Work Text:
“do you think flayon’s been acting weird recently?” hakka absentmindedly mumbled through a piece of toast. his question fell on deaf ears as his only audience was an axel speedrunning his breakfast so he could get to the colosseum sooner to “fuck some dudes” as he usually does.
the guild was uncharacteristically quiet that morning. altare, bettel, and magni had been out on an expedition for the better part of five days, shinri was out restocking groceries for their pantry, and vesper was 7 hours deep into a wow session. flayon was… probably still sleeping in his room, considering his tendency to sleep in until the very early hour of 2pm.
unbeknownst to anybody, though, tempus’s resident pilot was wide awake. flayon was pressed up against the warmth of his computer monitor, open to a recording of a performance in a dimly lit purple room. he’d been in that position for who knows how long, completely ignoring the ache of his joints and the growing pool of drool connecting his mouth to his desk. the stench permeating the room was somewhere between the prelude to a house fire and a sickly sweet butterscotch half-eaten and half-forgotten. the only sounds that dared ring out were the faint hum of the machine and the soft repeated purring out of a guildmate's name by the machina.
the only thing that could’ve maybe gotten him out of his trance was the dramatic throwing open of the guild hall’s front door punctuated with a gentle voice’s “we’re hooooooooome!” a few moments more, the door to flayon's room gently swung open, and a cotton candy-haired, top-hat clad head popped into view to say a nonchalant, “good morning, red.”
flayon needn't even turn around to know who it was. the air he breathed felt crisper than before. the color came flooding back to his vision. the light in his life was finally back. the pilot's lips curled into a smile before he finally turned around to greet the jester. “welcome home!” his normally dulcet and taken care of voice dry and raspy from the unnatural use. lucky for him, his target of affection was dense enough to not notice the change. or at least too considerate to point it out.
unfortunately for him, his moment of heaven on earth was snatched away from him as quickly as it came with the advent of another, blond head leaning into view to greet him. magni’s face crumpled into an uncomfortable expression as he tried to figure out what exactly the odor in the air was. that face turned to worry after identifying the stink, and bettel was pulled away by the wrist just outside of flayon’s view.
the redhead huffed at all the secrecy, moving over to press his ear against the corresponding wall. the alchemist was spewing what sounded like nonsense to him; something about a busted pipe in his room and a half-formulated reworking of his coveted love potion recipe that just happened to be inside a misaligned fume hood. and it also just happened to be targeted at bettel, since his was the only dna he had on hand. but what does magni know about his feelings? magni can barely place his own feelings, who’s to say he can suddenly diagnose the ace pilot of guild tempus?
returning to reality, flayon flopped back onto his bed. it must’ve taken him a while to escape his labyrinth of thoughts, since his view of the upside-down world included that gaudy pink and purple uncharacteristic of his room. bettel stood before him standing straight and uncomfortable, clearly waiting for something to happen. “magni’s doing something in his lab and he wanted me to wait with you,” the words fell out of his partner’s mouth, rushed yet calculated.
flayon wanted to scoff at the mention of the other man, but brushed it off as he turned around. now laying on his belly, he kicked his feet back and forth and rested his face against his palms. he smiled. “really! well, you’ve got to tell me all about your trip!”