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"You know, I almost named you 'Sea Sparkle.'"
The noise Tokitō made in response to this spontaneous remark was an intersection of a cough, a splutter, and a chortle all at once. It wasn't difficult to tell that he was indignant, yet thoroughly entertained, even at his own expense.
Previously, Aether’s attention remained settled on the cerulean expanse of the Inazuman ocean laid out below them; now, he glimpsed the flutter of blue fabric in his peripheral vision and turned his head just in time to witness Tokitō’s reaction to his statement. Tokitō had perhaps fallen backwards in surprise from the spot on the hillside where he sat, only to overcorrect shortly thereafter, and now doubled over with his head awkwardly bowed over his knees. Aether couldn't help but smile in amusement at this melodramatic sequence of events.
Once his brief coughing fit subsided, Tokitō fixed Aether in place with his deep violet eyes, wide and shining with disbelief.
"'Sea… Sparkle?' "
Tokitō spat out the phrase like it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.
"Yeah, you know, because you're blue and you light up." Aether fidgeted where he sat, readjusting how his hands rested over his crossed ankles, still unable to hide the hint of a smile. "But it sounds like you like 'Tokitō' better."
"Much.” Tokitō regained his composure and corrected his posture. “Although, I did challenge you to see what you would come up with.”
With this recollection, Tokitō curved his fingers and placed his knuckles softly on his chin, his gaze growing absent as it drifted away from Aether.
In moments like these, it wasn’t easy to forget that Tokitō was a puppet; his image captured every aspect of a human being that could be considered conventionally attractive and flawless, like he might have been not an automaton, but a work of art left there by a traveling artisan. His face was round and smooth, with a faintly pronounced jawline; his eyes were vivid and lifelike; the creases where the joints of his hand bent perfectly mimicked the texture of human skin; even the deep rasp of his voice seemed to originate from within his chest and abrade his throat as it passed his softly parted lips. It was no wonder that Aether frequently found himself staring—he no longer bothered trying to hide it. Thankfully, neither of them minded. If anything, Tokitō loved the attention; he often met Aether’s focused stare with a mischievous grin, as if to say ‘ I know, I’m irresistible.’ It had become more or less a running joke between them.
“You actually impressed me with that one. An admirable effort.” Tokitō shot Aether a sideways glance, the sea breeze ruffling his hair slightly.
Catching sight of Tokitō’s smirk, Aether chuckled. “Thank you.”
“Nah, I should be the one thanking you. ” Tokitō cast his wrists casually over his knees. “...For not naming me that.”
Tokitō’s smirk deepened, and Aether’s chuckle developed into a full-on laugh in response. The salty ocean air was delicious on his tongue and cool and fresh on his face.
“Still preferable to ‘Scaramouche,’ don’t you think?”
“Well, that much is obvious.” Tokitō turned his nose up with a barely audible huff. “Though I do prefer an actual name, like the one you gave me—not something a little girl would name her doll.”
“So do I.”
While Tokitō’s words packed their characteristic punch, Aether’s were as gentle as ever, as though to absorb the impact.
Aether’s cheeks hurt from smiling. He wouldn’t be smiling if he had reason to believe that Tokitō was upset—because if Tokitō was genuinely upset, he would simply leave without a second thought. That Tokitō remained at his side was indication enough that he was at least as entertained at this whole exchange as was Aether.
Tokitō stayed to repay a debt. And Tokitō stayed because Aether asked him to stay. And Tokitō stayed because Aether was simply magnetic.
“I thought about it,” Aether continued, “and I decided I had to name you something I could call out in my nightmares.”
Tokitō blinked. Twice.
The only sign Aether showed of the conversation’s abrupt tonal shift was that his gaze had drifted away from Tokitō and out to the horizon. He brought up the subject like it was something commonplace. Perhaps, among humanity in general, it was—but it certainly was not commonplace for Aether—Aether, whose presence was so warm and bright that it drew the attention of everyone around him without fail—Aether, whose smile was ceaseless even as Tokitō pestered him with equally persistent sarcastic quips.
How could such a person bring up such a dark topic without so much as flinching?
Tokitō cocked an eyebrow in puzzlement. “Nightmares?”
After a brief pause, Aether looked back to Tokitō with a nod. “Nightmares,” he echoed simply.
Another silence extended between them. Aether didn’t elaborate. Nor did Tokitō press for more information.
That was one aspect of Aether’s magnetism: his duality was intriguing.
Yes, his positive and welcoming demeanor was attractive in itself; he was expressive, sensitive—one might even venture to call him effeminate. Yet, where typical humans might yield to emotional pressure, Aether was completely unbothered. There was no forcing him to do something he wasn’t naturally inclined to do, such as speak on a subject about which he wasn’t ready to share. As much as he spent his free time running seemingly pointless errands for people who were effectively strangers, he must do so because it brought him genuine fulfillment—even Aether had his limits, and he guarded them meticulously. That much was clear in moments such as these.
Despite how he seemed on the outside, Aether was far from naive.
Tokitō hated and loved that about him—hated that Aether wasn’t someone he could get a rise out of easily, but loved that it was such an unexpected trait given his first impression of Aether.
He and Aether both existed somewhere far away from the descriptors of “typical” and “human.” Perhaps that was why they settled so comfortably into each other’s presence, even with their opposing mannerisms.
Indeed, by their personalities alone, Tokitō mused, hardly anyone could have guessed that they would get along so well. Tokitō observed from their time together that Aether seemed much more content around people who treated him gently and kindly—tenderly, even. Tokitō learned quickly that, while the upbeat and friendly attitude Aether showed around strangers wasn’t necessarily fake, it was, in a way, superficial. Anyone who spent quality time in a dedicated relationship with Aether could see how vocally and truly happy he was only around people with whom he shared a deep trust, frequently initiating physical contact and giving murmurs of satisfaction that he would never dream of offering to someone who was merely an acquaintance.
Somehow, by some miracle, Tokitō was one of those people—though he most certainly did not fulfill the “gentle and kind” requirement. At least, not consistently.
The situation in which Tokitō eventually brought this up was not dissimilar to the previous one—although, instead of lounging around on a Tatarasuna hillside (at a time of day quite opposite from that at which one would expect to see sea sparkle), they were winding down for the evening in Aether’s Serenitea Pot.
Aether had dedicated one corner of the realm—an entire island, really—solely to Tokitō’s comfort. While there were a number of buildings and smaller constructions displaying distinctively Inazuman architecture, the foliage behind them was much more reminiscent of that found in Sumeru. It was an incongruous, though not wholly unpleasant, combination of aesthetics. In all honesty, Tokitō thought it was very characteristically Aether —contrasting, like parts of his personality.
Aether’s pride and joy in this area of the realm was the boardwalk he had suspended among the winding trunks of tropical trees. It was on this boardwalk that Tokitō and Aether often spent time perched together to share their “good night” platitudes, and sometimes harmless banter. On one such evening, they sat side by side, watching the Serenitea Pot sun sink below the horizon.
“You know,” Tokitō began, recalling his now-nonexistent life as a Fatui Harbinger, “I was a real jerk to you.”
“You were.”
Tokitō could hear from the lilt in Aether’s voice that he was smiling again. That was Aether—in spite of his acknowledgment of what should have been unpleasant subject matter, he seemed unperturbed.
“And yet you fell in love with me anyway.”
“I did.” This time, Aether agreed with a hint of a giggle, kicking his legs in delight from where they hung over the edge of the boardwalk.
Tokitō straightened his back. Devising a trajectory for this conversation, he examined Aether closely.
“I’m curious about what finally did it for you. Tell me—was it my charming good looks, perhaps?”
Aether met Tokitō’s gaze with a grin.
“It really was, actually.”
Tokitō let a frown alight on his face for only a brief moment. He should have known Aether wouldn’t take the bait—on the contrary, maybe Aether recognized the game, and was all too happy to play right along. Either way, Aether wasn’t shallow. He wasn’t oblivious to Tokitō’s prodding. He wasn’t feigning ignorance—Tokitō knew him better than that. Aether was far too earnest to fake anything.
Had Aether really forgiven Tokitō for all of the atrocities he’d committed?
Not forgiven— maybe, instead, decided that they weren’t all that important in the grand scheme of things. All in the past, so to speak.
(Well, not the past in this timeline, but the sentiment remained. Maybe that was the key—if Aether and Tokitō were the only two who would recall such events, then why bother dwelling on them?)
Tokitō’s gut twisted at the disconcerting feeling of being at once slighted and unconditionally loved. Leave it to Aether to give unconventional responses to his jabs, leaving him humiliated instead.
Tokitō leaned back on his hands again with a slow sigh. “I wonder—what does it take to rile you up? Nothing I say ever seems to get through to you.”
When he cast a pointed glance in Aether’s direction, Aether met his eyes.
“Isn’t there anything that upsets you?” Tokitō pressed. “Anything you’re scared of?”
For once, Aether’s expression looked almost entirely blank. His eyes simply glowed in the evening sun. “Oh, there sure is.”
“Ah, but you’re not just going to tell me outright, are you?” One corner of Tokitō’s lip twisted. “You’re going to make me figure it out for myself.”
Aether shrugged. This time, his smile was sheepish, his eyebrows rising slightly at the corners. “Not exactly. We’ve kind of already talked about it, actually.”
Tokitō’s squinted, unable to recall such a conversation off the top of his head. In any case, as always, it was clear that he wasn’t going to be able to force a direct answer out of Aether. Not this time.
Tokitō hated and loved that about him.
In the end, he didn’t have to wait long to find out.
(“Nightmares?”
Aether nodded. “Nightmares.”)
Tokitō seldom had the privilege to rest at Aether’s side. He didn’t need to sleep, after all. On rare occasions, Aether insisted that Tokitō accompany him anyway. It was on these occasions that Tokitō, rather than allow scathing remarks to spill from his lips, put them to rest in his heart instead, and closed his eyes, basking in the warmth of Aether’s body despite bearing no such warmth of his own. Sometimes, sharing a few hours of darkness and silence with nothing but each other wasn’t so bad.
Tokitō soon learned that it wasn’t atypical of Aether to move around in his sleep. He always seemed to want to hold Tokitō more closely, sometimes fully rolling over in his unconscious efforts to maintain a comfortable grip around Tokitō’s body.
Sleep-talking, however, was a different story. Aside from the quietest of snores every once in a while, Aether was a silent sleeper, until—
“Tokitō… Tokitō.”
The whisper roused Tokitō from his dozing. The murmur of his name ghosted over his skin, interspersed with breaths that were too fast and erratic for someone who should have been fast asleep.
“Tokitō.”
Aether’s fingers twitched where they were cast over Tokitō’s side. Aether’s voice wavered now, its pitch rising.
“Tokitō…”
Realization hit Tokitō square in the face, leaving a painful twinge deep within his chest.
Aether was indeed still asleep—his aimless movements suggested as much—but something was wrong.
Extricating himself from Aether’s embrace, Tokitō lifted one hand to Aether’s shoulder, its bony curve fitting perfectly in his grip, and gave it a gentle shake.
“Aether, wake up.”
A soft gasp and a jerk of his body signaled that Aether had been freed from the prison of his dream. As Aether caught his breath, Tokitō let his fingertips drift along Aether’s side down to his waist. Aether’s pulse was rapid, like he had never been asleep at all.
Some of his awareness returning to him, Aether curled up and tucked his head under Tokitō’s chin, waiting until his breathing steadied itself again before he spoke.
“I had a bad dream.”
“I could tell.” Tokitō’s low voice rumbled directly into Aether’s ears, like a gust of wind soaring across the ocean and alighting upon the shore. “Want to talk about it?”
“No.” Aether’s whisper, by comparison, was still unsteady, to the point that Tokitō was only half-certain he understood it. “If I don’t, it’s easier to forget it.”
Tokitō simply allowed Aether to press their bodies even closer together, as if it would force what remained of the dream out from the now-nonexistent space between them.
He hoped that the languid rise and fall of his chest as he mimicked a human’s breath would be enough to lull Aether back to sleep. Lacking a heart of flesh and blood, it was just about all of the comfort he could provide—otherwise, Aether might as well be huddled up to an inanimate object.
Aether never did tell him about the contents of the nightmare. Tokitō found a strange mix of curiosity and pity settling in his stomach, later wondering whether Aether ever really did truly forget it.
He never found out whether it was the same as the next time—for which he thought, having experienced it once before, he would be more prepared; alas, he was woefully incorrect.
As Aether began whimpering and fidgeting in his embrace, Tokitō thought back to the first of Aether’s nightmares, several months beforehand. He should awaken Aether this time, too, before it got too bad—
“Scaramouche!”
Tokitō froze, his nonexistent heart stopping within his chest at the unexpected sound of his previous name.
And it wasn’t a whisper, either. Not a shout, surely; even so, Aether’s voice grated harshly against his throat, as though he was being strangled.
“Scaramouche!”
When Tokitō returned to the present several seconds later, Aether was still tossing and turning and crying out, having shaken off Tokitō’s arm where it previously draped over his side.
He lacked a shred of his typical composure—Aether was inconsolable.
Shit.
Tokitō’s arm found its place on Aether’s shoulder, though, this time, the shake Tokitō gave him was anything but gentle.
“Aether, wake up!”
“Scaramouche!”
“Aether!”
(Tokitō resented how his voice cracked with alarm then, as if it didn’t even originate from him. It had been a long time since Tokitō had felt that helpless.)
Aether moved as if to rise from the bed. Tokitō scarcely caught him before being trampled, practically making himself dizzy with how fast he sat up to hold on to Aether’s shoulders.
Aether let out all of his breath at once in a great huff, and then began to gasp for air, as if nearly drowning, his slight frame heaving to force his lungs to move. Tokitō could tell from the faintest glint before his face that Aether’s eyes were wide open now, and his disheveled bangs stuck to his face where he had entangled himself in the bedsheets just a few moments prior.
Aether collapsed into Tokitō’s arms, pressing his ear to Tokitō’s chest.
“Scaramouche…”
“It’s Tokitō now.”
“...Tokitō.”
“Yeah.”
Aether spoke Tokitō’s name with a sigh, riding the gentle undulation of Tokitō’s shoulders. Though panic still buzzed through whatever Tokitō could call his equivalent of a bloodstream, he couldn’t deny that the sound of Aether’s voice pronouncing his name in such a fond manner was nothing short of music to his ears.
Sobs soon brought Aether’s breath to a stutter. Tokitō fully expected to comfort him in silence for several minutes, like last time, but this was not the case. Now Aether spoke of his own accord.
“You lost your Gnosis.”
In the blink of an eye, Tokitō was transported to his past life and then back; decades or perhaps centuries' worth of sensations, physical and emotional, rushed into him, seizing his lungs where they were, only to vanish just as quickly. The feeling of Aether’s head leaned against his chest, his arms folded and tucked against where their bodies met, kept Tokitō grounded. Yet the rush was so powerful that all he could do was stare blankly into the darkness.
“...I did.”
Tokitō recalled the events almost too vividly to believe that they were locked away in an alternate timeline to which hardly anyone else in the world was privy: the Dendro Archon holding his Gnosis just barely out of his reach; the stretch of his arm, grasping for it, against the tug of the mechanical lifelines secured in his back; his voice, cold and hoarse against the inside of his chest—the texture of sandpaper—and tears hot against his eyelids as he pleaded for the Archon to return it so he didn’t have to stay this empty.
Aether nuzzled into him.
“It hurts.”
Whatever could be called Tokitō’s heart gave an agonized, stammered beat at that statement.
As though Aether could see into his mind’s eye—feel precisely what he was feeling.
Tokitō found himself resting his chin against the top of Aether’s head, his eyelids softly sliding closed, his fingers burrowing deeper into Aether’s hair to hold him closer. The stirring sensation within him was akin to the movement of viscous magma beneath the crust of the earth.
“...Yeah.”
“It hurts to watch.”
Tokitō scarcely stifled a sigh.
He could think of many whom he guessed would feel vindicated to see him suffer, but Aether was perhaps unique in suffering right alongside him. It made Tokitō want to swallow every venom-laced word he had ever spoken in front of Aether, just for tonight.
Tokitō slowly sank backwards against the pillows, bringing Aether down with him. The bedding was soft and welcoming against his back.
He tilted his chin to stare off to the side, Aether’s hair brushing against his throat. He spent a few minutes searching for the right words. The only sound in the room was that of Aether’s gradually steadying breath.
Finally, Tokitō asked, “Do you pity me?”
“No.” Aether inhaled deeply against Tokitō’s neck. “I’m scared for you. I’m scared of losing you.”
Tokitō didn’t know whether to scoff or cry; his lips curled into an awkward, yet bitter smirk.
The one thing that truly frightened Aether—sneaking into his worst nightmares and digging its curved, icy talons into his heart…
He should have guessed. It seemed so obvious now.
“What an intriguing sentiment,” Tokitō mumbled. “It’s not like I’ve ever done anything nice for you.”
Aether rolled over just enough for his words to reach Tokitō’s ears.
“That’s okay. I love you anyway.”
Now Tokitō’s breath escaped his parted lips in the vaguest hint of a laugh. “Because of my good looks.”
“But of course.”
At the sound of Aether’s giggle, whatever could be called Tokitō’s heart settled quietly within his chest.
It was such a simple answer. It wasn’t a lie, nor was it the whole truth—rather, it was a sign of the deep mutual understanding between them—an indication of their bond—proof that, regardless of the reasons that wouldn’t be put into words here and now, what Aether valued was Tokitō’s happiness.
What did the specific reasons really matter, anyway? Either way, it wasn't as though Tokitō could argue against their validity; rather, he could try, but he wouldn't succeed.
He hated and loved that about Aether.
Knowing better than to try to persuade Aether otherwise, Tokitō resigned himself to his fate of being loved.