water seraph entailed, but Sorey was willing to bet Mikleo still would have had an astonishing amount of grace even without that magic inside of him.

"Are you alright?" Mikleo asked, knowing he didn't have to elaborate on why he was asking. Sorey already knew: the fight in the alleyway. Yes, he'd been thrown around pretty badly, and yes, the purification process had been new and painful and emotionally draining, but did Mikleo have to worry so much? Sorey gave a sigh. Of course, he did, and if their positions had been reversed, Sorey knew he would have been just as worried.

"Yeah, I'm good," Sorey grinned, his chipper voice containing its usual timbre, but this only caused Mikleo to frown.

"I-I mean, yeah, I was certainly startled by how vile a feeling the malevolence has, but I'm okay now," Sorey babbled on. He was certainly trying to put his seraph's mind at ease while still acknowledging the danger he'd been in, but he could see it wasn't working.

"Sorey, let me see your shoulder."

"Huh? My shoulder? My shoulder's fine." Sorey's wide smile vanished when Mikleo gave his upper back a light punch, and he failed to suppress a pained noise. Mikleo stared hard at Sorey's scrunched up eyes and tightly closed lips.

"Show me," Mikleo sternly insisted. It wasn't a request anymore; it was a demand. When Sorey still didn't budge, Mikleo reached for his Shepherd's cloak and whipped the sleeve upward.

"Okay, okay. Fine," Sorey huffed.

Mikleo let go of his clothing and allowed Sorey to lift his cloak over his head. The seraph intentionally kept himself planted where he was, just behind Sorey, as black buttons were undone from blue material, so he wouldn't be tempted to stare. When Sorey finally tossed his blue shirt to the side, however, Mikleo's breath did catch as Sorey's black undershirt followed it. For once, it wasn't his toned physique that stole the air from his lungs; it was instead the appearance of Sorey's injuries. The friction of the concrete had burned long, deep red lines in his back and shoulder, which were dotted with the crimson spots of broken blood vessels, probably from the hard impact.

"Sorey..." was all Mikleo could get out.

"Come on, Mikleo. I'm sure it's not that bad," Sorey said, calmly and casually, but Mikleo was on the bed behind him in an instant, his long, slender fingers finding Sorey's damaged flesh. Within a second or two, Sorey closed his eyes as the soothing rush of Mikleo's healing magic sunk beneath his skin.

"You shouldn't hide your injuries like this," Mikleo said, voice softer now, and Sorey nodded slowly and half-consciously as he was lulled into relaxation.

"I know you're trying to keep a strong front for everyone, but you don't need to. Especially not for me," Mikleo promised him, summoning his strength from his very core as he pushed the magic through his veins. He couldn't shake the sinking feeling that had settled in his gut that afternoon. He'd rushed to Sorey's side after the fight and the agonizing purification, both of them crouched on the cold, hard street. After that, Sorey had pushed past the pain and hurried to his feet, ignoring the comfort with which Mikleo had been trying to provide him.

It killed Mikleo that Sorey was taking on these burdens that only he alone could bear, and all Mikleo could do was watch. He'd become Lailah's Sub Lord, of course, and was able to partake in the beautiful bond of armatization, but according to Lailah, that was the most he could do. The rest was up to the Shepherd.

"I know," Sorey nodded again, his sleepy, hazy mind focusing on the light touch of Mikleo's fingertips, as they moved down one scrape and up the next. When Mikleo had completed his journey over each red mark, he let the glow of his magic go out. The room was silent, the barely audible hum of the healing spell now gone.

"Don't stop," Sorey whispered, weakly, and Mikleo's heart twinged for a moment, knowing from the way Sorey spoke that he needed him more than he needed healing. He required relief from a different kind of pain.

Obediently—as Mikleo was never one to deny Sorey of anything—Mikleo trailed his fingers over his skin once again.

"Mikleo? You'll stay with me, won't you? Until this journey is over?" Sorey's voice was low and quiet, and Mikleo momentarily halted his caress.

"Do you really have to ask? I'm not going anywhere," Mikleo promised, and even without looking at him, Sorey could tell he was smiling gently.

"Good," Sorey breathed, allowing himself to relax even further, his head nodding forward slightly, as if he might drift off at any second. The Shepherd may have had his own burdens to bear, but he wasn't alone. He would never be alone.