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Summary
Sometimes Lahabrea was like that, an ever-burning flame lost in theoretical possibilities, the creator of the Phoenix and the tamer of Flame itself, and sometimes it was true that he could solve the mysteries of the Star but not the ones that surrounded his own life. Ícaro suspected that the only reason he hasn’t retrieved the red mask that was carefully placed in the corner of the table before asking them out was due to the fact that he still hoped to continue the conversation as if nothing ever happened. That was just his way of dealing with things, to dodge the ones he could and lock away what he couldn’t.
“I wasn’t joking.”
“Then you leave me with two options, Azem.” The title and the distance it carried felt like a splash of cold water. “You’re either confusing lust with love or you’re trying to get something from me. And it worries me that you think that the latter might work.”
(A collection of drabbles between a polyamorous genderfluid Azem and their complicated relationship with Lahabrea back in the unsundered world.)
Patch notes: I KEEP FINDING TYPOS EVERY TIME I RE-READ THIS. SORRY. I'M TRYING MY BEST TO FIX THEM, ENGLISH IS STILL NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE BUT THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS.