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Phil’s life has never belonged to himself. Not for a long time.
So when the time comes for him to lose it—he’s not losing it. Not really. He’s finally giving it back, that’s all. Finally returning his heart into the hands of the one he promised it to all those centuries ago, when he was young and reckless and in love. It hurts, of course, to die—but in the same way that it hurts to see home after years away. In the same way that it hurts to hug a loved one fiercely, finally reunited, something twisting in his lungs and holding there, stealing his breath away.
“T-Techno,” Phil rasps out, his hand outstretched across the earth. It’s hard to move, to even think past the pain of the blade in his chest. His nails dig into the mud, clawing weakly in a vain attempt to drag himself forward, to reach out for the man who is so close and yet too far. His vision is blurred, though by rain or tears of pain, he can’t tell, his breath catching in his chest as he tries and fails to call out again. He wonders, for a moment, if this is how he’s going to die—alone and unnoticed until it’s too late. Even if Technoblade will join him, one day, he’d still like to at least say goodbye—to offer his friend those last moments, because time will pass by much faster for Phil than it will for the one left behind. It would be cruel of him to leave without those last moments, but his friend is taking a while, and Phil… Phil is getting awfully impatient. And then Technoblade is turning, his last opponent dead at his feet, and his movements stutter as he finally, mercifully, sees Phil.
Phil stares up at the sky as boots splash through the mud toward him. Technoblade falls to his knees beside him, his breathing hoarse and shallow as careful hands pull his face from the muck, a calloused thumb swiping it away from his cheek. His other hand hovers over the hilt of the dagger, uncertain.
“Phil,” Technoblade says, and his heartbreak is raw and unfiltered, his voice already beginning to shake. “Phil, do you have a totem? Potions?”
Phil shakes his head. The look on Technoblade’s face is nothing short of devastation, his own bag empty, the bottles at his hip drained during the fight. The man glances desperately around, as though a totem is going to fall miraculously from the sky, and Phil feels the way his hands tighten, pulling Phil a little closer to his chest. He tries to speak, but a cough interrupts him, harsh and grating. Blood flecks his lips and bubbles in the back of his throat, and Technoblade is quick to dab it away with his sleeve, staining white cotton a dark crimson. Phil shudders for breath, his chest heaving and stuttering with every gasp. It’s already getting hard to breathe. Phil knows he doesn’t have much time.
Somehow, he’s not as scared as he expected. There’s a familiar scent on the wind, beneath the stench of copper and death—something sweet and nostalgic. It makes something warm stir in his chest, staving away some of the pain. Around him, he can already see her flowers beginning to bloom, great spider lilies blossoming up from the pools of his blood that cover the earth. They curl around him like an embrace, their stems twining around his hands and legs, trailing up his arms to curl almost protectively around his throat. He smiles as the petals tickle his jaw, some of them even teasing playfully at Technoblade’s fingers. His fear is quickly giving way to something kinder. Gentler. Something almost akin to anticipation, as he remembers just what— who is waiting for him on the other side.
His friend stares at the display with awe, tears still slipping freely down his cheeks. Phil coos somewhere deep down in the back of his throat, and manages to reach up, patting the side of his friend’s face. He laughs softly as Technoblade’s brow crinkles, mud smearing across his cheek.
“Hey there,” he says, and Technoblade binks down at him with something understanding amidst the pain. His love, in her mercy, has not only reminded Phil, but also Technoblade, of her promise. She will keep Phil safe. And when the time comes, she will bring Technoblade home as well, where the two of them both belong—together, at her side. Phil watches that sorrow start to melt away from Technoblade’s face, until he’s wearing a smile to match his own, something watery but no less real.
“Hey,” Technoblade says back. “Got impatient, old man? Couldn’t wait for me, too?”
Phil laughs again. The darkness at the edges of his vision is already pulling him under, tugging greedily at his mind. She’s the one who’s impatient.
“Think—” He coughs, and smiles around the blood. “Think she’s waited long enough, mate.”
Technoblade snorts.
“Bruh. This is a scam.” He tucks a strand of hair carefully behind Phil’s ear. “I get—what, a couple hundred years with you? And now she gets forever? Couldn’t even wait her turn.” Phil cuffs him weakly around the head. Technoblade whines dramatically, but catches Phil’s wrist and holds it. “Tell her to give me a warning before she pulls this with me, okay?”
“I’ll try,” Phil says, grinning so hard it hurts. “But you know how she gets when she wants something.”
“She’ll take care of you?”
“‘Course.” Phil hums as Technoblade rubs some of the blood away from his chin. “I’ll see you soon, anyway. Don’t think I haven’t noticed those grey hairs.” His friend scoffs indignantly, and Phil laughs again.
“Nah. Technoblade never dies, Phil. Especially not from bein’ an old man like you.”
“I’m literally dying, and you’re calling me old?” Phil’s voice pitches in mock offense.
“Am I wrong?” Technoblade huffs. “Bro, you’ve gotta be like—at least a thousand years old.”
“Five thousand, actually.”
“What? Now you tell me? I could’ve asked you so much about history!” Technoblade’s voice sounds nothing short of outraged, but there’s a twinkle in his eye and his smile stays strong. “You’re gonna tell me everything when I get there. No buts.”
“‘Course, mate. I’ll do you one better and show you.”
Technoblade goes quiet for a long moment. Phil can feel himself slipping away, the soft petals already starting to cover the sides of his face.
“I’ll miss you,” he finally says.
“Awww,” Phil coos. “I’ll miss you too. Don’t worry, Techno. Soon enough, you won’t be able to get rid of me, ‘kay?” He squeezes Technoblade’s wrist one last time. “You’ll be there soon, and then you’ll have to drink Kristin’s tea every day and tell her you love it, no matter what. Even if she still adds too much sugar.” He wrinkles his nose exaggeratedly, and it pulls one last laugh out of Technoblade.
“Goodbye, Phil,” Technoblade says, and Phil knows it’s okay to leave. He can feel her warmth nipping at his heels, urging him to hurry up, and to stop making her wait another second. The crows around him caw loudly, calling him home, and he smiles up at them, and at Technoblade.
“...Bye, mate. See you soon.”
He finally closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, she’s holding him.
She’s holding him, and she’s smiling, and she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
“Welcome home, angel,” she breathes, and the expression on her face is something he hopes he’ll remember for the rest of eternity. Her skin is warm against his, her palms soft as they cradle his cheeks, lifting his head from where it bows. He’s only ever seen his goddess cry once before, and yet now, there’s liquid starlight slipping down her cheeks, far too precious to waste. He hums in disapproval, and finds that he has the strength to return her embrace. There’s no more pain as he lifts his head to press his forehead against hers, their noses bumping as they breathe together. It’s easy to lose himself in her eyes, staring into warm brown that cradles the entire universe within.
Gods, she’s so beautiful.
“I missed you,” he says reverently, and she laughs, her breath warm against his lips. “Gods, I missed you so much.” She leans forward to press them together, soft and sweet and full of centuries of bittersweet longing. He leans into the touch, and when they pull away he surges back for another, and then another, and then a dozen more—his lips peppering kisses across every inch of her face that he can reach, heedless of the giggles and halfhearted protests. Her fingers thumb across his cheeks, gently wiping away the tears he hadn’t even realized had begun to trickle.
“Took you long enough,” she says, but there’s no resentment there. She’d been the one to let him stay away so long, after all—his wings and life a gift from her blessing. She’d given him the promise of a long life alongside his loved ones, understanding that it would take him centuries to return to her side. She’d been patient enough for a hundred lifetimes, and now he’s finally here, and he’s holding her, and there’s no other place in the world he’d rather be.
“I’m sorry for making you wait,” he breathes. She presses another kiss to his lips, silencing him, stealing his words away. I love you, the kiss says, better than any words ever could. I love you, her hands say, as they cradle his face as though he’s the most important thing in the entire universe. I love you, her smile says, as she pulls away to meet his gaze, her joy enough to steal his breath away all over again. And she can have it—every breath, every heartbeat. It all belongs to her—it always has.
“That’s alright,” Kristin says, as patient as she always has been, forever waiting two steps behind the ones she loves. “We have all the time in the world.”
One eternity is over, and another yet to begin. Death’s angel has finally returned to her side, and as he sits comfortably in her embrace, his cheek pressed to hers and their arms intertwined, he finds that he doesn’t ever want to move from this place. He hums, and it bubbles into a happy chirp, and Kristin’s body shakes beneath the force of her laugh. Unashamed, he makes the birdlike noise again, this time muffling it into her neck, his breath tickling her skin. She coos, and does not judge him for it, pursing her lips together and whistling right back. It’s a crude imitation, but one that’s full of love, and he steals another kiss from her in a heartbeat, silencing her and stealing her breath along with it.
“I have so much to show you,” Kristin says around a laugh, dark lips stretched wide in a grin as she pulls away from him. She stands, and the hand she offers is warm and steady. He takes it without hesitation, pulled up into her waiting arms. “Angel, you’ve missed so much. I took after you, you know.”
“Oh?” Phil says, thumbing absently over the ring that rests on her finger, their fingers firmly intertwined. “How so?” There are a lot of ways she could have taken after him, and most for the worse. He’s stubborn, bullheaded, and reckless on a good day. It’s clear she thinks the same, because her laugh splits the night air as she cups his face in her hands, tracing over the scruff along his jaw. And how is he meant to focus, to get anything done at all when she keeps looking at him like this? He’s alright with that, though. He’s more than happy to spend every few steps stopping for a kiss, because they have centuries to make up for. Too much will never be enough—not when it’s her.
“Relax,” she says, in that sly, teasing voice. “I’ve been building, love. Creating.”
Phil hums, not opening his eyes as their noses bump.
“Did you even hear me?” she asks, with a breathless little giggle. “Oh, you silly old crow.”
“Says the one who fell for this silly old crow,” he answers right back with a smirk, eyes still shut.
“If I remember right,” she says, breath warm against his lips, “— you fell for me. And quite literally, too.” She’d caught him falling into the void all those years ago, flightless, facing death at the hands of his own hubris. She’d caught him and blessed him with his wings, and the soul of a crow to match the dark feathers.
“Wouldn’t change a thing,” Phil quips right back, and watches as she shakes her head fondly at him. He remembers when he’d first laid eyes on her all those centuries ago—when he’d first laid eyes on dark hair and eyes amidst the void, rising out of the darkness to cradle his broken form in her palms. She’d been just as beautiful that day as she is now, and he says as much, speaking reverently as he bows his head to kiss her fingers.
“You’re such a sap,” she replies, but her eyes are warm and her voice kind.
“Your sap,” he fires back easily. “You’re stuck with me again, now.”
“Forever and always,” she responds. “And don’t you forget— you’re the one stuck with me. Which one of us is the goddess here?”
Phil pretends to think. She laughs, and shoves him away. He’s quick to glue himself back to her side, one wing folding carefully around her back, tucking her gently against him.
One wing, strong and beautiful and whole again.
“There’s nobody I’d rather be stuck with for eternity,” he says. He knows she hears the I love you, woven into every syllable. Gods, he loves her. He loves her more than he thought could ever be possible. He loves her so much it hurts, even now, as he stands at her side, staring over the precipice of forever. It can’t be fair, how much he loves her, and yet she loves him, too, and she looks at him like he’s the most precious thing in her entire universe. For a long moment, they just stare, and the silence says more than any words could, their pledge written into the very stars around them. Eventually, though, Phil laughs, and she does too, and he remembers to finally breathe. There’s no need to hold it anymore. No need to hang on to every moment. There are infinitely more steps ahead of them, now. More memories to make, for as long as they choose.
“...Now,” Phil says softly, endlessly in love. “What were you saying about a project?”
“Follow me,” she says, taking his hands and leading him across a pathway of stars.
And he smiles, and holds her close, and follows.