Archive of Our Own

“You’re here.”

Fluixon didn't take his eyes off the sky. It was painted a nice purplish-blue colour, like a gradual ombre made with delicate strokes of watercolour. If you squinted, just hard enough, you’d see specks of light that were scattered across the frame.

“Hi.” Saparata replied, stepping closer towards Flux.

Silence. The comfortable kind. One where it becomes a daily occurrence after one too many nights spent stargazing on the rooftop.

“Isn’t it kinda weird,” Fluxion continued as Saparata sat beside him. Saparata half-turned his head towards him as a small act of acknowledgment, though his attention stayed focused on the sky above. “that we’re eighteen now?”

The two of them sat on the edge of the top floor. No railings, completely unguarded. Only a raised trim on the edges, a small word of come nearer if you dare.

It was always empty up here, mostly because it’s out of bounds, and they’re technically not allowed to be here.

It’s not like the run-down sign which said “DO NOT ENTER” made them stop. They came up every evening, like some sort of routine that neither of them have officially set. Yet they complied with it.

Today was like any other day.

Fluixon woke up, checked his socials, and disappeared from his house for the rest of the day. To where exactly, nobody knows. Nobody cared enough to snoop around his business because at the end of the day, he still slept and woke up in the same apartment.

He had taken a gap year before university. All his friends from Highschool and college are however, unfortunately, all in university. They’re going to parties, socialising, making the most of their lives. Fluixon isn't interested. Can't get himself to be.

It’s lonely being this isolated from your friends and your family.

Fortunately he has Saparata.

Both eighteen, both doing nothing much with their lives.

Just trying their best to live.

Saparata turned away from the man. He swinged his legs, dangling off the edge. They fell still after a brief moment.

“Yeah.”

Only one word, yet it came out too true, too honest.

The wind was strong. It pierced through their thin layers of clothing yet neither of them budged or moved. It’s always been cold up here, so high up; it almost felt like they’re in the sky.

Fluixon wished he was. Maybe it’d be nice to say hi to the clouds, or maybe he just be a part of nothingness. An empty, blank canvas of multitude of colours, sometimes framed with occurrences of clouds and birds. It sounds nice. Ideal. But it’s a shame. A shame that all the stars almost seemed diminished, too small to live up to their expectations.

Neither of them expected to live till adulthood. And now they're both here, both eighteen, both alive. Simply staring at the sky, the stars — something that had watched them since the start of it all.

They met when they were both thirteen, in Luminara Highschool.

Both of them were not originally from Pandora. Fluixon came when he was a small kid, dragged over from Aculon. There, snow fell at all times of the year, resulting in a never-ending thick layer of snow coating the floors and ceilings of Aculon.

He was a child when one day, his father told his whole family to pack up and go. He was about seven, young and confused. He remembered being picked up by his oldest brother, Ender, and shoved in the backseat of a car.

His memory had long failed him of what happened after that; but what he does remember is when he arrived in Pandora. The scenery here was a huge change, almost exactly like how the outside was portrayed in Aculon cartoon shows. Green paradise. Rich with trees. Beautiful.

He enrolled in Luminara Highschool when he was thirteen. By the time he did, he was already accustomed to life in Pandora. It wasn't hard to get used to it when you’ve come from a far more troubled place.

Undoubtedly, it was great. Coming from somewhere so cold, so distant to somewhere of the complete opposite. Confused as to why his dad, Elanuelo, stayed in Aculon instead of coming with them. He wasn't stupid. He wouldn't believe Cynikka nor Ender whenever they’d explain he’ll come soon. It didn't help either that whenever he asked Crow, who came to Pandora with them, he’d reply with don't worry.

The kids in Pandora weren't the worst. With some difficulty, he found himself some friends. Ones without constant fear, ones who lived their life free.

They’d stick around; hang out after school, watch the stars at night. It wasn't a hard routine to get used to, not at all. He stuck to his friends and let himself forget about Aculon. Never brought it up.

He did, until in the second year of Highschool, when he met someone.

A boy with white curly hair, quiet, yet Fluixon took interest in him. The next day, he found the boy again. This time he approached him. He didn't say anything, didn't ask him what he was doing, only sat down beside him on the side of the basketball court.

He seemed immersed in whatever he was doing on his notebook, head ducked down, pen working endlessly.

Flux continued to stare. Stared for so long that he didn't realise that the boy had stopped moving before he felt a poke on his shoulder. He looked up.

What he saw was a new sight. Muted brown eyes that revealed gold beneath when the sun shined in the right angle. Two twin moles beneath his eyes, round and innocently dotted. Vague freckles scattered across his nose and cheek — just like the stars he’d find himself staring at when night came. The boy stared at Fluixon. Not rude, not annoyed, just stared.

That day, Fluixon learnt that his name was Saparata. How he was born in a far-away nation in the desert — Theria. How Saparata moved to Pandora just a year ago.

That day, Fluixon also learnt that it was okay to tell people he was from Aculon. That not everyone gives him weird looks. That being from Aculon is quote on quote “super duper cool”.

From then on, the two of them grew closer. Inseparable, even.

At sixteen, they both mutually agreed on many things. That school was too difficult, that they would never leave eachother, that they’d go to the same college. They would if they made it past sixteen.

“It’s kinda pointless, isn't it?” Flux mumbled, voice barely audible with the loud chatter the room was submerged in.

They were sitting in the school cafeteria, both in the last year of Highschool. Saparata picked up a chip. His attention trailed Flux, who had his chin boredly faced up by his palm.

“I guess so,” Saparata replied. He didn't know what exactly was pointless. Didn't need to know. Just kept on chewing on the chip.

Fluixon momentarily furrows his eyebrows before looking down on the table.

“I meant like.. Isn't college kind of pointless?”

Saparata stared at his friend for a good second before putting the chips in his hand back down.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

For a brief moment, no one talked.

“Saps, have you ever thought about what you wanna do after college?” Flux asked, expression too relaxed.

His attention landed on Saparata. He watched as he swallowed a chip, and started thinking.

He thought for a good while.

“I don't know what I’d do. Maybe I’d like, succumb to being a retail worker who works nine to fives, earn minimum wage and live in a crappy old apartment,” he laughs. “–or I could just live with Micro or Jophiel and freeload off them. Works too.”

Flux smiled. He didn't find humor in it. Just smiled because that was when he realised that neither of them planned on a ‘good’ future.

It selfishly made him feel better.

“Well, what about you?”

That, Fluixon didn't know. He didn't wanna go to university. Didn't wanna go to college. Didn't want to get a job. He couldn't even freeload off his family if he wanted to. They’re too distant.

What he did want — is to do nothing. Stare at a wall. Lay on the ground. Close his eyes. Run away from everything being an adult tells you to do.

Maybe he’d wanna stay sixteen forever. His daily routine: to wake up, eat breakfast, go to school, see his friends, walk around, go home when everyone’s asleep.

He subtly smiled at the thought. That wouldn’t be too bad. Stay sixteen, forget about everything else. Do nothing with your life. Forget about your family. Never go back to where you’re from. Find everything too tiring.

The idea made him think about what’s achievable and what’s not.

Then, his smile drops just a fraction.

“Saps,” he muttered.

Saparata was already looking at him. “What is it?”

“Would you stay sixteen forever with me?”

Saparata looked. Stared very hard. What he saw wasn't a troubled face, nor a sad expression. Just the usual content expression Fluixon carried with him.

He set the empty food box aside, resting his hands on the table.

“Not really.”

Flux bit his tongue.

“Yeah. I guess that’s pretty stupid. You can't do that anyways.” He exhaled before looking back up. Saps was no longer looking at him, instead staring down on the table.

“Well, I mean,” Saparata continued. “It’d be nice. We wouldn't have to worry about being an adult and paying bills or stuff.”

“So, you wanna?”

Saparata scoffed. “You’re so idealistic. Let’s just get out of here before that teacher over there yells at us to get out if we’re done eating.”

With that, Saparata stood up and walked over to the exit of the cafeteria. He stood by the exit, and waited for Fluixon to hurry up.

Neither continued the conversation.

Now at eighteen, Fluixon still had the same foolish mindset. Except he wasn't sixteen anymore and he couldn't just wait until adulthood to rot and do nothing at all.

Throughout the two years of college, (yes, they did end up going) they had learnt a few things.

One of them was how college wasn't as bad as they thought it was.

Second was that they were right about college being hard.

Third was that they both still had absolutely no idea on what they wanted to truly do after college.

Saparata briefly mentioned before that he wanted to get into law studies. So he did in college. Despite that, his passion for law didn't seem to phase him out of his poor prediction for his own future.

At sixteen, he thought he would be working retail jobs when he became eighteen.

Now, he’s still unemployed. Doing nothing. Living with his family with plans to move away. Sitting on a rooftop with the same Fluixon he knew since he was thirteen.

That gave him a sense of relief. Yet an overwhelming sense of dread seems to overcome the relief.

“Flux?”

He didn't turn to look at Saparata.

“Yeah?”

Saparata was silent. His eyes stared out into the sky, before lowering to look at the city below them. It wasn't loud, wasn't quiet — just the right amount of noise. Not loud enough even with the addition of the strong wind to drown out his voice.

“Isn't it kinda tiring?”

“What?”

“To pretend it’s fun living like this.”

Fluixon didn't reply. Not immediately.

“I’m not pretending.”

“You think it’s okay to keep thinking you’ll do nothing forever, then?” Saparata cut through.

“It’s not hard to understand. It’s weird having to wake up in the morning, just to go back to sleep at the end of the day. I would sleep forever if I could but I can't. No one can.”

“You’ve never tried to live. Not after college.”

Saparata finally looked away from the city. He now turned to Flux.

His head was still half turned towards Saps, deep purple eyes staring somewhere to the side of Saparata’s face. He looked relaxed, yet Saps could tell he wasn't. The way his eyebrows furrowed slightly, attention disfocused.

It was obvious to him that Fluixon was having a hard time trying to comprehend living.

Saparata had always thought Fluxion was suicidal. The way he talked about his future like it was fiction. The way his expression somewhat lightened whenever life-threatening catastrophes were mentioned. The way his face went blank whenever topics regarding death were brought up.

Like he knew. Like there was a plan all along.

However, afterall, they were both just two sides of the same coin. While one looked forward to it, the other solemnly accepted it. Both towards the same future. To the future they didn't plan, the future they didn't even think would happen. Yet despite all that, they were now both still here. Sitting on the edge, one slip away from what they could want.

But neither of them would shift forwards.

While Saparata didn't necessarily wanna do anything, he didn't want to die either. Maybe he’d take a few pills, mess up his brain and run on autopilot for the rest of his life. But then he’d get bored of it. So he’d probably start going about his day like he’s expected to, like an adult. Find a job. Work retail and live a tiring life.

Fluixon, on the other hand, never said anything. He didn't actively say he wanted to die. Never said he didn't want to either. Just stayed here begrudgingly, as if life itself had already said fuck you as soon as he took his first breath. It wasn't completely incorrect — having such a rough childhood, only to find out through schoolmates that your father was a tyrant who died in a war that was doomed to happen.

Things weren't going well for him in Highschool either. When college came around, his life started to settle, get better, just by a fraction. When adulthood came by — he’d just found himself looking for the stars that were so easy to spot and wish on when he was little.

Saparata wouldn't even blame him. Yet he still felt pity. Felt a pierce in his heart whenever he thought about a day where his best friend would be gone.

“I know that,” Fluixon whispered after a while, his fingers curled against his side.

Saparata humourlessly chuckled. “So are you gonna keep being stubborn, or are you gonna let me try and keep you alive?”

“You don't need to keep me alive. I’m not going to kill myself,” he hissed, like it was obvious.

“Not very convincing.”

Fluixon crossed his arm. “What, am I meant to be an actor now?”

“I mean, you were a good actor in the play we signed up for during Highschool.” Saparata shrugged.

“You signed me up.”

“Still.”

The conversation fell silent. There wasn't anything more to add, nothing more to be stated. They both already knew what they had to know.

Saparata inched a little closer towards Fluixon. Not for warmth, just for the sake of if.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Are you gonna consider it?”

Fluixon scoffed. He tightened his crossed arms, just a little.

“Let’s go. It’s kind of cold.”

Without waiting for a response, he slowly got up and walked over to the door. Saparata’s focus trailed his silhouette, getting smaller before he disappeared behind the door.

He scoffed to himself.

Changing the topic. Typical Flux.

That night, Saparata realised they could try. See what life actually has to offer before deciding on nothing so urgently. And most importantly, that they have time. Time to experience and fuck up, with enough time to restart.

Next evening, Fluixon returned back to the rooftop.

Everytime, he’d go back to the exact same edge. Same spot, where the railings cut off. Same view to look at. Same stars to try and decipher.

It was calming. To look above the city, watching everyone quietly making their ways home after a busy day of doing whatever, whilst some are just leaving their houses. It made him feel warm. Yet so cold.

He often found himself conflicted. A part of him envied the people walking around, going home, getting tired at the end of the day; the other part of him tells him that’s not how life’s meant to be like. To live, to have responsibilities. The commitment scared him.

He never wanted to be an adult, and yet here he is anyway.

Today, he found himself staring down a little longer than usual. Like something was pulling him into a trance, a world he wasn't meant to want to know about. So immersed into his head, he failed to realise when Saparata stood behind him.

Fluixon turned his head towards the source of the shadow casted over him. Deep brown eyes in the evening darkness stared right back.

He always thought that Saparata looked somewhat like an angel. White hair, curly in a way where it sticks out on the sides. It reminded Flux of angel wings. His eyes were dark, yet in the way when the sun hit, gold would be revealed. He didn't dare look at them for longer than a second, glancing away in urgency.

He’s really pretty, Fluixon thought.

That also made him think about why someone like Saparata always stuck by him, someone so down and lifeless.

Maybe Saparata was his guardian angel or something. But then, Fluixon didn't really believe in things like that. He believed that no greater existence outside of the universe controlled the way things went, no god, nothing that decided on his existence.

He must’ve stared for a while. A while too long.

“What’s wrong?”

Flux snapped his head back towards the edge.

“Nothing. Sit down.”

Saparata listened and sat down beside the man, hugging his knees. Loosely slung over his shoulder, he carried a bag with him. Like he’d just come from somewhere and didn't have the time to take it off.

“Where did you go?” Fluixon asked without looking.

Saparata grinned at nothing in particular. “Park. Took a nap on the grass.”

“Again? One day you’ll fall asleep on the grass overnight if this carries on.” Fluixon scoffed, a small smile growing on his face.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“That means you wouldn't remember to come up since you’re asleep. And that you’ll leave me all alone.”

Saparata laughed. “Aww… Can’t go a day without seeing me, huh?”

“Not funny. I literally could.”

Despite his harsh tone, Flux would never admit that what Saps said was somewhat true.

Well, true to an extent, as he felt that if he didn't see Saparata then he’d actually begin to disappear. Besides him, Fluixon barely talked to any other person during his day. Maybe he’d respond to Thomas’ text when he woke up. Cynikka when she visited. That’s pretty much it.

From there on, they’ve descended into baseless chatter. Nothing important, nothing special.

They would do this every evening. Update eachother on what’s gone on that day, even if it’s nothing. Talk about nothing in particular.

Saparata typically talked about his day.

“Yeah. I woke up, had breakfast, laid in bed for another hour, argued with Micro about something stupid, showered, left. I went to the park ‘cause the weather was nice. Even took a nap.”

Fluixon, on the other hand, never knew exactly what to say.

“I woke up like two hours ago. Had some food. Took a lap around the neighbourhood. Came up.”

Such different lives, yet so similar — whatever they do, at the end of the day they’d always end up at the same place.

“When did you sleep last night?” Saparata asked.

Flux shrugged. “Four something, I’m guessing. I couldn't sleep.”

Saparata hummed in acknowledgment. “That’s late,” he stated as if it wasn't obvious enough.

“I think I have insomnia. I can never sleep anymore these days.”

“Thought we’ve settled that since highschool.”

He didn't respond. Just kept looking infront of him.

Again, that silence. When the wind got strong and filled in the silence between them. When it felt truly like it was just them on earth, sitting on a rooftop of a run-down building that no one cared enough to do maintenance on.

Saparata tugged his cloak tighter around him.

“What’s up with you today?” he exhaled.

Flux didn't blink when he responded. “What?”

“What is it?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

Saparata scoffed. “Stop acting oblivious.”

“I’m not.”

“You usually start ranting about how pointless and hopeless everything is. Finally found life purpose?”

Fluixon couldn't help but frown. “I’m not suicidal.”

“Yeah?”

“What if I’m just tired?”

“Not working. You just told me you slept for like, twelve hours.”

He crossed his arms. “I just get tired easily.”

Then suddenly, like the atmosphere had changed, he felt Saparata’s gaze staring straight at him — “Look at me.”

He didn't. He just couldn't.

Whenever Saparata talked to Flux, he’d always notice how he’d look to the floor, to the side, to nothing in particular. Anything but Saparata. His eyes reminded Fluixon of something — something far, something that didn't want to admit.

Saparata, on the other hand, loved looking at Fluixon.

Maybe it’s his eyes. Amethyst coloured, sharp, long eyelashes on the bottom and top framing it like a prized piece of painting in a museum. It was hard not to stare when he was always with Saps, like how they were inseparable back in school. Even in college, Flux would sometimes tell him off for staring so much. It would be more of a problem if Fluixon didn't look so flustered whenever.

The point is Fluixon sucked at eye contact. They both knew.

“I can't.”

For the next few seconds, or minutes actually, Saparata kept on staring at Fluixon for any sort of response, a change of mind. He didn't budge, didn't dare move; he didn't even breathe until he remembered he needed oxygen to survive. Only stared below at the city, where the street lights cut through the thick darkness.

Until reluctantly, Saparata looked away. Then his muscles finally relaxed.

“It’s fine. Suit yourself.”

Saparata didn't move away. Only turned his head towards the sky. It was a nice shade of purple, but not as pretty as Flux’s eyes, as Saps would argue.

“Sorry.” Fluixon absentmindedly apologised. He continued as if it’d mend anything. “I’ll try.”

“I know.”

Then, just like that, the conversation wrapped up for another night. They both didn't immediately leave afterwards. Just stayed, like the lingering existence of the conversation before was enough to fill the space between them.

For the rest of the week, evenings passed by like that.

It was simple. They’d meet, talk about nothing, leave.

Sometimes they’d stay on the rooftop the whole night. Their conversations would drag on, slowly but surely fading and submerging into the dark fog that began to take over the night sky — neither would realise until it was too late.

They were too young, too tired to care about anything.

For nights, the rooftop was theirs and theirs only. They’d lay down, tired from laughing, talking, doing nothing, and sleep would quietly take them in.

The cold, hard concrete floor was probably not the most comfortable — dusty and unkempt, yet it never detoured them away. They had eachother. It was enough. The small, unnoticed brushing on hands was enough to keep themselves warm.

But it wasn't always simple like that.

Sometimes during conversations, it would spiral into something more upsetting, infuriating, and arguments would break out.

Arguments that never quite went anywhere, which ended in consultation instead.

“You’re late.”

Fluixon didn't turn over when he heard the footsteps. It stopped, then he heard the slight rustling of fabric beside him.

The sky was different now. Spring approached, nights came later. The gorgeous purplish blue tone that swept the sky was now replaced with something more mesmerising, more bright. A gradual, yet distinct mix of orange, yellow, pink and purple, and everything else that came between them.

This also meant something.

Saparata’s eyes no longer looked a dull brown in the evening. They instead shined a yellow, almost golden, captivating and beautiful. Almost too pretty. Too mesmerising. Fluixon couldn't look him in the eye.

Saparata perked his chin on his palm, elbow stationed on his knee.

“Something came up.”

A simple reply. That should've been enough.

“What came up this time?” His voice was tired, low. Like something inside him gave up.

“You’re saying that like I’m late everyday. I’m always on time.”

“You’ve been late for three days out of five so far.”

Saparata nudged his face further into his palm. “So what? Can I not have my own matters to attend to?”

Fluixon was silent. Silent for too long that Saparata decided to check on him. Immediately, Fluixon turned away. Then Saparata realised. Fluixon was looking at him — their eyes met for a mere second between the exchange before he turned away.

Neither commented on it. Saparata just did a half hearted chuckle before looking back down with a flat look on his face.

Then again, out of nowhere, Fluixon apologised.

“Sorry.”

It must've been a slip up because as soon as he spoke, his eyes widened as if he’d let out a secret that shouldn’t have been told to anyone. Too bad Saparata caught that.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He scratched his arm. “It’s nothing.”

Saparata scoffed. Nothing? Really? He knew Flux. He knew how he has a tendency to apologise for everything. Sometimes it felt like he just said it for the sake of saying it. For no reason. Like it made him any better.

Then, slowly, Saparata reached a hand towards Fluixon. Just gently, he placed his hand on his hand, resting above the ground. He felt it when Flux’s hand tensed up.

“What is it?” He tried.

To no avail, Fluixon responded: “I said it’s nothing.”

“Flux, I won't judge you. Whatever you say.”

Maybe it’s the stupidly gentle voice that Saparata had spoken in. Or the fact he was the only one that ever cared for Fluixon enough to ask what’s wrong. Regardless whichever reason it was, Fluixon foolishly replied to him.

After a long pause, he gave in.

“I don't like it when you’re late. It almost feels like… like you actually have things you want to do. I mean– sorry, I know, it’s really selfish and stupid.”

His attention flickered to Saparata for a quick second only to find out he was looking at him too. He abruptly turned away, murmuring barely above a whisper, “I'm sorry. Just forget it.”

Fluixon didn't like talking about feelings. It’s unfortunate that Saparata loved hearing about them.

It didn't help at all that Saparata’s hand was still resting on his own, their bodies only inches apart. The air was now all too warm despite the weather, and he didn't know whether it was the body heat from the both of them or it was just him trying not to do something stupid like crying.

Fluixon could feel his face burning.

Okay, definitely the second one.

The reason why he didn't like talking about feelings was exactly that. He cried easily. Too easily. One slip that vaguely mentions that he’s in distress? Instant vulnerability.

It’s not like he was scared.

Not afraid.

Just too unfamiliar.

Then softly, too softly for Flux’s liking, Saparata spoke. “That’s pretty selfish.”

“I know. Your life doesn't revolve around me. Just forget it.”

He felt the other’s hand tighten its grip on his. Not rough, just tight enough for it to somewhat feel reassuring.

“It doesn't,” Saparata repeated. “But you can involve yourself in it.”

Fluixon slowly exhaled. “What?”

“You don't have to confine yourself and look for it in the sky. You’re always welcome to like.. hang around with me, you know?” Saparata said, now looking at Flux.

Stop looking at me, Flux wanted to say. Too bad he couldn't. His voice was stuck.

This was the problem. How gentle Saps would be even when Flux said the stupidest things ever. How patient he was with him. How kind he was. A part of it irritated Flux, whilst the other part made him feel small. Too small, too seen for someone that’s meant to be pointless like him.

He tried to speak but he couldn't. Everytime he opened his mouth, it felt like tears were about to burst out of his eyes. Face too warm, chest too tight. He just wished Saparata would stop looking at him for just this once.

And like the universe was listening to him, he looked away. Not far, but away, and that was enough.

Fluixon being bad at feelings wasn't a recent problem. Even during mid-highschool, he was too shut in, too quiet, yet Saparata would always get something out of him, useful or not.

“Fluxxx…..” Saparata whined.

The Fluixon didn't budge. Didn't even acknowledge his best friend’s calls. Saparata scoffed.

Typical of Flux to ignore him, huh?

So he pouted for a little more, whined for a bit longer. Even put on the saddest face he could and sighed for seconds too long. Still no response. Then, it finally came to him that Fluixon wasn't even listening.

His eyes widened. “Flux?”

No reply. Huh.

In typical Saparata style, he decided to body slam the boy onto the floor. They were both already sitting down on the grass, so tackling him wasn't a huge issue. Hands flung around his shoulders and one small push was all it took. The latter groaned at the sudden movement, rubbing his temple.

Saparata rolled off Flux and lay beside him, neither sitting up to move. Saparata tilted his head to the side to look at Fluixon. Looking up, he had a neutral expression across his face. No frown, no anything. Just a flat expression.

“Are you gonna reply to me?” Saparata asked.

Fluixon blinked. “What?”

“You’re upset. Aren't you?”

“I’m not.”

When Fluixon thought that Saparata had finally left him alone, he heard that stupidly aggravating voice again. Too bad this time, it sounded way softer and gentler.

“You’re not gonna tell me?” Saparata mumbled, purposefully making his voice half empty and broken.

Fluixon sneered. “It’s so stupid.”

“When is it not?” Saparata half-heartedly scoffed.

The two had been going back and forth on this for a while now. Flux would act like he’d been punched in his face fifty times and refuse to elaborate on why he’s upset. Saps implored him to tell him. Flux had his defenses up. Saps hated that about him.

In the end, Fluixon reluctantly gave in anyway. Even if it’s vague.

“Have you ever counted the stars when you were little?” He asked, head in the clouds.

Saparata was dumbfounded. “I mean, yeah?”

“Have you ever seen a shooting star?” His voice came weak.

Saparata stared up at the morning sky with him.

“..Probably. When I was very little, I recall my brother pointing to one and telling me to make a wish.”

Fluixon stayed quiet for a beat too long. “What did you wish for?”

The white haired boy scoffed. “You’re not meant to tell people what you wish for, silly.”

Then quietly, “Oh,” Fluixon replied. “That’s fine.”

Fluixon always found stars intriguing when he was younger. When he was still in Aculon, he’d recall when Cynikka and Ender dragged him out dead in the middle of the night to go stargazing. He didn't understand back then. Didn't see the point. But the longer he complied with his siblings' demands and stayed, he noticed more.

How bright the stars were, especially in Aculon — a nation with limited lighting at night, dark in most areas. He used to be scared of the lack of light. But when Ender told him the reason why the stars were so bright and distinct was merely because of low amounts of light pollution, Flux found himself starting to appreciate the dark.

Stars always looked prettier in the dark anyway. Maybe it’s the way it stands out in the most mesmerising way possible, making it impossible to look away once you’ve set your eyes on it.

As Fluixon grew older, he found that the stars in the sky began to scatter further away and began to dim. It’s still the same sky, the same stars as he’d gazed upon when he was little; yet something was different.

It was harder to spot them, to find the light. Like it was fading, getting dimmer, and dimmer, as every second passed.

And now, it felt as if the light had gone out completely.

Of course, he still tried to look for them. Look for the remaining ones that didn't hide away from them and try to reach it, reach his hand, inch it closer, closer, too far, too distant, too out of reach—

“You’re doing that thing,” Saparata commented.

Fluixon stopped. “What?”

Saparata shrugged. “When you pull your hand out. Then you try to reach for something in the sky.”

“Stars,” Fluixon only mumbled quietly beneath his breath.

“Stars?”

“I wanna touch one.”

“Which one?”

“It doesn't matter which. It’s not like I can actually reach it.”

Saparata went silent. He stared at the sky with Fluixon, vision unwavering, throat stuck, a small furrow in his eyebrow present.

“Which one?” he repeated, pulling his cloak tighter around his chest. The wind roared too loud for a season like spring.

Fluixon turned towards Saparata, stopping midway in a halt. “...I told you. There’s none I can reach.” His attention never fully reached Saps. Just stayed there in the middle, unsure.

“I don't think you’re looking hard enough.”

One sentence, one statement, yet it still hit Fluixon too hard. He wanted to ask Saps what he meant. Ask him what more is there to look for. He didn't — just let Saparata grab his wrist and pull him up. The other’s hand almost fully wrapped around his wrist, tight, but not strangling.

They walked towards the door stationed at the far end of the rooftop.

“Well, it’s kinda late. Let’s go before this wind drives me crazy.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

What happened after they left the rooftop had always been inconsistent. Sometimes they just parted without a word, and sometimes they bunked at Saparata’s house, just a road or two away instead of going to their respective houses. Today was one of those days.

Silently, the two made their way down the staircase. They were dirty, unkempt, floors stained with something unnameable—afterall, it was an abandoned office building that had never gotten finished. The railings of the staircase collected dust and grime, coated in grey.

Saparata pushed the entrance door to the complex open and walked through, holding onto it with his fingers to keep it open. Flux quickly budged through behind, whispering a small “thank you.” The wind on the surface felt slightly calmer. Accompanied with more streetlights, glowing shop signs that no one bothered to turn off and the odd few people who were stumbling into nightclubs with bold and flashy outfits.

Neither paid anything any mind. Just strolled through the streets at a moderate pace, not rushing to go home, yet not wanting to stay. It was fine. Calm, even.

Occasionally, Saps would shoot Flux a small stare. He wouldn't acknowledge it, and Saparata would act like nothing happened. Casusal, fine. His two hands shoved into his pockets, head down, trying to drown into his jacket, hair too soft.

Eventually they would arrive at the doorstep of the apartment where Saparata lived. An abrupt clinking of keys, then the sound of a doorknob twisting, quick and familiar. They stepped in and shut the door behind them. Saparata lived with his brother Micro in this apartment, but he wasn't home today; out at some sleepover, Saparata guessed. Nothing to complain about.

Fluixon stood at the end of the alleyway which led to the main area of the apartment. Just stood there, one hand tugging on the sleeve of the other. Saps turned around, walking towards the boy. He stopped before him.

“What’re you thinking of?” He asked.

Flux didn't answer immediately. He instead moved away, so that Saparata could pass through but Saps didn't move. He shot a glance at Saps, “What?” Fluixon spat, annoyed.

Saparata shrugged before walking off into his room, “bad day?”

Flux followed him after a second too long staring at the darkness. “Not really.”

The two lay beside one another, backs turned, room dark. Neither had said another word after, leaving the conversation hanging in the air. It was casual — going back to Saps’, laying on his bed silently until sleep took them in. Except this time, as sleep seemed to have a problem with Flux.

He hated this. Hated how laying beside Saps made him warmer, like it meant something, because it obviously didn't– or wasn't meant to, anyway. Begrudgingly, he forced his eyes shut.

When Saparata woke up the next day, Fluixon wasn't there.

For half a week, Saparata didn't see Fluixon when he approached the rooftop at sunset. For the first two days, he’d dismissed it — maybe he was tired and fell asleep, or maybe he just simply wasn’t in the mood. The third day went about the same. He’d sit there by himself and wait. Count the number of people who walked past a shop at a point, maybe count the clouds, do anything to pass time and wait for a figure to sit beside him. But as the sky turned dark, he realised that Flux wasn't going to show up.

Saparata could text Flux — but it was deemed useless ever since his texts stopped going through. He didn't ask Flux why that was, and Flux didn't talk about it. They both knew his phone was no longer on him.

Like any other logical person would, Saps decided on the second-to-best option: appearing at Fluixon’s doorstep. Risky? Absolutely. He was still going to do it, regardless.

So there Saparata was, standing awkwardly before Fluixon’s doorstep. He had his own apartment, a good distance from Saparata’s. It was moderately sized. Comfortable, considerably lavish for one person only. His door, painted in a shade of off-white with the apartment number nailed on.

He’d been to Flux’s apartment once. Maybe twice. Both during college times, once when he was sick, once when they had a project to work on. Never because he hadn't talked to him in three days.

Regardless, Saparata still knocked. Three knocks, sharp, piercing. He almost flinched.

After a few minutes too long, the doorknob twisted. Saparata shot his eyes upward to look at Fluixon. He looked… confused. Scared, even. His hair was like usual — a little over his eyes, black when the surroundings were dark. But his eyes, they had something more foreign plastered beneath them.

Fluixon exhaled. “The door was unlocked,” he said, before abandoning both Saparata and the door into the apartment.

Immediately, Saparata followed, shutting the door behind him. “Okay.” He stepped into the living room to find Flux now sitting in the corner of the couch, paying no attention to the television show playing on the tv — too bright for a pitch black room. Saparata stared at him for a moment, then at the television, then went over to sit beside Fluixon. He chose to sit just beside him; not touching, but still close enough to tell he avoided the whole other empty side of the couch.

Then, for a moment, neither spoke — only silently taking in the useless ramble coming fron the television show. Saparata squinted, the screen straining his eyes, eyebrows furrowing slightly. He knew that Fluixon wasn't watching the show. It was obvious; eyes laying low, vision unfocused, coated with something hazier, head down. He didn't even realise how awfully obvious it was until he caught Saparata’s staring.

Quickly, with a small widening of his eyes, he lifted his head up and placed his attention on the television. Unfortunately for him, Saparata did not look away. Fluixon swallowed, chest tight with something unnamable. Before he was even allowed to act calm, the man beside him opened his arms, just slightly, then tilted his head like some sort of invitation.

Fluixon wanted to look away. Really wanted to. However it was almost impossible to look away from those eyes — which he found himself staring at for moments too long — bright and shining, illuminated by the glow of the television. The way they gently stared back at him, no malice beneath but only a soft hue of light. He peeled his attention away after a second too long, and when felt his own eyes burn, his throat getting tighter; he found himself submerging into Saparata’s embrace.

Saparata wrapped his arms around Flux’s back, loose enough for him to break through if he wanted to, but tight enough to show that he wanted this. Fluixon didn't even realise, face already sunken into the fabric of whatever shirt the other was wearing. Then came the tears — running down too quickly, nearly hot enough to burn his face.

He didn't realise how much he needed someone to be there. That he was still alive rather than a ghost.

Every tremble, hitch, shake — Saparata felt it. Didn't comment on it, didn't need to. Just gently patted Fluixon’s back, a little reminder that he’s still there.

And when the tears finally subsided and the shaking stopped, they were left with the mere closeness and warmth. Neither wanted to pull away.

Saparata wasn't sure if it was the right time to speak, yet he whispered, “Where were you?”

For a few seconds, there was silence.

“Home,” Fluixon answered, like it wasn't obvious enough.

“I know that.” Saparata paused before continuing. “No rooftop?” Neither pulled away just yet.

The other thought for a brief moment. The answer comes out with uncertainty. “I forgot.”

Saparata scoffed, done in a way which almost seemed mocking. “You forgot for three days in a row,” he reinstated.

“I’ve been thinking,” Fluixon replied. He leaned lower from Saps’ head, like it’d do anything. “About stuff.”

“You’ve thought about things for three days straight?” Saparata laughed humourlessly, no distaste hidden beneath. “Flux, I thought you were– I meant, I wouldn't be surprised if..”

Fluixon subconsciously chuckled for the sake of it. “Y’know, I wouldn't …do that.” He always tried to go towards every twist and turn instead of being straightforward to continue.

He tried, playing it off, lying about it, even. Unfortunately for him, this was Saparata. Maybe it was the way he felt obnoxiously small in his arms, or the way the latter was just patiently waiting for some pathetic excuse of his, but he eventually spoke further.

“Saps,” he tried, words coming out unsure. He winced slightly at his own voice. He heard a small hum of acknowledgment. “I want to live,” Fluixon exhaled, voice too feeble for it to be casual. Saparata did not move an inch for what felt like a minute.

And there it is again, another hum. “Okay,” Saparata said, “That’s good.” Then he leaned his head lower, where his face could feel the warmth radiating off the side of Flux’s face. He could feel the smile on Saps’ lips.

The atmosphere diminished into the faint chatter coming from the television, neither saying anything, bodies too close.

This was fine. Alright. Too okay to Fluixon’s liking. Yet, it made him think. Think that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

That night, vital conversations were made. Ones that were hidden beneath the dim moonlight, accompanied by stolen glances, and the warmth of one another.

“You wanna live?” Saparata hummed.

Fluixon exhaled. “I do.”

“Will you try to?”

After a moment too long, he reluctantly replied. “...I can. I can try.”

Saparata gently motioned circles around Flux’s arm, nodding slightly. “You can,” he repeated. For a moment, no one talked or moved. Saparata’s attention stayed focused on Fluixon, and the latter’s fell to the side of Saps’ face.

“Okay. Give me a shout whenever you’re stuck.”

The following night, when Saparata went up, Fluixon was there. Head stuck in the clouds, like they always were.

He walked up to the man, still, idle. Flux turned his head around knowingly. “Sit down,” he blankly demanded. Saparata wordlessly complied, and sat down just a gap away from the other.

Minutes passed without either of them talking. Just them, the rooftop, and the sky. The conversation they had last night filled in any remaining space for questions and answers they had, hence the comfortable silence.

Then, after a considerable amount of time, Fluixon’s mouth opened. His words came out unsure, testing. “The stars,” he said, voice just above a whisper, “they’re nice.”

Saparata diverted his attention. Not towards the sky, not where Flux was pointing, but towards Fluixon. His expression, content, reassured. That was enough for Saparata. Then, just after a second too long, he turned towards where the man was pointing.

“Yeah, they are,” he replied.

Saparata never knew the names of the stars or constellations. Fortunately, Fluixon was always there to tell him.

Flux kept his hand in the air, finger loosely tracing an undecipherable shape. “That one’s Leo. That constellation.” Saps squinted, all he saw was a bundle of white.

Frowning, he mumbled, “I genuinely don't know what you’re pointing at.” Fluixon could only plainly roll his eyes before scoffing. He circled his fingers around the spot again, before pointing at a certain spot that Saps couldn't quite grasp.

“That. You see that one?” He points at a ridiculously bright star.

He nodded. Saparata’s attention stayed on that singular star, afraid of losing it. “That one’s called Regulus.” Flux explained. “If we’re on the same one, you should be able to see one just above it. Don't stray too far.” His finger moves up just by barely an inch. “That one, that’s Eta Leonis, it’s dimmer than Regulus.” Fluixon didn't check whether Saparata was following, he was certain. “See it?”

“Yeah, I think I got it.” Saparata nodded, focused. “There’s another bright one above that one,” he commented. Flux nodded. “Uhm, that one’s Algieba. And if you look just a little to the side of it, there’s three other stars. Kind of like, in a triangle shape.” Saparata squinted for widening his eyes, lifting an arm to point towards it aswell. He traced the triangle with his finger, once, twice, then three times. “I see it,” is all he mumbles.

“All those stars I just mentioned, including the little triangle of stars, they’re called The Sickle of Leo. Some people call it an inverted question mark.” He continued, “It’s the head of the Lion. Leo. Leo stands for lion.”

After a considerable amount of time in which Fluixon explained to Saparata where the individual stars of the constellation lay, Saps slowly turned towards the man with a flat yet intrigued look on his face.

His vision spun, eyes strained from staring at bright stars in the midnight sky, yet he could clearly make out every feature of Fluixon’s face. “You’re insane,” he said, dumbfounded. Before Flux could defend himself, he continued. “You’re such a nerd when it comes to these random things,” he scoffed, voice soft with a tint of lightheartedness. “It’s adorable.”

Maybe it was the tone he’d said it in, or maybe it was the priceless expression of shock and confusion plastered across his face that made Fluixon subconsciously look towards Saparata. When he did, he was met with a set of eyes: soft, bright in a way which makes it difficult to look away from, generously illuminated by the moon, staring straight through his own. Fluixon needed to look away — immediately — but his eyes betrayed him.

Saparata’s expression then softened into something more intriguing, unexpecting. Then, his mouth slowly moved open. “You’re looking at me.”

Vision tunneling, air getting thicker, Flux nodded wordlessly. His eyes looked golden in the parts where the moonlight hit, and a cool shade of brown in the other parts. White eyelashes shielded them from around, framing them like they were the prettiest paintings in a museum. With his mind and his mouth playing a game of tag, he could only weakly mumble. “I am,” he swallowed.

Saparata watched how Fluixon’s nose subtly scrunched, eyes widened in a hidden way. Neither said a word.

When Fluixon’s vision reverted back to normal, he abruptly peeled his attention off Saparata's eyes — beautiful, mesmerising in a way it almost seemed hypnotising — in a quick glance. His skin boiled beneath the cooling nights of spring, trying his best to comprehend everything. How it really was that simple all along, to look Saparata in the eye. It really was.

“You’re looking at me,” Saparata repeated, stuck in a haze.

“Sorry,” Fluixon said before his sentence was cut off, “No, no. Keep doing it.” Reluctantly, he looked back up towards Saps’ eyes. He felt dizzy — more than dizzy, yet stayed. Saps was looking straight back at him, eyes coated in a glaze of certainty, a small smile on his lips. Saparata looked like he saw a miracle happening. Maybe that was true, because the next second, he immediately grabs Flux’s hands, wrapping his own around his like a sort of indicator this was real.

Quietly, gently, Saparata whispers, “You feeling okay?” Flux wanted to say no, not really, but instead nodded, sucked into a trance. Saparata’s eyes really looked like stars. They’re so close too, reachable. He could feel his cheeks light up, burning, a small smile growing against his will. Then the realisation hit him hard, square in his head.

The stars, which he deemed unreachable, were there all along.

Saparata was there all along, right beside him.

He swallowed.

Fluixon could live with that.