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Although he wasn't exactly blessed with the picture perfect childhood most people assume he and his siblings had, Fluixon admits that despite his father's harsh, watchful words, there was still some fragment of wisdom in the way he viewed the world.
"What value do these people add to your life?" Elanuelo had once asked him.
Fluixon recalled considering this question with much hostility at the time. He was around ten years old. His royal tutors had just rigidly reprimanded him for sneaking off from his lessons; he had wanted to spend time with his friends – to playfully spar with wooden swords. When Fluixon was inevitably caught, the old scholars had begrudgingly dragged him to face his father.
The king of Aculon ruled both his nation and his family with an iron fist. His opinions were deemed facts; his words were treated as gospels; his decrees followed as divine orders. Elanuelo's reign was unshakeable, and he himself knew that. His family did too.
When it came to raising his children, he too was the one to follow. His husband, Crow, was more of a faithful babysitter rather than a secondary parent with valued opinions. Crow had fought it once, this hand that he was dealt with. He had loved his children – genuinely cared for them. Affections, however, can only go so far.
In Crow's case, they went nowhere at all.
Thus, the three siblings were brought up with Elanuelo's standards and approval. The ruler cared about his image more than anything else. At a young age, Ender, Cynikka, and Fluixon were immediately thrust into living the lives that were already perfectly crafted for the public eye. There was no room left for questions, not like they had any. Their future was predetermined before they could form a single coherent thought.
It was because of the king's prudence on this matter that the scene brought great anxiety to the servants. They watched as the young prince, still kicking and throwing profanities at his tutors, was hauled by the ear to the throne room. Concerned whispers began to surface.
Would he yell at the poor boy? Hit him? Banish him entirely? Regardless of how extreme the hypotheticals might appear, no one could ever be too sure.
Clearly, they didn't know Elanuelo enough. Not in the way Fluixon knew him, at least –because if there was one thing he came to understand about his father, it was that he did things efficiently, even if it was the most detrimental. His former second-in-command, Aculon's once beloved official, AFreakinTurkey, had once been a living testament to that – until he wasn't.
So Fluixon really shouldn't have been surprised with the way his father was trying to tangle his muddied hands into his psyche. He was trying to plant rotten seeds of doubt, Fluixon realized. The boy stormed out of the room without giving his father the satisfaction of an answer – not even a reaction. Fluixon knew how to choose his battles, this wasn't one of them. Not yet. This time, his father did not follow.
Well, tough luck either way. Fluixon thought.
Unlike Elanuelo, he wasn't going to second-guess high valued allegiances and intimate companionships. Fluixon wasn't like him, not even a little.
Fluixon wasn't paranoid. He was certain of that.
The waves crashed on the nearby blocks, spilling water onto the sand. The yellowish shade darkened, softening the surface. A bird flew by before landing on a rock along the shore. It watched as the foamy blue approached. At some point it came too close, already touching the bottom of the stone. The bird squinted; intimidated, the water receded.
Staring into the setting sun, Saparata wiped the bead of sweat on his forehead with the back of his palm. It had been a long tedious day of collecting sand – the material needed for the foundation of his home. Although he did have an enthusiastic start, one more minute surrounded by the fine grains was going to drive him insane.
Saparata turned to his right, catching a glimpse of a familiar silhouette. On the far end of the beach was a man in striking purple. Ignorant to the scorching heat, above his light undershirt, the man donned a long majestic coat that touched his stained knees. His raven hair, although damp from sweat, was fixed in effortless grace. As the man approached, arbitrary strands bounced off of his sticky skin. His face was scrunched up, clearly frustrated. The sight made Saparata laugh.
"Oh, don't laugh," the man scolded with a shake of his head. This just made Saparata tilt his head in bliss.
"Be so for real, Flux. What did you expect? Like, who even wears a coat in this weather?" The comment made Fluixon groan.
"Careful, Saps. Remember who's helping you build your house," he reminded with a pointed look. Saparata merely hummed in response.
"Oh, you are so kind, Flux! What would I ever do without you!" Saparata engulfed the other in his arms. The heat of their bodies pressed together, the smell of the sun radiating off of their skin. As Fluixon playfully struggled in the embrace, Saparata found himself laughing once more.
The two hadn't known each other for too long – a month at best. During this short amount of time, though, Saparata had come to the delightful realization that happiness came so easily around his companion. He couldn't understand it either; he had totally given up on pondering over any explainable reason. All he can surmise is that an unexplainable burst of joy would take over his senses whenever he was with Fluixon. May it be doing something mundane such as walking around the island, or something extreme as fighting mobs side by side – Saparata had enjoyed it like no other.
He had hoped Fluixon felt the same.
"Will you be heading back for the night?" Saparata asked with a tilt of his head. He had long released his friend from his grasp.
Fluixon seemed to think long and hard about this. He was still frowning, possibly from the way Saparata's hands dirtied his coat with sand or the way he messed up his hair. "I suppose," he said, finally collecting himself.
Saparata chuckled lightly. He brought his hand to Fluixon's shoulder before flicking a grain the latter had missed. "What's keeping me from demanding you to stay?" He teased with a smirk.
"Surprisingly, my world is much bigger than you think. Even without office, I'm pretty high in demand, you know? " Despite the playful retort, an unnamed warmth was spreading across Fluixon's chest. Like a snake, it slithered its way up to his face, blooming until he was sure that his cheeks were now dusting pink. He whispered a quiet word of thanks to the dimming sky that concealed his flush.
The damp sand, now cooler than before, crunched under their feet as they made their way back to Saparata's home. On the way, they fell into easy conversations about their day. They had been together for the most of it – collecting sand, crafting it into sandstones, and building. Saparata was planning to complete his abode as soon as possible, and Fluixon was ever the willing assistant.
"If you're that eager, I could always ask the rest to come by and help. We have more time in our hands now, afterall," Fluixon offered. He thought of his other friends: Thomas, Gotoga, Rotation, Snowbird, maybe even Newkids who had just recently joined their group. Although they weren't as close to Saparata as he was, Fluixon knew that they'd be willing to lend a hand for a day or two.
"That'd be cool," Saparata said, not paying as much attention as his friend had liked. He was more occupied with the twinkling stars in the sky, his gaze fixated at the specks of light that dotted the creeping darkness.
We have to hurry. Fluixon thought – clearly the one with more presence of mind. Although we aren't completely unarmed, I'd rather not face mobs right now.
"I think it's special," Saparata had blurted out suddenly. They had been walking for a while. By now, his unfinished home came into view. Littered with short pillars, the roof barely finished, dozens of scaffoldings scattered about, there was clearly a lot more to do. Only one portion of the house looked even close to functional; this was where he slept, his room.
"What's special?" Fluixon asked as they made their way up the long flight of stairs leading to the entrance.
"This," Saparata's hand motioned between them. "This one-on-one thing. You and I."
"What are you talking about?"
"Although I appreciate more helping hands..." Saparata seemed a bit troubled now. He paused near the top; Fluixon, a little ahead of him, turned to him with an expression that grew more confused with each passing second.
"I just... I just think it's great that we can share private moments like this," Saparata finally said. His thoughts were scattered. He had something he wanted to say, something to confess perhaps. One look at Fluixon, however, the words got caught up in his throat. Although he never prided himself on his eloquence, he didn't think he'd ever find it this hard to form a thought.
"I mean, we get to talk freely. We share secrets, stories, hell, we can literally shit talk anyone we like because there's no one else." He looked at Fluixon again, this time a little flustered. At this point, Saparata was basically scrambling for anything – literally anything to say.
"I think I get you..-? We can still very much do the same things with the others around..." Fluixon thought about Saparata's words. After a beat, the former looked at his friend, still not entirely sure. "I guess it is your home's construction. Should I be flattered that you think so highly of me?" He chuckled.
"But seriously, you're rambling, not to mention dramatic." The pair had walked in deeper into the house. The cold land breeze from the sea blew in the gaps between the tall pillars. Fluixon didn't miss the way Saparata smiled; the twin moles under his eyes crinkled, and his snow white hair grazed his face as they flew with the wind.
He looks...
Before he could complete his thought, Fluixon's communicator vibrated violently in his pocket. The sound echoed through the room, filling up the once silently comfortable space. He frowned; Saparata just chuckled.
"Seems like I can't keep you any longer," the latter said with a sigh. He feigned devastation, playfully wiping the corner of his eyes. "This is where you leave me. Oh, Flux, don't leave me."
"Again, dramatic." Fluixon turned to the door. Before he left, he took another look at Saparata who was fondly watching him.
"Good night, Saps."
"Good night, Flux."
Somewhere, deep below Luminaran waters, a trapdoor remained shut. Underground, it sealed off the darkest secrets of the Conspiracy – away from the ears of those just above the surface. After returning from Saparata's home, Fluixon found himself seated amongst his friends in one of the many rooms under the sea.
He sat at the head of the table, cheek resting on his palm, his elbow digging the table's wooden surface as his quill carefully sketched a few lines on the thick piece of parchment. Across him was Thomas, his closest confidant, his right-hand. He was reading a book – something about the fundamentals of red stone. Nearby, the rest of the group were conversing and drinking amongst themselves.
A little while later, Fluixon pushed the table. His chair scraped the floor as he leaned back on his seat, stretching his arms. He let out a low groan. The sound made a few eyes turn. Snowbird, in particular, smirked.
"You know, you wouldn't be working this late if you hadn't been frolicking with your boyfriend all day," he teased smugly. He earned a few laughs; Fluixon shot him a glare.
"What are you even working on anyway?" This time, it was Gotoga who leaned in. His eyes scanned the parchment that Fluixon was working on. His face scrunched up at the sight. "Really? You come back from a whole day of helping him build his house, and you're here," he raised his brows. "You're here sketching out his entire floorplan when all we ever actually need is the roof." A smirk formed on his face as he flicked the edge of the parchment. "Seriously, Flux, it's like you never left him."
Before Fluixon even had the chance to defend himself, Thomas – who had been reading the same sentence about seven times now due to his fascination with their conversation – chimed in.
"Leave Flux alone," he said. For a moment, Fluixon thought Thomas would defend his honor; he should've known better.
"People simply change when they're smitten over someone. Seriously, you guys should've seen it coming. He literally looks like a bashful little schoolboy–"
"Knock it off, will you?" Fluixon snarled. He threw his quill towards Thomas. The latter barely dodged it, tilting his head with laughter.
"Okay but in all honesty, Flux..."
"Oh my Ish, can we just drop it?" The irritation was slowly crawling under Fluixon's skin. He glared at his friends as they tried to calm themselves.
They're enjoying this far too much.
"I don't know this Saps guy that much," Newkids suddenly said. Although he too had laughed along with the others' jokes, he was a bit more confused than they were. It would still take a while before he could fully enjoy the group's more esoteric form of humor.
"But he seems important to you, Flux." This comment made Fluixon's face harden.
"Well, he plays a pretty vital role to our plan, afterall," Rotation offered, trying to enlighten their newest member.
The rest nodded in agreement. "Besides, as of now, he and Saps are the bestest of friends," Thomas adds.
"That being said, Flux holds him in quite high regard."
"Are you done?" Fluixon finally interrupts. He was cradling his head, a migraine slowly overtaking him. He didn't appreciate how they spoke so freely about him as if he weren't sitting at the same table.
He took one last glance at the parchment he was working on before passing it to Thomas; the latter's face finally grew more serious. Thomas studied the sketched plan, Snowbird and Gotoga shuffled behind him curiously.
After a few seconds of silence, Fluixon tilted his head. "Well? Doable?"
"I suppose," Thomas said, glancing at Gotoga who gave an approving nod. The former picked up the redstone guide he had been reading. "Surprisingly, the book Snowbird recommended isn't entirely useless." This earned him a slap on the back. He and Snowbird soon began to bicker – Gotoga could only shrug as he was caught in between.
Soon, Thomas and Snowbird were full-on pouncing on one another, playfully wrestling. Gotoga was spontaneously appointed as a referee. Rotation threatened to join in. Newkids started cheering and placing bets.
Feeling too worn out to indulge in their horseplay, Fluixon sighed before quietly slipping away from the room. He needed space to think. The day had already worn him out physically – Saps and his stupid sand for his stupid house – and the rest of his friends just successfully drained him of whatever was left of his mental capacity.
As he walked down the long halls, Fluixon couldn't help but recall Newkids's words.
'He seems important to you, Flux.' What did that even mean?
He paused. Somewhere, deep in the back of his head, Fluixon could hear his father's cold, heartless query all those years ago.
'What value do these people add to your life?' Elanuelo had asked, staring down at his son as if he were an irrelevant speck of dust.
As frustrating as it was, that question frequently haunted him. He heard it when he first met his closest companions, the Conspiracy. Fluixon still remembered the way his brows furrowed as he came up with a reason.
They were useful. He had thought. Each one had their own unique strengths and talents. Their loyalty, innovation, and intellect – these were traits that bore desirable fruits. It was only natural that I associated myself with an exceptional bunch. Their friendship had only come as a sweet bonus. Even then, it was something I wouldn't trade for the world.
"But what about Saparata? Your precious Saps?" Elanuelo's voice asked.
"Precious?" Fluixon scoffed. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of his father's fictitious voice. Elanuelo never got to know Saparata. He was dead, afterall. The entirety of Aculon had witnessed that spectacle with their very own eyes.
As the night stretched on, doubts began to cruelly blossom in Fluixon's head. He hated being caught off-guard. He hated being so unsure.
Despite the exhaustion, sleep wouldn't come.
The next day, Saparata was greeted with a bunch of eager smiling faces at his door. "O-Oh... Hi guys...-?" He scratched his head, unsure of how to act. He scanned over their expressions – his eyes drifting to Fluixon, who already seemed exasperated about the whole ordeal, the longest.
"I tried keeping them away, I really did," Fluixon said in a voice so pitiful that Saparata wanted to tackle him right there and then. "I told them we'd be able to handle this ourselves."
"We just want to help," Rotation pipes up. He had a smug smile across his face that Saparata didn't quite understand. Beside him, Gotoga leaned in on his back. He placed his arm on Rotation's shoulder, their expression mirroring each other's. "Not to ruin your date or anything."
"Date?" The word caught Saparata so off-guard that the heat crawled up to his cheeks before he could even stop them. Fluixon was equally helpless in controlling the look on his face.
Before any of them could react, the rest of the group dispersed to do different tasks. Contrary to their playful nature, they were very focused and efficient. The division of the work came naturally to them. Newkids and Rotation headed for the beach to collect more sand; Gotoga and Snowbird worked on the pillars; Thomas disappeared to construct the roof.
Saparata watched them in silent awe. He found their chemistry fascinating.
They didn't even have to share a single word to each other. They simply knew what each other's strengths were and immediately began working together in harmony. Truly, it was a sight to behold.
He was still very much entranced when Fluixon stepped beside him. The latter cleared his throat, causing Saparata to blink out of his stupor.
"I hope you don't mind," Fluixon said in a voice only his friend could hear. "I know you said something about just being the two of us yesterday..."
"Oh, don't worry about that." Saparata's heart thumped loudly in his chest as he recalled the words he had blabbered the day before. It didn't particularly help that Gotoga had referred to his time with Fluixon as a 'date'. If anything, Saparata's heartbeat only grew louder; at some point, he was sure that Fluixon could've heard it too.
Saparata turned to his friend. He forced a casual smile on his face, trying his utmost best to look normal. "Plus, the more working hands, the quicker we finish this place."
Fluixon was just about to point out how strained Saparata's expression looked when Thomas's head peeked from an unfilled part of the ceiling. "Look, I hate to ruin the flirting, but Flux," he turned to Fluixon with a pointed look. "Can you get up here and check something for a sec?"
As Thomas disappeared back into the roof, Fluixon couldn't help but frown. Instead of mulling it over again, this time, Saparata laughed. "They seem to have quite the impression of us, huh?"
"Unfortunately," Fluixon said with a shake of his head. He watched as Saparata nodded at him before leaving for the beach to help gather more sand. Once the latter had left, he made his way to the roof.
Upon climbing up, Fluixon was immediately greeted with the sight of his second-in-command beholding his latest creation. Hearing the other arrive, Thomas turned to look at him, a playful smirk on his face. "Did I do your idea any justice?"
Infront of them, columns of sticky pistons lined the structure, redstone wiring snaking between stone blocks and sections of the ceiling. A lone lever stood nearby—imposing, almost inviting. Once it was activated, the pistons would pull the ceiling apart; whatever was set along with it would come crashing down upon those below. To the vulnerable, there would be no escape.
They were silent for a while, studying the contraption. "I'm guessing I don't have to explain to you how the lever works?" Thomas asked after a while, his eyes still glued to his latest work. Fluixon only hummed in response. Hearing him, Thomas finally turned.
"All that's left is..."
"The dripstone," Fluixon said. "I know."
They grew quiet again. Sensing that his friend needed the space, Thomas busied himself with re-evaluating the trap once more. Fluixon stared past him, his mind drifting elsewhere.
We're doing this because we have to. The safety of Pandora's citizens lies in our hands.
He didn't know why, but Fluixon simply felt like he was trying to convince himself of something that he wasn't supposed to. Doubt was haunting him again; soon, his father's words would do the same thing.
Just like last time, however, Elanuelo's voice identified more with his conscience rather than his memories.
"This... This is Saparata's value," he said in that firm tone that always made Fluixon shudder. The next thing he said, though, was more than unexpected. "I'm proud of you, boy."
"I'm going to go get some food." Thomas's words pulled Fluixon out of the depths of his thoughts. He turned to him with a quick nod. "Yeah, go. The others must be hungry." Thomas hummed before heading down.
As Fluixon was left staring at the trap before him, he couldn't help but wonder if he truly appreciated the compliment from the ghost of his father.
Thomas comes back a little while later, his bag heavy and full. Everyone huddled around him as he produced some freshly baked bread, the sweet aroma filling the space. As they began to eat, however, Thomas was still reaching for something inside. Soon, he pulled out a few bottles. Snowbird raised a brow.
"Dude, are those...–"
"Maple syrup," Thomas says ambiguously. Fluixon doesn't miss the small smile tugging on the other's face. Perhaps it had something to do with where he got these bottles from. Maybe it was the reason he took a longer than he should've.
Saparata was tossing the bottle in his hand with a rather conflicted look. "Thomas, is this even legal?" He asked, clearly worried.
"Yes." The answer was a beat too quick. Gotoga, who must've known more than most, smirked.
"Thomas is just really eager to sponsor a particular business," he says smugly. "He finds one of the owners very agreeable. I think his name was–"
Before any names were revealed, Thomas shoves a piece of bread into Gotoga's mouth. The latter almost choked laughing.
"Are you hiding something, Thomas?" Fluixon asked. He would be lying if he said he wasn't slightly entertained; it was also very refreshing to have the teasings pointed at someone else for a change.
"Ooooh~ Thomas on a secret little rendezvous," Rotation cooed. His brows lifted up and down as he made exaggerated expressions. Newkids held back a laugh.
Snowbird, on the other hand, fondly shook his head. "First it was Flux disgustingly swooning over Saps, and now Thomas with some drug dealer from Harbourbloom? Who else are we going to lose?"
"Why does it always end up with one of you throwing me under the bus?" Fluixon huffed, clearly not missing the first half of Snowbird's statement. "I do not swoon, mind you."
"I'm hurt, Flux. Am I not swoon-worthy?" Everyone else hooted as Saparata feigned offense at Fluixon's words. The former even clutched his chest, effectively portraying devastating heartache. "You basically hate me and want me dead."
Distracted by the laughter and the light-heartedness of the situation, Saparata failed to see the way Fluixon's shoulders had tensed, the way his jaw tightened, his hands clenched into fists. Like he was holding onto something that he can't ever lay bare between the two of them.
The only thing Saparata actually noticed was the adorable redness that was gradually staining Fluixon's ears.
It was almost pathetically hilarious how humans tend to remember their worst memories more than the rest. It was as if the mind clung desperately to the horrible visceral emotions – some unexplainable masochistic tendency that everyone was naturally born with. Fluixon was, unfortunately, no exception to this rule.
At his grown age, he still vividly recalls the moments in his life that he'd wish he'd buried along with his father. Countless of these gruesome milestones took place within the confines of the Aculon kingdom, afterall.
Fluixon was around eight years old when the rebellion rose. Although it wasn't the first uprising during Elanuelo's reign, it certainly was the first one to actually leave a scar upon the royal family. Fluixon remembers it well – the snowy afternoon, him playing with his friends, how he wandered off in pursuit of the sight of a rare bird. He had stumbled upon an a river at the time. Unlike most, it hadn't entirely frozen over; the water was just as cold as ice either way.
Fascinated with this phenomena, the young prince had leaned down, staring at his reflection in the water. He, like any child, was very much entertained. Fluixon dipped his finger in. The low temperature immediately crawled up his skin, making him redact his arm with a high pitched yelp. This didn't make him shy away from the stream, though.
Fluixon was too occupied with this new discovery that he didn't realize the scheming cloaked figure creeping up behind him. Next thing he knew, there were forceful hands around his back and he was plunged into the depths of the freezing blue. If it weren't for the nearby guards – who carelessly let him walk off in the first place – he would've drowned right there and then.
Another memory he wishes to erase was the day Cynikka debuted into society. Instead of spending their sister's celebration with joy and pride, Fluixon and Ender had gotten into a heated argument that involved raised voices and broken vases.
The details are hazy now – Fluixon couldn't even remember what they were arguing about at the time. What he did recall, however, was the way his eldest brother had looked at him with pure hatred in his eyes.
"Is this really who you are, Flux? After being born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you're still this pathetic?"
He hated how Ender sounded so much like Elanuelo. Then again, the eldest son did take after the king the most.
Fluixon stormed off that day, unable to contain himself. His sister was still in her celebratory gown when she had stepped into the snow to call out after him. Again, Fluixon couldn't remember her words, but he annoyingly has perfect recollection of what his father had to say when he had finally returned.
"Do you always choose to run when things don't go your way?" Elanuelo asked, disappointment laced in his voice. "Perhaps Ender was right. You are pathetic."
It's funny, considering that Fluixon was the person he was due to his upbringing. He knows this much.
Nowadays, he has learned to shelve these grievances in the back of his head. Fluixon doesn't completely forget these unpleasant memories, per say, but he manages them well enough that they don't keep him up all night and irritate him to death.
Well... except for one.
Although he's asked almost everyone not to directly speak of it anymore, Fluixon still painfully remembers the day he lost his standing as Luminara's vice president. It had been after that awful meeting with the rest of the leaders – titled idiots who couldn't perceive the imminent danger across the ocean. They were all too foolishly full of hope that they failed to see reason in Fluixon's warnings. They humiliated him, stepped on his pride.
Once word of his opposing views reached 3Below, Luminara's president, he twisted the knife in Fluixon's bleeding wounds and mercilessly stripped him of his official standing. The mere recollection of it still made Fluixon's blood boil till this day. His anger towards the leaders and his former superior was still yet to be quelled.
Saparata had been in that meeting, now that he thinks of it. In fact, Saparata had led the meeting as a mediator.
Thus why he, of all people, knew not to remind Fluixon about that day in the slightest. When the latter had joked about it during the first few days when they had been collecting sand, Saparata had brushed it off as if he never even heard it. Fluixon greatly appreciated that.
"Will you turn your head and run away again, Fluixon?" Elanuelo's voice echoed in his head. "Do you just forgive and forget? You accept this fate?"
"No, I don't," Fluixon found himself answering out loud. Saparata, who was busy arranging chairs around a long table, looked up at him with curious eyes.
"You don't what?" He asked with a tilt of his head. It was only then that Fluixon realized that he had verbally declared his response.
The latter shook his head dismissively. "Nothing, Saps." Fluixon approached the table from the opposite side. He grabbed a chair, adjusting its position methodically – Saparata watched him. "Instead of gawking at me, why don't you move that chair you're holding a little bit to the right?"
"How can I not stare?" Saparata asked with a light chuckle. "I've never seen anyone arrange a chair so seriously before."
"Good to know that you think I'm unique."
"I don't think you are, Flux." This made Fluixon pause. He looked at his friend, his gaze unreadable for a moment. Saparata was first to smile. "I know you are." This made the other roll his eyes.
After much advice about chair placements from Fluixon, the two finally finished up fixing the meeting room. As Saparata adjusted the head seat one last time – he was quite indecisive about it, it didn't help that his seat was the only one Fluixon didn't give advice on – his gaze drifted off to his companion.
He couldn't help it anymore. "I'm sorry you can't attend," he offered, his tone tinged with remorse. Fluixon looked at him. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Fluixon merely waved his hand dismissively.
"It doesn't matter. None of them would've listened to me anyway." He tried to act as of it were a light thing to say – it wasn't, not to him. Admitting defeat, although ingenuine, always stung in the worst ways possible.
Saparata, oblivious to the untruthfulness and instead sensed the underlying hurt in his friend's tone, was quick to rush to Fluixon's side. Without much thought, he took Fluixon's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
"I hope you know that you aren't entirely wrong," Saparata whispered softly. "I understood where you were coming from at the time. Under any other circumstance, I would've backed you up–"
"But you couldn't. It'd be wrong," Fluixon points out. The whole reason Saparata, a man belonging to no nation, was even there in the first place was for him to provide an unbiased opinion on what each leader had to say. Fluixon believed himself mature enough to understand that much.
His words didn't seem to ease Saparata's guilt, however. The latter's face was still scrunched up with worry that Fluixon had mentally likened him to a kicked puppy begging for scraps.
He couldn't understand why his chest was hurting over Saparata's pitiful expression.
Against his better judgement, Fluixon, with his free hand, reached to cup Saparata's cheek. Saparata's eyes widened in surprise; Fluixon just sighed.
"You have enough to worry about, Saps. My dissatisfaction on the matter can wait."
"Maybe this meeting can wait too?" Saparata asked, his eyes gleaming with something Fluixon couldn't name.
"I don't think so," Fluixon lowered his hand from Saparata's face – the latter immediately missed it. "From a political perspective, Tricolor is still mourning their queen's loss. The fact that they even agreed to send representatives for today is astounding.
"If you were to call it off so suddenly, I doubt they'll agree to any more meetings in the future."
Saparata, pushing his personal feelings aside, considered Fluixon's words.
They were right, of course. They always were. Fluixon had always been the more sensible one.
"Tricolor is in shambles..." Saparata recalled the sudden announcement of queen Jophiel's death. She had been assassinated by her second-in-command, Seraphim. The entire kingdom of Tricolor plunged into chaos that day. Their queen was a benevolent ruler who advocated for peace – to think that someone so close to her would be the cause of her demise was too much to fathom.
This time, it was Fluixon's turn to squeeze Saparata's hand. "It's not your main concern," he said. "Although it is important that you sympathize with them, we have bigger problems. Dare I say the looming problem known as Yggdrasil."
"I literally called this meeting to discuss Jophiel's death," Saparata said incredulously. He was surprised at Fluixon's lack of empathy over the situation. He slipped his hand away from their hold; the warmth disappeared almost immediately. "You can't just brush this off as if it's something irrelevant."
"I never said that. Stop putting words in my mouth." Fluixon's brows furrowed. He could feel the irritation rising in his chest.
For once, it hurt. He can't place why.
"You might as well have!" Saparata raised his hands as if he were proving a point. "Oh my Ish, Flux." He stepped back, running a hand through his snow white hair. He looked at Fluixon as if a grave realization finally dawned on him.
"This is about the first meeting, isn't it?"
"What are you even talking about?"
"Admit it. You were embarrassed that nobody cared about your insane belief that we're apparently going to be invaded by our neighbors. Oh, and don't you deny it Flux. I was there. I saw that look in your eyes."
"Since when do you make such stupid assumptions?"
"Since you started being so damned paranoid about Yggdrasil!"
"I am not paranoid!"
Their voices reverberated throughout the home; the nearby birds flew away from fright. Both their chests were heaving, eyes wide as if neither of them could believe the other just now.
How dare he? How dare Saps, of all people, call me paranoid? Is he not suppose to know me better than anyone? Have I mistook the depth our relationship? Am I... losing him?
"What value do these people add to your life?" This time, Elanuelo's words were concrete. He had said this before, Fluixon remembers. His father had wanted to sow seeds of doubt into his heart – questioning the importance of his companionships.
It wasn't just a seed anymore. Fluixon had never noticed it, but it had been growing. It had been doing so for a while now.
Saparata was the first to get over his tempered haze. Regret soon took over his conscience. He stepped closer to Fluixon, his expression filled with penitence. "Flux, I'm sorry." He reached out, apologetic. "I didn't mean to... I was just..."
"I know," Fluixon whispered quietly. He watched as Saparata closed in on him, no longer interested in holding hands, but deciding to engulf him in a warm embrace instead.
"I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry... I truly am..." Saparata repeated like an anguished sinner wanting to erase all their wrongdoings. He buried his face in Fluixon's shoulder, his hands rubbing circles on his back. "Forgive me, Flux."
Fluixon never truly returned the embrace. He may have let the other wrap his arms around him, but he never reciprocated the gesture. He simply stood there like a rigid statue as Saparata poured his heart out in the form of sacred apologies and intimate whispers. The only response Fluixon offered him were soft hums and nods.
Even after Saparata pulled away, his eyes were still fixated on the other. His worry was yet to leave him.
Saparata always felt too much of everything.
"Your meeting is soon," Fluixon reminded him. He was staring at Saparata with an unreadable expression; the latter's concerns deepend.
"But Flux–"
"It's okay, Saparata. We can talk about it later."
Saparata winced. It had been a while since Fluixon had addressed him with his full name. He had almost forgotten what it had sounded like from Fluixon's lips – he wished it stayed that way.
"Please," he said remorsefully. "It's 'Saps' to you, Flux."
Fluixon didn't reply right away. He was looking past Saparata, refusing to meet his eyes. After a while, though, he finally gave in. "We'll talk about this later, Saps."
It was small, the bare minimum even – yet Saparata's heart rejoiced at the return of familiarity. He gave Fluixon's hand one last squeeze before the latter departed. Saparata patiently watched him descend the long flight of stairs until his silhouette had vanished entirely.
It didn't take long before Fluixon had returned into the bunker under the Luminaran sea. The others had been waiting for him, already gathered around at the table. Upon seeing the grave look on their leader's face, no one teased him like before.
Not a word about Saparata. Not now. Not anymore.
"Were you able to install the dripstone?" Fluixon asked, his gaze landing on Newkids from across the table.
"I did. Gotoga walked me through it." The other replied with a nod. "It still baffles me how you distract Saparata so effectively, Flux."
"What can I say? He holds me at a high regard." Although the words came out easily as they always did, something squeezed him from inside. Fluixon's face hardened.
It's way different from the way Saparata had squeezed his hand earlier. Saparata had been soft. Saparata had been warm. Saparata had cared.
"We're really doing this huh?" Thomas asks, a humorless chuckle escaping his throat. He turned to Snowbird, a small smile tugging on his lips. "Let's hope that guide doesn't disappoint us."
"I don't doubt your abilities," Snowbird says genuinely. "That book was pretty official too, mind you. I spent hours scouring the great libraries of Tricolor for that thing."
Rotation soon piped up. "I can testify. Holy moly, Thomas. He was there for hours. You should've seen the circles under his eyes at the time. Literally looked like a zombie." Rotation had accompanied Snowbird at the time. He had insisted on keeping a look out for Tricolor guards.
As the others chatted, trying to relieve the gravity of the situation, Fluixon kept to himself. He fished out the communicator from his pocket, turning it on immediately. His thumbs flew by his contact list, scanning for a certain message.
Saparata had left him a few.
He apologized again. Bless his heart.
He told Fluixon they'd talk after the meeting.
He informed Fluixon that the meeting was starting.
Any minute now...
Fluixon's communicator vibrated. All heads turned to him, all knowing.
Seraphim_Here: I'm inside.
For a moment, Fluixon thought about Saparata. His mind wandered to the day they first met, how they got along and sought out to mine diamonds together almost immediately. He remembered helping Saparata both design and build his home.
Saparata always knew that Fluixon had the creativity of an architect. He had trusted him with the layout of every nook and cranny of his abode.
Fluixon remembered the way they laughed together, basking in the glow of each other's company. They even watched the sunset once – back then, Fluixon had hopelessly thought that they could've just stood there and watch the world pass them by.
There was also that weird feeling Saparata always gave him... Fluixon ultimately decided that he didn't want to dwell on that. Probably not ever.
"What value does Saparata add to your life?"
To save a thousand... The people of Pandora...
Fluixon took a quick glance at the people in the room. They were all staring at him, watching and waiting. He turned to Thomas; the latter nodded.
If it was at the cost of betraying a single person... Would he even dare?
He had to be quick. The timing had to be precise. Fluixon's thumbs flew by as he typed the brief response.
He would.
Fluixon: Pull the lever.
Meanwhile, in the chat head that Fluixon had already discarded, a notice appeared.
Saparata is typing...
Along with everything and everyone else, it soon disappeared.