Chapter Text
It’s cold.
Is Saparata’s first thought, as his blood seeps out into the snow, staining the cold white ground a bright red, his chest rising and falling weakly.
It hurts.
Is his second. But slowly he becomes numb to the sharp pain in his skull, the uncomfortable position he was in, and the feeling of his limbs twisting in ways they shouldn’t. He knows it will pass soon. Just like everything else.
He thinks of his former best friend, the same man who led him into this very position. The same man who betrayed him because of something that never even happened. He thinks of the way he lit up when Saps was around, the way his purple eyes curved up when he smiled.
Flux.
His Flux.
It’s pathetic, really, how Saparata was still thinking about him even at death’s door. He once told himself that he hated Flux more than anything, that he wanted to kill him.
But he could never bring himself to do so.
How ironic.
But he doesn’t have the energy to care anymore; he was going to die anyway. Soon, he would be welcomed into God’s embrace, free from war. Free from his stupid feelings.
Saparata didn’t believe in God. Especially not after his god stabbed him in the back and dragged him down to the pits of hell. Did he ever feel remorse, leading him up the stairs to heaven, just to push him back down?
Tears were building up in his eyes now, but he doesn’t have the strength to wipe them away. His arm was broken from the impact of the fall, anyway.
He closes his eyes. It doesn’t matter anymore.
Despite the numb loneliness, despite the coldness of the snow pricking his skin, Saparata was calm.
Death didn’t feel so bad after all.
Everything is silent.
Until he hears footsteps, and suddenly his tranquility is disturbed by screams and shouts. But everything is muffled and he can’t identify who it is.
There are hands around his body, forcing him into a sitting position. Something is pressing onto his wounds and he feels his ribs crack. He tries to scream from the pain, scream at whoever is lifting him up to stop, to just leave him there to die. But there is blood lodged in his throat and all that comes out is a muffled sob. He opens his eyes, and they are met with a pair of brilliant purple eyes.
The eyes of his god. His salvation.
He must be hallucinating again. What a cruel way to end his life.
But this isn’t new. The universe has never been kind to him, after all.
——
Fluixon is sitting at his desk, hunched over stacks of paper. He’d been thinking about his speech for the Luminara elections for hours now, but he hasn’t been able to write anything down. He stared at the papers on his desk, furrowing his brows, as if staring hard enough would make the words he wanted to say magically appear on them. But magic and miracles don’t exist, and he has to suffer with that fact. He runs his hand along his hair, sighing. He wants to continue, but his eyelids are slowly closing, and his vision is getting blurry.
He can’t remember the last time he slept.
And he hates to admit that it is because he keeps thinking back to something else. Someone else.
And whenever he thinks of him there’s a suffocating feeling in his chest. A feeling that he’s been trying to ignore. A feeling that shouldn’t exist in the first place.
It makes his stomach churn.
Is it guilt, or is it something else?
He doesn’t know. Or perhaps he already does and has been making himself believe that he doesn’t.
He’s too preoccupied with his thoughts to hear the knock on his door, the sound of his door creaking open.
“Flux.” A voice snaps him out of it, causing him to jump in surprise. It was Thomas. “There’s been sightings of Saparata in Island 1,” he adds.
Fluixon straightens himself immediately and his eyes widen for a split second. He tries to brush off the way his heartbeat quickens at the sound of the familiar name.
Saps.
His former best friend. His love.
“Where is he?”
“We are yet to confirm his whereabouts. I’ll go take a look at it.”
“I’lll go with you then,” Fluixon offers, “I need a break from work anyway.” He refuses to tell Thomas the real reason. That he’s unable to focus whenever he’s alone. Being alone means he is left with just his thoughts, which were violent, angry and full of regret. He couldn’t tell him that, despite wanting Saps dead, a part of him still wants to see him again, a part of him still hopes that he is okay. A part of him still loves him.
He frowns at the thought, ignoring the confused look on Thomas’ face.
“…Okay. I’ll be taking my leave now, then” Thomas replies, heading towards the door.
Before leaving the room, Thomas takes one last look at Flux. His friend’s complexion seems to be getting paler, and there are now black spots under his eyes. He purses his lips and closes the door, leaving Flux alone in his room.
——
The tundra is freezing, far too unforgiving for all life that passes through it.
Fluixon trudges through the blizzards, through the snowy mountains that seemed to be neverending, searching for any signs of his old friend. He can’t believe Saparata is staying here, of all places. Fluixon knows full well that Saparata never liked the cold. What could Saps be doing here?
He doesn’t have a good feeling about this.
Despite himself, he continues searching for Saps, holding onto the small hope that, maybe, he could find his old friend in the endless blizzards.
But he is exhausted. Travelling to Island 1 alone took hours, and he and Thomas have been in the tundra for god knows how long.
Just a little further.
They walk until they see a tower, standing tall against the relentless wind.
Fluixn quickens his pace, ignoring Thomas’ shouts. All fatigue disappeared at that moment as he sprints towards the tower.
That’s when he sees it.
He stops in his tracks immediately.
In the snow lay a figure as white as the ground, save for the pool of blood around his body.
Saps.
Fluixon wants to run, to save his old friend. He forces his legs to move, but they don’t budge. He just stands there, shaking as he stares at Saps’ body that is devoid of life, devoid of the bright energy that he usually had. He looks up at the tower and then back at Saps, and it finally clicks.
He just tried to kill himself.
But there was no death message in chat. Fluixon would have seen it if there was.
He’s still alive.
He inched closer and dropped to his knees. Saps’ legs are bent, and there is blood gushing out from his stomach.
I should kill him off right now. It’s not like he can fight back, anyway.
He takes his sword and lifts it up, aiming for Saparata’s throat.
Despite himself, he pauses. He can’t bring himself to do it.
He once wanted Saparata to die. He’d lied to him, made everyone think of him as a murderer. He’d betrayed him to save a thousand people, but he realises that one thousand people weren’t as important as Saparata. That he would burn the world for him.
Fluixon should've hated Saparata. He should’ve. But he could never make himself hate him.
Because he was his friend. He was someone he loved.
His arms go weak and he drops his sword. He feels something wet on his cheeks and realises he’s crying.
It’s my fault. He killed himself because of me.
He feels like throwing up. It is as if venom is at his throat, making him want to hurl. He screams at Thomas to save Saparata, to do anything. He lifts Saparata into a seating position, cradling his head as Thomas hurries over, pressing onto Saparata’s wounds to stop the bleeding. He looks down at Saparata’s face that is slowly turning blue. He swears his eyes open for a split second, but Fluixon can’t tell between what’s real or fake anymore. He picks Saparata up before sprinting away, out of the tundra. Thomas goes after him, and asks questions between gasps of air, but Fluixon barely registers them. They run through the tundra, leaving bloody footprints in their wake.
——