Archive of Our Own

Trees rush past the window, wet tarmac disappearing under slick tyres as rain rolls down the glass. It’s a weird light, the days getting longer but the rain makes it dark outside, misty and moody. Flux can’t stop tapping his fingers against his leg, turning his phone over once again to check for a message that hasn’t come yet. His lips sting, the iron tang of blood sharp on his tongue from all the biting.

Cynikka reaches across, shooting him a pointed look as her manicured nails close over his hand. He stops tapping. An unpleasant feeling swirls in his stomach. Something is wrong. He pulls at the starchy collar around his neck.

His messages remain unanswered, unread.

It’s only two hours at most
I promise
Please don’t do anything
Just be careful
I’ll be back soon

When they arrive, the restaurant is loud, busy. There’s a wait for food the waiter says, and Flux can’t help but want to strangle them. He checks his phone again. Nothing. There’s a child sat behind them, screaming. It’s not the sort of place you’d bring a child, all low lighting and large greenery to break up the space. It’s fancy, expensive. Exactly the sort of place Elanuelo would choose.

Flux doesn’t remember what he orders as Ender, Crow and Elanuelo talk around him. He doesn’t care for their conversation and any attempt to include him is forgotten after his first few sour answers. He pulls his phone out once again. Still nothing.

“Flux, phone down. Now!” Crow snaps.

Frustration boils hot through his chest. The urge to tell him to fuck off is strong, but he bites it down.

Ender leans in close, a wash of cologne making Flux’s head spin. His voice is low so the others can’t hear. “We’re here for Dads birthday, at least try to look interested.”

This time he can’t help the poisonous glare he levels at his brother. “Fuck off Ender,” he spits lowly. He can see Elaneulo’s eye twitch in his peripheral vision. Flux doesn’t care.

It’s entirely too long before their starter comes out, placed down in front of him with a flourish. It looks ridiculous, the sort of tiny portions and fancy dolloped sauce that doesn’t keep you full for more than five minutes. He hates it already. Eating it is even worse. It tastes like ash. Cynikka kicks him under the table again, and he stills his leg abruptly. He doesn’t have time for this.

He’s halfway through it when his phone buzzes. His cutlery scrapes across his plate loudly as he abandons it, already pulling his phone out. It’s from Saps. His blood runs cold, everything freezing around him as his stomach drops. It’s simple, only two words, but it’s more than enough.

i’m sorry

His chair screeches as he pushes back, napkin chucked onto the table hastily. He doesn’t even grab his jacket before he’s weaving through tables and rushing past waiters. Someone is calling after him distantly. He ignores it.

His feet pound against the pavement, his stiff dress shoes a terrible choice to run in. Wet hair plasters to his forehead as he blinks drizzle out of his eyes. The streetlamps warp in the rain, reflections thrown up across wet tarmac. It doesn’t feel like he’s going fast enough, yet he’s never moved this fast in his life. Adrenaline races through his veins, pushing him faster.

Rounding the corner, the school comes into view. All four storeys of beautiful grey brick, blurry and still too far away. He can just about make out a figure on the roof. A scream tears from his throat, something intelligible. Something raw, desperate. He’s almost there, so close as the tarmac changes to grass under his feet.

The figure steps off.

It’s like time stops, suspended, weightless in the air as Saps falls. He doesn’t make a sound, white hair whipping in the wind.

Flux will never forget the sound of his body hitting the floor.

“NO!”

He gets there too late, grinding to a halt beside his best friend, his partner, his heart. He doesn’t register the shock of pain that rips through his knees as he collapses beside him, shaking hands searching desperately for a pulse through the mess of blood and tangled hair. He finds one, barely. His fingers slip against his phone, drops of rain sending the screen into a blinding whirl of colours.

He doesn’t remember the phone call to the ambulance, just the disorienting flicker of red and blue as they arrive, the wailing of sirens and the whirlwind of people coalescing beside him, getting pushed away from Saps as he screams and fights. Arms close tight around him, bracing and holding strong as he struggles. Cynikka is there in front of him, tears and mascara staining her face as she moves to block him from seeing Saps. She’s saying something, her hair frizzed up from the rain like a halo.

“Let me go,” he snarls, pushing hard against the arms holding him.

“I can’t do that Flux; you need to let them work.” Low and steady. Ender.

He doesn’t stop, but he tires, flailing limbs slowing in their intensity. It feels like hours as green figures kneel around Saps. Orders are shouted, and equipment is rushed out from the ambulance as they race to get Saps stable. Hours, but what can only be minutes pass before he’s on a stretcher and disappearing inside the ambulance.

Ender lets him go, and the doors slam with finality as Flux steps into the ambulance beside Saps.

The hospital is manic, harsh fluorescents overhead burn his eyes. Saps is whisked away immediately, and all Flux can do is sit and wait. The floor beneath his feet starts to blur with how hard he stares. A blanket is placed across his shoulders and he distantly realises that he’s shaking. At some point his family gets there too, closing in around him like a shield. He can’t bring himself to look at a single one them.

The doctor comes out some time later with a clipboard in hand. Punctured lung, broken ribs, fractured vertebrae, shattered leg, internal bleeding, head trauma.

He’s alive, barely. Hanging on in the Intensive Care Unit, the next few days critical. The doctor can’t reach his parents.

“I want to see him,” Flux says, voice hoarse. He clutches the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

The doctor hesitates, just for a second before nodding. Flux can’t feel his feet as he follows, the rest of his family trailing behind. The air punches out of his lungs when he finally sees him. Nausea rolls in his gut.

He looks small, swamped in medical equipment. Tubes and bandages cover him almost entirely, machines beeping in the background. There’s a chair at his bedside, and Flux almost falls into it. He’s careful when reaching out to cover Saps’ hand with his own. Fingers find his pulse. He breathes, times it to the beeping of the monitors, and gradually the shaking lessens.

He spends days there, sat in the chair beside Saparata’s bed. He’s counted every crack on the wall at least ten times over, and the rest of it he spends just staring at his partner. He could draw him from memory like this now, down to the tubes and the bandages. The nurses know him by name, and he begins to know them too. One of them always brings him lime jelly. It’s the only thing he can stomach without wanting to throw up.

His family operate in shifts, always someone there as Flux lets the hours stretch on. He ignores them all, takes the food and coffee pushed his way. It’s an endless cycle.

The only time it breaks is the second stint Crow spends with him. He means well, sure, but Flux is so angry that he can’t stand to look at him. It comes to a head one afternoon as the sun shines through the smeared window, casting the room in a hazy golden glow.

A hand lands on his shoulder, breaking him from his thoughts. “I’m sorry Flux, really.”

“Don’t.”

He keeps going. “I didn’t know how bad it was.”

Flux’s blood boils. He bites down on his lip hard. “I tried to tell you.”

“I know.”

That fight feels so far away, like it was years ago. Rain slashed across the large windows, casting the kitchen in a moody light. Crow had stood across from him, face flushing red as they’d yelled at one another, volume slowly ratcheting up.

“You don’t understand,” Flux had snarled, face twisting as he stared at his dad.

“It’s two hours, Flux,” Crow retorted hotly. “He can survive two hours without you.”

“Something is wrong! Why won’t you listen to me?” He’d thrown his hands up, unable to still as the anger swelled, desperation raw on his tongue. “Please, can’t he just come along?”

“No, and that is final. It’s your father’s birthday, family only. It’s the same rule every year.”

“I can’t fucking believe you!” He’d stormed out, chest tight. They’d been at it for hours by that point, the same arguments hashed out again and again. They weren’t getting anywhere. Flux had folded.

Not a day will go by where Flux doesn’t wish he’d fought harder, broken Crow down or gone against his wishes.

Crow is still hovering at his side. Flux fights the urge to turn and smack him away. “Get out,” he grits. The sigh is disappointed, but he goes without a further word.

It’s empty. That’s the only thing repeating in his mind, stuck like a broken record.

The bed is empty, fresh sheets neat and made up. The bedside table is clear, the flowers are gone. Everything is gone, even the chair that Flux has spent more time in over the past few days than his own bed.

He can’t move. He stands and he stares, and stares.

There’s a voice beside him. “You ok, hon?”

He tears his gaze away to look at the nurse. He recognises her. “Where is he?” He nods toward the empty room.

“Saparata? He’s gone sweetheart.” She smiles kindly, completely unaware that floor has just fallen out from under Flux’s feet.

“Gone?” He repeats numbly.

“Transferred out this morning.”

It takes his stuck mind a few moments to understand. “Transferred where?”

She shakes her head ruefully. “Confidential I’m afraid.”

“Is he alive though?”

“He was stable, yes. Why don’t you come and sit down, you look like you’re about to collapse. Can’t be having that now, can we?” She says, voice gentle and soothing. She must see this all the time, shocked friends and family that need to be reassured and redirected away from the tragedy.

But Flux still can’t move. Saps is gone, transferred away and the reality that Flux will probably never find him again hits suddenly. That choking realisation has him turning, throat closing up as he exits the hospital as fast as he can. Hallways rush by in a blur. He may be running, he’s not really sure.

His car is where he left it, only twenty minutes ago. Twenty minutes before everything changed. He shouldn’t be driving, but the thought of having to sit and wait for someone to come and pick him up is agonising. He needs to get out and he needs to get out now.

He pulls away and accelerates too fast. The sprawling hospital grounds change to row upon row of houses. Everything looks the same, all red brick and glass, disorienting as it whips past and melds into one. His heart thumps in his chest, and he pulls over, static racing down his arms through to his fingertips. There’s a loud rushing in his ears, drowning out the hum of cars passing by.

He remembers Saps’ honey smile, golden eyes. Even as a kid he’d drawn Flux in.

He’d never clicked quite so intrinsically with another person. It was like everyone around him didn’t matter anymore, his whole world had narrowed into Saps. They made fast friends, long days spent with one another, sun soaked and endless. It was final, in that way all childhood friendships were. The earth orbited around them and them alone, everyone else an after image, a speck of a star at the edge of their galaxy. Nothing else mattered.

And it stayed like that. Where most friendships would shift and change as they grew older, theirs stayed. Entrenched in one another, no room for anyone else. They came together, Saps and Flux, Flux and Saps until they blended into the same. Legs intertwined as they lay on their stomachs, homework spread out in front of them. A flash of a smile, a teasing remark, a playful shove, all of it was so normal. So them.

The years passed like that, to the point where it was all too natural, the first time Saps kissed Flux. The missing piece slotted in like it was always there, the next step in a staircase stretching on and on into their future. It had been nervous and unsure, until it became as easy as breathing. Made for each other in a way that nothing else was.

Everything and nothing changed after that. They became impossibly closer, merging into one another without distinction. Countless hours were spent wandering through the woods they’d explored when they were younger, warm summer nights hand in hand as they headed into the movies, friendly competition that always got a little too serious when it came to their bowling scores. They tried new cafes and restaurants, basked in one another’s time, soft words traded like little pieces of their hearts.

That summer was sun soaked and final. A hazy memory tinted golden. A dream, always just out of reach.

The shift was slow, so slow that Flux didn’t even notice it at the start.

They spent more evenings in, takeout ordered as they watched a movie splayed out on Flux’s bed. The weekends hiking dwindled, and the hours spent in one another’s easy presence turned into something quiet. The honeyed smiles dimmed, eyes faraway and lost. Saps spent more and more time in his own head, homework pushed aside in favour of sleep or endless scrolling. His grades slipped, not much, but enough for Flux to notice.

Enough for the hours he spent working when Saps lay beside him asleep to have an effect. He brushed it off, again and again, but Flux could see it. The quiet weight he was carrying, the once bright and early mornings drawn out and exhausted. The crashing in the evening. Saparata was never at his own home, permanently stuck to Flux’s side, so much so that he may as well have lived with him now. It was hard to notice at first, like puzzle pieces slotting into place. Slow, and then all at once.

It was one of those nights that Flux finally picked up the courage to ask. He’d sat with his back against the arm of the sofa, Saps sprawled out across him, head laid over Flux’s legs. It was warm, Flux’s revision pushed to the side as he steeled himself.

“What’s going on with you?” He said quietly, hands sinking into white hair. “You seem so far away all the time.”

Saps shifted, burying his nose further into Flux’s leg. It took him a long moment to respond, the quiet hanging heavy between them. But for once he didn’t brush it off.

His voice was muffled. “I don’t know, I’m tired. All the time. It’s not-” He faltered. “It’s not going away.”

Flux swept a thumb over his temple, tracing a soft line down to his cheekbone. It was wet. He leaned down to place a kiss in fluffy white hair. “Is it the kind of tired that sleep can’t help?” There was a sinking in his chest, a horrible nauseous feeling that maybe he was right.

Saparata nodded against his thigh and he ignored the hitched breath. “I don’t... I feel like the world’s moving on without me. Like I’m stuck, and no amount of running will ever let me catch up. It hurts, Flux.”

He was rubbing at his chest absently. Flux settled a hand over his, their fingers lacing.

“I’m not going anywhere Saps. Anything you need, I’ll be here.” And he meant it too. He’d move the earth for Saps if that’s what he wanted. He’d stop time and wait forever, just to let Saps catch up.

It was a quiet admission, something unsaid. The weight that he’d been carrying became clearer the longer he looked. An acknowledgement, finally, that Saps wasn’t ok, that he couldn’t brush it off anymore.

Everything shifted after that night. Saps was so achingly sad, and Flux didn’t think anyone else could see it but him. He still showed up, went to his classes, smiled and laughed when he should, but it never reached his eyes. Gold faded dim. The purple marring under his eyes got darker, his skin paler. He was like a ghost, right in front of Flux but not really there at the same time.

Nights stretched long ahead of them; Flux woke more than once to Saps staring listlessly at the wall. Sometimes he’d be crying, sometimes he’d be absent. On the rare occasions he actually went home, on his parents demands, they called long into the night. Saps’ quiet request for Flux to just talk, about anything and everything. He rambled to fill the silence, to hear Saps breathe on the other end of the line. It wasn’t much, but it helped soothe the thick curl of anxiety furling around his chest when Saps wasn’t at his side.

Saps was not close with his parents; they were away more than they were home, and he knew they didn’t see eye to eye on most things. He remained tight lipped about it, eyes pinched and upset whenever he returned. He was colder, more distant. Closed off and unreachable and all Flux could do was wait and weave his way slowly back inside Saparata’s defences. It was draining, but the reward was worth it. To see Saps open up again, to melt into his side and stay there. Flux had met the other boys’ parents exactly four times in the years they’d known each other, and every time he swore it’d be his last.

There was nothing ground-breaking or earth shattering about the evening it happened. Just a muttered sorry that Saps couldn’t join them for dinner and a sinking in his gut as Saps leaned in to kiss his forehead before he went home. There weren’t any signs, not really. Just the tightening in his chest and the lump in his throat that screamed something was wrong.

He’ll never truly forgive himself for losing that fight with Crow.

Saparata’s house goes up for sale a few days after he disappeared from the hospital. The sign is lonely and unassuming on the front lawn. Flux spends hours debating whether it’s worth it to try and talk to his parents but in the end, he never gets the chance. Their car is never in the driveway, no one comes and goes. It’s like they just vanish.

The coming weeks are hard. Flux is spiralling and he knows it. Getting out of bed feels impossible. School is an afterthought; eating is a chore. He sees Saps step off that roof, he hears Saps hit the ground. It echoes, again and again, so loud he wants to pull his hair out, slam his head into a wall. Anything to just make it stop.

Somehow, he doesn’t. He goes when Cynikka drags him outside, the sun a welcome relief as it warms his skin. The grass tickles his bare feet. She’s talking, and it goes straight through him. He can feel Crow and Elanuelo’s heavy gaze boring into him as he goes through the motions. Nothing ever lasts.

He can’t help it. He feels stuck, mind continuously looping back to the last time he saw Saps, still and unmoving in that hospital bed. He’d been hooked up to so many monitors, covered in so many braces it makes Flux feel sick just thinking about it. Saps is gone, but he never leaves Flux’s mind.

The same questions loop, again and again. Is he still alive? Will he ever wake up? Will he ever be ok again?

Maybe he’s dead. That’s the thought he seems to settle on when everything feels really bad. When he’s missing Saps more than he’s ever missed anything in his life.

Maybe he’s already gone. Maybe something went wrong a while ago, and he never took another breath again. Flux will never truly know.

He’s left more messages than he knows what to do with. Walls of text forever unanswered. It’s all futile, there’s no way Saps would be awake to respond even if he wasn’t dead. He feels like he’s going crazy, the way he has to stop himself from sending a post he sees, or turning to show him a photo, only to find the space beside him empty. The shadow lingering at the corner of his eye, exactly where Saps should be, is only a trick of the light. It catches him out again and again.

The day that Saps’ number is disconnected, and his social media is deleted is a day Flux thinks he won’t be able to go on.

All of it is gone. Every conversation, every moment. The few photos they had together. Gone.

Flux feels so numb he can’t even cry.

He makes it through, somehow. Claws his way out of the pits of despair, enough to pass the next year and a half at school. He loses himself in it, grades climbing higher than ever before. It’s not healthy, he knows, but without it he’d collapse in on himself like a dying star. He crashes so hard the summer after he finishes school that he may as well be.

University is a welcome change. It’s not terribly far from home, only a few hours but it’s enough to feel anonymous again. A chance for him to leave the town where pity filled gazes follow him like a shadow, where golden streets only hold painful memories. He hasn’t gone anywhere near the place that Saps jumped. It had made senior year difficult, avoiding the building that may as well have killed his partner.

His university halls have a good group, the first actual friends he’s made since he was twelve. Thomas bullies his way in, not taking no for an answer as he steadfastly ignores Flux’s sour attitude and attempts to get him to fuck off. He becomes a steady presence at his side, pulls Flux out of his head, spurs him on, gets him involved in nights out where he would’ve instead stayed in and wallowed. He’s never been so grateful.

Snowbird, Gotoga and Rotation orbit around them like planets. They form a tight knit group, sweeping through the first year with chaos on their heels. Flux feels that spark in his chest again, something he thought he’d lost when Saps had taken that step. It’s intoxicating. It makes him feel more alive.

Thomas only asks once, about the photo beside Flux’s bed.

The kitchen is full to the brim, people packed in so tight it’s a wonder anyone can move. Snowbird pulls Rotation onto the kitchen counter, dancing like he’s the only person in the world who exists. Flux escapes then, followed closely by Thomas. They’re sat on the floor in his room, passing a bottle of vodka back and forth. Their own private pre drinks as the building pulses around them, heavy music thumping through the walls.

The brunet tips his head back as Flux chokes down another sip. His legs are going numb with his back to the bed, beside his best friend.

The alcohol has loosened Thomas’ tongue enough to ask, nodding towards the frame, “Is that your boyfriend?”

Flux stiffens. It’s one of his favourite photos, the only one he has left of them. In it, Saps is leaning back on top of a picnic bench, legs splayed wide to make space for Flux sat between them. He’s grinning at the camera, freckles just visible across his nose. Flux is pressed against him, something softer, more private gracing his features. They look so impossibly young. It was taken right before things got bad.

“No,” he says woodenly. His tipsy buzz from before has vanished in the blink of an eye.

“Oh, come on,” Thomas presses, swaying into him. “I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Flux grinds his teeth. “Stop. It’s complicated.”

Thomas holds his hands up, the teasing sliding from his features. Even drunk, he knows he’s hit a nerve. “Ok, sorry, won’t bring it up again.”

With a short nod, the conversation moves on. Flux drinks so much that he doesn’t hear the sound of Saps’ body hitting concrete as he falls asleep.

Uni life races by, an endless swamp of work and partying. Their house for next year is sorted, practically the same as the group in his hall this year. It’s a relief, a weight off his shoulders. With barely a few months gone by, the expectation to find roommates and a house for the next year is rough. He’s just lucky he’s found such a good group of friends right from the start.

One thing that remains constant is the nightmares. His sleep is fitful. He’s lost count of the times he’s woken, heart racing, chest heaving, sweat soaking his sheets as he scrambles out of the twisted blankets. It always takes a while, bent over the edge of his bed to calm back down, to regulate his breathing and block out the images that are all too real.

It doesn’t happen so much anymore, but when it does it’s brutal.

Tonight is one of those nights.

He wakes with a gasp, throat dry and sore. All he can see is Saps hitting the ground again, the heavy thud loud in his ears as a spray of blood paints the concrete red. Unseeing, Flux flings his hand out and sends something flying. It smashes, glass shards scattering across the floor, but he barely notices.

All he can focus on is his heart hammering in his chest so hard it hurts, face wet with tears as he sits up. His shirt is stuck to his back, slick with sweat as he struggles to take a full breath. Nausea rolls in his stomach. It’s been a long time since a nightmare has made him sick, but tonight it’s close.

There’s noise, distant outside his door as his limbs tingle. Static dances at the edge of his vision, threatening to take over as his head spins. He can’t breathe. He thinks he might be dying.

The door opens, yellow light spilling into the room. His panicked gaze shoots to the person silhouetted in the doorway. They approach slowly, like he’s a wild animal backed into a corner. It’s Thomas.

He crouches in front of Flux, brows furrowed as he sweeps his gaze over Flux’s trembling form. There’s concern radiating off him in waves.

“Flux, hey, you ok?”

He’s not, he’s really not, he still can’t take a full breath. His head is light and spinning, chest still heaving like he’s run a marathon and Thomas is here. He’s not meant to be here, not while Flux is like this. Not while he’s falling apart, pathetic and weak.

Desperately he tries to nod, tries to make Thomas go away, but all he can do is let out a choked off noise. There are fresh tears making their way down his face.

“I can’t,” he gasps, reaching out to grab Thomas’ wrists. He needs to feel something real. He holds so tight that the brunets skin goes pale. “I can’t-“

He’s had this nightmare hundreds of times in the years he’s lost Saps. He doesn’t know why tonight is any different, only that it is, and it feels so much worse than normal.

Thomas shifts, but doesn’t pull away. “Easy, take a breath.” He’s steady, a pillar in Flux’s undulating storm.

Shaking his head, Flux fights for air. “He’s gone, he’s dead and he’s not coming back and I can’t-“

“Who, Saps?” Thomas asks, watching as the world comes crashing down around him. “Flux, I really need you to breathe.”

But Flux’s mind is stuck, a cold bolt of dread joining his panicked fray. “Saps?” he gasps, fingers curling tighter into Thomas’ skin. “I never told you his name. How do you-“

“You scream it sometimes, in your sleep,” he says quietly, regret etched into his features. “Come on, let’s take a deep breath now.”

And they sit like that, in panicked silence. All Flux can hear is his own ragged breathing and thundering heart pounding inside his head. Thomas breathes a little louder, a little slower and waits for Flux to follow along. Waits for the trembling to ease and for his spinning thoughts to come to a slow. When the sweat dries and goose bumps raise along his arms, Thomas gently extricates himself to drape a blanket across his shoulders.

“Better now?” Thomas asks, dark eyes still on Flux.

He wants to shrink away from the attention, the embarrassment of breaking down in front of his friend like this. It’s mortifying, but he knows any attempt to pull away will just redouble Thomas’ efforts to stay by his side.

Exhaustion weighs his body heavy, shoulders curling in as his chest slowly loosens from the vices of the panic attack. He nods. Thomas watches him for a moment longer and then gets up, shuffling around the room to clear up the broken glass. He shoots worried glances Flux’s way every so often.

It doesn’t take long, and a fresh glass of water is pressed into his hands. Flux stares at his hand warping weirdly through the bottom of the glass. The condensation under his fingers is cold, real in a way nothing else has been since he woke up.

Thomas slides onto the bed next to him.

“You don’t have to stay you know,” Flux mutters.

“I know. I want to though.”

Flux moves backwards until he hits the wall, legs curling up underneath him. He’s still yet to take a sip from the glass in his hands.

The quiet stretches on, broken only by the hum of late city life outside the cracked window. Heat spills from Thomas’ body, pressed up beside him. Time is liminal, hazy and unreal. It loosens the aching in his chest enough to talk, words spilling out from the vice like grip.

“He was everything to me,” he says quietly, far away and lost. “He was so sad, at the end, so distant. And nothing I could do ever seemed to help. I think sometimes that maybe if I’d just tried harder, done more, he’d still be here. That he wouldn’t have jumped.”

“Flux, that’s-“ Thomas starts, then pauses.

He laughs wetly. “A lot, I know. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad you told me.” The brunet takes a moment to gather his thoughts. “And from what it sounds like, you shouldn’t blame yourself either. I know that’s easier said than done, and I don’t know the full story, but I’m sure you just being there was more than enough.”

Flux only hums. He’s gone over it all so many times, it’s a well-trodden path in his head. The what ifs, the things he could’ve done differently. It’s all too much sometimes. He tips over, falling into Thomas’ side, head resting on his shoulder. It’s the closest he’s been to someone since Saps left. The contact burns, and he lets it.

They stay like that until a wash of early morning light creeps in.

The years pass, and Flux keeps going. Life settles into a routine and it’s fine. The grief never really leaves, a hollow ache in his chest, but it dulls. He goes out, gets drunk, slogs through his work, spends his third year on a placement. It lines up a job nicely for him at the end of his final year, something worth looking forward to, a goal to reach for instead of just floating through university aimlessly.

Thomas stays, his course in engineering a four-year program instead of the usual three. Snowbird and Gotoga stick around too, finding local jobs rather than moving back home. The friendship between them has only strengthened over the years, tried and tested but unbroken.

It had been hard, saying goodbye to Rotation. Like losing a vital component as he’d flown off to travel before settling into adult life properly. But Seraphim had moved into the spare room, introducing Newkids into the fold of their group. They fit in well, plugging the gap that’s been left.

It brings them to now, clustered around a small table in a coffee shop just off campus. String lights hang from the ceiling, casting a soft glow on Flux’s gently steaming coffee. It’s his second one of the morning, head resting heavily in his hand. He’d stayed up too late the night before, burning eyes fixed on the blue light from his laptop as he’d struggled to put words on the page for his dissertation.

He’s in a foul mood, grouchy and uninterested in Snowbird’s rambling. He lets it fade into the background, along with the chatter and screech of the coffee machine.

“No but I seriously think we need to invest in a ping pong table. Think about how cool it would be! How many other student houses have one? Practically none right. We-“

“I’m pretty sure Westhelm have one,” Gotoga interrupts, bemused. Westhelm parties are practically legendary, famed across campus for their wild nights and close resemblance to American frat parties. Flux has yet to go to one this year. He’s always found them crowded and a little too gimmicky for his taste.

Snowbird rolls his eyes. “Well ok, Westhelm have everything though. We can still get one, that’d make us the second best.”

“Mm, I don’t know. Madzvie’s parties are pretty good too from what I’ve heard.” Thomas says off handed, stirring sugar into his coffee.

“Sure, but it could be multi-functional. It’d serve as a beer pong table for the party, but we could actually use it during summer too. Like properly use it.”

Gotoga tilts his head, considering. “I don’t know dude, it would take up a lot of space in the garden.”

“Ok be like that then,” Snowbird sighs dramatically. “Come on Flux, back me up here?”

“What? I wasn’t listening,” he mutters, looking up briefly. His coffee has finally cooled enough for him to take a sip, bitter and invigorating.

“God you guys are useless. I try and pitch a really cool idea and all I get is negativity and shot down,” he complains.

Flux tunes him out again. The café is emptying out, the morning rush coming to a close. Only a few people remain scattered around, laptops open as they work. The low hum of chatter has reduced enough for him to overhear an order at the counter.

The voice is familiar. Deeper, older, but unmistakable. Flux’s stomach drops as he whips around, so fast his neck cracks. His heart kicks up to a thundering gallop, and before he can think about it, he’s standing up, chair pushed back with a screech.

“Flux, you good man?” He ignores Thomas’ questioning call.

All he can see is white. White hair, a constellation of freckles, those same moles. Flux would bet anything that his eyes are gold.

“Yo, get me another frappe would you?” Snowbird chimes in.

Flux makes his way over cautiously, stomach turning in nervous flips. It’s him, it has to be, leant back against the wall on his phone while he waits for whatever he’s ordered. He’s taller, filling out his clothes more than he had in those awkward teenage years fresh out of a growth spurt. Flux feels like throwing up, but he doesn’t stop. Not until he’s stood in front of him, mouth abruptly dry, speechless.

What do you even say to someone who’s been dead for five years?

The man looks up from his phone, hair falling back to reveal gold, gold, gold. “Can I-“ It’s polite, confused. Flux cuts him off.

“Saps?”

It’s like the earth shifts, realisation flooding through him, eyes widening. He straightens. “Holy shit, holy shit-”

Saps surges forwards, enveloping Flux in a hug. It swallows him whole and Flux buries his nose deep into his shoulder. It’s like coming home, something so familiar, so uniquely Saps. Something he’s missed like a limb, aching and raw. A piece of his heart, traded and ripped away, beats pink again. He thinks he may be shaking.

“Oh god Flux.”

He presses closer, tears burning hot. He blinks them back desperately; he can’t cry here. Not now. “You have no idea how much I missed you,” he mumbles. He’d climb right into Saps’ skin if he could. Atoms could meld together and they still wouldn’t be close enough.

The world could stop turning and they’d have no idea. It’s been so long since he last hugged someone like this. Maybe it was Saps, all those years ago.

The barista interrupts. “Spanish latte for Saps?”

He’d stay forever, but Saps gently pulls away, untangling himself from Flux’s unwilling arms. He reaches out, grabbing the takeaway cup. His hand is curled loosely around Flux’s wrist, grounding, something to hold so they never lose each other again.

Saps runs his eyes over Flux, searching. “You wanna get out of here?”

Mouth still dry and cottony, Flux can only nod. He feels dizzy, far away. Like none of this is real, trapped in a dream he can’t wake up from. A gentle tug of his wrist breaks through the fog just a little.

“I uh, I need to go get my jacket,” he says, tilting his head over towards his friends. They look away quickly. They’re bent close together over the top of the table as they speak in hushed tones, throwing furtive glances back at them.

Saps smiles, that same honey grin Flux still sees in his sleep sometimes, a little crooked but so warm. “Sure, I’ll just wait outside.”

Walking away from Saps is like trying to swim against a current. Every step is a battle, every bone in his body fighting to get back to the other. The pull is magnetic, and the tiny voice in his head is whispering stay, stay, stay, like a mantra.

Approaching the table, Snowbird’s face is lit up like a kid on Christmas day. “Who’s your friend Flux?” He teases, eyes bright.

“Shut up,” he mutters, lacking any bite. He pulls his coat from the back of his chair. It’s not truly cold outside, spring is blooming, but there’s still a slight nip in the air. Enough to make him regret not having one if he stepped outside without it.

“Yeah man, you don’t just hug anyone like that,” Gotoga says conspiratorially.

Thomas isn’t joining in, a small frown on his face. “Is that-?” He cuts off. He’s the only one of them who’s seen the photo, he’s the only one who understands the weight of it all.

“Yes,” Flux says quietly. His hands are still shaking, head still foggy. He looks towards the window, sick to his stomach that maybe Saps will be gone. That maybe he was never there at all and Flux really is going crazy.

But there he is, watching Flux like he can’t look away. He knows how that feels.

He puts the jacket on and leaves them behind, drawn to Saps like a magnet. The cool air is bracing, washing away the warm fugue of the coffee shop, string lights still twinkling. They collide, inevitable in that way they always have been. Saps and Flux, Flux and Saps, blending into the same. Linking their hands together is natural, the logical next step. Easy as breathing. Saps’ hand is warm from holding the coffee as they lace their fingers together.

And it’s like no time has passed at all as they wander slowly back up the hill. Flux can’t help but notice his slight limp as he guides them loosely back to his place, no other destination in mind. Five years and Saps is here, real and tangible beside him, hands swinging between them. They share sips from the lightly steaming takeaway cup.

“I thought you were dead,” Flux hears himself say. A car passes by in a brief rush of noise. It doesn’t hide the way Saps winces.

“I’m sorry.” The hand around his squeezes for a beat.

“Don’t be. I’m not mad. I just-“ He blows out a breath, watching a cat jump off a window sill in someone’s front garden. “I just hope you’re ok. That you’re doing better.”

Saps’ voice is honest as he responds. “I am, I promise.”

“Ok,” he says. Flux isn’t sure how much he really believes it, but maybe for now it’s better left alone. He’s here now, and that’s ok.

The walk is meandering, quaint shop fronts passing by on either side of the high street. His breathing gets a little heavier as they get to the top of the hill. Only a few more streets over and they’ll arrive.

“So, you’re at uni here?” Saps asks.

“Final year,” Flux nods. “Architecture and Classics.”

“You got the course you wanted?” Saps tugs him to a stop. He looks so happy it makes Flux lose his breath.

“Yeah,” he ducks his head, a small smile on his lips. Saps still remembers; the long nights Flux spent trawling through uni courses with a fine-tooth comb. Discarding anything that didn’t fit exactly what he wanted. He’d come to the frustrating realisation at the age of sixteen, that very few universities offered both Architecture and Classics in the same course.

“Holy shit!” He sweeps Flux into another hug, uncaring that they’ve stopped in the middle of the pavement. Someone steps around them with a disgruntled huff. Saps pulls back, hands still on his shoulders and gold searches violet.

Flux fights the urge to pull away from the intensity. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just glad you’re happy.” That soft smile is back.

Flux feels brittle, breakable as glass. Is he happy? Has he been happy since Saps disappeared? He’s honestly not sure. Maybe in fleeting moments, caught up in snatches of light, but actually truly happy? He doesn’t think so. More so empty, going through the motions. But he lets Saps have this.

“Maybe I’m just happy you’re back,” Flux returns, swallowing down something abruptly bitter. “Are you at uni here too?”

And that launches Saps into a long conversation, pavement disappearing under their feet as they draw closer to Flux’s house. He’s in his first year, studying International Relations and enjoying it more than he thought he would. The workload’s not yet heavy enough to suck the life from his course.

He’d never truly shown any interest in university when they were younger. The choice of course surprises Flux a little, but he doesn’t interrupt Saps. After so long without him, he could listen to Saps talk for the rest of time and not get bored.

He’s living at Westhelm, personally invited by Schpood. It’s enough to make Flux falter, nausea rolling in his stomach. Saps has been so close for so many months and he just never knew. How many times have they walked past one another? How many times have they been in the same building, just rooms apart? Parallel lines, running alongside one another yet not meeting.

But Saps continues on, gesturing as he talks. He’d met Schpood when working at the same pub a few summers ago. It had been purely coincidental, but Schpood had encouraged him to apply to uni. Offering him a place to stay had been the only way for him to afford it all.

He trails off when Flux stops, digging through his pocket for the key. “You coming in?”

“Only if you’ll have me.”

Flux rolls his eyes to hide the ache in his chest. He’d have Saps forever if he could. “Don’t be stupid.”

Objectively, it’s a nice house. For student accommodation at least. It’s tall and narrow, the front door opening directly into a dim hallway at the bottom of the stairs. Flux takes his shoes off and leads Saps upstairs. They’re steep, carpet fraying and almost every step creaks underfoot but it’s home.

Flux’s room is the last one on the left, tucked away in the corner. It’s one of the biggest, a double bed pushed back against the wall, yesterday’s clothes thrown over the back of his desk chair. He’s stuck photos and posters all over the walls, illuminated by the strip lights plastered around the space. There’s one sad little succulent almost dead on the windowsill.

Saps wanders around, running his hand along the spines of his books, picking up small trinkets only to put them back down. Flux feels like he’s laying himself bare. Ribs carved open, heart pink and vulnerable. It’s been five years since Saps has been in his space, since he’s touched Flux’s life. He hovers by the door, hands firmly stuffed in his pockets so he doesn’t fidget.

He watches Saps come to a stop by his bed, eyes fixed on the photo he keeps there. “You kept this? Cute.”

Flux swallows. “It’s the only one I have.”

Wide gold meets violet. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he shifts, worrying at the skin around one of his nails. “You had all the photos, and after… everything, your accounts were deleted.” Flux moves closer as Saps sits heavily on his bed. The photo is cradled in his hands, young and happy and eternal. “I lost all of it.”

Saps makes a quiet noise, still not looking up as Flux stops in front of him. “I’m still pissed that they did that, you know. It wasn’t theirs to delete.”

“Your parents?”

“Yeah. They claimed that social media was ruining my mental health,” he scoffs. “Load of bullshit if you ask me. Only thing ruining my mental health was them.” A bitter note courses through his words.

Stepping between his legs, Flux gently pulls the frame from his hands and sets it back on his bedside table. “Tell me about it?”

Saps tips forward, head resting against Flux’s stomach. He blows out a breath as Flux runs his hands up over Saps’ shoulder blades, burying into the short strands of hair at the base of his neck. “There’s not really much to say. I recovered physically, mostly, they stuck me in a ward. Repeated my last two years of school, medicated so I wouldn’t try to off myself again. Got a job, met Schpood, ditched my parents and the rest is history.”

He’s so blasé about it that it hurts. There’s so much lingering under those words, so much left unsaid. Flux wants to push, wants to know. There’s a sick curiosity burning in his chest, like a car crash he can’t look away from. Saparata’s arms tighten around his waist as he pushes closer.

It’s all the warning he gets before Saps rocks back, pulling Flux with him. They land chest to chest, lying back on his bed. Flux stares down at Saps, arms bracketing around his head so he doesn’t completely crush the other man below him.

“Hi,” he breathes.

Saps grins. “Hey yourself.”

Flux stares and stares. He takes in the deep gold of his eyes, flecked through with a darker brown, the freckles smattered across his nose, the light scar hidden just at his hairline. The last time he’d seen it, it’d been an angry red shot through with stitches. He sweeps over the moles beneath his eyes, the one by his mouth. He’s kissed them all a hundred times over. The cut of his jaw is sharper, older. He’s grown up, having lost the baby fat that once clung to his cheeks. Flux is sure he’s much the same.

He drops his forehead to Saps’ chest, breathing out slow. He sinks into the rhythm as ribs rise and fall beneath him. There’s a hand at his hip, rubbing circles into the stretch of bare skin where his jumper meets his jeans.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Saps says. His voice rumbles through his chest, amplified from where Flux is pressed along him.

Flux hums.

“I’ve missed you so much. I spent so long looking for you and I thought-” Saps swallows. “I thought maybe I’d never find you again.” And isn’t that something, that they’ve both spent the last few years plagued with exactly the same thoughts, unable to find one another.

“You were still looking?” Flux mumbles, eyes closed as he melts a little further into the man below him, limbs heavy.

He’s quiet as he responds, “Of course I was.”

The silence stretches, the unsaid Were you not? hangs heavy in the air. “I thought you were dead,” Flux says again. “I looked and I kept waiting and I could never find you. Nothing online, nothing in person and I didn’t know what else to think. I drove myself crazy with it and-“

Flux trails off, a fierce ache burning in his throat. All this time lost, all this time wasted. Something they will never get back and maybe that’s just life. He startles when he feels a kiss press into his hair.

It makes Saps still, the hand at his waist coming to a stop. “Was that ok?”

Flux looks up, eyes tired as they flicker down to his pink lips. “It’s only ever been you.”

He leans down slowly, watching, but Saps doesn’t move. Pressing his lips against Saps’ feels like the earth aligns, like the universe breathes out. It’s dry, warm and chaste, nothing more than a press of lips and eyelids flickering closed, but it’s enough. Flux pushes closer, head once again resting on Saps’ chest.

They shuffle around for a moment, getting situated more comfortably from where they’d just flopped back earlier. Flux grumbles as Saps shifts him over to lay more central.

“Shh, you’re just on my bad knee.”

“Sorry,” he says. Saps’ heartbeat is loud. He has to ask. “Are you actually doing better?”

It’s quiet for a beat too long, thinking. “For the most part, yeah. I still have bad days, don’t get me wrong, but the medication is helping. I’m in therapy still and being away from my parents and out of school has been better.”

Flux breathes, a tight band around his chest releasing. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

Saps pauses, his hand pressing into Flux’s lower back. He starts slow, stilted. “You were never meant to be there. To see it. I don’t remember much but the nurses told me when I woke up. I never should’ve sent that text. I never even wanted to write a note, but I couldn’t just do it without saying anything to you.”

“I think I would’ve been more upset if you’d done it without saying anything,” Flux says honestly. He’s spent so long thinking about it.

“Still, I didn’t mean to. It probably fucked you up.”

“You tried to kill yourself in front of me and change the course of my life, you asshole,” he laughs wetly.

Saps’ cheeks pink. He looks vaguely horrified. “Oh my god shut up, that’s not funny.”

And they stay like that, talking for hours as the sky begins to darken. The traffic noise outside slows to a crawl. With a hand carding through his hair, Flux falls asleep to the sound of Saps’ heart, beating steady and so alive under his ear.

He wakes sometime later, only the soft glow of city lights to illuminate the room. His mouth feels dry, head full of fog where he’s tucked up beside Saps. The other is laying still, phone held above him as he scrolls. Flux shifts, scowling in displeasure at the groggy feeling laying thick over him from the nap.

Saps feels him move and puts his phone down. He rolls onto his side to face Flux. “Good nap?”

“No, I feel like shit,” he mutters, trying to blink sleep out of his eye.

Saps grins. “You look like it too.”

“Wow thanks, you really know how to flatter a guy.”

He laughs, rich and warm. “Hey, I’m just telling you like it is. A two hour nap in the evening will do that to a person.” Flux groans miserably, burying his face further into Saps’ shoulder. “Oh you poor thing, your life is so hard,” he teases.

“Fuck off.”

Reluctantly, Flux pushes away from Saps and sits up. He looks down at his jumper, sleep rumpled and creased. He’d bet that his hair is all messed up too. Noise filters in from downstairs and voices overlap with a soundtrack from the TV. His roommates are home, and from the sounds of it they probably have been for a while.

Saps grabs hold of him as he goes to stand, a strong arm wrapping round his waist. “Where are you going?” There’s a little frown pulling at his eyebrows.

“We are going out to meet my roommates and maybe see what they’re doing for dinner.” Flux pulls Saps’ arm off of him, fighting against the pressure of Saps trying to keep him there. “What the hell,” Flux hisses. “Have you been going to the gym?”

Finally, he breaks free, shooting Saps an unamused glare. He’s grinning at Flux. “Yes. It’s been very important for my rehab.” He reaches out, motioning for Flux to help him up.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Flux says under his breath, hauling Saps up to his feet. He hunts through the clothes piled on his desk chair, cursing as he finds the hoodie he wants but almost sends everything else falling to the floor as he pulls it out.

Shrugging it on, he turns back to find Saps bent over, one leg of his jeans rolled up. He’s undoing a mess of velcro and metal strapped around his knee.

“Have you had that on this whole time?” Flux frowns.

Saps slides the brace off, looking up. “Yeah, I meant to take it off earlier, but you were comfortable.”

“Move me next time, idiot.”

They exit the room bickering. The noise gets louder as they head downstairs, the TV flashing as two icons fly across the screen. Gotoga and Thomas are glued to the screen, controllers in hand. They don’t even glance over at Snowbird who’s sat at the kitchen table with his laptop open in front of him. He’s talking, oblivious to the lack of attention he’s getting from the other two.

“I’m just saying, I’ve found one that’s going cheap. Like really cheap.”

Gotoga groans. “Seriously, we don’t need it.” He leans forward suddenly, mashing at the buttons in a blur. His character careens across the finish line and he lets out a satisfied yell. Confetti rains across his side of the screen.

“There is no way you beat me,” Thomas says, dismayed. A sad little 3rd pops up as he finishes.

Flux steps into the room, Saparata on his heels. “What don’t we need?”

“Flux!” Snowbird exclaims happily. “Come look at the ping pong table I want to get.”

“You’re still on that?”

He walks over and squints down at it over Snowbird’s shoulder. It’s run down, covered in moss and there’s a weird stain in one corner. It’s also still ridiculously expensive for a glorified table. The fold up camping table shoved down the side passage of the house works just fine, if you ignore the wobble from one of the legs. And the way it collapsed last time they played beer pong. Maybe they do need a new one actually.

“You’re getting a ping pong table?” Saps asks. He’s leaning in too, close enough that Flux can feel the heat from his body.

Snowbird turns back at the new voice. “Hey, you’re the guy from the café. And yes, I want one, so I’ve decided we’re getting one.”

“Oh dude, Schpood would be so mad. You’ve gotta get it.”

“Right!” He looks at the rest of them pointedly. “See, this guy is better than you lot. I’m keeping him.”

Straightening up, Flux pushes Saps over to the sofas. “Hands off bird, I’ve had dibs since we were twelve.”

He flops down, sinking into the ugly tartan cushions. It remains one of their best finds to this day. An ugly as sin, large tartan sofa just dumped on the side of the road a few blocks down. It had taken all six of them to haul it home, but it had been worth it.

Thomas is staring, although he’s trying to be subtle about it. “Care to introduce us?”

“Everyone, this is Saps. Saps, this is everyone,” he gestures loosely at them. Saps waves and then sits beside Flux. He swings his legs over to rest in Flux’s lap.

“God you’re useless,” Thomas rolls his eyes and introduces himself properly, along with Gotoga and Snowbird.

The latter abandons his laptop, coming over to join them. It’s already a tight fit with three of them on the sofa and Gotoga has claimed their only beanbag. He sits on the floor instead. “So, Saps, I can’t say Flux has told us anything about you really. What’s the story?”

Flux rests a hand on his ankle, thumb running over the bone there. He stays quiet, letting Saps choose how much he wants to share. He’s not even sure how to sum it all up and put it into words anyway.

“Well, we met at school. My family moved into the area, and Flux here claimed me almost immediately.”

“Not true,” Flux mutters. It’s like everyone in his life. He stays away, they worm their way in and then never leave. It’s not Flux’s fault that once he has them, he doesn’t let them go.

Saps grins at him, oblivious to the rest of them for a moment. “You’re right, I claimed him actually. He looked all sad and lonely, so I thought I’d do him a favour and that was that. Inseparable, I guess.”

“He’s like a leech. Couldn’t get rid of him if I tried.”

“How come it’s taken us this long to meet him then?” Gotoga pipes up, looking between them.

“Yeah dude, Flux doesn’t have any friends outside of us. He for sure would’ve mentioned you,” Snowbird continues.

It’s all light-hearted, but Flux feels suddenly cold. He can feel Saps still beside him.

“I, we uh-“ Saps stumbles over his words.

Squeezing his ankle briefly, Flux takes over. “We lost touch a couple of years back.”

He can almost feel their curiosity burning. Flux has never been particularly forthcoming with his life outside of them, and he can see how Saps popping up so suddenly would throw them for a loop. It’s still not something he wants to explain, especially not as it’s not his story to tell.

Thankfully, Thomas swoops in and redirects the conversation. “Come on guys, I need a rematch. Who’s taking Gotoga’s spot?”

And things move on after that. Saps takes the controller and battles with Thomas, their conversation forgotten. Saps relaxes gradually, bickering with Flux’s friends and he slides into their dynamic seamlessly. It becomes easy, like he’s always been there. As the night wears on, it gets loud and competitive when the beer is brought out.

Sometime later, the door unlocks with a rattling of keys. Voices grow louder, moving around as shoes are taken off and coats are hung up. Footsteps get closer and two people appear in the doorway. One of them has a stack of pizza boxes. “I can’t believe you made me go and get your food,” Newkids grouches.

Snowbird lights up, abandoning his half-drunk can in favour of clearing off the coffee table. “Avoiding the delivery fee, dude.”

He dumps the boxes down in the newly made space. “Lazy.”

“You were going right past it!” Snowbird retorts. The TV pauses.

“Doesn’t mean I wanted to carry your pizza the whole way up the hill.”

Snowbird huffs. “If you’re gonna be like that then maybe I won’t let you have any.”

Thomas leans forwards, sorting through the boxes until he finds the one he wants. “What he actually means is thank you very much Newkids, we really appreciate it and of course you can have some pizza.”

Seraphim steals Gotoga’s bean bag as he dives in for some pizza. She holds a hand out expectantly for Thomas’ spare controller. “I helped too, dipshits.” And it’s true. Seraphim kicks a bag over, full of large bottles of cheap knock off coke.

Everything is shared around, plates forgone just to eat straight from the boxes. Someone has grabbed the vodka and Thomas has been pouring liberal amounts into everyone’s cup to mix with the coke. The music from the TV is back, a hum mingling in with their conversation.

Flux leans back, halfway through a slice of pizza. The box is balanced between him and Saps, dip spilled across the cardboard. It’s the most content he’s felt in a while. Saps is here, surrounded by his friends on a random Tuesday evening. He didn’t think he’d ever get this again.

He sways over, knocking into Saps’ shoulder gently. “Are you staying the night?”

Saps swallows, golden eyes finding violet. That honey smile is back. “I’d love to.”