Archive of Our Own

Alva dislikes Herman Zeeman from the very first moment he lays eyes on him.

For one thing, he holds himself with a supercilious air, suit pressed and hair styled in a way that reeks of haughtiness. Secondly, Alva has never much liked the idea of working with someone at all; he has only ever trusted his own calculations and judgment. They have, after all, carried him this far.

"Lorenz," says his teacher, entirely oblivious to the tension in the room as he places a hand on each of their shoulders, "you and Zeeman are our top students, and you will make an excellent match. Your work ethics are... a bit different, but I believe that your goals are similar, and together, you will achieve extraordinary things."

"Extraordinary indeed," Herman echoes, a faint smile playing up along the edges of his mouth as he reaches out a hand. Alva stares at it for a moment, when he takes it, it is begrudgingly, reluctantly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lorenz. I hope we'll be able to get along."

The way he puts it makes it sound like a threat. Alva smiles too, cold and grim as he takes Herman's hand and squeezes it by the knuckles. "I'm sure," he agrees. "The pleasure is all mine."

***

One thing Alva discovers about Herman from the get-go is that he talks, a lot.

The brunette rambles on in his ear during the entire walk to their new assigned workroom about everything imaginable; his own projects, projects that their teacher told him Alva has been working on (is that not some sort of confidential information?), techniques that he'd like to experiment with, ideas for future projects. Alva is so fed up with him by the time they reach the room that he has half a mind to slam the door and lock Herman outside. Of course, he doesn't, because he's a well-bred gentleman, so instead he forces a wan smile and begins to unpack his blueprints from his suitcase.

"... Lorenz? Mr. Lorenz, are you listening?" Herman prods Alva in the shoulder.

"No," Alva answers.

Herman sits down next to him, going quiet for a moment. Alva almost feels guilty, until:

"Is it true that you've been attempting to work on a perpetual motion machine?"

Alva's hand slips. The blueprints fall to the floor.

"What if I am?" he answers at last, bending over to pick the papers up before Herman can stick his nose into them.

"Nothing, only-" Herman sucks in a breath. "That has been my goal as well. I've dedicated my life to the creation of a perpetual motion machine, you see, but I've been unable to achieve anything past the rudimentary steps."

"Always the issue, isn't it?" Alva says dryly, rolling his blueprints and stacking them on the far edge of the work table. Now he remembers their teacher saying something about perpetual motion work before arranging the meeting with Herman. It's become a sort of distant dream, though, put on the back burner while he works on more practical ideas. The laws of nature are not meant to be so easily broken.

Herman lays a hand out over the table to emphasize his next words. "I truly believe, Mr. Lorenz, that you may be the last component of the formula."

"Oh, I'm a component now?" Alva doesn't know whether to be offended or disturbed by the choice of wording; in the end, he decides not to formulate an opinion on it, settling for the wry remark.

"As am I, and as is all of this," Herman tells him proudly, showing him stacks of prints and formulas that were tucked under his arm. Alva takes them against his better judgment, looking over them curiously. Many of the calculations and conclusions are ideas that he's already come to himself; to his surprise, though, there are others as well, things that he has overlooked or misjudged. When he's finished, he glances up at Herman, who seems to be waiting for something; Alva can't imagine what.

"It's innovative," he says at last, handing them back over. "And incredibly dangerous."

"Oh, come now." Herman scoffs and shakes his head. "To achieve something great, one must risk everything."

"Which philosopher is that?" Alva raises a brow as he skirts the long worktable to pin up some of his own papers on the wall.

"You jest, but I'm a bit of a philosopher myself," Herman says sagely, straightening his dress shirt as he slips his suit jacket off and drapes it over the back of his chair. "I'll convert you soon enough."

"I'll be waiting." Alva cracks the hint of a smile, ever so brief, but he knows Herman sees it all the same. "Sit down, then, and hand me those blueprints. If you're serious about this, we'd best get started."

***

As weeks pass, Alva finds himself beginning to grow accustomed to the sound of Herman's voice and the presence always at his back. At first, it was irritating, but now it's become comforting, in an odd way. They keep each other in check and catch each other's errors, speeding along the process much faster than if they'd been working on their own. And in a way, they balance each other out; Alva's efficient pragmatism counters Herman's fiery passion well.

"Hand me that, quickly!" Herman shouts at him, trying desperately to screw a wire into place. Alva scrambles to hand him a gear, wincing as smoke begins to filter up out of the machine. Herman attempts to place the gear on, but with that, the machine overheats and dies down, going silent.

"Well," Herman says after a little while. "We miscalculated something."

"You think?" Alva glares at the mass of blackened metal. "It's absolutely melted down. You said you-"

"I know what I said!" Herman growls, and Alva recoils in surprise. "Here, just- hand me that paper-"

He reaches over to pry Alva's fingers off one of the formula sheets, scanning over it viciously. Towards the bottom, he freezes, going red slowly.

"What is it?" Alva sighs, leaning over him to look. For a moment, they both stare at the clear miscalculation where something is multiplied instead of divided.

"Oh," Herman says at last. "I really thought I fixed that."

Alva rolls his eyes so hard it hurts. He wonders when exactly this routine started to feel so natural. "Fine. Let's just try again. Double check calculations this time."

***

A few months later, Alva has begun to consider Herman as simply another addition to his own life. They pass most of the days at each other's sides, exchanging ideas and theories. However, Alva also finds that he still makes his most clear discoveries when alone.

He's sitting over a pile of books, poring through pages and words left behind by predecessors long gone by, when it hits him- something they've been missing the whole time. Alva stands quickly, slamming the book shut as he hurries to reach for paper before realizing he left his pencils in the workroom. "Zeeman!" he shouts.

There's no answer, and Alva curses under his breath as he hustles back down the short corridor into the main part of the room. "Zeeman, what are you-"

He cuts himself off short as he realizes that Herman is slumped over on the table. For one moment, he feels cold all over, until he sees the faint rise and fall of the other's back and realizes that he's simply fallen asleep. Or perhaps 'passed out' would be the more appropriate term, given how he's sprawled across the wood with his cheek resting against the blueprints. Alva huffs, rubbing his forehead as he drapes Herman's jacket over him; if the gesture is a bit too tender... well, nobody else is here to see. "I told you not to overwork yourself," he says, knowing Herman can't hear him. No matter; he'll mark down his realizations for now, and he's sure Herman will be happy to hear of them once he wakes.

Alva has never worked for approval, nor for praise, but for some reason, the idea of pleasing Herman with this new information makes him feel lighter somehow. As he scratches down numbers, he reasons that it's only natural to want to share these findings, but as he glances over to Herman's face, he feels himself hesitate. He looks away with a sharp hiss, raking a hand through his pale hair as he scowls. Something is happening to him, he's certain of it. Perhaps he's overworked as well and just needs some sleep. Yes, that's it, he decides. Some more rest and this silly train of thought will vanish as if it never existed.

***

Unfortunately for Alva, such fanciful ideas are not meant to be. He finds his mind wandering back to it constantly, even in the midst of work; it bogs him down every waking moment, and he is torn between distancing himself from Herman and sticking close to him. It isn’t as if there’s an option, though, not really. They are stuck with each other, for better or for worse. Herman seems to have no such misgivings, zealous as ever, and Alva can’t tell whether that’s good or bad or what it means for him.

"I'm back," Alva calls with a heavy sigh on one evening, dumping the supplies that Herman had requested down unceremoniously on the table. He's fairly sure that most of them were unnecessary, but the idea of having to make a second trip didn't exactly appeal to him. He pokes through them, just to ensure that everything is there: screws, wires, pieces of metal. Good. Herman had better not complain that anything is missing, because Alva knows this is everything.

Realizing he hasn't received a response yet, Alva frowns, venturing further into the building. "Herman?" he calls out a bit uncertainly. When he still gets no answer, Alva sighs in aggravation, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. He'd made Herman promise not to resume work until he got back, and yet... that man really doesn't know how to take a break. Alva can't blame him; he can be a bit of a workaholic himself, but there's a reason he wants to be there when Herman is working.

He knows the other isn't a child; he's one of the most intelligent men Alva has ever met. Scrap that, he is the most intelligent man he's ever met. But he certainly doesn't act it sometimes. Alva often feels that he has to observe his every move with the eye of a hawk.

He steps down the stairs to the basement workroom, wrinkling his nose as he smells something singed on the air. That really doesn't seem like a good sign. "If you decide to burn down the house, at least wait for me next time," he gripes as he reaches the foot of the stairs and reaches for the door.

As soon as he opens it even a crack, Herman flinches and turns quickly. "Hold on!" the brunette shouts, stepping towards Alva and lifting his arms frantically. It's too late, though; behind him, the machine makes a loud sputtering noise before bursting into a cloud of smoke, sparks flying everywhere in trails of orange and red. Several items crash down from the nearby shelves. Herman shouts out, but the smoke is too thick to see him; Alva feels his chest tighten up, and not just from the smoke. He coughs, bringing his sleeve up to cover his mouth as he hurries into the room.

Several minutes later, Alva is hovering over Herman, wrapping his arm in a patchwork of gauze to hide his relief and taking a bit too much satisfaction in the way Herman winces every time he pulls the bandages too tight. "I told you," he grits out as he rips the gauze off of the roll, "to wait until I brought back the necessary equipment."

Herman has enough grace to look ever so slightly sheepish as he rubs his wrist once Alva lets go of him. "I know what I'm doing," he says weakly.

"Clearly not," Alva mutters, folding his arms as he steps back. Herman's shirt is hanging half off of his body from his shoulder to make more room for Alva to work on bandaging his arm; the expanse of his chest right under the umbrage of his throat seems to absorb the gentle candlelight, giving the appearance of a black hole. Alva finds himself staring and rips his gaze away. "You might have waited ten minutes for me. What are you in such a rush for?"

Herman grins, crooked at the edges in the way that always makes Alva's breath catch somewhere in the bottom of his throat. "We’re almost there, Alva. We're so close, only-"

"Only what?" Alva doesn't mean to shout, but he does; when Herman steps back, he feels a flicker of hesitation at the bottom of his ribcage, but he still presses onward, bitter smoke curling up from his tongue. "God damn it, Zeeman, only what? You're too reckless! You need to face reality. It won't always work out the way you want it to.”

The smile is gone from Herman's face. "What, would you prefer to withdraw, then?" he snaps back, too quick to rise to the bait, too quick to catch fire; his fervency goes both ways, liable to manifest in either excitement or snappish frustration. "I didn't take you for a coward, Alva."

"You fool." Alva laughs dryly and shakes his head. "Do you truly think it's for myself that I fear?"

Herman is struck dumb. His lashes lower over his eyes; the flame is extinguished by the shadowed fringe.

Alva tries to stop himself from continuing, but it flows over like a dam, breaking everything in its path. "You allow your- your fantastical ideas to haze your judgment. You have a genius mind, but what's the point if you endanger it all with rash decisions? Every day I fear that your hastiness will overcome your good sense. You're going to kill yourself if you keep this up. I need you, Herman."

He closes his mouth with a dull snap.

Herman inhales, shaky and rough, and for a moment Alva thinks that he will shout back, but when Herman speaks, it is barely a whisper. "... I know."

Alva sits down and drops his head into his hands, doing his best to get a grip, to put back up the usual cold and practical demeanor, to fold his emotions back up into a square-sized pocket and hide them away for the greater good. "Then please. Why can't you respect my wishes? We are partners in this."

"I know," Herman repeats. When Alva looks back up, he finds the brunette's bottom lip caught between his teeth, tugging it fretfully, and he resists the urge to reach out and gently stroke under it. "I know, I know. I just... I get disheartened, Alva. Every time, every time I think we've done something, there's a new problem, a new issue to be fixed. How much longer will it take?"

"As long as it needs." Alva shakes his head. "Mind you, it'll be never if you wind up blowing yourself up."

Herman laughs weakly. "I suppose so."

They sit for several minutes until Alva forces himself to break the silence, pushing his chair back with a squeak against the floor to stand. "I'll go and fetch the things you asked for. Rest here a moment; I mean it this time."

He moves to step out of the room, but freezes as he feels fingers close around his wrist. When he looks down, Herman meets his eyes hesitantly, mouth moving for a moment before the words form. "... Alva. Thank you."

Alva stares down at him and watches the way his throat bobs. Herman looks back at him, and Alva realizes how tired he appears. They both are, he supposes. There are bags around eyes that had once been lively and bright, a frailness in angled shoulders that had been broad and strong before. Alva knows he ought to say something, but he cannot summon words, and when Herman's fingers weaken and slip off of his arm, he only stands for several seconds before turning to flee the room.

***

"Come here, Lorenz," Herman says pompously on an evening several months later, patting the table in front of him. After the last incident, he seems to have taken Alva’s words of caution more seriously, though he still has something to learn in the way of humble manners. Alva sends him a stony look but does indeed come closer, sitting across from Herman. "Have you found anything?" he asks.

"What do you think?" Herman is grinning even as he pushes the blueprints over to Alva. Alva reaches for his glasses and blinks through the lenses a few times before his eyes focus in on the designs in front of him. Once they do, though, his jaw goes slack in surprise. He flicks a gaze up to Herman, who's watching him proudly. "This is..."

"The manipulation of the entropy," Herman confirms. "If we can get a handle on this, enough to cool the air before it heats, we can send another charge in and maintain it- through here. Enough to sustain something else that's already functioning. I only haven't figured out how yet."

Alva leans back in his seat, studying the papers over again. Herman stands up and comes around to his side of the table, peering over his shoulder. For once, Alva doesn't push his face away, too busy glancing at the sketches of the machine. "You're really doing it," he mutters.

"We're really doing it," Herman corrects him, gripping him by the shoulder. "I couldn't have done this without you, Alva. Truly."

"Oh?" Alva smirks, shaking his head as he glances back at Herman over the rim of the glasses that he’s come to require due to too many nights squinting over tiny words. "So you admit that you do, in fact, need my help?"

"I won't be saying it again," Herman warns him, "so don't get cocky." Despite his words, he looks happier than Alva has seen him in a long time; it lifts Alva's spirits as well, and in a sudden rush of something, he reaches up to cover Herman's hand on his shoulder with his own.

Herman looks down at him sharply, expression turning surprised but not displeased. Alva stares back at him, refusing to break eye contact. Herman studies his gaze for a long moment, seeming to search for something; at last his brow softens, and Alva wonders if he found what he was looking for. Neither of them speak for a long moment as Alva sets the blueprints down on the table with a soft crinkle of paper.

"Herman-" he starts to say at last, flinching as his own voice pierces the silence, but Herman stops him by turning over his hand to squeeze Alva's. His palm is not soft as a nobleman's should be, but rough and calloused from years of working with machinery. It feels secure and familiar. Alva has felt his hand before, but never like this, never with this fragility between them that is thin like glass and sharp like a knife. He fears it, but yearns for it also. Perhaps that is why he doesn't turn away as Herman's fingers ghost up to his sharp jaw, so light that he can barely feel them.

"Tell me if-" Herman starts, and the sound of his voice nearly breaks the mood instantly. Alva does the only thing he can think of: pushes forwards and kisses him, puts all his faith into this new unknown and kisses Herman Zeeman on the lips with tender roughness. Herman gasps against his mouth for only a split second, and Alva fears that somehow he has misread it all before Herman is kissing him back. He tastes like... nothing, really. Alva pays no mind to such trivial ideas; only to the warmth of lips on his, the warmth of a hand against his face that makes him crumble and break.

They split apart, and Alva hopes his face isn't as red as Herman's. They look at each other for several seconds that stretch out too long; then Herman grins again, but this time it's a stupid sort of grin, the kind that makes Alva sag over and hide his own smile in Herman's shoulder. "God," he half-laughs, half-snorts, "I absolutely despise you."

"I know." Herman has the audacity to smirk wider despite his flustered appearance, pulling Alva up out of his seat with a yank on his wrist. Alva is hyper aware of slender arms winding around his waist, thumbs curling up the slopes of his rib bones to pull him close. He won't say that it makes his knees buckle ever so slightly, but something about the way that Herman is looking at him makes him feel helplessly weak. He feels his throat bob as Herman brushes his bangs out of his face, and then he's kissing him again, hungry and ravenous with all the ardency in his nature.

***

"I've got it," Herman says suddenly afterwards, shooting up from behind Alva with a hum under his breath. "I've got it! Something, anyway. Here, hand me that notebook-" He reaches over Alva to scrabble around on the table next to the bed for his book of concepts, turning it to the very last page and scribbling with a lead pencil. Alva groans and turns over to bury his face in the pillow. "What."

"Magnets!" When Alva looks up again, Herman is nearly beaming. He shoves the notebook into Alva's face, as if he can read it that close up without his glasses. "See- if we put magnets here and here-" he taps two spots on a rough sketch with the butt of the pencil- "we can establish a link of constant polarity between the two ends. Ah, but the..." He trails off into a mutter again, frowning.

Alva takes the opportunity to pluck the notebook out of his hands and toss it right back to the desk. He's sure he'll find it interesting to look through and expand upon later, but right now, he's tired. "Go to sleep, Zeeman," he says. "Think about it tomorrow."

He thinks that Herman is about to ignore him; after a moment, though, the other lays back down behind him, linking his arms around Alva's waist. Alva shivers as warm hands drift across the flat lines of his stomach; Herman has always seemed to run hot. Not that he's been... paying attention to something like that, of course.....

"Let me know what you think later," Herman mutters right into his ear, breath washing across the lobe, and it's the most unattractively attractive thing that Alva's ever heard, in the most unstupidly stupid way possible.

"Tomorrow. When I can see it," he mutters in answer, hoping the pale skin of his ears is not as red-hot as it feels. "Good night."

"Mhmm.. hm. Good night,” Herman sighs, already sounding half-asleep.

***

When they receive the invitation to showcase at an exposition, Alva is quick to shun the idea. “The machine is nowhere near finished,” he points out as Herman scans over the elaborately embellished piece of parchment.

“It doesn’t say we have to do that,” Herman argues, turning the paper back around, as if Alva hasn’t already seen it ten times by now. “We could bring some of the other things.”

“The failures, you mean,” Alva murmurs. “No need to sugarcoat it.”

They aren’t entirely failures, persay; attempts to create the perpetual motion machine have led them to some new discoveries, ones that will certainly be welcomed at a scientific exposition, but is it really worth it to show them?

“Don’t be so pessimistic all the time.” Herman brings a hand up to card it through Alva’s pale hair, massaging his scalp. Alva purses his lips and makes an unenthusiastic attempt to pull away, though they both know he doesn’t want to; Herman is privy to all of his weaknesses by now, and of course he uses such knowledge against him. “It might be worth it. Besides, it’s a good opportunity, wouldn’t you say?”

“Mm.” Alva closes his eyes and leans his head against Herman’s shoulder, knowing he can’t win this. “Very well, if you’re that keen on it.”

That is how they find themselves in a large mansion, in the midst of what seems to be more of a party than an exposition. “I told you this wouldn’t be a good idea,” Alva hisses into Herman’s ear, watching with faint disgust as young couples dance to and fro in the hall and older nobles chat amongst themselves. In the corner of the room are a few elderly men in front of diagrams and devices, looking miffed as they’re all but ignored.

Herman glares at him. “You don’t know that it isn’t a good idea yet. Come.” He brushes past Alva, who’s left with no other option but to follow.

Somewhere in the milling crowd, they end up separated; Alva considers simply leaving the premises, but that’s when a hand taps him on the shoulder. He turns, expecting to see Herman, but is instead met with an older, rather severe-looking gentleman.

“... Can I help you?” he prompts when the man doesn’t say anything.

“Ah..! Ah, yes. You are Alva Lorenz?” The man peers at him a bit suspiciously.

“Yes, that would be me. And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with, sir?”

The man grabs his hand and shakes it aggressively. “Ludwig Kaiser. The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Lorenz. I’ve heard a great deal about you and your research partner.”

Alva blinks, taken aback somewhat; he hadn’t realized news of their endeavors had even traveled so far. Perhaps he’s been holed up a bit too much recently. “Oh? Is that so?”

“Yes, yes. You are attempting to create a perpetual motion machine, from what I understand? Very admirable.” Kaiser smiles, all teeth, and Alva suddenly feels vaguely threatened. “How is your research coming along so far?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kaiser,” Alva says as politely as he can, “but I’m not willing to release such information to the public as of yet.”

“Oh, of course.” Kaiser laughs and lands a heavy hand over his shoulder. Alva looks around for Herman, but finds no sign of him as he’s practically dragged further into the masses.

“You see,” Kaiser begins, “I am a painter, a man of the arts, but science has always interested me greatly, as does the concept of perpetual motion. A source of constant energy; only imagine! We could run the entire world on the same forces, recycled over and over.”

“I don’t need to imagine,” Alva answers, in a sudden burst of indignance. “I am creating it. I would know better than anyone.”

“Oh, yes… Forgive me.” Kaiser pats him on the shoulder. “Are you here with your partner- Zeeman, was it?”

“Am I missing something?”

Alva barely holds back a breath of relief as Herman seems to materialize at his side upon hearing his name. The brunette turns an inquisitive glance on Kaiser; Alva cuts in sharply. “Not at all. Mr. Ludwig Kaiser was only asking how our research is progressing.”

Kaiser grins and holds out a hand; Herman returns the expression and takes the hand. Neither of their smiles meet their eyes. Alva clears his throat, but that’s when another voice cuts in. “Papa, are you bothering these men as well?”

All three of them turn sharply to see two women, both in elegant silk dresses. Kaiser laughs and shakes his head. “Mina, I was wondering where you ran off to. Now why would I be bothering anyone?”

The girl who spoke, Mina, purses her lips at her father, looking unconvinced. “I know you,” she answers crisply, before turning a curious gaze on Alva.

“I apologize,” Kaiser offers to nobody in particular. “This is my daughter, Mina, and-” He turns to the other girl. “I’m sorry, my dear-”

“We’ve already met,” Herman answers, to Alva’s surprise. “Đuka Balsa, right?”
Đuka nods, curtsying to Alva. “I’m a friend of Mina’s. It’s a pleasure, Mr. Lorenz. Mr. Zeeman has already spoken much about you in the short time since we’ve met.”

“Is that so?” Alva sends a warning glance towards Herman, who only shrugs in response.

“Well then, don’t let me intrude. Why don’t I leave you to get further acquainted?” Kaiser turns a look on his daughter that clearly has some sort of meaning behind it; obviously not a positive one, considering the stony glare she sends back. “The night is still young, after all. Good evening, Mr. Zeeman, Mr. Lorenz. Ms. Balsa.” He tips his hat to them, and then he’s gone.

The four of them stand in awkward silence as soft music plays from the strings quartet performing in the corner of the hall. Alva notices the way Đuka edges closer to Mina, mirroring the way he scoots closer to Herman.

“Well,” Herman says at last. “I’m nearly suffocating in here. Why don’t we head out for some air, Alva? Ladies, you’re welcome to join us, but there’s really no need-”

“I need to get out of here,” Mina mutters before he even finishes speaking. “I feel as if I’ve been here for hours. Papa won’t stop introducing me to the most decrepit old men.” She pauses. “No offense, of course. I don’t mean you two anyhow. Will you come, Đuka?”

“Of course.” Đuka dips her head. Herman and Alva exchange another dubious glance, but there’s nothing to be done about it; they file out of the room as quietly as possible, slipping out through the side door into the air of the garden outside of the mansion.

Alva sighs, breathing in the crisp evening air. The sun has nearly set by now, and a crepuscular glow is quickly shrouding the world in gentle hues of violet. Herman bumps him gently with his shoulder, and Alva resists the urge to bump him back, feeling the girls’ eyes on them.

“I apologize if my father made either of you uncomfortable,” Mina speaks up suddenly, folding her hands in her lap as she takes a seat on the bench under the pergola. Đuka sits down beside her; Alva wonders if he’s imagining how closely they’re pressed in next to each other. “He’s insistent on forming connections with men of a higher intellect than him, and he’s obsessed with finding me a suitable husband of that caliber.” She forces a smile. “Really, I-”

“That’s not what you want anyway, is it?” Herman returns the smile, easier this time. “I understand.”

“Herman!” Alva hisses, jabbing him in the side, but Herman holds up a hand. “It’s fine,” he murmurs, just as Mina turns an accusatory stare on Đuka. “You told him?” she demands.

Đuka raises a brow. “I knew your father would approach one of them, so I did. It would only complicate things if I didn’t. Don’t worry. They will keep the secret.” She turns unnervingly cold eyes on both of them, as if in warning.

“That isn’t the point.” Mina balls up her fists in her lap. “You don’t know how they could have responded-”

“But it’s fine.” Đuka takes the other woman’s hand in her own and squeezes it. “We’re fine. Besides, I already knew, otherwise I would never have said anything.” Her gaze turns amused as it slides from Alva to Herman. “You aren’t very subtle, Mr. Zeeman.”

Alva exhales, feeling tension escape his shoulders as his suspicions are confirmed. When he glances over again, he realizes that Herman is blushing at Đuka’s words, which is far more endearing than it should be and causes warmth to rise to his own cheeks. He raises his own brow defiantly, glaring at Herman with markedly less severity than before. “What exactly were you telling her about me?”

“Ah… it doesn’t matter,” Herman rushes to assure him. “Once she told me about herself and Miss Kaiser, though, I knew I could speak openly. I hope… “

Alva waves a hand through the air, shaking his head. “What’s done is done,” he states, sitting down on the second bench across from the women. Seeing that Herman looks a bit lost, he sighs, adding: “It’s fine, Herman. Sit down, you’re making me nervous.”

Herman does indeed sit next to him, still prim and proper despite how he pulls at his collar. “Do you know-” he begins to say, and then cuts himself off.

Đuka glances up with a crook of her dark brow. Herman clears his throat. “We may be able to use this to our advantage. All four of us.”

***

“Absolutely not,” Alva says for the tenth time on the carriage ride back home. He lowers his voice to a whisper so that the driver won’t overhear. “You aren’t really intending for us to marry them, are you?”

“Why not?” Herman argues. “We’re both handsome young bachelors in the public eye; people will start wondering why we haven’t taken wives yet. Why not seize this opportunity? They know how we are, we know how they are; nothing will change at all, only they’ll take our names and we’ll all be more secure for it.”

Alva grimaces. “It isn’t that simple. Do you know what a commitment marriage is? How many responsibilities you’ll have?”

Herman looks away, out the window. “I know. I’m only asking for you to think it over, Alva. I thought you would have seen the efficiency in it immediately. Just consider it. Yes?”

“... Fine,” Alva grumbles. “I’ll consider it.”

***

Some time later, Alva and Mina Lorenz have purchased a house. Of course, neither of them will be living in it, not really, and Alva spends most of his time in the workroom anyhow. It’s only to satisfy the curiosity of the public.

Đuka has “moved in” with Herman to a mansion owned by his family. The women spend most days in each other’s company, masquerading as good friends who bond over the shared experience of having such scientific geniuses as husbands, while Alva and Herman continue life much as before.

Alva often forgets that he even has a wife, in all honesty. After making appearances at the exposition, both he and Herman have become more well-known, and are often invited out to social gatherings. Already being noblemen, they have experience with these sorts of things, yes, but the invitations are now nearly incessant. He often finds himself with Mina on his arm, both of them lingering at the sides of the room in an attempt to avoid the crowd while Herman and Đuka humor the assault of compliments and questions from other partygoers.

All in all, though, everything seems to be going fairly well, much more smoothly than Alva anticipated.

That is, until nearly a year later.

Mina and Đuka are spending the day at Mina’s and Alva’s home, while Herman has managed to smuggle Alva into his mansion. Alva lies draped across Herman’s form in the plush bed, drifting in and out of consciousness, until he hears five fateful words.

"I'm leaving for a while."

He sits up sharply, dislodging Herman's arm from around him. It's the first he's hearing of this. "What do you mean?" He glances down, but Herman's expression, already hidden by his bangs, gives away nothing.

"How long is a while?" he presses when Herman still doesn't answer. Surely he means only a few days. Perhaps there are some parts he needs from one of the next towns over?

"I don't know." Herman's voice is raspy like gears creaking, silencing Alva effectively. "Maybe days. Maybe months."

"What are you talking about?" Alva shakes his head with a huff. "You never said-"

"I didn't know until tonight," Herman cuts in crisply. "It's only been a few hours since I found out."

Alva breathes in and out very slowly. "Where are you going?"

"... I can't tell you," Herman says quietly.

Alva scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head again. "First you won't tell me that you're going off somewhere and now you can't even tell me where you're going?" He knows he's likely overreacting somewhat, but being around Herman does something to his logic; common sense flies out the window when it comes to such a sweet addiction.

"Don't be like that." Herman sits up, reaching for him, but Alva moves away, wrapping the sheets around himself. Herman sighs in frustration. "Look, Alva, I promise if I could tell you, I really would. But the fact stands that I cannot."

"No, of course," Alva answers coolly. "I understand. Go, then." He lays back down, facing away from Herman and closing his eyes resiliently.

Rough lips caress the dip of his neck just over his spine, fingers gently scratching through his hair in apology. "I'm sorry," Herman mutters against his skin. "Alva, please, look at me."

When Alva doesn't move, Herman turns him over, holding his face firmly. Alva's eyes lock onto Herman's, and the sorrow reflected there startles even him.

"I care for you," Herman says, in a rush, "deeply. You have been there for me always, since the start of all of this. And I deeply regret that I can't share the next step of my journey with you. But you understand how much this means to me. And you will understand that whatever needs to be done... must be done."

Herman's tone of voice unnerves Alva. He looks at Herman, really looks at him. "What are you going to do?" he whispers, not expecting an answer.

Herman only smiles grimly and falls back onto the mattress again, staring up at the ceiling. He cuts a spindly, lonesome figure, spread out over the bed covered with nothing but the thin sheets. "I'm leaving tomorrow," he says. "I don't know when I will see you again."

"... You'll write?" Alva is hesitant to ask.

"I'll try." Herman blinks at him dully. "I really am sorry."

Alva wonders, with frightening clarity, if all of this is worth it. Then he thinks about the flint in Herman's blood and knows the answer to that doesn't matter. He reaches out to take Herman's hand. Herman holds it tight, moves over until Alva's head is on his chest and he can hear the thum, thum of his heart like clockwork.

Herman is gone the next morning, and Alva is left to himself again, as he had been for years; only now, he finds out what it really means to be alone.

***

Of course, he isn’t really alone. Đuka, while harboring no romantic feelings for Herman, has come to form a deep friendship with him, and is also dismayed by the inventor’s abrupt departure; Alva spends many a gloomy day in her and Mina’s company, attempting to fiddle with the manuscripts of the machine.

In reality, his passion for this project is dwindling. They’ve made progress, yes, but without Herman, Alva feels dull inside, as if none of it amounts to anything. He loses his grip on the thread.

Herman does send letters at first, short phrases that are barely long enough to satisfy Alva, and then those stop too and the money starts to come. It’s small amounts at first, growing larger and larger, each with the same note enclosed in the envelope: For research. Alva wants to laugh. Does Herman think this is what he really wants? That this is what will appease him?

As the money keeps flowing in, though, Alva’s scorn starts to become replaced with concern. He knows Herman is rich, but this much money is a stretch even for him. It only gets worse when he confers with Đuka, who confirms with barely repressed anger in her voice that Herman is spending all of their investments; indeed, their entire combined fortune is beginning to dwindle. Alva feels that he should apologize, but he cannot even do that; he begrudges receiving the money just as much as she does losing it. God, Herman, he wants to spit, what are you doing?

It only becomes worse when Alva is roused one night by a set of rapid knocks on his door, over and over, as if whoever is outside is desperate. For a wild moment, as he stumbles out of bed and towards the door, he thinks of Herman; Herman at his front step, with that rueful smile and that ironed suit.

But when he reaches the door, he finds that Mina has beat him there, and in her arms is Đuka. Alva can barely hold back a sound of surprise; she looks worse than he has ever seen her, dark hair falling into her face and sweat caking her hairline. She looks up at him, and the haunted look in her eyes is something he will always remember.

"I'm sorry-" She coughs, wiping her mouth. "I had nowhere else to go-"

"What's the matter?" Alva cuts her off, waving aside unnecessary apologies.

"No, you don't understand." She shakes her head aggressively. "Alva... I'm pregnant."

For a moment, Alva thinks she's joking.

"You... ?" He looks at Mina, checking to make sure he hasn't gone insane, but her expression is grim as she holds Đuka up by the shoulders. "But how..."

She shakes her head, clutching her stomach. "I'm sorry," she rasps. "I should have told you. Herman, the morning after leaving your house... he came to me and he said he needed to make sure his blood passed on. We talked about it, and I thought it wouldn't work anyway, so I agreed to it so that he would be at ease. But..."

Alva sits down heavily in a chair. He and Herman had indeed spoken about the matter of children; Alva, while not having any interest in the idea, agreed to the concept of Herman trying for them, but it was supposed to be planned out, fully discussed between all of them. Not like this. Certainly not with Herman's money- Đuka's money- running so dangerously low.

"You're certain?" he asks at last.

"Yes." Đuka wraps her arms a bit tighter around herself. Mina glances between the two of them helplessly and bows her head.

When Alva speaks again, he is struggling to stay composed, and he congratulates himself on doing a fairly good job of it. "I can't help you."

Đuka's eyes flash silver as she sneers through her pain. "I didn't ask for your help."

"But you came expecting it." Alva looks away. Shame broils up inside of him. "I can't. Herman is entrusting me with-"

"He is entrusting you with nothing." Đuka slams a hand down on the table in front of Alva. "Broken promises, false hopes. Inside of me I have a real life beginning to grow, and you cannot even lift a finger to help? Herman has abandoned all of us, Alva. He said you to be pragmatic, with a good grip on reality. In front of me, I see a man with nothing but fantasies."

She draws back, and the contemptuous tilt of her head reminds Alva of Herman when they had first met. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me. Pardon me."

Đuka exits the building with a slam of the door behind her. Mina shoots Alva a reproachful look and hurries after her. In the end, he really is left alone, staring down at his pale hands that are barely visible by the moonlight streaming in through the windows high above.

She's right.

She is.

So why can't he.......

...

***

Two years pass.

Two long years.

Đuka eventually does warm back up to Alva, though their relationship is more strained than before. She gives birth to a baby boy and names him Luca. When Alva sees him for the first time, innocent and giggling in Đuka's arms, he is struck with emotion, too much to really comprehend, much less put a name to. He stays away from them both after that.

He gives up nearly all hope of seeing Herman again. The money continues, the only sign that the brunette still lives. Alva, against his better judgment, still uses most of it to stubbornly further the research. Every time he sees those cold, mechanical words, For research, clipped to the bills, he wants to destroy everything they've ever worked on.

Mina treats him coldly, and he cannot blame her. She spends much of her time at the side of Đuka and Luca, helping to entertain the child and care for the mother. Alva is sent back into a spiral of his old cynicism, working away night and day until his head aches and his fingers are scorched.

When he hears the doorbell ring at Herman's mansion, he expects it to be a paperboy, perhaps Đuka searching for something of her possessions, so his heart almost stops in his chest when he opens it to familiar dark eyes. Nobody has eyes like that, both all-consuming and sparkling at once. Nobody except...

"Herman," he says like a question, and he wants to do so many things- slap him, kiss him, hug him, cry into his shoulder- but all he can do is stand dumbly in the doorway, glasses slipping down his face.

Herman grins halfway, though there's something different about it, about him. He seems older. Darker. "Hello, Alva," he says. "Miss me?"

***

No matter how much Alva pushes for answers after overcoming the initial shock, Herman will not crack. He stays obstinately silent on what occupied two years of his time. If Alva were a less patient man, he might have tossed over the table; as it is, he holds back the urge to start screaming. How dare Herman show up at the doorstep and act as if two days passed eather than two years.

The first thing Đuka does as soon as she sees Herman is punch him square in the jaw, hard enough to bruise. Mina restrains her as she shouts obscenities at her husband; Alva is only glad that what had been his house and what has turned into the women's house is relatively far from the rest of the town. The only thing that stops her onslaught is the sound of Luca, now a little over one year old, beginning to cry in the next room over.

Something shifts in Herman's expression. "Is..." he starts to ask.

Đuka barks a laugh. She has become bitter, hardened. Alva wonders how her life would be now if they had never met on that night. "My son. His name is Luca." Not yours, never your son. The implications are clear, as is the pain in Herman's eyes for barely a second. When he blinks, it is gone. Alva draws back; Herman has indeed changed.

Herman does not ask to see Luca. He exits the house almost immediately, Alva pacing after him, unsure of what to say. He doesn't know how things are between them now, where he stands, so it inspires both solace and dread within him when Herman pulls him down by the chin on the ride back to the mansion and kisses him hard and rough, like a dying man searching for something lost.

Herman seems pleased with what work Alva has done while he's been gone. As he paces around it, inspecting the manuscripts laid out beside it, Alva bites his tongue against a curse. Still, though, Herman reads him too well; knowing eyes catch the light. "You hate me."

It's a statement, not a question. Alva looks away. "I don't."

Herman sighs and draws up a chair next to him. He even smells different, like ash and smoke, unpleasantly suffocating. "I cannot tell you where I went, but I can tell you why." He brings something out of his pocket and shows it to Alva. It's a scrap of paper, barely the size of his hand.

Alva takes it and scans it over once. Twice. Thrice. A fourth time for good measure, to make sure he hasn't misunderstood. When he looks back up, he feels dizzy. "How did you get this?"

"It doesn't matter how." The light within Herman's eyes frightens him. It is erratic, uncontained, unpredictable. "What matters is that I have it. This is the secret to perpetual motion, Alva. The laws of the universe are within our grasp."

***

"It won't work," Alva says that night. They have spent most of the day cleaning out the workspace, fixing up the mess that Alva has never been motivated enough to clean.

"What are you talking about?" Herman frowns. "It's impeccable."

"No- I mean, the formula is good. In theory. But it'll take years. And a lot of money." Alva hesitates, voice dropping. "And it's too dangerous."

"There you go again," Herman begins to sigh, and that is what finally tips Alva over the edge.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he snaps. "I'm sorry that I spent the last two years thinking about you, worrying about you, believing I would never see you again. I'm sorry that you left your wife to care for a child by herself. I'm so god damned sorry that now that you're back, I don't want to lose you again. May I burn in hell for being fucking concerned! You don't get to come waltzing back in and acting like nothing happened. You have no right to speak to me like that. You have no right to speak to me at all. Damn you, I do hate you."

Alva's words are spilling over faster than he can moderate them, and he's left reeling as each shard of rage that's been building up for so long fills the deathly silence between them. He closes his eyes and curses himself over and over.

Herman reaches out tentatively, placing a hand between his shoulder blades to turn him around, and he breaks.

Alva has never felt more pathetic as he half-sobs and half-swears into Herman's chest. The smoky scent doesn't bother him any more; he desperately tries to hide his face in Herman's shirt, ashamed that he's really breaking down in front of someone for the first time in his life.

Herman holds him, warm and real and solid. "I'm sorry," he says quietly into Alva's ruffled hair. "I'm sorry, I..."

There's nothing for him to say, and he trails off. In a way, Alva appreciates that he doesn't make up some excuse, some lie to placate him. He forces himself to catch his breath, sniffing into the expensive fabric as he tries to calm down. "Are you?"

Herman answers his question with a question. "Did you really think I was going to leave you? Forever?"

Alva's heart clenches. Yes.

"I... don't know."

Herman's arms tighten around him. "I'm not leaving again," he promises. "I'll stay here with you. We can fix it, Alva."

Alva draws back and wipes his face with his sleeve, trying to turn away quickly; however, Herman holds his cheek gently, stroking a thumb over his cheekbone and forcing him to make eye contact. "You believe me?"

Herman's eyes are so sincere, but Alva knows better than to fall into the trap. If Herman can't trust him enough to tell him where he went, where he found that formula, how can he trust him to keep his word?

But perhaps Alva has been too affected by Herman's own romanticism, because he finds himself nodding his head, wanting so badly to believe. To stay like this, forever.

Herman holds him again and strokes patterns into his back, soft and steady. Alva closes his eyes.

***

When they first get the project back on the road, it goes relatively well after a rocky start. But soon, reality starts to set back in. Herman's funds are running dangerously low; although they have the formula, the equipment and the trials still take years to perfect.

"You can't do this anymore," Alva tells him one day, blocking his path to the workroom.

Herman looks at him as if he's grown a third head. "What do you mean, I can't? Let me through." He tries to push past, but Alva holds firm.

"You have your family," he says, voice rough. "You're wasting your entire livelihood on this. Your son-"

"Hardly my son," Herman scoffs. "Let me through, Alva. We're almost there."

"You've been saying that for years!" Alva spits. "Have you considered that perhaps there's a reason this isn't supposed to work? That the universe doesn't like you tampering with it?"

"No, I haven't!" Herman crosses his arms. "We're scientists- inventors. The entire point of our existence is to go to new places, to break through to new ideas."

"This is too far." Alva shakes his head. "I've been thinking it over, Herman. If you want to continue with this, I won't be helping you any longer."

He knows he can't ever take back the words as soon as he says them, but he doesn't want to either way. He's sick of watching Herman destroy himself and his responsibilities for this. He's sick of destroying himself.

Herman laughs. When Alva doesn't laugh with him, his expression turns pale. "What are you... Alva, this isn't funny."

"It's not meant to be," Alva says curtly. "Please, Herman. I'm trying to help you-"

"Help me?" Herman repeats incredulously. "HELP me? You're trying to tell me I've wasted my entire life! I thought you wanted this. I thought we were going to work for as long as it takes."

Alva can't bear to look him in the eye anymore. He steps aside roughly. "As I said. If you wish to continue, continue. But if you step into that room, consider our partnership over."

"Partnership?" Herman echoes at a whisper. "What do you mean by that?"

Alva doesn't know. He can't answer. "Your choice," he says.

Herman hesitates for a long moment, gaze lingering on Alva. For a moment, he thinks Herman will be objectively logical for once in his life.

When Herman looks away and steps into the room, head lowered, Alva feels his heart crack and shatter.

"I see how it is," he says. He feels his mouth moving, but can't exactly hear himself. "Very well, then. I wish you luck." Then he's turning, forcing himself out of the room and then the manor at a run, not looking back, because he knows if he does, he'll never be able to leave. He doesn't know if he's grateful or hurt that Herman doesn't chase after him anyway.

***

It takes Alva less adjusting to become used to Herman's absence the second time. He moves back into his own family home; his parents passed away long ago, so he has it all to himself. It's too large for one person, and sometimes he wakes in the night with a chill and the sense that he's being watched, even though he isn't.

He keeps in frequent touch with Mina, though can't bring himself to speak to Đuka. And he has not seen Luca since the day Herman returned. Mina tells him that Herman has run himself down to the ground and has finally sold off Đuka's dowry, as well as put up several of his manuscripts for auction. Alva, against his better judgment, buys them all out at ridiculously high prices. Đuka attempts to find a way to legally split from Herman, but it's too late. The stress has worn her down to an irreparable point, and she's always been weak since the pregnancy; Mina finds her passed out in the bathroom a few mornings later, and she is pronounced dead the following evening.

After that, everything goes downhill. Luca, now thirteen years old, disappears from home; a large scale search is conducted for him, but he isn't found. He is presumed to have run away, infuriated by Herman's careless attitude towards the family. Mina is wracked with worry, Alva with guilt. He knows that if he had only fought harder, earlier, this would not have happened.

Several more years go by. Alva is touted as a great inventor as he polishes up many of the old experiments he had abandoned in favor of the perpetual motion machine. The popularity leaves a bad taste in his mouth, though Mina seems to enjoy getting a bit of the fame as well. She has never recovered from Đuka's untimely death; Alva thinks it does her some good to have this, at least, and so he allows her to take up much of the spotlight.

But nothing can fill the empty void left within him. Every day, Alva thinks of Herman- what he might be doing at this moment, how he might be feeling. He really is like a drug, and Alva is forever stuck in the withdrawal phase.

Eventually, it all spills over. Alva finds himself in front of the familiar doors, full of nerves. The key he has still works, and he slips into the building soundlessly, scanning the rooms. Everything looks exactly the same as when he left it; he can almost imagine everything is back to the way it was, and he's returning to the workroom after a day of gathering supplies.

He doesn't see Herman, doesn't even hear him, but he's not worried about that; he knows too well how much the workroom in the basement blocks out sound. Alva steps down the short flight of stairs, heading down the hallway, but pauses in the middle. There's still time to turn back... should he-

Then he catches a whiff of something on the air, something that makes his blood run cold. Something burning.

Alva sprints to the end of the corridor and tries to open the door. The knob is hot to the touch and unbudging. He throws his weight against the door three times before it splinters down the middle and bursts.

In front of him is a roaring furnace of flames. For a terrifying moment, Alva thinks this must be what Abaddon looks like, swallowing up everything in its path. It's something he's seen in his nightmares too many times to count.

"Herman!!" he shouts, frantic, forgetting to hold his breath. The smoke invades his lungs and he coughs, eyes tearing up. "Herman! Herman, are you-"

He shoves his way into the room. The fire isn't as expansive as it originally seemed, but it still threatens to engulf the room. Alva scans his surroundings frantically. His eyes land on the large canister of water Herman always keeps in the corner alcove for solutions. He hefts it up between his hands and tosses it over the nearest flames, which splutter and then die. Alva makes rounds across the room, and thanks God that there's just enough water to put out the largest of the flames. He stomps out most of the rest and ignores the smallest ones, knowing they'll put themselves out. Right more, he has more pressing concerns.

"Herman!" he screams again, checking under the tables and shelves. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Alva spins around, so frustrated that he wants to knock all of the bottles off the shelves, and then he sees it. A scrap of emerald green fabric poking out from around the corner of the cubby. Unmistakable.

When he wrenches open the cubby door, he's met with a nauseating sight. Herman's clothes are singed black, with one side of him badly burned and the other nearly half as scorched, and he isn't moving, at all. Alva grips him by the shoulders and shakes him roughly. "Herman. Herman, wake up. I'm here. I shouldn't have left you. Wake up-"

Nothing happens for a second, one long second where Alva stares with his heart in his throat, but then, by some miracle, Herman stirs. The movement is slight, but unmistakable. "Al..va...?" he rasps, eyes sliding open and then closing again.

"Yes. Yes, my God-" Alva scrambles to pull Herman more upright. "What did you do?"

Herman looks at him dazedly, and then begins to laugh. His teeth are stained crimson that spills over past his lips and onto his crisped clothes. "Alva, I did it. Perpetual motion. I achieved it."

"Then what happened?" Alva closes his eyes.

"I..." Herman frowns. "I don't know. It was working, but then... I don't know. You need to go back for it. Fix whatever needs to be fixed."

Alva stares at Herman. He wants to say something ridiculous, like Don't speak like that, you'll be able to go back for it yourself, but he knows better.

"I will," he says, forcing the words out. Sandpaper against his throat.

Herman smiles at him, coughing again. "You see, Alva..?" he rattles. "I did it. I’ve done the impossible."

"No. No." Alva shakes his head. "You’ve destroyed yourself. I should have been here."

"No..." Herman takes in a painful breath. "It would... have happened either way. Perhaps only later, but it would have. It is in my nature to burn up until I am gone. In the end, I suppose you win after all, eh? " He grips Alva's hand with some effort. "Alva, I..."

"You..?" Alva prods.

Herman never finishes the sentence.

Alva curls his fingers into Herman's shoulders and shakes him again. Nothing.

God fucking damn it.

Alva lowers his head as he starts to laugh, shoulders shaking. They turn to sobs faster than he can even tell. He's always too late. No matter what he does, he can never change things fast enough for them to count. Herman is dead because of him, no matter what he says, just like Đuka is dead because of him and Luca is out on the streets, maybe dead too, because of him. He’s breathing the remnants of the smoke, and he knows his hair and clothes are singed, but he can’t feel any of it.

Alva sits there for what feels like hours, cradling Herman in his arms. Cold hands and stiff limbs under his touch send chills down his spine. Mina, out of breath and indignant from searching for him everywhere, turns solemn as soon as she finds him.

Alva doesn't want to hold a public funeral, but given how well known Herman was, it can't be helped. In the end, Mina has to give a eulogy, because Alva can't bring himself to say a single word. He spends the funeral draped in black at the edges of the cemetery, a slender rectangle of shadow among the gravestones.

Alva wants nothing more than to put the perpetual motion to rest and bury it with Herman- if not physically, then metaphorically. He cannot bring himself to destroy the documents; he locks them inside one of his cases. As for the machine, he shoves it to the back of the shelf. He finds that somehow, it mostly survived the fire, only needing a few parts repaired. But most importantly, it still doesn’t work, not entirely. Alva isn’t sure if Herman was going delusional in his last moments, or if some part of the machine was destroyed beyond fixing in the explosion. He doesn’t want to know. He never wants to touch it again.

He almost manages to force himself to forget about it. Herman Zeeman is something he must let go of. Alva must move on with his life.

He does a good job of pretending.

When Mina contracts a sudden cold that turns into pneumonia and passes away within the week, Alva thinks this is really his sign that that part of his life has ended. He's growing old now. He can't hold onto this forever: this guilt, this regret, this pain. He buries Mina, and with her, he buries everything of the past.

Until he receives the letter inviting him to display the remnants of the perpetual motion machine at an exposition.

Alva immediately rejects the idea, but it haunts him during his days and nights. He knows Herman would insist upon him showing, but that is yet another reason why he hesitates. This thing is not only a dangerous violation of nature. It's the cause for everything that has gone wrong in Alva's life. It would be immoral to bring it back out just for a few oohs and aahs.

Yet Alva cannot ignore the tiny voice pressuring him at the back of his mind, telling him this is the only way to truly lay Herman to rest. It isn't true, of course it isn't, but Alva still agonizes over it up until the last day before the exposition before his foolish side wins out.

***

Alva receives much praise for the machine at the expo, despite the fact that Herman was the one to finish it. Though he says so, he still accepts everything with a polite smile and a nauseous feeling in his chest. As he explains the function of one part of the machine to an interested bystander, his eyes happen to flicker over the man's head, and he feels his breath seize in his throat.

... Herman?

No, it can't be. This is a boy, not even twenty years old based on his youthful appearance, but he looks like Herman, with the same prideful air and tufty brown hair pulled back. His eyes, though, are grey, steely silver like Đuka's. Alva feels like he's staring at a ghost, even more so when he realizes the boy is looking back at him.

"What next?" asks the impatient inquirer in front of him, oblivious to Alva's inner turmoil. Alva does not even hear him, struck by dizzying vertigo as he swallows hard. He thinks that this is some sort of karmic punishment until the boy grins, bright and fascinated as he starts to approach Alva and the machine. The original bystander has since given up and abandoned the exhibit with a huff, providing the boy with enough room to squeeze in and extend a bold hand to Alva.

"Luca Balsa, sir," he says proudly. "May I ask you a few questions about perpetual motion?"