Chapter Text
It often seemed like there was always anger etched into the deepest parts of his soul. That whenever he went, like a loyal guard dog afraid of leaving its master’s side, fury followed him even when he ordered it to stay behind. Quick to catch fire and even quicker to blow up, against his kind nature praised by all around him, that anger lingered at the edges of his mind.
From a young age and despite his most prayed for wishes, sometimes Khaslana felt like he left a stain of rage on everything he touched. And unable to wash it away, those soiled by his presence carried that anger for the rest of their lives. A delusion it must have been, yet that fear remained long into his older years, creeping up his consciousness every time Khaslana tried to loosen the leash he put himself into with his own two hands.
Anger was unkind yet he never wished to be, and Khaslana promised himself that no matter what this world threw his way, he would always bury that fury in the pyre from which it came from. Even the warmth of the sun could be deadly, and he never wished to burn those he cared about. Only the gentlest of heat, never lukewarm but not enough to smother, Khaslana vowed to become the sun that nurtured everything around him.
And so, he did. Yet even then, that despicable little something kept scratching against his heart.
If only Cyrene wasn’t above using it against him.
All glowing and a bit otherworldly, as she often was returning back from the Temple, Cyrene watched you from afar, not in a hurry to say hello just yet. “He likes her, you know~” If only she was also not that interested in teasing him, too.
It was far too hot to be standing here in the direct sunlight, yet they waited patiently even if sweat clung to their flushed skin. Occupied by what seemed like a mildly engaging conversation, you kept tapping your foot against the ground, a small dust cloud gathering around your feet. And the classmate who refused to let you walk away just yet, spoke about something with far more enthusiasm than a young man his age would usually have while conversing with a girl they didn’t find attractive.
You never seemed to care about implications, too busy fanning yourself with the heap of wheat in your hand; Aedes Elysiae was small and everyone long since knew that there was something – unspoken, unmentioned, unshared, yet oh so beautifully tender – between him and you. And it was usually enough to make all the unwanted suitors stay at bay; there weren’t many of those in this tiny village, anyway. What was so different this time around was unclear, yet there had to be something that changed for them to think that now there was a chance for one of you to betray this chase.
The anger wasn’t truly there – it never was – yet whatever stirred inside of Khaslana that day was oddly unpleasant on his tongue. Annoyance was a far better word to describe it; itchy and sour, it coated his mouth even after he swallowed.
“Clearly,” Khaslana deadpanned, not willing to entertain any more of Cyrene’s instigations even if she never truly meant any harm. There was always a line he never dared to cross.
“Aren't you even a little but jealous?” She pouted, a little frown on her face not matching the knowing look in her eyes. Older and wiser, Cyrene knew far more about this life even without a Titan guiding her every step. She also knew where to press to make his annoyance pool into something closer to a spark which could easily ignite a fire that would never be extinguished if given a chance to burn. It was immensely fortunate she wasn’t the kind to relish in the blaze of destruction. “What if he’s dreamy enough to steal her away?”
Cyrene had to be teasing for the sake of getting a rise out of him, Khaslana realized then. For what other reason would she be asking such foolish questions if not to annoy him? Cyrene – no matter how much he wished to state otherwise – knew you better than he did. And you didn’t care about dreaminess, or running away from your chosen path. You were not the kind of person to break your promises, and the vow you two gave may not have been the one made with words, yet it was sealed by your reflections of the stained-glass windows of your house. So it would always be enough.
“She trusts me to never betray this chase. So why would I betray her by doubting her feelings?” Khaslana shrugged, a little too nonchalant for it to be real in Cyrene’s eyes. She smiled like she knew something he didn’t, and it only made Khaslana gradually more exasperated. “And wasn't it you who said she likes me too, Cyrene?”
Maybe his blind trust in you was far too amusing for her, maybe your fate has changed since the last time Cyrene promised him that your affections only burned for him. Khaslana was young and naïve, in love and a coward. Maybe Oronyx thought him undeserving of your time, maybe Mnestia got bored weaving the threads of your love. He would never know unless Cyrene confessed all the secrets hidden behind that sly smile of hers. Yet even if her words confirmed his fears true, Khaslana still foolishly believed you two were strong enough to defy fate and end up together at the end of this perilous journey even if it took you your whole life to get there.
“Don’t look so scared, I’m just asking!” She waved him off, a fleeting touch of her palm against his shoulder. If Khaslana truly looked scared, he surely didn’t feel like it. But there must have been something on his face for Cyrene to try and undo her own damage. “I just know how teen boys usually are. All explosive and hormonal. But you’re always so calm about things like these, it gets boring sometimes.”
Was it truly considered boring to have faith in the one you love? Maybe he was simply far too young to truly comprehend the extent of romantic feelings, but whatever he knew of love was warm and exciting, constant and stable. Not yet painful and bitter, not yet tasting like a first last kiss goodbye, so if he were a fool for trusting you so strongly, then so be it. Khaslana was sure that even in anguish, that faith would never waver, instead growing stronger each time his heart bled.
“I don’t see how anger can resolve this, Cyrene,” he admitted a tad bit hesitantly.
She must have understood what he was talking about, as she hummed in agreement, a quick glance thrown your way. Still waiting, Cyrene let you take your time, never ushering you to drop everything and return to her side. In a way, it was almost unfair how the older girl acted as if she had all the time in this world when it came to you. As if Cyrene never had to force herself to outrun the rain to reach the place where the thunder was roaring, because she always knew exactly the spot where the lightning would inevitably strike. Unlike Khaslana himself, who chased the echoes of the storm, hoping that it would finally catch him off guard. If only he wasn’t so blinded by dreams of warriors and wild adventures, maybe he would have been struck by lightning a long time ago.
“If anything, it's you who I am jealous of,” Khaslana’s voice was muffled by the air leaving his lungs, yet Cyrene caught them anyway. A little taken aback, she gave him a puzzled look that was hard to fake for someone as expressive as her. A can of worms fully opened, Khaslana regretted admitting anything.
“Me? Truly?” Confused, Cyrene gently titled her head to the side, only for her smile to grow wider the next moment. A teasing glint burning brighter in the blue of her eyes, Khaslana knew there was no escaping fate. She latched herself onto his arm, tugging him closer to her, “Think I can whisk [Name] away on a romantic adventure unlike any other?”
Khaslana huffed – half amused, half offended – pushing the older girl aside as gently as he could, “You've known her for longer than I did. There's so much of my time wasted not knowing her, it makes me feel a little jealous that you know her better.”
If only he had more time. If only it were now and not tomorrow, maybe Khaslana wouldn’t have to stand here waiting for you. Cyrene truly was blessed by the kindest spirits, to be given that time she got to spend knowing you. At least he surely got tomorrow, the time nobody could take away from him. Not now, not till his body turned to nothing but ash to nurture the soil of your beloved home.
“Well, we have all the time in the world, you know, right?” Cyrene said then, a sliver of something delicate laced into her soft voice, “The three of us will always have enough time.”
Cyrene was wrong, he was just like any other teenage boy around: he liked a pretty girl and was unable to handle emotional conversations without running away before they got too close to where it hurt the most. “You better not try to move in when we get married.” Maybe next time he would be braver.
“Can't promise anything!” She grinned, fully accepting his audacious words as one true inevitable reality, “It would be far too miserable without me around~”
The tides shifted, a warm wind current bringing forth a thunder cloud with a promise of prosperous rain. It felt almost divine after a whole day of blazing sunlight, and Khaslana forced himself to stop his body from trying to lean into it. Far too soon into now, not yet amidst the promised tomorrow. But surely some day.
When he would be older and less shameful, when he would learn to be loud and unrestrained, when his hands would stop tremble as they did now. When he would embrace the anger as a part of him that he could learn to control and use to his advantage. Surely then Khaslana would never fear the flame that the lightning strike could spark.
“What are you arguing about this time?” Your voice carried the weight of a heatwave, and your feet were covered in a layer of dust. The wheat in your hand was as gold as the blood of the blessed heirs and it almost felt like a baleful omen, yet you continued fanning yourself with it.
“Look who finally decided to show up!” Cyrene exclaimed, a little accusatory finger pocking your forearm. Not wasting any more time, she dragged you two back to the swing, the breeze of slowly splashing waves and the shade of the tree branches above your heads granting you a sliver of relief. You two took your usual spot on the swing, barely enough space to fit onto the seat together, and Khaslana dropped on the wooden floor next to you, eyes still glued to the sand sticking to your feet. “Did you know that Khaslana is jealous of us, apparently.”
Cyrene sounded almost offended. Be it for you or for her own sake, but the tinge of something truly angry was there, nonetheless. A brief moment of silence was far too heavy, Khaslana couldn’t help stealing a glance at your flushed face. You were already watching him, a puzzled look and a tiny wrinkle in between your eyebrows, yet as beautiful as the day he met you. This alone was almost enough to send him running away then and there.
Your hair was falling from the messy braid Cyrene left you with this morning, sticking to your forehead and temples. You kept trying to tame it with one hand but to no avail. Too little space and far too much work, you gave up halfway, tucking the unruly strands behind your ears. Khaslana prayed for the time to come when he could do it all for you.
“Be honest, is it the ears?” Your dry delivery would have made him laugh were he not so madly in love with you at this moment. Nothing stopped Cyrene from burning into laughter, gathering stray tears at the corners of her eyes. “Are you feeling left out, Khaslana?”
“He's upset I know you better,” truly a traitor like no other, Cyrene sold his deepest insecurities away for a handful of sunflower seeds you dropped into her open palm. “Can you imagine that?”
You never seemed to mind, a welcoming smile on your lips blooming far too dangerously, “There's always time for you to catch up.”
You were so willing to wait idly for Khaslana to come to his senses, it was all but injustice towards your own self. Nobody could promise the sun would rise tomorrow, nobody could claim that the sun would set tonight. All borrowed moments in hopes of a future, it almost felt like now never even existed. But what if Khaslana was tired of chasing after tomorrows? What if he yearned for now and the things that he was missing out on, too fearful of all the possibilities occurring should he be careless? Would the world burn if he allowed himself to steal the thunder and lighting, to forever keep them in his chest right next to his beating heart?
It felt like it would. Yet Cyrene looked at him like it wouldn’t. It was enough.
“Yeah, so hurry up.” Erratic, his bleeding heart could not stop racing. Pulsing somewhere in his ears, he couldn’t even hear his own words as his mouth moved on its own accord. Now or never, Khaslana would not wait for tomorrow any longer. “I’m tired of waiting for your lightning to strike me.”
Wide eyed and caught off guard, you looked away, hiding your face in the heap of wheat you kept pressed to your chest all this time, “You are so unfair, Khaslana. You can’t say that only to keep running away from the thunder.” A tremor to your voice, you lifted your eyes only for your gaze to shake the ground beneath his feet. “Have you ever thought that all this time I was yearning for the sun?”
“I…” Air stuck in his lungs, Khaslana scrambled to his feet. A careless hand offered to you, Cyrene’s knowing look burning hotter than any fire. “I can fix that. If you let me. Please let me.”
The wheat fell from your grasp when you took his hand. Khaslana didn’t know where he was taking you, but wherever it was, you were still by his side despite knowing even less. Maybe right now was the only time that ever truly mattered, but even so, matching his pace to yours made all those possible tomorrows feel bright and hopeful.
“Will you name your daughter after me?” Cyrene called out, only faraway echo reaching the two of you from behind the wall of the Courtyard.
You laughed, hiding your embarrassment by the stony façade, “Not a single chance, Cyrene.”
The wheat scattered all over the dock.
Cyrene would still be there to pick it up.