Chapter Text
One day, Blaze and Ais set out to Baraju.
The next, Nova and Blizzard returned.
Solar’s gaze flicked over his notes in contemplation, uncaring of the chaos booming outside.
“At this rate,” he started, turning pages, “they’ll run the station into the ground.”
Beside him, Halilintar snorted, leaning on the chair Solar was sitting on. “As if they aren’t already.”
The light elemental sighed and closed his notes, letting himself fall back into the cushioned seat. Before him was a series of computers and panels, looking through walls of reinforced glass into a simulated jungle.
Unbound, maniacal laughter echoed within the control room, haunting them even in the safety of sterility and machinery. It was quickly followed by a blur of blue and red zipping past the glass, then an explosion that caused the floors beneath them to tremble.
Gempa leaned forward towards the microphone, activating it with the push of a button. “Guys,” he said sternly, voice resonating through the speakers over the glass, “what did we say about collateral damage?”
“That we’ll get all blown into space and die horrible deaths,” Rimba mourned, his voice filtering through their earpieces.
Solar’s eye twitched. “Close enough.”
Thankfully, the explosions did come to a stop, but it only meant they’d turned the collateral damage onto each other instead. They can heal; the station can’t. And after a poorly timed dive from Beliung, Blizzard flipped and encased the entire place in ice, freezing over the cameras and the glass.
“One of these days, they’ll get someone killed,” Halilintar murmured.
Gempa’s sighed weighed a hundred tons. “I’ll go get them.”
Solar spun on his chair, dove forward and grabbed the back of Gempa’s collar before he could walk out that door. “No!” He dragged him back, forcing him to stumble. “You’re no match for their combined insanity and stupidity. The only thing you’ll get is an extended stay in an infirmary bed!”
“They’re still them,” Gempa argued. “They won’t hurt me.”
“On purpose,” Halilintar pointed out. “They’re not exactly the epitome of control.”
Golden light filtered in through the ice, cutting through the glacial air. The three stared in matching deadpan expressions when an inferno blazed through the simulation room, vaporizing the ice in an instant.
Such a casual display of power, in the hands of such immature men.
“Let’s cut this short,” Solar decided. “Any more and they’ll really doom us all.”
Neither elementals disagreed.
(Gempa, despite Halilintar and Solar’s discouragements, made the decision to brave through the catastrophe to wrangle the others back.
It came far closer than what they were comfortable with—Gempa was right, of course; they wouldn’t hurt him intentionally. But it was the collateral, the fallout surrounding the nature of their powers that nearly buried him alive.
How terrifying it was, to be so untouchable that they’re unable to touch.)
Halilintar was first in bed that night.
Curiously, Solar glanced at the alarm placed on the bedside dresser, the time reading only 20:02. Far earlier than Halilintar’s usual bedtime.
Gempa, for his stupidity rivalling those of their friends, was stuck in the infirmary for frostbite, second-degree burns, poison ivy rashes and a mild concussion. If he were anyone else, there was no doubt there wouldn’t even be a body to recover. He got off easy, and was blessed with four extremely apologetic servants for the foreseeable future.
They’d checked on Gempa a few times, and only left once they made sure he didn’t suffer from anything life-threatening or altering. He’d been coherent enough to ask for (read: demand politely, but no less threateningly) get-well kisses on the cheek, so there really wasn’t any need to worry about him beyond his bruised ego.
Halilintar and Solar left for dinner, but the lightning elemental barely ate any of his grilled fish, picking at his food until it resembled a pile of pulverized mass. By that point, it was completely unappetizing and inedible, so he retired early without even going to Gempa.
Solar may be inept in social cues, but he’d have to be blind, deaf and an idiot to miss Halilintar’s downtrodden mood. He’s not even trying to mask his distress (for once), which signified the magnitude of the situation.
“Hali?” he tried, taking his spot by Halilintar’s left. Halilintar didn’t turn, his back facing Solar. “What’s wrong?” When he didn’t answer, Solar placed a hand on Halilintar’s bicep, putting just enough weight for the blanket to wrinkle. “Would you like to talk?”
“No.” The response was instantaneous, and expected. Halilintar did not enjoy verbalizing his emotions one bit.
Solar’s nod went unseen by the other. “May I offer my presence, in that case?”
Halilintar’s sigh was audible, before he shifted and turned, now facing Solar with an arm lifting the blankets. Solar took the invitation as is, removing his glasses before settling in the space by his partner. Instinctively, he wrapped an arm around Halilintar under him, pulling him close and setting his head on his chest, his hair tickling Solar’s chin.
“Your heart’s beating so fast,” Halilintar murmured, sending vibrations into Solar’s chest.
Solar snorted, tightening his hold. “I wonder why.”
They didn’t speak anymore beyond that.
Overtime, Halilintar’s breaths shallowed, but never quite evening out for sleep. (Solar would know; Gempa and Halilintar’s gentle snores were one of his favorite pastimes in the dark of night.) No, this was deliberately calmed through conscious effort, going through the motions of rest without succumbing to it.
Solar can’t help Halilintar if he did not know where the root issue laid, and the latter’s never in the habit of sharing. Halilintar’s independence was one of the traits he adored so, but times like these made him reconsider its place in his terms of endearment.
“Sol.”
“Hm?”
Halilintar stared up at him, eyes crinkled with lingering remnants of restless sleep. Solar threaded his hand through Halilintar’s hair, thumb rubbing circles in the back of his head.
“Your third tier,” he said, voice soft, “Gamma.”
Solar’s thumb stopped. So this is why?
His third tier, Gamma, was an incredibly sore subject to him. Everyone knew that. Halilintar of all people should know better than anyone about how Gamma kept Solar up at night, the same way Gur’latan kept Halilintar from getting any decent rest since they saved him from the damn planet.
Was this because of Nova and Blizzard’s appearance?
“What about him?” Solar asked in lieu of an answer. There was no script he could follow, no precedence. They were wading in dark waters, but he feared the possibility that Halilintar’s mind was long submerged in its cold depths before he even realized.
(He’d light the darkest of shadows for Halilintar if need be; yet the corners of his own mind eluded even him still.)
“... When he arrives,” Halilintar rasped, burying his face into Solar’s shirt, “what will you do?”
“If,” Solar corrected him, with a harsher tone than he intended. “If he’s here…”
What could he even do?
Their final forms, as showcased by the others, were simply manifestations of their self-actualization. Beliung embodied freedom, Nova passion, Blizzard control, and Rimba compassion. They were defined by their origins and given form through their circumstances. Gamma, on the other hand, was an element shaped by a tyrant, wielded as a weapon.
They knew so little about their eventualities, and even less about their identities. For all of Solar’s wisdom, his own destiny was something he’d rather leave simmering for later, until it eventually boiled over and collapsed into a charred puddle of inevitability that bit him in the ass.
Halilintar knew just how much Solar hated Gamma. He was there when Solar couldn’t stop screaming hysterically on the cold bathroom tiles, seeing things that weren’t there. He was the one that cleaned up his vomit, the one that changed his clothes and fed him by hand so he wouldn’t starve to death. So why?
“I don’t know,” Solar conceded, sighing from his nose. He held Halilintar impossibly closer, the warmth of his body keeping the chill in his spine at bay. “Fuck, Hali, I don’t know.”
A beat of silence, only broken by Halilintar shuffling in his position, so only his face was poking out from the blanket. Adorable, was Solar’s first thought, which was quickly followed by: Not the time, hindbrain!
“Promise me something?”
“Anything.” And wasn’t that a dangerous oath? For Halilintar, he’d gladly walk bare feet into hellfire and drink from a boiling lake, if only to make him happy. There was very little Solar wouldn’t do for him.
Halilintar snorted, and glared when Solar poked at the fat in his cheeks. “At least hesitate.”
“But why?” Solar asked. “I’m not ashamed of the lengths I would go for you.”
The pinch to his waist stung, but well-deserved. Knowing the fact that Halilintar could’ve done so much worse but chose to restrain himself made it all the more endearing.
“You can’t tell anyone.” The abrupt somberness in his tone forced Solar to sober up, the levity between them shattering like an illusion. “Gempa… I’ll tell him too. But later.”
“It won’t leave this room,” Solar assured him, though that went without saying.
Halilintar pursed his lip, as if tasting the words in his mouth before it was spoken into existence. Solar rubbed circles on his lower back, encouraging him in his own form.
“Gur’latan.”
Solar gleamed for Halilintar’s reaction, but the only thing he found was dreaded resignation. That accursed planet haunted Halilintar the same way Retak’ka haunted Solar.
“If something like that happens again,” he continued. “If I’m lost to someone else…”
Red eyes hardened, darkening with resolve.
“If I become Voltra,” he spat, the word dripping with venom, “and I can’t be saved…”
“Hali,” Solar interrupted, uncomfortable, “you—”
“I want—no. I need—”
“Hali, breathe.”
He grit his teeth, ignoring Solar entirely, which was impressive considering he was holding Solar in a dead stare.
“I need you to destroy me.”
“Hali.”
Halilintar looked him dead in the eye; unwavering, uncompromising. Fuck.
Solar came into the room expecting frustrated tears, broken rants and some degree of capitalism (read: Halilintar hogging the entire king-sized bed and kicking both Solar and Gempa off). He did not anticipate Halilintar demanding his participation in what was essentially assisted suicide.
“You can’t—” Solar sucked his teeth, his throat oddly dry. “You can’t just ask for something like that.”
“Fine,” Halilintar snapped, looking away. “I’ll ask Gempa.”
He’ll give the same damn answer and you know it!
Frustrated, Solar grabbed onto Halilintar’s sides and flipped him over, switching their positions. Halilintar grunted and glared up at him, hair splayed across his head like a halo of caramel, hands still on Solar’s chest to steady himself.
“Don’t ask us to hurt you,” he hissed, cupping Halilintar’s cheek like he was fragile when he was anything but. “Don’t ask me to lay a hand on you.”
Instinctively, Halilintar drifted into his hold, his expression softening ever so slightly if only out of habit. “It’s not as if I’m seeking death.” He cast his gaze past Solar’s shoulder, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “But Voltra… he doesn’t care. He’s not created to.”
“You’re not Voltra,” Solar argued, but that logic held up as well as a house of cards. It was like saying Taufan wasn’t Beliung, or Cahaya wasn’t Solar. “I wasn’t made for love, either. Yet here we are.”
“Retak’ka is dead,” Halilintar said. “We made the killing blow. You made sure of it.” He raised his hands, cradling both sides of Solar’s face, tracing his thumb over the cheekbone with the ghost of a touch. “But my Masters?” A bitter smile crept up his face. “They’re still out there, believing I’m their god-given birthright.”
“To hell with them,” spat the light elemental, fire burning in his chest. “I’d burn them all before they’d even take an untoward step to you.”
“Solar.” Halilintar’s lips were pressed into a thin, bloodless line. “I’m Voltra, and Voltra is me.” His head tilted back slightly, neck exposed, as if accepting the inevitability of his fate. “But Voltra’s… different.”
Solar chewed on the inside of his cheeks, tasting rust. “Different… how?”
“Impersonal,” Halilintar murmured. “Incapable of love.” He let his hands fall, resting them by the sides of his head. “A living weapon, no more than a common spear or sword.” A breath out. “I would spill blood, if given the word. That would be all it takes.”
“Fuck,” Solar cursed, because he understood. Before Halilintar, Voltra had been nothing more than a glorified heirloom passed down by generations of Gur’latan royalty. What was essentially a dark period in Gamma’s life with Retak’ka was Voltra’s entire existence and cause of creation. “From anyone?”
“Anyone who bests me in battle,” Halilintar confirmed. “It’s how Kira’na… yeah.”
Solar leaned down to press his forehead against Halilintar’s, feeling hot, damp breath blow on his face. “Is that what happened?” he asked. “She defeated you?”
Halilintar’s face soured. “She cheated,” he spat. “She gave me her sword and invited me for a spar. By the time I realized it was a trap, it was already too late.”
This was the first he’s heard of it, but then he remembered no one had exactly been forthcoming with the details prior to Halilintar’s forced transformation and sudden change in allegiance.
Solar squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. Halilintar smelled of roses and peppermint, from their shared conditioner and toothpaste. He should have known Halilintar wouldn’t have gone down without a fight; he was far too competitive and stubborn to listen to anyone except himself.
“So if it happens,” Halilintar continued, voice cracking, “if I’m told to hurt you, and there’s no return for me…”
“I’d let the world burn,” Solar swore, jaw tense.
“Please,” Halilintar pleaded, close to begging. “If it comes down to it, it has to be you and Gempa, no one else.”
“You can’t expect me to- this is insanity!”
“I’d rather die!” Halilintar snapped. “I’d rather die than become a slave to someone else’s machinations again!”
“So much so that you’re willing to hurt me and Gempa?” Solar demanded. “That you’re willing to break our hearts and paint our hands red with your blood?”
“What if I’m told to commit genocide?” Halilintar countered. “What if I’m out of reach and slaughtering millions of innocents?”
Solar scowled. “Then we’ll chase you down from every corner of the universe and the ones beyond that!”
“Solar—”
“Enough, Hali.” Solar’s tone left no room for debate. He lifted his head from Halilintar’s, staring down at him with a gaze of stone. “I would not allow anything to happen to you.”
Halilintar’s sigh carried just as much weight, but he couldn’t find the strength to debate any further. Instead, the tension bled from his body, letting Solar pull him into his arms once more, his head returning to rest on Solar’s chest.
“I won’t let you go,” Solar breathed, his fury fading at Halilintar’s form sinking into his. “But, if it somehow happens…”
He pressed a kiss to Halilintar’s forehead, tasting salt and skin.
“You will die only by my hand,” he promised, “or not at all.”