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“It’s all your fault.” A light whisper in his ear, a voice of someone familiar.
Fluixon can feel his breath against his ear. He shouldn’t have, though. He really needs to sleep properly one of these days. He knows that’s impossible; his body refuses to cooperate in every way.
So, Fluixon could only turn around and stare at his past, refusing to say a word to the other.
Thomas stared back at him and smiled, a smile that still haunts him. It wasn’t creepy, it wasn’t wide either, it was soft, yet Fluixon never wanted to see that ever.
“It’s your fault, isn’t it?” Thomas asked.
It is.
“It’s because of you.”
I know.
“And you’re still here.”
A sigh, “Are you just here to taunt me?” Fluixon finally spoke and asked. He was tired of this, tired of always being mocked by his past. He knows, he goddamn knows! He doesn’t need a reminder. He doesn’t want that.
But he knows he deserves it. He deserves this punishment… well, is it really a punishment when he still gets to see him?
Thomas hums, shaking his head, “Of course not. We’re supposed to be finding food for you today. You ran out of stock last week.”
Ah. That’s why he’s starving.
Fluixon shrugs, “Let’s do whatever you want.”
Thomas’s smile remained as he stared directly into Fluixon’s eyes.
—
It’s been almost an hour since Fluixon and Thomas were gathering resources, mostly food. Fluixon was focused on picking apples from the tree, and Thomas was just watching him, barely doing anything. He hadn’t scolded him for that, as he was used to it.
The two returned when Fluixon was satisfied with the amount of both crops and meat he had retrieved. He recalled the apples he had picked and thought of crafting golden apples once they arrived at Fluixon’s safehouse.
Once they arrived, Fluixon placed all his resources nicely in a chest where all his previous food was. He retrieves gold ingots from a different storage box so he can craft the golden apples he has wanted.
Having more than enough for himself, he makes his way towards Thomas. The other only stared at him before moving his hand out, as if knowing Fluixon had wanted to give him the fruit. Fluixon then placed the apple he already held in his hand on Thomas’s palm.
A thud was heard from the ground beneath them. Fluixon moved his head down to look at whatever it was as the apple rolled towards Fluixon’s heels, hitting against it.
He could hear a chuckle coming from Thomas. Fluixon slowly lifted his head to see that knowing smile, smirk.
“How naive you are, Boss,” he giggles, tilting his head to the side.
Of course.
Fluixon slowly pulls his body down on the floor and curls into a ball, placing his face against his knee.
You’re such a fool, Fluixon.
—
And when Fluixon yelled out, “Jump,” Thomas followed through, and he followed suit. Hand in each other’s hand, as they did. He was the loyal right-hand man to the Architect of the Conspiracy. He was loyal up until the end, and Fluixon witnessed all that and his death.
So the two jumped off of Infernus’s castle. Fluixon had barely survived the fall, landing in lava, but Thomas didn’t. No matter how many times Fluixon had force-fed him his spare golden apples, it was impossible. Thomas was dying. Thomas will die.
However, Thomas didn’t die with a frown, nor did he die instantly. It was painful to watch when Fluixon knew how much in pain he was. All because of him. All because Thomas was loyal until the very end.
And how Fluixon hates it, hates that it was his doing, and hates that he has to witness his right-hand man’s death in his very eyes.
And he’ll forever hate what Thomas’s last words to him were.
“Fluixon…” Thomas struggled yet spoke in tears, “E- Endure… the pain…” a pause as he continues to struggle with the next line, “And... live… with love…” he said with a soft, small smile. A smile that’ll forever haunt him.
Fluixon gripped onto Thomas’s hand tightly as he said those final words and took his final breath. The man was laid on Fluixon’s lap, carefully.
The Architect sat there staring at Thomas’s now lifeless body. Refusing to shed a tear, he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t. At least, not when others are looking. Because, oh, was it difficult to keep a straight face witnessing the death of the one who meant so much to him.
Refusing to let him go like that, he stayed there for a while before hearing yells of his name. They were voices from his enemies, those who wanted him dead, those who wanted Infernus and the Conspiracy dead.
Fluixon was sure; he was the only one left. After witnessing Thomas’s death, he might as well…
However…
“Endure the pain, live with love.”
Live, live, live, live, live, livelivelive—
Fluixon had to cherish a dying friend’s wishes. Even if it hurts, even if it’s painful.
He chuckled bitterly, yet had a soft look on Thomas as tears still hadn’t stopped rolling down his cheeks, coming from his eyes.
“Thomas…” he said in a soft and painful tone, “How cruel you are, wishing for me to continue living when you’re gone.” He moved a hand to reach Thomas’s hairlocks. “You know I cannot say no to you…” Fluixon mutters out, leaning his face close to the side of Thomas’s face, and pressing a small kiss on the other’s cheek.
Fluixon quickly moved away, his lips still inches away from the other cheek, as he ran his fingers through the locks of his hair. He knew he had to leave now; he couldn’t stay, but the thought of leaving behind Thomas’s corpse haunts him too much.
But Fluixon couldn’t carry him. He could never carry Thomas. He’s too weak…
“I’m sorry,” he softly says in an apologetic tone.
Fluixon slowly let go of Thomas and stood up. He looks down at Thomas’s corpse, staring at it— no, him.
With hesitation, Fluixon turned around and left, left Thomas.
—
Fluixon had to hide, he had to run away, he had to disappear. If he shows up anywhere, he’d instantly be turned in or killed on sight. He’d be willing to achieve either of those if Thomas hadn’t said anything.
Truly, it’s his right-hand man’s fault for dying before him. Grief is such a funny feeling, isn’t it?
And even when he received a message from a friend, Saparata, to “Come to the duel. No more running, he refused to take the bait.
Even if he badly wanted to, he ignored that.
Maybe living was his punishment for what he had done. Death is too much as an easy way out, anyway.
—
“You think you’ve repented enough?” Thomas’s voice again. He’s back to reality. Well, partially. If reality involved hearing the voice of the dead.
Fluixon shook his head, “No.”
Fluixon was lying on his bed, attempting to sleep, when Thomas decided to bother him. He lies down on his side next to Fluixon, who was completely on his back. Fluixon could feel his eyes boring through him.
“At least you know.”
Fluixon loathes this Thomas, yet can’t help but indulge in him time and time again. It’s the last hold of his one true love after all. It’s what he has left of him when he couldn’t even properly bury him, as he deserves to be. But Fluixon couldn’t.
I deserve this.
To be reminded by Thomas himself that it was his fault, that the other is gone and won’t come back. This was a reminder of that moment; it’s Fluixon’s mind playing with him. Because Fluixon knows Thomas would never be like this, not at all.
He wishes he were, maybe then… he’d still be alive.
Fluixon turns his head to look at Thomas, “I love you,” he softly says, it’s barely audible.
Thomas stares back, his smile drops before he opens his mouth to speak, “It’s useless telling that to thin air.”