Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Arthur had to stop texting the Drifter. He’d denied it at first, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that doing so was starting to consume a significant portion of his waking thoughts. He couldn’t afford to be distracted in the middle of a warzone. 

The problem was, he had to keep his KinePage with him all the time. It was necessary that he did, because what if he didn’t and someone needed him? What if their entire operation fell apart because he’d forgone his KinePage to avoid talking to their time-travelling companion? Leaving the little device behind was unthinkable. 

And because he always had his KinePage with him - his new one, after the Drifter had swiped his old one - he always saw when they sent him a message. They almost always did in their downtime. And before he knew what he was doing, he answered back, and he’d be sucked into an hour long conversation on their dream vacation spots or how he’d learned to cook or, heaven forbid, his darkest moments in life. 

He could of course ask them to stop messaging him so often. He almost did a couple times. But chatting with the Drifter, he’d found out, was like breathing. It was easy, automatic, and trying to stop it would only work for so long before your body twisted itself in protest and forced you to keep going. 

He doubted the others had the same problem. He was sure if he told anyone else they’d think he’d lost a screw or two. Just another thing in the “keep to yourself” pile he’d accumulated over the years that exposed him for the idiotic man that he was. 

(Unless you were the Drifter that is, in which case you could help yourself to the pile all you wanted.) 

His latest moment of weakness happened at the Food Court, where he’d gone to have lunch and was instead interrupted by a ping from his KinePage. His beef and potatoes lay forgotten as he hunched over the table, utterly engrossed at the screen before him. 

Travelling10o

I was alright at most subjects, but none really caught my eye. 

Travelling10o

Most of the things they taught us were related to the Orokin’s knowledge of the Void. 

Travelling10o

They didn’t teach us a lot of, say, literature, or even other languages. 

Travelling10o

What about you? What was your favorite subject? 

That was one thing about these conversations. They forced Arthur to remember things he hadn’t thought about for years. Like unearthing his personality from the combat-induced slumber he’d lived in for such a long time. 

He resented it. He couldn’t get enough of it. 

Broadsword

History. I liked to learn what series of events led to the current state of things. 

Broadsword

Though in retrospect, I think the reason I enjoyed it so much was because I had a very good teacher. Mrs. Williams. 

Travelling10o

What was she like?

Broadsword

Strict. But also kind. She had a real passion for the subject. 

Broadsword

Did you have a favorite teacher? 

If the Drifter was going to dig deep into his psyche, then he’d dig just as deeply. It was only fair. 

Travelling10o

I didn’t have many to be honest. Cephalon Melica was assigned to my class all throughout our stay at the Zariman. She always took care of us, so you could say she was my favorite. 

Broadsword

Your teacher was a robot? 

Travelling10o

Yep

Of course, there was also the fact that the Drifter came from the frigging future. It never failed to make his head spin, especially when they talked about robots or spaceships with the same casualness he talked about microwaves or radios. Sometimes it felt like they spoke a different language. 

Broadsword

So there aren't any human teachers in the future? 

Travelling10o

Nah, there still are. Cephalon teachers are just more high-end. 

Broadsword

Huh. And here I thought robots would replace all of us. 

Travelling10o

Trust me, not even in my era do people want robots to gain too much power. The Orokin forbid the creation of independent synthetic life before the Sentients and the Corpus keep a tight leash on their robotics. 

Broadsword

No robotic soldiers? 

Travelling10o

Not really, though the Corpus have gone as far as building AI commanders. They've also built this giant monstrosity called the Profit-Taker that enforces Corpus dominion over the Solaris. 

Travelling10o

Regardless, human foot soldiers are still a thing. 

A wave of pessimism washed over him. Of course soldiers, and therefore wars, would still be a thing in the future. This proved without a shadow of a doubt that humanity would never learn from their mistakes. Even now, after all the evidence to the contrary, he still hoped soldiers would at some point no longer exist. He was still the same fool who joined the Britannic Army and then the ICR out of a sense of honor and duty. 

Broadsword

Shit.

Broadsword

You’re telling me even in the future, people are still being sent to war. 

Broadsword

And that armed conflicts are still a thing. 

Broadsword

Humans are never going to stop fighting each other, are they? 

The grey text that indicated the Drifter was typing persevered for a few moments. Their following messages read: 

Travelling10o

I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you things are better in the future. Truth is, they’re still pretty bad. 

Travelling10o

But that doesn’t mean they’re destined to be like that. They’ve been worse during the Orokin Empire and during Narmer, but they’re not like that anymore. They’ve improved. 

Travelling10o

There are pockets of resistance everywhere, even within enemy factions. Ostrons, Solaris, the Syndicates, they’re all fighting for a better future. 

Travelling10o

Maybe conflict’s endemic to humans, but so is hope. As long as people keep on fighting, I refuse to believe things can’t get better. 

Another thing about these conversations: the Drifter never let him brood for long. Even though they’ve arguably had it worse than him, even though they still pay for everything they’ve gone through, somehow they never lose their positive attitude for long. 

Broadsword

How can you be so optimistic? 

Travelling10o

A healthy dose of naivete and stupidity. 

He snorted. 

Broadsword

Heh. That checks out. 

Travelling10o

Ouch.

Broadsword

You said it first. 

Travelling10o

So why say it second? x(

Arthur shook his head to himself. 

Broadsword

You're a riot sometimes, did you know that?

Travelling10o

In a good way or a bad way? 

He paused. Contemplated the screen. Then typed his next message slowly, and hit ‘Send’. 

Broadsword

Keep trying. Eventually I might figure that out. 

Travelling10o

:)

“What's that smile for?” 

Arthue flinched and looked up at the newcomer, who was standing a couple feet from him with a lunch tray of her own. “Bloody hell, Aoi.” 

Her eyes widened. “Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you.” 

“It's fine.” He glanced guiltily at his KinePage before sending a quick missive and snapping the screen shut. 

Aoi sat down in front of him. “No no, don't let me stop you. You seemed really into it.” 

“I'm not texting while we're together,” he said. 

Instead of dropping the subject, she glanced at his KinePage, sitting beside his tray, before looking back at him. “Lemme guess. Was that the Drifter?” 

He blinked at her in disbelief. “How'd you know?” 

“Arthur, you’ve been chatting with them nonstop. This is, what, the third time I catch you texting them this week?” 

So the others had noticed. Great. He felt his cheeks grow hot. “Yeah, well.” And left it at that. 

Aoi smiled cheekily as she grabbed her fork and stabbed at her lunch. “What do you guys talk about anyway?” 

He followed her example. “I dunno. A lot of stuff.” 

“Like?” 

He used the excuse to chew his lunch to delay answering her question. Even after he’d swallowed, he still didn’t know how to answer. He settled for, “Our pasts.” 

Instead of placating her, his admission seemed to invigorate her. “Seriously!?” 

“Sometimes,” he said nonchalantly, even though he knew this was a big deal for him. 

Aoi clasped her hands together. “That's wonderful! I knew you two were close, but not that close!” 

He shrugged, embarrassed. 

“I remember when you two first met,” she gushed. “You stabbed them in the hand! And you were all like “don't get on my bad side, Marty”.” 

“I didn't know them back then,” he cut in. “I thought they were just another problem we'd have to contend with.” 

“And now you're best buds!” Aoi smiled. “How times have changed.” 

It was true. They were no longer scrambling to contain the Techrot, no longer struggling to fight back against Scaldra, and no longer doomed to die by New Year's Eve. Granted, they were still forced to relieve the events of 1999 over and over again, but compared to the previous loop, they were cruising through without a hitch. 

Arthur didn’t trust it one bit. But he didn’t want to bring down Aoi’s good mood, so he simply said, “We're lucky to have them.” 

“Agreed,” Aoi hummed. 

They continued eating their meals in silence. As he took a swig of his drink however, he noticed Aoi giving him sidelong looks when she thought he wasn't looking. 

Arthur knew Aoi. He probably knew her the best out of everyone in the Hex besides his own sister. So he knew that when she got like this, it meant she was working up the courage to ask a question that he might not like. He could change the subject and make sure that question never saw the light of day, or he could wait for her to speak her mind. 

Unfortunately, he had a soft spot for Aoi. Always had, always will. So he waited. 

Finally, she said, “Look. I know this isn’t my business, but… you’re not dating the Drifter are you?” 

His eyes shot towards her. “What.” 

“The Drifter. Are you dating them?” 

He should’ve changed the subject. “No. Why would you ask that?” 

Aoi waved the hand not holding her fork. “Honestly? You kinda look like you are.” 

He felt his stomach drop. She must’ve seen the panic in his eyes, because she clarified, “That came out wrong! I just meant that you’re acting in ways that might suggest to an outsider that you’re dating.” 

Arthur gritted his teeth. “And what would those be?” 

His companion grimaced. “Texting constantly, smiling at their messages, sharing painful stories…”

“Those are all things you can do with friends,” he countered. 

Aoi raised her hands in surrender. “I know. I’m not trying to prove you’re dating the Drifter. I just got the vibe that you might be. That’s all.” 

He stared at his food. “Well, I’m not.” 

Silence descended upon them. Far from relaxing him, it only served to wound him up tighter. He knew when a storm was coming; the wait was, in his humble opinion, worse than the destruction it wrought. 

Thankfully, Aoi didn’t leave him to his misery for long. 

“But you do like them,” she said. 

And that was just the thing. Aoi knew him just as well as he knew her. She’d seen him angry. Sad. Afraid. In love. She knew when he was screwed even before he did. 

Arthur drank from his glass, wishing fervently for alcohol. 

That same afternoon, Eleanor reached out to him with alarming news: Scaldra had launched a massive operation to displace civilians in several neighborhoods at once. They usually focused on a single district for maximum efficiency, but for some reason they decided to spread their numbers to cover a wider area. 

This forced Arthur to bring almost every member of the Hex into the counter offensive. While Aoi ran logistics behind the scenes, Eleanor and Arthur dealt with the Scaldra in the center of their operations while Amir sped towards the far away neighborhoods with Lettie. The Drifter covered distant parts of the city by themselves, using a Warframe that shrunk into the size of a fist and delivered death from the skies. 

Their numbers were spread dangerously thin, but he couldn’t think of any other way of containing the threat when there was on average a single Scaldra soldier per block. Suspicious of foul play, Arthur had Quincy stationed somewhere between his group and Amir’s so he could keep an eye on the freed districts and pick out any stragglers. 

I don’t understand , Eleanor told him telepathically after dispatching the latest Scaldra soldier. It’s like they don’t even want to fight us. 

Arthur noticed it too. The moment the Scaldra noticed them, they ran away rather than stay put and fight. What was their objective? Were they trying to lead them away? From where? 

Suddenly, Quincy piped up on comms. “Arthur! They’re bringing more people in the sector you just cleared. A whole ass squadron.” 

Arthur cursed under his breath. “How many?” 

“Dozens. They’re bringing out civvies and shooting them in the streets! I’m bringing down hell on the bastards.” 

He immediately saw a flaw in that plan. “Quincy, wait! We’re too far away to lend you cover. Wait for one of us to get nearby before giving away your position.” 

“Y’all are too far away. Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” He heard a loud bang, likely Quincy raining down bullets on the enemy. 

“Don’t engage, Quincy!” Arthur bellowed. 

“Try and stop me, Heroboy.” 

“Fuck!” Arthur kicked a nearby trashcan to the ground. “Aoi, tell me we’re done in this sector.” 

“Afraid not!” She informed them. “There are still a dozen Scaldra in the vicinity.” 

I can handle them , Eleanor said. Go and help Quincy.  

“I’m not leaving you alone Eleanor!” 

You don’t have a choice! It’s either me or Quincy, and he’s the one in trouble! 

He cursed yet again. This was the reason their operations were always done in groups of two. Only the Drifter was capable of handling themselves if things turned ugly. 

“Aoi,” he said, “how long 'till the other teams are done?” 

“One moment,” she replied. Arthur waited, skin buzzing with energy, as he and Eleanor ran through the neighborhood and dispatched more Scaldra. 

The voice that sounded next wasn’t Aoi’s. 

“AGH!” 

He felt something within him shrivel and die. “Quincy!” 

“Try that again son of a bitch and I’ll - ” his voice cut out mid transmission. 

“Quincy? Quincy!” Arthur yelled. 

Nothing. Comms were silent at first. Then, when he thought he was going to go mad, finally Aoi piped up, “The Drifter’s done! I’ve sent them to Quincy’s location.” 

That’s good, Eleanor commented. They’re the fastest of all of us. 

But they were also the farthest. And he didn’t like the sound Quincy had made at all. Arthur knew when a storm was coming, and for once, the destruction it wrought terrified him the most. 

He measured time not by minutes but by the number of Scaldra they killed. 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

Four. 

Five. 

He counted six before the Drifter spoke over comms. “Arthur, I’m at Quincy’s last position. He’s… he’s gone. I tried looking for him, but I can’t find him anywhere.” 

Arthur stumbled. He would’ve fallen if it wasn’t for Eleanor propping him up. The Drifter’s words cycled through his head over and over again. 

He’s gone. I can’t find him anywhere. 

Scaldra had Quincy. 

And it was his fault.

Chapter Text

“Is this working? One two three, one two three?” 

The radio at the center of the table cracked with static. The six remaining people on the team sat around it in one of the many stores of the mall, door shut to prevent the civilians from listening in. They all stared solemnly at the little device that’d been left behind at Quincy’s last known location. 

Arthur wanted nothing more than to rewind time. To start over that cursed day and prevent the disaster he was now facing. He wanted to be away from the others, preferably alone at his office, so he could beat himself up properly. He wanted to fling that radio across the room and watch the pieces fly each and every way until they were all a big pile on the floor. 

Most of all, he wanted to apologize. To everyone in the team, but especially to Quincy. He wanted him to know he was sorry, and that he expected no forgiveness. He wanted to switch places so all the harm would fall onto him instead. 

Arthur took a deep breath. He reached out, took the radio, and pressed the button on its side. “Viktor,” he spoke out. 

“Ahhh, Arthur. Just the voice I wanted to hear. Listen up, because I’m only going to say this once.” 

Everyone at the table leaned in. Everyone except him; he was rooted in place. 

“I have captured your fellow teammate,” Viktor said. “He’s with me now, as a matter of fact. Go on, talk to your friends.” 

At first, only static came from the radio. Then, a different voice spoke over it. “Arthur, it’s not worth it. Don’t do nothin’ he says -”

A brief but loud noise sounded over the speakers, followed by a shout. “That’s enough from you,” Viktor said. Arthur’s hand clenched the radio tightly. 

“So as you can see, your friend’s completely at my mercy. I must say, you fell for my trap quite nicely Arthur. So easily in fact, I’m almost disappointed. On behalf of Scaldra, I thank you profusely for your help.” 

Arthur’s face grew hot with humiliation. He made sure not to look at the others; he didn’t want to watch the disappointment in their faces. 

“Now, you may be wondering: Viktor, what are you going to do with Mr. Issacs? That depends on you. I’m not stupid enough to ask you to cease your meddling; I know you won’t do that just because I’ve captured one of you. So instead, I offer this: you, Arthur, in exchange for your friend. Surrender yourself and he goes free.” 

“Meet me at Victory Plaza within the hour. If you don’t come or if I see heads or tails of your allies’ malformed, disgusting bodies, I’ll dispatch your friend with extreme prejudice. That’s all.” 

The radio went silent. For a moment, all they did was stare at the little device with varying levels of trepidation, anger and panic. The only sounds present in the room were the low murmur of voices from the civilians outside the room. 

Amir was the first to speak up. “So, we agree this is a trap, right?” 

“Oh, absolutely,” Lettie said. 

“Totally,” Aoi added. 

No doubt about that, remarked Eleanor. 

The Drifter straightened in their seat. “So what do we do? We can’t send Arthur there by himself.” 

“So we send someone with him,” Lettie said. “But I bet Viktor will have snipers perched around the rendezvous to make sure he’s alone.” 

Aoi turned to Eleanor. “You’d know where the snipers are. Maybe we could have you lead this person through their blind spots?” 

That’s assuming there are blind spots, Eleanor replied. Even if there were, it’d be very easy to be caught by accident. 

“What if you took control of one of them?” The Drifter suggested. “We could have that person sneak through the compromised sniper’s line of view.” 

But what then? What’d this person do once they were at the rendezvous? They’d surely be seen by the contingent there. 

Aoi grimaced. “That’s true. Even if we get someone there, we won’t know what we’ll be up against or how to free both Quincy and Arthur.” 

No one piped up with suggestions. They were all thinking the same thing: Scaldra presence in the area would be heavy for sure. As if that wasn’t enough, they had Quincy as leverage, which would severely limit what they could do against them. Making a reliable extraction plan, they were starting to realize, was nigh impossible. 

Amir swiveled to look at the Drifter. “Hey uh, future? Couldn’t you reset the day so we can prevent this from happening?” 

Everyone, including Arthur, stared at the time traveller. They stood still, looking at the table with a look of concentration. Their right fist clenched, then relaxed. 

“Maybe,” they admitted. “But if I change the loop, I don’t know how that’ll affect the events of New Year’s Eve. It might allow the Indifference to breach this timeline again.” 

Arthur glanced away. 

“Now that I think about it, this whole year’s gonna be reset anyway.” Amir looked around the table excitedly. “That means Quincy will return to us no matter what happens!” 

“We still have four months left before New Year’s,” Lettie replied. “Are you suggesting we let him die and wait that long until he’s back with us?” 

Amir’s expression fell. “No… no you’re right. Sorry.” 

Aoi laid a hand on Amir’s forearm and smiled up at him. Tentatively, Amir smiled back. 

“Maybe I can infiltrate the plaza while invisible,” the Drifter suggested. “I have several invisibility Warframes. I can lay low and wait for an opportunity to -” 

“No.” 

Everyone at the table looked at Arthur. 

No? Eleanor asked. 

“We’re not trying anything that might get Quincy killed,” Arthur fixed his gaze to the table. “I’m going in. Alone.” 

They all gawked at him. For a few moments, no one spoke. The shock of his declaration had rendered them all mute. 

Lettie was the one to break the silence this time. “I’m sorry, I must’ve misunderstood. Did you just say you wanted to turn yourself in?” 

He nodded, expression grim. “It’s the best way to ensure Quincy gets back to us in one piece.” 

“Arthur, you can’t be serious,” Aoi said. 

“Didn’t we all agree this was a trap?” Amir asked. 

He’s right. The likelihood of Viktor releasing Quincy after acquiring you is very low. You can’t take him for his word, brother. 

He stood up. “That’s a chance I’m willing to take.” He sighed. “Look, it’s like you said. This year is going to be reset anyway. I’ll be in captivity for four months and then I’ll be back.” 

“Arthur, you’ll spend those four months being tortured. You can’t seriously expect us to agree to that plan,” the Drifter said. 

The others made noises of assent. Arthur waved his hands in the air. “That doesn’t matter. We don’t have time to think about another plan. I’m going.” He circled his chair and made for the door. 

The rest stood up and voiced their protest. “This is exactly what Viktor wants!” Aoi exclaimed. “To catch all of us by surprise and have you sacrifice yourself.” 

Arthur whirled around. “Well, he’s won!” The group quieted once more. They stared at him in disbelief. “He won this time. I wish we could do something to turn this around, but we can’t. Not without putting Quincy more at risk.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then said more calmly, “Quincy will be in charge of things until I return. No matter how much Viktor threatens to harm me, you can’t stop what we’re doing to protect the civilians of this city, okay?” 

No one answered him. He exhaled to relieve the pressure in his chest. “I’ll be at the garage in ten, if you want to say goodbye.” He turned and fled the room. 

There was a point in time where every time he left their base of operations, he thought he wouldn’t return. He’d leave everything in his corner of the mall neatly packed and organized, like a traveller about to move to a different location, and unpack everything once he came back. 

That changed eight months ago. He stopped bothering to put stuff back in its rightful place. He left keychains, coffee mugs and beer cans anywhere, not enough to be messy but certainly not as orderly as he could be. The mall became a lived space, a sanctuary, rather than a transitory dwelling place for him. 

Which is why it was so jarring to return to his office with the purpose of putting things away. He wanted to pause and take it all in, to process the fact that he wasn't returning to this place for the foreseeable future and that he'd spend four whole months under the custody of Viktor fucking Vodyanoi. 

But he didn't have time to reminisce. He couldn't think about the fact that he'd been sleeping more since the Drifter's arrival, about playing Fables and Frontiers with Amir and the team, about chatting nonchalantly with the Drifter and Aoi that same midday. He couldn't. 

He heard footsteps behind him just as he was done organizing his office. Mentally preparing himself, he turned around and met the luminescent eyes of the Drifter. “I’m not changing my mind,” he told them. 

The Drifter crossed their arms. “Arthur, what the fuck is going on? You’re acting like a moron.” 

Arthur glared at them. “I didn’t know looking out for my team made me a moron.” 

“That’s not what you’re doing. What you’re doing is getting both Quincy and yourself killed.” 

The Drifter rarely talked so harshly to him, or to anyone for that matter. They usually handled conflict with an easy-goingness he admired. But for whatever reason, they seemed to have run out of patience. 

He shouldered his AX-52 with a bit more force than necessary. “What I’m doing is making sure no one else gets bloody hurt.” 

“Is that what this is about?” The Drifter followed Arthur with their eyes as he went about the room. “I don’t buy it. We get hurt all the time, but you never react like this. Something else is bothering you.” 

“What’s bothering me is that Quincy’s being held by one of the most violent people I know and that every second I waste here is another second Quincy spends with that person.” He found his Vesper-77 and checked its ammo. 

The Drifter stepped towards him. “We can think of something Arthur,” they declared. “A plan that’ll let us free Quincy without sacrificing yourself.” 

He faced them. “Like what? Short of resetting the day, there’s nothing else we can do that’ll guarantee Quincy’s freedom.” 

“Turning yourself in won’t do that either! C’mon Arthur, don’t you trust us to be able to carry out a rescue mission?” 

“Of course I do. But there’s no margin for error. If I try to get Quincy back without turning myself in and make another mistake…” He trailed off, then set about his office once more. I wouldn't be able to live with myself. 

“Another mistake?” The Drifter quoted. 

“Yes.” He opened and closed drawers as he went. “It was my fault that Quincy got captured. I should’ve seen through Viktor’s trap. But I didn’t. And now Quincy’s paying for my mistake.” 

“But it wasn’t your fault.” 

Arthur scoffed. “How can it not be my fault? I’m responsible for everyone’s safety.” 

“That’s not the same thing. Just because you weren’t able to save Quincy doesn’t mean you handed him over. There’s no need for you to punish yourself like this.” 

Finally, he found the ammo packs he’d been missing. He put as many as he could in his pockets, then faced his companion once more. “I know you mean well, Drifter. I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But I’ll be fine. It’ll just be four months and then I’ll be back. I can take whatever he throws at me, I swear it.” 

Lastly, he grabbed his sword, opened the single locker in the room, and propped it up against the corner. Without looking back, he closed the cabinet and made for the exit. 

But the Drifter stepped on his way. They placed their hands on his shoulders and looked at him square in the eyes. Their expression had so much sorrow etched into it it was difficult to look at. “Please, Arthur. This team cares about you too much to let you go like this. It’s not too late to go back to the rest and talk this through. Just think about it: you have four excellently trained, super-powered individuals who’d risk everything to save a team member. You have me, a…” they grimaced, “... someone who’d do just the same. And I have a whole arsenal of Warframes, abilities and futuristic weapons. We can do this Arthur: just ask me and I’ll bring forth the entire power of the future and the Void to save Quincy. I mean it.” 

Arthur stared. “Why?” He whispered. 

The Drifter faltered. “Excuse me?” 

He was speaking before he could stop himself. “Why are you helping me? I’m nobody. Just a cog in the machine. The others are much more important than I am. So why do you want to save me so much?”

“Just a cog in the - Arthur, you can’t seriously believe that!” 

He glared. “Answer my question or I leave right now!”

The Drifter shook his shoulders. “Because I have feelings for you, you DUMBASS!”

… Oh. 

“Oh.” 

They sighed and released his shoulders to mess with their hair. “This isn’t how I envisioned this conversation would go, but so be it. I’ll keep it short.” They paused for a moment, then began anew. “I wasn’t really alive for most of my life. Even after Duviri. I felt like I didn't fit anywhere, no matter how hard the kid tried to include me. I considered myself a ghost, long dead and watching other people live their lives.” 

“But that all changed after joining this team. For the first time in centuries, I felt that I had purpose. That I belonged somewhere. You made me feel like this Arthur, along with everyone else here. You’ve all shown me what it was like to be truly alive.” They took a deep breath, then continued. “This is all to say that you’re not a dead person. You’re alive, just like the rest of us. You’re important. Not just to me, but to every person in the Hex. It’s not the same to us whether you live or die, whether you hurt or not. And neither should it be the same to you.” 

The Drifter took both of his hands. “So please,” they implored, “don't go. Come back and we'll figure something out. Okay?” 

Arthur stared into the Drifter's pleading eyes. That was his mistake. He scrutinized their handsome face for any sign of deception or hesitation. Finding none, he looked for them again. And again. When that inevitably failed, he tried to recall the reasons why he shouldn't listen to the Drifter, but to his horror, he found out they didn't hold the same weight anymore. Self-sacrifice didn't seem so appealing when you believed in your own worth. 

He couldn't possibly be considering this. He'd failed them! They'd all trusted him with their lives and one of them paid for it. He was their leader! He had to be ready to do anything for his team, no matter the personal cost. Surely he couldn't be so selfish, so arrogant to presume he could not just save both Quincy and himself, but that he should. 

The Drifter stayed completely still as he fought with himself, neither pushing him to do their bidding nor pulling away. They remained a steady presence, trapping him with their gaze, never letting him forget they were there. Tempting him, as they always have, to lower his armor and let them in. 

This was exactly what he’d been afraid of. That his bond with the Drifter would interfere with the call of duty. Because that’s what was happening right now, wasn’t it? They were coaxing him into neglecting the needs of the team so they could… do what exactly? Have him all to themself, all while leaving their teammates by the sidelines?

But he trusted the Drifter. They wouldn’t do something like that. They cared for the team just as much as he did. Their actions during the last eight months proved it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t believe they’d do anything to let harm come to the Hex. 

That left only one possibility: that they were taking the team into consideration and that they still believed he was worth saving. That they understood how important it was to put the team first, but they genuinely saw no reason to sacrifice him. 

What if the Drifter was right? What if he could do this? His team was for some reason unwilling to put him in harm's way despite his failure. He had four loyal Protoframes and the Drifter, the most powerful person he knew, on his side. As much as he pretended otherwise, the odds weren't against him. 

Maybe, just maybe, it was okay for him to do this. To factor in his survival amongst that of his teammates. To want to survive despite leading one of them astray. Because maybe he was a leader, but also a person. A living being, afraid of failing his team again. 

Because that was what it boiled down to. He was afraid. Afraid that if he committed another mistake, something much worse would happen. But since when did people dominated by fear make wise decisions? 

Sol above , he prayed, I hope I'm not wrong about this . “Okay.”

Chapter Text

After his transformation, Arthur didn’t feel the weather the same way he used to. From his face downwards, his body had become mostly impervious to heat or cold. That’s how he could go outside with his usual ensemble despite how warm he knew it was at this time of the year. 

The Drifter, sitting behind him in his Tommy, grabbed him by his midsection tightly as he and the remaining Hex drove through the empty streets of Höllvania. The sun was one quarter of the way up despite the late hour, which provided enough light for him to maneuver through the cracks and bumps on the cobbled floor. Evidence of the Techrot by way of infested growth adorned the buildings they passed, but there was no sign of the electrodomestic monstrosities. Force of habit still had him check the subway entrances for them. 

He was afraid. No, scratch that; he was terrified. It’d been months since he’d felt this kind of all-consuming fear. Perhaps that was why he’d let it control him so easily earlier. He’d grown complacent after so much time of things going their way. 

Still, he thought he was justified in feeling this way. Thanks to their lack of any meaningful intel, they’d been forced to make the most barebones plan imaginable, even more so than their mission at New Year’s. It was better than nothing, but he had no idea if it’d work. 

Whatever his reservations, it was too late to back up now. All that was left to do was move forward and hope for the best. 

Around a kilometer to Victory Plaza, he heard Eleanor’s voice in his head. Snipers three blocks away . 

They all slowed to a stop. The only one who dismounted was the Drifter, who swung out of his bike in one practiced move. They controlled a Warframe he’d never seen them use before: an unassuming humanoid shape whose only distinctive quality was its head, which sported two protruding horns that stretched out at either side horizontally, like that of a hammerhead shark. 

Aoi leaned on one of her Atomicycle’s handles. “You good to go?” 

The Drifter nodded. 

“Yes,” Arthur said. He drank in the sight of his teammates and friends, all of them ready to fight tooth and nail to save him from, at least in his mind, a justified terrible fate, and felt a surge of gratitude. He wanted to thank them, but he had no idea how. 

“We'll be here in case you need us.” Aoi waved. “See you in a bit!” 

“Don’t die,” Lettie called out. 

“Catch you later, man!” Amir exclaimed. 

Eleanor looked at him knowingly. His telepathic sister was far too perceptive for her own good. There’s no need for thanks , she told him. Coming back to us will be all the reward we need. 

Overwhelmed, Arthur nodded. He took hold of his bike’s handles and glanced at the Drifter. “Ready?” 

The Drifter made a gesture and disappeared from sight. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he muttered, then revved the engine and sped forward. 

He set a moderate pace so as to not completely overrun the Drifter. As he passed the buildings, he looked at the rooftops to see whether he could catch sight of any of the snipers. 

It didn’t take long before he did. Precisely three blocks later, he spied two green dots on the roofs of the buildings to his left and right. They each had a long instrument he recognized as sniper rifles pointed in his direction. He resisted the urge to find cover and allowed the Scaldra soldiers to follow his progress. 

As the number of blocks to his destination shrunk, he found more and more soldiers on the roofs, and eventually on the ground. None of them tried to stop him or encourage him to keep going; all they did was watch. Their green masks didn’t show their faces, but he knew that was what they were doing. 

The sharp smell of Efervon increased with the number of soldiers he passed, and so did the intensity of every instinct that told him to run away. This was wrong. He wasn’t supposed to walk into the maws of the enemy. He was supposed to get as far away from them as he could. His body stiffened as it screamed at him to do just that. This is more grueling than I'd anticipated, he thought. 

Finally, after what seemed like forever, he turned a corner and found himself face to face with Victory Plaza. What he saw there almost made him make a run for it. 

Three tanks. Viktor had brought three H-09 tanks with him. They all stood behind the plaza’s fountain’s perpetually broken statue, their long cannons pointed in his direction. And that wasn’t even taking into account the sheer number of soldiers in front of them. 

Sol above, he was going to be sick. 

Steeling himself, he made his way towards the small gathering at the center. Viktor was lounging on a chair between two Dedicants. To his right, behind a contingent of soldiers, was a small grey truck with its back facing Arthur. The doors to its contents were closed. 

He imagined that’s where Quincy was being held. 

At his approach, the soldiers surrounding Viktor raised their guns. Arthur slowed and disengaged the engine a respectable distance from them. 

Viktor stood up. “Finally,” he said. “I thought for sure you’d leave your friend to die.” 

Arthur hopped out of the bike and approached the group. “Where is he?” 

Viktor’s eyes narrowed. “You’re armed. Didn’t I tell you to come unarmed?” 

He stopped a few meters from them. “You failed to mention that.” 

“Ah, my apologies. I don’t tend to partake on hostage exchanges.” Viktor made a shooing motion. “Go on, then. Let go of your weapons.”

It seemed even with three tanks and dozens of soldiers on his side, Viktor was still cautious around him. “Not before you show me Quincy’s alive and well,” he said. 

“Hmph. I thought you'd say that.” He turned to the soldiers guarding the truck. “Bring him out.” 

One of them stepped towards the door and opened it. Handcuffed and shrouded in darkness, along with four other soldiers, was Quincy. He was pushed outside and made to stand in front of the truck, guns trained on his back. Arthur was pleased to find that beyond a few bruises on his cheeks, he looked unharmed. 

“See?” Viktor said with a sweeping gesture. “Fresh as a snowflake. Now, your turn.” 

Silently, he began to disarm himself. 

“Arthur, what the fuck are you doin’!?” Quincy yelled. One of the guards headbutted him with their rifle, and he yelped in pain. 

Arthur stopped what he was doing to glare in the guard’s direction. “Quincy, listen to me. I want you to take this bike and get back to the Hex. Don’t do anything rash, just take it and get the hell out of here.” 

“As if,” Quincy spat out. 

He left his AX-52, Vesper-77 and all his ammo packs in the ground in front of him. “Don’t argue with me.” Completely unarmed, he turned to Viktor and spread his arms. “All done. Release him now and I’ll let you capture me.” 

“About that.” Viktor crossed his arms and made a show of squinting at them both. “I don’t trust Mr. Isaacs to follow your orders. I think I’ll keep him in my possession for now.” 

He pointed at Arthur. “Guards, take him.” 

At their approach, Arthur stepped back reflexively. It did him no good; they were on him in the blink of an eye. He cursed as he was slammed head first into the floor and his wrists were forced to his back. He could hear Quincy yelling and struggling with his captors; he tried to do the same, but his position made it difficult to fight back. He could almost picture Viktor’s elated face at having had his way. 

Drifter, where are you!? He thought. 

All at once, Quincy’s voice disappeared. Arthur would’ve thought they’d knocked him unconscious, if it wasn’t for the fact that the Scaldra around him had gone utterly still. With effort, he maneuvered his head so he could look at where Quincy was. 

Or at least, where he should’ve been. There wasn’t a single trace of the man himself. The guards seemed equally lost. 

Viktor was staring at Quincy’s last position with horror. “What in Sol’s name –”

A shockwave knocked all the soldiers backwards, including Viktor. The only reason Arthur himself wasn’t affected was because he was already on the ground. He tried to take advantage of their distraction to stand up, but the guards recovered quickly and forced him back to the floor. 

He heard a scream, and suddenly, one of his guards toppled over. Their mask was destroyed and their neck was severed. The resulting commotion had the rest of the Scaldra yelling and pointing their guns at their fallen comrade, unable to pinpoint what’d killed them. 

“Kill Arthur!” Viktor was shouting. He must’ve realized he was being rescued. “Kill him!” 

Another guard dropped dead. Finally, Arthur was able to stand up and make a mad dash towards his Atomicycle. Not a single bullet crossed his path as he did - he heard soldiers hollering about their weapons not working - which meant he was unharmed by the time he reached the vehicle. Quick as lightning, he hopped on, revved the engine, and spun the bike a hundred and eighty degrees before speeding away from the plaza, engaging its vertical boosters to jump above the group of Scaldra blocking his way. 

Just as he was turning the corner, he heard the sound of several cannons hitting the wall behind him. It looked like he’d just escaped the firepower of the H-09s. 

Don’t slow down , Eleanor told him telepathically. Quincy and the Drifter are on their way. 

Breathing hard, he focused on evading the remaining Scaldra and returning to the Hex in one piece. 

Chapter Text

The moment they returned to the mall, he had Lettie conduct a check-up on Quincy. He’d suffered a few blows to the head, but otherwise he was in good health. Their transformed bodies were capable of taking a lot more punishment than normal people, so Lettie had dismissed Quincy quickly, to their collective relief. 

Arthur had everyone finish their shifts early. Taking advantage of their additional free time and the festive atmosphere that’d permeated the group upon Quincy’s return, Aoi proposed a karaoke night, with the excuse that the Drifter had never been to one. Most of them agreed immediately, and the ones who didn’t were eventually convinced. The group chat became a flurry of activity, with people talking about what to bring and where to carry out their plans. 

In the end, it was decided they’d perform their impromptu karaoke session in the Drifter’s quarters. Amir brought the tech, Aoi brought the tunes, and everyone else came along with an assortment of food and drinks. The Drifter cleared the table on the ground floor of the Backrooms, and before long, the team was together and ready to jam it out. 

The night progressed swimmingly. They ate, talked, sang and laughed in no particular order. They made fun of each other’s singing, shared stories, the Drifter even took out their Shawzin and tried to copy the songs Aoi had brought. It was an all around jolly time. 

During an interval, Arthur took the opportunity to take in the scene in front of him. Eleanor was winding down after a round of, to the consternation of the group, flawless telepathic singing, Quincy was trying to convince the Drifter and Amir they did no t want to hear him sing, and Lettie was taking care of one of her rats while Aoi watched on with a contented smile on her face. The group was happy, united. 

And he’d almost split it apart. 

Aoi noticed him looking, and scooted over to his side of the sofa. “You seem serious,” she told him quietly so the others wouldn’t hear. “Everything okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he replied automatically. 

She gave him a skeptical look. “You sure? It’s been a rough day.”

“Yeah.” 

They watched the group in silence. The conversations flew right over his head as he thought about what to say. “I just…” Aoi glanced in his direction. He struggled to push the next words out. “... don't know if I deserve to be here.” 

“Hey!” Aoi twisted her body so it was facing him. “Of course you do. Don't even think for a second that you don't.” 

“But I almost blew it.” 

“So what? We all make mistakes. Even you, mister.” 

He looked down at the space between them. “How can you forgive me so easily?” 

“The same way you forgive us when we make mistakes,” she said simply. “By understanding us and making the best out of the situation.” 

He wanted to say it wasn’t the same, that he was in charge and that his mistakes had bigger consequences. But something told him Aoi would keep denying him culpability anyway. The fact that he could predict her answers to his negative self-talk and thus find holes in its arguments by himself was perhaps a step in the right direction. 

Arthur looked up and met her kind gaze. “Thank you,” he said. 

She smiled. Then promptly, her expression fell to something more serious. “That said,” she told him firmly, “you can’t do that again. If it wasn’t for the Drifter, you and Quincy would be stuck with Viktor for the rest of the year and we would’ve been unable to continue helping the people of this city. We might’ve even disbanded.” 

“I know,” he said. At her exasperated expression, he amended, “I know that now.” 

“Good,” she replied. 

Another short silence followed. This time, it was Aoi who broke it. “How are things with the Drifter by the way?” 

He exhaled in embarrassment. “Aoi.” 

“What? I’m just wondering.” 

He watched the Drifter as they talked animatedly with Lettie about Mexican songs. “I dunno.” He hesitated, then said, “I need to talk to them.” 

“Sounds like that’ll be a serious conversation.” 

He huffed. “That’s putting it mildly.” He crossed his legs. “Problem is, I don’t know how to say what I want to say.” 

Aoi hummed. “Can I give you some advice?” 

Arthur blinked at her. “Go for it.” 

“Don’t let that stop you from having that conversation. Go for it even if you don’t know exactly how to say what you want to say. Start small, then go from there. The words will come to you.” She paused before continuing. “You keep a lot to yourself Arthur. That can make you feel alienated from others, like you’re on your own. Even among friends.” She laid a hand on his knee. “If there’s someone you want to get close to, talk to them. About what you’re going through. That’s my advice.” 

He felt his chest grow tight with emotion. He knew, without being told, that she was thinking about their past relationship. It was water under the bridge by now, they’d both come to terms with the reality that they weren’t meant for each other in that way, but enough mistakes had been made on both sides - especially his - that they didn’t discuss the topic often. The fact that Aoi was bringing it up again to help him with his blossoming relationship with the Drifter filled him with gratitude for her. 

Quincy called Aoi over. They looked over at him, then at each other. She gave him a friendly smile. “Just think about it.” She squeezed his knee good-naturedly before standing up and joining the others. 

It wasn’t long after that their reunion came to a close. The Hex helped the Drifter put away the trash and arrange the furniture like they’d found it. One by one, they bid each other farewell and filed out the portal of the Backrooms back to the mall. 

Arthur however stayed back. He took a deep breath, then faced the Drifter, who was standing next to the portal. “Before I go,” he said, “I wanted to talk to you. If that’s okay.” 

The Drifter nodded. They seemed unsurprised by his request. “Let’s sit down.” 

They led him towards the same sofa where he and Aoi had conversed. They sat down at one end, while he sat down in the middle, a respectable distance between them. 

The Drifter twisted their body to face him. “Okay. What did you want to talk about?” 

Arthur wasn’t proud to admit it, but he blanked out at that moment. He’d tried to heed Aoi’s advice, but starting the conversation was proving to be more difficult than he’d realized. He didn’t want to think about what it’d be like to actually get to the meat of things. 

Start small, she’d said. 

“First, I wanted to thank you for lending us your room today,” he said. “I know we can be a rowdy bunch.” 

The Drifter waved a hand. “It was nothing. I think everyone had a good time.” They seemed to consider something, then asked, “Did you have a good time?” 

“Yeah.” It was true. Being with the others with the objective of having fun rather than keeping either the Techrot or Scaldra at bay had been a breath of fresh air. Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised him. “I didn’t think I would, but I did.” 

They smiled. “You sing really well. Quincy told me beforehand, but it still didn’t prepare me for how good you’d be at it.” 

“Uh, thanks I guess.” He cleared his throat. “You’re not half bad yourself.” 

“Even if I sang ‘Party of your Lifetime’?” They teased. 

His lips pulled up fractionally. “That song is bloody everywhere. I’m not surprised it was one of the only songs you knew the lyrics of.” 

They grimaced. “Yeah. I should know more music of this era at this point.” 

“I can introduce you to other songs if you’d like,” he suggested. “Something that’s not On-Lyne.” As he said that though, he felt a wave of embarrassment hit him. It should’ve been painfully obvious to anyone who’d heard him how keen he was to spend more time with the Drifter, including the person themself. 

If they saw it however, they didn’t show it. “I’d like that,” they said. “I can’t believe I still don’t know what your favorite songs are.” 

“I don’t know yours either,” he realized. “Come to think of it, I don’t know any songs of your era.” 

“I can show you one now. Would you like that?” 

Arthur nodded. “Why not?” 

The Drifter stood up and headed towards the stand that kept their instrument - the Shawzin - upright. They grabbed it by the handle and walked back to the couch. They sat on the edge, then gave the strings an experimental trim. “Here goes,” they said, and began playing. 

The first section was instrumental. It was a catchy melody that they repeated twice, fingers moving expertly over the guitar-like instrument. Arthur found himself enraptured, not wanting to squander the opportunity to listen to music that wouldn’t exist for ages. 

Then, repeating the same melody, the Drifter started to sing. Their voice was a little hoarse from all the singing they’d done previously, but it was also admirably steady. The lyrics themselves were a pleasure to listen to, charming in their simplicity yet grave in their meaning. They repeated them once, then raised their voice and followed up with a new set that sent shivers down his spine. The Shawzin followed accordingly, changing the notes to accompany the new lyrics. 

After that was done, they stopped singing altogether and switched back to the first melody. They hummed what remained of the song before their fingers stilled on the instrument. 

He raised his eyes and found theirs staring back at him. “That was lovely,” he breathed. 

They scratched the back of their neck, smiling sheepishly. “Thanks. I don’t do it justice though. The Solaris tend to sing it together, and it sounds a lot better that way.” 

“What for?” 

“It gives them the courage to keep going when shit hits the fan. Which is often.” 

He hummed. The Drifter stood up and went to leave the Shawzin back to its stand. He saw this lull in conversation, and the last topic they’d left it on, for what it was: a chance to breach the next subject. He gathered his wits about him, and, as they sat down on the couch, said, “I also wanted to thank you for something else.” 

They looked at him expectantly. “For…” he floundered, then steeled himself, “... for stopping me today. From going to Viktor by myself.” 

Their expression shifted. It became more muted, less cheerful. “I wasn’t sure I’d succeed,” they confessed quietly. “I kept improvising in the hopes that something would stick. Even now I’m not sure what I said that convinced you to stay.” 

“You reminded me I had value,” he told them. “That I wasn’t alone. People would be upset if I was gone, even if I did screw up.” 

“You didn’t,” they insisted. “And we wouldn’t have just been upset, Arthur. We would’ve been heartbroken. You built this team too well to allow even one of us to disappear.” 

“I’m realizing that now.” He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry. For putting you in that position. It wasn’t fair to you, and it wasn’t fair to the team.” 

He looked the Drifter square in the eye to show he was being genuine. They stared back with an emotion he couldn’t discern if his life depended on it. 

“Thanks for saying that,” they whispered. “You scared me shitless. If I hadn’t been able to save you…” They left the sentence hanging. 

He felt something in him break. “Oh, love…” he murmured. 

No sooner had the endearment slipped that he froze right where he sat. The Drifter seemed equally surprised. Their eyes had grown wide and their mouth was slightly agape. “Love?” They quoted. 

Arthur slapped a hand over his face. What he failed to consider was that his face was still human, whereas his hand was as tough as metal. The appendage slammed into him painfully, and he yelped before immediately taking his hand away. “Shit!”

The Drifter scooted closer to him and raised their hands worriedly. “You okay!?” 

“M’ fine,” he grumbled, moving his hand (carefully this time) to massage his face. “I’m fine,” he repeated more eloquently. 

Once they’d made sure he wasn’t harmed, the Drifter snickered to themself, then leaned back and waited for him to get back his bearings. That was more easily said than done; he’d embarrassed himself in front of them not once, but twice. Even after his face stopped hurting, it was difficult to remove his hand from it and return his attention to them. 

“Shit,” he repeated. “Bollocksed that up nicely, didn’t I?” 

They barked another short laugh. “Nah, you’re good.” They paused, then asked, “Did you say what I think you said?” 

“I believe so.” 

They watched him carefully. “Did you mean it?” 

He watched them back, just as cautiously. 

It wasn’t that long ago that he'd considered his relationship with the Drifter a liability. He'd been so afraid of it changing his priorities that he'd held himself back from truly committing to it. Sure, they'd talked about a lot of things, but he'd done that reluctantly, half-convinced they'd have to stop and keep their distance one day. 

But now? After they'd reached out to him and saved him, Quincy, and the team from being split apart, all thanks to how close they were to each other? How much they trusted and believed in one another? 

He pushed his embarrassment aside and, slowly, brought his hand to rest on top of one of theirs. The Drifter blinked with what he thought was surprise, before their expression relaxed. The corners of their mouth quirked up, and slowly, they turned their hand over to interlace their fingers together. His breath got caught in his throat. 

Arthur struggled to push out the following words. “I’m not good at this,” he said. “Relationships, I mean. I thought for a long time I wasn’t meant for them. But Drifter?” He tightened his grip on their hand. “I’d be willing to try. I want to give ‘us’ a shot. I understand if you don’t want to for whatever reason, but I just want you to know that I care about you a great deal, and that you can have me in whatever shape and form you want.” 

As he spoke, the Drifter’s smile had grown until it became a crescent moon: incandescent and brilliant in an otherwise dark place. He was just as enchanted as if he’d seen the real thing. “I want to try ‘us’ too,” they said softly. “I care about you the same way.” 

His breath left him in a rush. He hadn’t realized how tense his shoulders had become until now. “Alright then.” He felt lightheaded, as if he was a balloon floating above the ground. Unable to keep still, he placed his other hand on top of their entangled ones. “You and me.” 

The Drifter scooted over until they were almost on top of him and used their remaining hand to draw him in close. They laid their head on his shoulder, their hair tickling his ear and their warmth sipping into his bones. “You and me,” they echoed. 

He leaned onto their embrace, closing his eyes to drink in the moment. They stayed like that for a while, holding each other through the intensity of their feelings. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that content, that at peace. If someone had told him months ago that he’d feel like this, he would’ve laughed in their face. And yet this was his life now, and he vowed to treasure each day and not take their newfound closeness for granted. 

Eventually, enough time passed that his eyelids became heavy. Reluctantly, he mumbled into their head, “I should get going.” 

“Hmm,” the Drifter mumbled drowsily. It looked like he wasn’t the only one tired by the day’s events. “Okay.” 

They disentangled from one another, but kept holding each other’s hands as they approached the portal back to the mall. They stood in front of the exit awkwardly, neither of them knowing what to do with themselves. 

After a moment, Arthur simply sighed, and said, “See you in the morning.” He turned towards the door and made to step through it, but the Drifter didn’t let go of his hand. 

He looked back at them quizzically. They wore a tentative smile on their face. “No goodnight kiss?” They asked. 

Arthur felt his shoulders drop. Chuckling to himself, he stepped away from the portal and back into the Drifter’s personal space. They gazed at him with expectant, luminescent eyes. 

He couldn’t believe they used to unsettle him once. 

Delicately, he put his hands on their waist. In turn, they placed theirs on his shoulders. The feeling of their hands on his body was muted, but comforting nonetheless. He saw them glance at his lips and then wet theirs. Stamping down his nerves, he wet his own, tilted his head, and leaned forward. 

Their kiss was long and close-mouthed. They put only a little bit of pressure behind it, but it was more than enough to make his head spin. He closed his eyes to savour the sensation of their soft lips against his own for as long as he could. Their lips slid smoothly against one another as they separated to inhale some air, but the Drifter took the opportunity to lean back in and steal another kiss. He felt them slide their hands from his shoulders to the nape of his neck, fingers resting just below his hairline as they gently angled his head for better access to his mouth. 

The sweetness of it almost made him cry. 

The Drifter was the first to break the kiss. They leaned their forehead against his and breathed the same air as him for a few seconds. Arthur opened his eyes slowly, and did what he could to slow down his breathing. 

“Okay,” they whispered breathlessly. “Now you can go.” 

He couldn’t help but give them one last peck before finally removing his hands from their waist. “Bye love,” he whispered back. 

Their smile, if possible, widened more. “Bye,” they called out. 

Before he could change his mind, Arthur turned around and stepped through the portal. 

The stale air of the mall greeted him. He walked through and out of the clothing store in a stupor. He still wasn’t convinced it hadn’t all been a dream, a scenario his mind had conjured up as some sort of wish-fulfillment. 

But his lips still tingled with the memory of their kiss. That could only mean it was real. 

His mouth split into a full-blown, ecstatic smile. “ Yes .”