Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Khaslana nervously exited the car. Mydei said nothing, but Khaslana could tell the man was worried. “I’ll be fine”, he tried to reassure despite being far from convinced himself. It had to be fine, for it was his own idea to begin with. One he disliked yet had to see through before it was too late.

In the end, Khaslana could not bring himself to involve his family in his predicament. They did not have to know. But more than that, they did not deserve to carry the full brunt of this burden with him. People deserved peace. Not alienating uncertainty, not endless worry, and most certainly not the feeling of futility.

Sure, it was wrong to think so. It was a selfish wish, but Khaslana stuck to it. That was the issue with heart versus the mind, and in Khaslana's case, his heart triumphed, and his choice was sealed to the path by his resolution. Too many people were already involved, and none were so daft they believed he was fully telling the truth. There were exceptions, of course, like his husband, his doctor, Miss Hyacine, and Perdikkas' apprentice, Seliose, but that was more than enough.

A lack of trust was not it, for he truly did trust that the people around him would not tattle, much less be terrified. Still, after all these decades, Khaslana could not shake off the thought that it was unfair to them, in some way. Mydei had unkindly called him self-sacrificial for it, and perhaps he was right, but even so, this was the path he had chosen. The path he had doomed them both to walk down on.

“Alright. Let me know when to pick you up.” Mydei gestured for him to lean closer, and who was Khaslana to deny him?

As he did just so, soft lips met his forehead, followed by a playful pinch of his cheek. The sting was no worse than a faint tingle. Never too old to get cuteness aggression, and it went both ways, it would seem. But there was a time and place for everything. Khaslana grinned, patting Mydei’s thigh in weak retaliation. After all, he did not have time to dally, already half-way out the car. He had important people to meet. He could properly retaliate once home.

“I will”, Khaslana nodded before pulling away. “I’ll see you later. Say hello to Ptolemy for me. ” Receiving a nod and brief 'send your family my regards' in return, Khaslana allowed a fond smile to drape his lips. "Of course. Drive safely, Mydei", he said before he gently shut the door, turning to that familiar house he knew like the back of his hand. 

With a deep breath, he made his way up the little path decorated with wooden fences, Autumn coloured trees, and colourful flower pots with all sorts of plants thriving in them. An old swing danced in place, hanging from that large tree by the pond, thoroughly used, and the distant sound of waves tickled his ears. Large patches of wheat fields lazily stretched and swayed in the distance behind his childhood home, painting Aedes Elysiae in eternal, timeless gold. 

His finger had barely left the doorbell when the door was yanked open and a woman with long, pink hair and stylish dress too cold for this month greeted him with enthusiasm rivalling his own. “Hi-.” 

Without waiting for him to finish, Khaslana was pulled inside by his arm. “You sure took your time”, Cyrene teased with a bright smile. Her gaze raked him up and down before she turned her attention over her shoulder. “Mom!! Khaslana is here!” Khaslana could not help but groan, fondly and not wholly complaining in earnest.  

"You can let go now. I'm already inside", Khaslana exaggerated his sigh, for he knew his sister paid it no heed regardless. Instead, she only laughed, light and melodic. It reminded him of the wind chimes they had hung up outside their doorstep that one Summer. Something about fairies and making them their own doorbells, but that was neither here nor there.

"Nuh-uh. You were taking forever. Also, it's your punishment for being super unfair!" The grip only tightened, yet nowhere near painful. Just enough to convey the minor annoyance Cyrene harboured, for some reason. But honestly, Khaslana had not the faintest clue as to why!

"Huh? But I was on time though?" At least, Khaslana was pretty sure he had not been tardy. He had triple checked the clock every few minutes, just to make sure. Besides, he disliked making others wait, Mydei even more so. In fact, his husband had made sure they had plenty of time to spare, for he, too, had places to be today. Not so early they were impolite, yet never late.

"Not that, silly. I meant your face! To rock your 50s looking like that is totally unfair!"

A whirl of emotions flared up all at once, yet all Khaslana could muster was an awkward smile, for he had no say in the matter, in every regard to this situation. The hurt prickled, yet the words were oblivious and without malice. At least hearing his sister's voice relieved some of it. He had gone without it for too long. Plus, he was at the mercy of her whims lest he wished to suffer dire consequences. Like forever carry her bags or have embarrassing secrets aired out to their parents. One was arguably worse than the other, but Khaslana digressed.

"Why are you the only one who got mom's good genes?" She pouted, as if she did not look a day above forty herself.

Unsure of what to say, Khaslana sent a greeting yet pleading look towards their mother who had just emerged from the doorway. White hair and the same kind face she always wore, Audata dried her hands on her apron as she met his gaze. Tender and filled with mirth. All he received was a chuckle as Cyrene continued to hold on to him, guiding them both past the older woman and deeper within their childhood home after Khaslana finally managed to remove his shoes and jacket.

Only once they entered the living room was he freed upon his mother's request. Cyrene vanished into the kitchen as Khaslana took the opportunity to observe his surroundings. The place looked the same, smelled the same, felt the same.

The same grandfather clock by the window which chimed out every hour. The same dining table by the wall, hosting exactly four corresponding chairs and plates set out for all four of them. The same leather couch stained by some strange concoction him and his father had spilt way back in time. The corner they were sent to by his exasperated mother to reflect was occupied by a potted plant, tall, lush, and nearly as old as he. Their walls were filled with memories and the bookshelves of childhood fairytales and family albums.

Khaslana was brought out of his musing as a soft embrace engulfed him. Warmth bloomed from his arms to his chest, his mind and to his body and very soul. Without hesitation, he returned the gesture, gentle and secure. Enough pressure to be present, but not more. He leaned down so his mother no longer needed to stand on her toes to hug him.

"I finally get to have my turn", she joked. "Khaslana, it's so good to see you", his mom beamed wide, patting his back while at it, and who was Khaslana to restrain the grin curving his lips? His cheeks almost ached due to it.

"It's good to see you too, mom. Mydei sends his regards." Burying his face in the crook of her shoulder, it reeked with something Khaslana could no longer identify, but that was fine. It was probably the food she had been in the middle of preparing. He had arrived early, after all. No matter. Rather, like this, he could almost pretend he was a child again and she was not nearing her 80s, or he had shrunk with age. Not by a lot. Just a bit, for he liked to hold those last few centimetres above Mydei's head.

"That's very sweet of him. Tell him we say hello too." A tender hand, callous and wrinkled, stroked his hair. "By the way, Khaslana …Are you alright? You're so cold." Khaslana almost flinched. The inviting gesture, the familiar warmth, he had let his guard down. Inwardly, he cursed himself at his lack of cautious. It took everything to detach himself from those safe and kind arms.

"I'm fine", Khaslana reassured. Or, tried to reassure. He was not entirely confident, but he had to be. He wanted to be. "It's probably because I just came from the outside, but I'm fine. Really." Audata looked wholly unconvinced, and Khaslana could not blame her for that, for the excuse did not convince him either.

To quickly shift the topic elsewhere, and because he was genuinely curious, he asked "Where is dad?" Glancing around the small interior, he spotted the man neither in this room nor the connected kitchen. Prepared pots and pans stood at the ready with Cyrene idly stirring one of them, but no dad present.

"Oh! He went to Galba's store. He forgot to buy honey for mom's honey suncakes earlier so mom sent him out again", Cyrene chimed in from where she stood. Her attention did not waver from the task she had taken over so their mother could say hello.

"He should be back soon unless he decides to have a chat along the way. There's no honey suncakes without honey", his mother added as she began to usher him towards the kitchen with an expression telling Khaslana this conversation would continue later. If that opportunity ever came, Khaslana unhelpfully added in his head.

There was no need to ask why he was guided forth into the kitchen though. During their planning of this long overdue get-together, he had simply offered, akin to every other time they ate as a family. It was almost tradition at this point. Still, he could not help but tease "Can't get enough of my salads, I see" which earned him a giggle from his mother and a playful eye-roll from Cyrene.

"I wouldn't go that far", his sister denied, cheerfully.

"You know you love them. Even Mydei approves!"

"De is biased."

Regardless, she made space for him as the two stood side by side in that tiny kitchen. Pungent tang wafted in his face, but he wholly ignored it, refusing to wrinkle his nose nor step away. These were the fruitful harvests of proud farmers, and his beloved mother's cooking. Never would he grimace at those. That, and he had a task to fulfil. Showing his discomfort with mere scents was out of the question. Composing himself, Khaslana swallowed down the feeling and focused on the ingredients in front of him.

As Khaslana got to work, fishing out all sorts of items and extra garnish he could get his hands on, he briefly wondered if the space had always been this small or if his child-like perception back then had warped the memory. Probably. In fact, very likely, was his conclusion, as he stared down at his new creation, manifested into existence through innovation and experience.

Taking a step back, he evaluated the colours and shapes since flavour was unreliable. Sky blue eyes traced the various green and purple salad leaves, the tomatoes' healthy red, the cucumbers' crispy textures, the feta cheese, the bite sized beets, and so on. From top to bottom, left to right, even at 45 degree angles, he let his gaze travel all over the salad bowl, until pink invaded his viewing. He did not complain, for the low whistle next to him told him all he needed to know.

"That looks great, Khaslana", their mother commented as she passed behind them to fill a water jug.

"Thank you."

Further did he not get as his head perked up at distant noise. Given the muffled footsteps and accompanying cane against gravel, it was hardly a guess of who it could be. Cyrene's quizzical gaze stared at him from his peripheral, but it quickly shifted as the sound of the outer door opened, followed by an "I'm back! …Hm? Oh, Khaslana is already here?"

"He is? I had no idea", Cyrene giggled, only loud enough for Khaslana to hear.

"I didn't know either. I'll go look for him", Khaslana joked along, following his mother out to the entry again to greet to his dad as well. "I'll just let the salad stay there", Khaslana announced over his shoulder as he existed, receiving a non-committed 'okay~' from behind him.

Once his dad came into view, still taking off his shoes as his mother plucked the held out honey in his hand, father and son locked eyes. A wide grin spread upon the elderly man's face, cane parked by the little wardrobe. Audata quickly gave her husband a peck on his cheek before vanishing back to the kitchen again. Khaslana assumed it was to finish those honey suncakes on time.

"Khaslana, my boy", Hieronymus smiled.

It was not difficult to tell who Khaslana had inherited his joyous expressions from, for the smile blooming across his face was near identical. Indeed, his cheeks near ached from sheer contentment today. An arm snaked around him as he received a pat on the back. "It's been too long. You ought to visit more."

Khaslana's stomach churned, yet his smile never wavered. He wished to, he truly did. If only he was braver, more capable, less in his own head. But how could he possibly say any of that to his own father's face? Fortunately he did not have the time to reply as the older man cheerfully continued. "How's Okhema treating you? I hear you and Mydeimos moved again."

"Yeah, we moved a couple years ago after I stopped modelling. It wasn't that far away, but we wanted somewhere closer to nature. There are lots of trees all around, and a great view. Even got a little porch. Actually, it reminds me a lot of Aedes Elysiae during late Autumn. I can show you some pictures."

That earned him another pat on his upper arm as he assisted Hieronymus into the house. Not because Hieronymus needed it, of course, according to the elderly man himself. Nay, far from it, Hieronymus was still strong enough to help plough fields, even at his age. Did you know he had harvested today's carrots himself? All Khaslana did was nod along and hum. It was for Khaslana's own sake that he must hold on to his father, he had reasoned with the older man. Perhaps he was coming down with some strange cold?

"Is that why you're so cold?" His father asked, puzzled. "You gotta warm up, Kid." All Khaslana did was hum a rather strained chuckle. "Maybe. I plan to consult my doctor next week about it." An uncorroborated truth and a little, white lie. After all, he was to see Seliose for his monthly check-ups next Friday. This much was fine to cryptically reveal. Whatever nonsense his father would accept to alleviate the stubborn pride which prevented him to ask for help.

"Please do", the older man chuckled besides him as he sat down in that old chair in the living room. Cushion nearly useless from usage, but diligently used nevertheless. They spent their time like that, Khaslana leaning over the arm rest and his dad sitting in his chair, looking at photos on Khaslana's phone, chatting, and reminiscing about the earlier days.

About Audata and Hieronymus' own move back to Aedes Elysiae after both children moved out. How different forests, fields, and crops had their own unique nutrient requirements. The brief complaint of no grandchildren yet, only Cyrene's pet bunny Mem. An anecdote of the old swing in the village, and so on. In turn, Khaslana shared pictures of his blond dyed hair, updates on his new status as a househusband, and shared his new woodcarving hobby.

"With all that time, you could become a doctor in no time. Who knows, maybe you'll prescribe your own medicines. And mine too, of course", his dad humoured. His words did not sound very serious, yet Khaslana could not prevent himself to consider the thought, again, for it was neither new nor a revelation to him.

A small hope still shone, that he, one day, would either find a cure for this strange condition, or it would fade as suddenly as it came. Neither seemed obtainable. Cures were nowhere near in sight. His monthly check-in values persisted, unchanging. And no clue neither he, Mydei, nor Perdikkas and Seliose found led to fruition. To simply live with it was a choice he was forced to accept, and he had, a long time ago, but it made hope no less yearned for.

Regardless, he responded with a wistful little laugh. "Maybe I will". His dad sent him a sympathetic look, not wholly understanding yet supportive all the same, before looking towards the kitchen. He sniffed the sickeningly cloyed air with a delighted hum. Gone was the teetering glumness, replaced by a glint of familiar mischief.

"But before that, we should check on Audata's honey suncakes. She needs a test-taster, don't you think?"

"I'm pretty sure mom just put the batch into the oven", Khaslana chuckled, allowing his gaze to drift towards the kitchen. He watched his mother dust off her hands, resolute and final in her gesture.

"That's right. They just went in so they'll be done later, but the beef stew should be ready now. Everyone can take a seat." None were needed to be told twice. Cyrene had already taken her seat, salad bowl dutifully carried out on the table, while Khaslana - together with Hieronymus - made their way over to the dining table. His dad took his usual chair across from his daughter, and Khaslana sat next to her.

Only once Audata placed the large ceramic pot down and found her place across from Khaslana, did Cyrene begin to bestow her empty plate with food. Following his sister's lead, Khaslana accepted the wooden spoon and served himself a hearty amount. His mother was next, then his father.

Khaslana's portion did not quite cover the entire plate's surface, but it was a near thing. Greed was not it. Neither was gluttony. Khaslana simply had a large appetite. A healthy, big, 'slightly more willing to snack than others' kind of appetite. Well, used to, but none needed to know of its decades old absence.

It was unimportant, for the sight alone made his mouth water, memorized flavours teasing his taste buds. Rich aromas surrounded them. Broth the perfect colour, vegetables neatly arranged, and the meat was plentiful. Just like now, just like back then. Khaslana fought the involuntary urge to gag. Even more so after his first bite.

It tasted awful. Like rotten meat, rust, and mud water. The food threatened to escape him. However, the unrecognizable flavour nonetheless made him sentimental, near homesick. He had missed his mother's cooking. Thus, Khaslana could not do much else than fork it all down, mouthful after mouthful. Eager to taste more, to eat more, uncaring how unwell it truly made him feel. It was irrelevant. He wanted this. He wished to eat this with all his heart. If not the flavour then the love, the memories, savouring them and memorising them the best he could.

"Someone's hungry." An elbow lightly jabbed his side, but it deterred Khaslana naught.

"Yeah, sorry. It's just really good. I really missed this", he paused just long enough to reply, hand covering his mouth. It was partly done to be polite, but mostly to hide those fangs of his paired with the rising bile.

"What's with you? You're so corny today", Cyrene sighed, both sounding intrigued yet insincerely put off, with a hint of concern.

"You have my recipe, don't you? Well, you can't easily beat fresh harvest from Aedes Elysiae, but those city stores shouldn't be able to make it taste that off", Audata chuckled. Khaslana only nodded with a light "I have it, yeah, but - I don't know why - it just doesn't taste the same when I do it."

"Of course not. A mother's cooking will always taste a little different", his dad chimed in. "The beef stew recipe was from my mom, your grandma, who's aunt also made it for her. It's been through out family for generations. Always tastes a little different, but every beef stew is just as good." The elderly man nodded to himself in agreement.

With another spoonful, Khaslana idly hummed to his words in affirmation, agreeing to both statements. Indeed, his father's words rang true. Just like the quiet chime from the grandfather clock. Even when Mydei followed his mother's recipes to a tee, it still would taste uniquely his.

Not in the main flavour, not because of texture, not even due to quality differences with their chosen ingredients. In fact, most people would hardly be able to taste the difference. Only once you knew who the chefs were would their hard work have that slight distinction.

Sapphire eyes absentmindedly ventured down to his empty plate as Khaslana contemplated whether to give himself a second portion or not. Yet, despite his pondering, old habits took hold as Cyrene offered them to split the remainders left, and Khaslana automatically nodded. His throat protested wildly, nearly locking up in retaliation, but he forcefully ignored it in favour of leaving nothing behind. If he did not know better, Khaslana was tempted to even lick the plate. He did no such thing, of course.

Just like that, there was no beef stew left to spare. The water jug stood empty for the second time as Khaslana swallowed down the last of the potatoes with the cool liquid somewhat alleviating the glide down. However, it was only a matter of time. Still, he could indulge some minutes longer as none made a move to take the dishes just yet, engrossed in conversation. Only his mother had momentarily left her seat to take those suncakes out of the oven to cool down before she happily joined them again.

"That sounds wonderful. What did you do there? Did you have any guides or planned sightseeing? I hear Planarcadia has a massive literacy market."

"Did you go see the Thundercoil?" Khaslana piped up after his mother, curious, for he had not seen the draconic landmark among his sister's shared pictures, wholly ignoring the creeping nausea. A gorgeous moon hanging high in the night sky, the rippling water in what seemed to be either a river or canal, and the remarkable World's End Tavern, but no Thundercoil.

"I heard it's massive. It makes you wonder how its able to uphold its own mass with such a thin pillar. Of course, it's a solid build which has lasted for centuries, but still." Khaslana cut himself off, for it would be impossible to answer should he continue to ramble. None minded, far too used to his enthusiasm for historical pieces, and Khaslana could only be grateful for being born into this family.

"It was actually a work trip, so we didn't have the time to see everything we wanted. Not up close, anyways. We spent most of our time in Dovebrook, but Planarcadia has so much more to explore, so Cas and I plan on having a girls trip next time we're free. We're thinking of booking a hotel somewhere in Duomension City and just look around. I know Cas is interested in the downtown bookstores there, so we might have to try and hunt those down."

"I get to be invited, right, Cyrene?" Hieronymus laughed, cheeky and not at all genuine in his request. This did not stop Audata from lightly nudging the man in playful disapproval. "Maybe next time. Let the girls have some fun. They shouldn't need to drag around those of us with fragile bones."

"I don't know", Khaslana falsely mused aloud. "I think dad would fit right in."

"Exactly", said man chuckled. "All I would need is to grow out my hair a little. Did you know I used to have longer hair than your mother when we were younger?" Khaslana did, in fact, know this, but he did not comment on it. Neither did Cyrene. Audata, however, saw no reason to hold back as she said what her children did not, followed by an old anecdote the couple reminisced on together.

Another soft chime popped their little bubble. Khaslana watched his mom stand from her seat. "Alright, since everyone is done, we can move to the couch. The suncakes and coffee will be ready in a moment", she announced as she entered the connected kitchen in a brisk pace. "Could one of you help with the dishes?"

Before anyone could think anything of it, even Khaslana himself, Khaslana rose from his seat. "I can do it." Cyrene arched a brow, but did not comment, seeming happy to escape the chore. Their father had no complaints either, already making his way to his chair again. Khaslana ignored the twinkle of suspicion from Cyrene which only seemed to grow for every word leaving his mouth. Instead, she left her seat to show their dad more pictures and potential travel plans while Khaslana gathered the plates.

Glasses were stacked together in pairs. One plate was balanced on the inside of his forearm, another was stacked on top. Utensils and the drinking glasses went on top of those again. The last two plates were gathered in both hands, and, like that, he skilfully manoeuvred into the kitchen, past his mother, and placed them in the sink, earning a 'thank you' from her.

Next was the emptied salad bowl, then the equally cleared out ceramic pot with the wooden spoon, and the water jug. A simple wash would do. The dishwasher could handle the rest, Khaslana figured. Turning on the tap, each dirtied item was run beneath the water stream before they were placed into the machine with diligent care and measured movements, unwilling to break a single thing, accident or not.

"That was some impressive stacking, Khaslana. You look like a professional. When did you learn that?" Drying his hands on a towel, Khaslana looked over at his mother who had finished plating half the honey suncakes on a flowery tray. The horribly sticky smell seemed to almost glue itself inside of his nostrils. It took everything to stay rooted in place, shoulders relaxed and smile unaffected.

"I worked at a restaurant for a few months some time ago. I wanted to get another type of work experience under my belt since I don't exactly got much else yet", he vaguely explained.

"That's right, you stopped modelling", Audata hummed, sincere in her revelation. She probably forgot, was Khaslana's guess. Never would he blame her for that. He had not particularly made an announcement out of it, merely mentioning the end of his first job in passing, and, besides, he has been in the industry for so it was easy to forget he left.

"I did", Khaslana simply confirmed, softly.

"That's quite exciting. It's always nice to try something new. It's never too late." That warm smile spread upon her lips, equally kind as it was supportive. "Do you have anything you want to do in mind already? Any plans? Or have you not started to look around just yet. If nothing else, you two could come help out here. Your father's back isn't the same as it once was, even if he insists he's fine."

Khaslana could not withhold the chuckle which escaped him upon hearing the invitation. Nonetheless, he shook his head. The offer was tempting, almost too tempting, but him and Mydei had already agreed to another course of action.

Of course, his mother's questions were valid, for, forsooth, it was never too late to begin anew, to make new discoveries, to come up with new goals. Khaslana probably knew this better than most with the amount of times he had job-hopped. Yet just how many times had he done this cycle by now?

A clerk at Mx. Pom’s antique shop. A mailman for Janus Post Delivery service. A server at Seahymn’s Reign. A pet walker. A babysitter. And now, a househusband. This was not a complaint per se. Far from it. He did not mind. Simply, this was merely a statement of his observations throughout the years. While it was risky to stay employed at one place for too long, neither was Khaslana someone who had found his calling just yet. Chances were he would most likely have tried all sorts, regardless of vampiric condition or not.

The only reason Khaslana did not pursue his aerospace engineering degree was because he felt too old to be in the air, and tutoring ran the risk of running into that sharp professor - Aglaea's husband, Anaxagoras, as he insisted everyone called him - who still taught out of a sense of love for the new generation few people harboured these days. 

In-between unemployment and sending out new work applications, Khaslana had spent his time delving into new hobbies and attended classes for fun. Diving deeper into the history of Amphoreus, learning wire art, collecting Lego set with no good place to display them. At some point, he had even tried his hand at coding, picked up the old guitar again, and tried a couple video games those chaotic twins had mentioned way back then.

Khaslana did not relay any of this to the precious person in front of him. Instead, he sheepishly rubbed the back of his nape, uncertain of how to breach the news. Now was the best opportunity, but it got no easier. "Actually…" He slowly began. His tongue ran nervously over his fangs as his eyes momentarily averted elsewhere. If his mother sensed his nerves, she patiently waited for him. From the other room, Cyrene and their dad laughed about something Khaslana was not privy to.

"Mydei and I are going to travel around for a while."

That laughter was immediately interrupted. A resounding 'WHAT' came from the living room, so distinctly Cyrene it was impossible to mistake. Well, not that there were many options to choose from, but nonetheless, Khaslana startled from the sudden outburst. So did Audata and Hieronymus, and she sent her daughter a scolding look. The action made the snowy haired man wonder whether they had ever truly grown up or if they were mere children in adult bodies.

"You never told us that before!" The pink head peeked from her squatted spot next to their dad, the exact opposite arm rest Khaslana had leaned over himself.

A tidal wave of illness washed over him for every passing moment, yet still he pushed the words out of his mouth as composed as he could. "I was gonna say it today." It came out more akin to a question than not, but none seemed to mind. The topic was rather dreary, especially after getting together after so long.

Deep purple eyes - with the slightest hint of sapphire - stared at him, pierced through him, and scalded his slowed heart to ever so slightly quicken. All she did was look for no longer than a second, yet Khaslana felt laid bare and vulnerable. She knew something, yet Khaslana had no idea what. Which part had she uncovered? What truth had she somehow unveiled? It was no different than when they were younger, but never had a secret been this mortifying to Khaslana. A decisive yet soft voice interrupted the tension.

"Now, now, let's continue the talk out in the living room. Sit in the couch, your father is already comfortable in his good chair." Their mother, holding the readied honey suncakes, was already on her way out to follow through with her own words. "The coffee will be ready in a minute." Khaslana wanted to scramble after, to follow instructions, yet, instead, he took this opportunity to do what was long overdue.

"I'll be there in a moment. I gotta use the restroom first, then I'll tell you more about it."

"Be quick before I eat all of the cakes myself, or else I'll think you're escaping", his sister called after him, voice playful and melodic, as if the earlier moment was nonexistent. Khaslana nervously chuckled and shook his head - for running away was not his intention - as he walked down the hall and into the little bathroom beneath the staircase.

Had it been any other time, had he been normal, he would have probably retaliated more. Perhaps he would have dramatically gasped and exclaimed something along the lines of 'you wouldn't dare', for she knew he loved those honey suncakes. But he would never be sure of that now, not anymore. As much as he wished to stuff himself full, his stomach wholeheartedly disagreed with him.

With the lock securely in place and the distance too great to be overheard, Khaslana knelt over the bowl and emptied everything it was worth. His body painfully jolted, his eyes stung and his throat burnt, and yet the only feeling he felt was shameful relief.

Khaslana had half a mind to think this was what it would feel like if he simply exited the bathroom and spilt everything to those precious people waiting for him. Unfortunately, his mind was already made up and his heart steeled. Perhaps if he had come up with another solution. Alas, there was no such thing. This was the best outcome for everyone, and while not entirely fair, Khaslana did not claim to be a just hero. Khaslana was just a man.

Heaving for air, he finally got what he needed out of his system. For a moment, he stared down at the content, heart squeezing tightly in his chest. This was the reality, and he would not look away from its unpleasantness. This was another reason - another reminder - why no more people should get involved.

He did not avert his gaze elsewhere as he watched the beef stew being flushed away. Spiralling down, down, down, all the way until it was gone in its entirety. With heavy yet robotic movements, Khaslana washed his hands, washed his face, and rinsed his mouth.

Sapphire eyes met their reflection, and they nearly looked torn asunder now that he had privacy. No eye-bags, no defining lines. Just a tall man dressed in a t-shirt and jeans crammed in an old bathroom, wearing a worryingly weary expression.

Khaslana observed as a sigh escaped the man in the mirror, feeling the air fill is lungs, as he fixed himself up again. He should not do this now. He had to get it together. To bask in this familiar warmth for as long as he could. There was plenty of moments later where he could break down in the comfort of strong arms.

Unable to afford any more time to dally around, Khaslana eventually deemed himself presentable enough to step outside. A tired smile met him in the mirror, but it would have to do. Undoing the lock, Khaslana reemerged. Immediately, the sound of old videos filled his ears together with lively chatter.

And he was correct in his guess, for as soon as he entered the living room again, the TV was playing baby videos. A tiny Cyrene with an even smaller baby who's head was barely covered in white. "You started without me?" He tried to joke, tried to sound more akin to himself. It did not quite work, not in his own ears, but seemed to go otherwise unnoticed.

"You were taking forever", Cyrene lightly complained, not at all sounding offended nor bothered. "Dad found some old pictures and videos while looking for his travelling albums." She scooted over in her seat and Khaslana did not hesitate to accept the offered space. The leather was worn, but just as comfortable as always. He leaned against the soft back, eyes fixed on child Cyrene singing some song to a toddler who heard none of the words from beyond sleep.

"Okay, so spill." The woman held out a plate with suncake, as if it was some offering for the man to talk.

"Sure." Although Khaslana accepted this too, he would have shared regardless. Audata did not pause the TV, only decreasing its volume. Expecting eyes turned his way. It was a little daunting to receive from his own parents, but Khaslana was not surprised by it either.

"It's what it sounds like, honestly. Mydei and I have been thinking about it, and we wanted to travel around for a bit before it's too late." The explanation was simple. Khaslana had gone over it time and time again in his head, yet speaking it aloud felt more akin to a confession.

He was not lying. They were going to travel for a while. See the broader world before adventure became difficult for them, too tedious for old bodies. Indeed, it was still never too late to discover something new. His mother had probably not meant it in this way. Nevertheless, Khaslana continued with "We're thinking of visiting the Xianzhou. We're not entirely sure where yet, but Mydei is interested in the Yaoqing region. I'm thinking Luofu or Yuque, but we might honestly do all three".

"Oh, Audata and I considered going to the Xianzhou Zhuming for our honeymoon." As Hieronymus said that, he began to fiddle with the controller. Exiting the video, a flurry of pictures filled the screen as the man began to navigate to what he was looking for.

"That's partly why we wanted to look into the Xianzhou", Khaslana easily admitted.

"It's a fine choice. They have a gorgeous lotus garden which they've maintained for centuries. Oh, but you probably know that already, don't you", Audata teasingly added.

"I've seen some pictures of them online", Khaslana nodded. "Their porcelain are also often depicted with lotuses and flames. If you ever see a bowl with a golden flower accompanied by bright red flames, it's most likely Zhuming made. Most luxury porcelain are actually forged there."

Thus, the chatter went on. For every destination mentioned, more historical facts were shared, more travelling anecdotes told, more coffee was drunk, and more suncakes were eaten. Khaslana nearly forgot time as Cyrene gave him packing tips which she had seen online while his mother gave him destination suggestions as his father fumbled with the remote control to find the corresponding pictures to his stories.

How Khaslana would love for this to last forever. The comforting feeling of home, the care and warm enveloping him and his family - almost cocooning them in their own little world -, and every single detail he had taken for granted, Khaslana burnt them all into memory. He engraved them behind his eyelids for when he closed his eyes and in his mind for when it was time to dream.

The way Cyrene's eyes crinkled with mirth and hidden knowledge, confident yet oh so hopeful. The way his mother's callous hands would offer him another treat, hardworking yet oh so gentle. The way his father laughed with his lips to the rim of his age old coffee cup, playful yet oh so supportive. These were the people who meant the world to him. These were the people he was about to leave behind.

Another round of honey suncakes came and went, and the coffee was running dangerously low when Hieronymus let out a yawn, interrupting his reminiscing. It was neither loud nor disruptive. Just a simple yawn, yet Khaslana knew this tiny action marked the start of the end. It stung before it simmered into a quiet acceptance.

Slowly, in the corner of his heart and mind, the walls began to climb into being. Not to shut his family out, but to trap this feeling within. He would gently store these memories into this box and preserve it in the deepest depths of his being. And during days too silent to bare, he would dig them back up with trembling hands and soak up the ticklish warmth they radiated.

“Khaslana, could you come with me upstairs for a sec?” Cyrene interrupted. She was no longer sitting but standing up, stretching before she sent him a far too sweet smile. Khaslana knew that tone of voice well and that smile even better. It suggested he was the mercy of her whims. The kind of scheme neither their mom nor dad could get him out of, whatever it may be. He was deliberately being singled out.

Both due to allowing himself a one final indulgence and to accepting whatever fate his sister was about to deliver him, Khaslana simply rose from his seat with an innocent "Sure, what are we doing?". Whatever trap this was, he was more than willing to walk head first into it. Cyrene waved him off with a manicured hand. Khaslana would have to remember the pink feather theme she went with this time as well.

"I want to look for an album you have, but I can't find it anywhere in your room."

"Most of my albums are at our new house, but there should be a couple on the shelf over my bed. Which one are you looking for?"

Cyrene shook her head, popping the 'p' in her 'nope' reply. "I'm looking for the one where you dressed up in knight armour and I as a witch during Halloween. I already checked that spot before you came, but I couldn't find it. And I'm pretty sure you didn't take it with you either."

Khaslana tried hard to think back, and she was right. None of the albums he had taken from back when he first moved out contained this photo. But what puzzled him more was her struggles of locating it. There were few other places it could be besides that one obvious shelf. Besides, would their mom not know this better than him?

Sending his mother a confused look, she only chuckled with a shrug, seeming none the wiser yet amused by her children all the same. Their dad did not usually keep track of organization the same way Audata did, and he seemed even less aware from the way he was about to nod off in his chair. Khaslana rubbed the back on his nape, bracing for and embracing the inevitable. This was the final stretch.

"I can go look with you again, but I make no promises."

"Thanks! I appreciate that", she grinned, clasping her hands together. All Khaslana saw was how he found the core of her intentions. The album itself was probably unimportant. Well, not wholly, but at best, it was her second goal in this scheme. Her true goal was to have him follow her upstairs. Alone and out of earshot from their parents. Khaslana withstood the urge to nervously nibble on his lip. This could only really go one way.

"It's no problem. I just gotta say bye before dad falls asleep then take a bathroom trip again. Then I'll be right there."

Purple eyes examined him a moment longer before she responded with a light 'sure! I'll wait for you there'. Thus, she too bid farewell to an increasingly sleepy Hieronymus before exiting the living room, followed by a set of borderline dancing footfalls up the stairs in the hall.

Now it was Khaslana's turn. Sky blue met metallic blue. Two shades near identical yet not. The elderly man smiled when Khaslana leaned down to give one last embrace. The warm skin, wrinkled and worn, brushed against his own. The man only laughed, joyous and tired.

"Thanks, Kid", he said, satisfied. Khaslana received a pat on his back. "Take care of yourself out there, alright? And don't worry about us. We're plenty happy and healthy. Just send us some pictures through that message app and enjoy the trip."

"I will." Lingering a moment longer, Khaslana finally let go. Frankly, it was a miracle the tears had yet to well up. "Take care of yourselves too, alright?" That earned his the wave of a hand, dismissive yet affectionate. "Yes, yes. If that's what you want. Now don't make Cyrene wait too long, or else she might come down to drag you by the ankles."

A smile tugged at Khaslana's lips. It was not entirely unwilling yet neither was it fully intended. "I'll get going now then." His dad only chuckled, quietly. "You do that, Kid." And with that, Khaslana briefly turned to his mother to do the same, only to receive a brief head-shake. "I'll say goodbye on the way out", she clarified, and Khaslana only nodded to that.

"Goodbye, dad."

"Safe travels, Kid."

Offering his parents one last look - receiving two far too aware - Khaslana retraced Cyrene's steps, with a brief intermission to empty his stomach for the second time. Up that steep staircase painted earthly brown and down the little hallways. Cyrene's humming came from the second door to the left as Khaslana walked past the old dresser carved by some Penaconian craftsman, past the walls littered in family photos, past the doors leading to familiar rooms and bedrooms.

Once inside the one leading to his bedroom, he could see his sister sitting on the floor with her album between her hands. Presumably the one she had struggled to find. Evidently, this was not the case. Yet even so, Khaslana closed the door behind him as he stepped inside. Only then did Cyrene glance up.

Without a word, she closed the album and shifted her seating from the floor to his unoccupied bed. It was still made, clean, and untouched. There was no point in renovating such a small house in the middle of the country side. And their parents were not lacking anything to warrant the space to be repurposed, or so they had said.

She patted the space beside her, inviting, as the collection of photos laid closed beside her. Cautiously, Khaslana obeyed. The bed sank even more with their combined weight, but that was the furthest concern on his mind right now. For a moment, neither said anything, just awkwardly sitting there, as if unsure of how to break the strange anticipation of sorts.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" Cyrene eventually said.

"I know." He did. Khaslana truly did. But he had already been over this, again and again, in his own head. Indeed, he could, yet he would refrain from doing exactly that. Keeping his gaze straight ahead, he simply allowed himself to bask in the presence next to him while he could instead.

"…Are you really not hiding anything?"

Oh, he absolutely was, was Khaslana's thought. In fact, there were so many things he wished to say, so many words he wanted to convey, emotions to give room to breathe. To let them in, to allow them to see him in his entirety. They who knew him well enough to know he was hiding something from the beginning. Probably even for years, just waiting for him to be ready to share it with them. Yet the only words which escaped him were "…I'm sorry."

Cyrene let out a low whistle. It was loud in the quiet, but not sharp not shrilling in his ears. Khaslana could feel those eyes on him for a second before they were directed elsewhere. He did not turn to see where. "Wow, if you say it like that, I'll just have to guess it, huh. Did you do something bad? Like… Stage a heist without me?"

"What? No." The absurdness forced him to frown at her and their eyes immediately locked. He had fallen for the age-old trick, again; Cyrene's element of surprise. An art he never quite mastered as well as her, for she maintained her charismatic character all the same while doing it, and he chose to play into his boyish charm, or whatever Aglaea had called it back then.

"Really? That's sweet. Remember to invite me when you do."

"I wouldn't do that in the first place." Khaslana's words went wholly ignored as Cyrene continued to faux ponder, index tapping against her chin and head tilted.

"No dice, huh… Did you remove all of De's bookmarks?"

"Why would I even do that?" This was starting to grow both absurd and a little forced. Khaslana had no doubt she was trying to either soften the blow she was winding up or attempting to alleviate the situation all together. Or both for that matter. Either could be applied here.

"I'm just joking with you", Cyrene giggled.

Just like those wind chimes, the laughter slowly faded into nothingness. It felt oddly quiet, bordering solemn. A little lightness before silence befell them. Khaslana watched her attention momentarily drift, eyes so alike his own yet not. They roamed the bedroom. Photo frames, trophies, old antiques and other knickknacks Khaslana owned.

Her next words made Khaslana nibble his lip, fang painfully digging into the skin as his eyes stared blankly up at the glow-in-the-dark stars. Heart lurching then sinking. Fingers clutching onto the purple bedsheets. The answer had been both after all.

"You're not just travelling, are you. You're not coming back."

Opening and closing his mouth, every prepared confession, every thought through explanation, every possibly reasonable excuse - just in case his situation had somehow come to light - died on his tongue. He could not lie to Cyrene. He could not bring himself to do so here, in this quiet, little room, surrounded by years upon years or memories.

"…Yeah."

"Ever, right? Not here, and not to see us again."

All Khaslana managed was a weak nod. His decision was resolute, yet facing it made it no easier to admit aloud. He hated it. He wanted to stay. Wholeheartedly, he would stay here forever, if he could. Yet that would mean burdening his family, his neighbours, the entire village, their friends, their families, their friends, with his affliction. They deserved undisturbed peace. It was for the better of everyone.

"If something happened, you know you can tell us, right?"

"…I know."

"…I see", the woman signed.

Khaslana nearly jumped when she flung herself back and spread her arms wide as her back met the mattress. Long and pink hair fluttered in every direction. She bounced once, but it was more than enough time for her to grab a fluffy pillow and launch it at him. Before he could think better of it, Khaslana had already caught it with a speed unmatched humans. Nearly holding his breath, waiting for a comment, none came. A curious glint, but nothing more as his sister continued.

"You're so stubborn", she playfully groaned, as if trying to ignore the heavy air blanketing the room.

"I'm sorry. I can't tell you why, but we can't stay."

"Oh, I know. I don't like it one bit, but I know. It doesn't sit right with me, but it's not like I can drag it out of you either."

"Thank you", he said, for he truly was grateful. Not even he was certain how he would react if it was dragged out of him. Perhaps he would feel liberated. Perhaps the guilt would crush him under its weight. Or maybe the worry would slowly grind him down with time, until he was no more.

"…Does De know?"

"He does."

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"I see…" Cyrene sat up, and nodded to herself. Whatever thoughts were running through her mind, Khaslana was not privy to them. She did not seem entirely happy, but handled the news better than his imagination could ponder up. Not that he could ever see her sour, but perhaps flickers of caution would start to emerge every time she saw him. Flickers which were fully absent. Appearing to have come to some sort of conclusion, she said "That's good. Then you're in capable hands."

"I'm not a child", he tried to lightly counter.

"With the way you behave, well, even despite that too, you'll always be my baby brother. Of course I'll worry."

Khaslana did not know what to say to that. Therefore, he allowed the fond smile curving his lips to speak for him instead. All of his gratitude, all of his love, all of his regrets. Truly, his sister was incredible. He did not deserve this grace. He did not deserve this kindness shown to him when he still hid so much from her.

"…Thank you. And you'll always be my sister."

"Wow, that sounds so cheesy. It's nice and all, but weird when it comes from you. It's so dramatic." Despite her words, her state was no better. Bright as she may be, the teary eyes and reddened nose mirrored his own as her arms opened. Khaslana allowed it to happen, leaning in as those slender and familiar arms hugged him close. A sniffle escaped her, then another, and then another. Tears stained Khaslana's shirt, but he never minded, for he was doing the exact same to her dress.

They spent some minutes like that, silently weeping, wordlessly grieving, until their breaths evened out and their tears dried. Only then was he let go, and he released her in turn. Khaslana looked at her, using his shirt sleeve to dry his tears, and she looked back, wiping away the last tracks from her cheeks.

"…You won't tell mom and dad, right?"

"…If that's what you want then of course not, silly. This will be our secret."

"Well, Mydei knows, so it's technically not only ours."

"Shush. It can be ours plus De's secret."

A beat. A pause. Then a small laugher bubbled from them both. Fragile yet it prevailed. Honestly, Khaslana was not entirely sure what came over him, but he could not bring himself to stop. Not when his sister sounded like wind chimes. Not when freed grief stirred his confusing blend of emotions further. Oh, they both realised this is a parting meant to last until death.

"Yeah, it'll be our secret."

Another wave of silence draped over them after that. There was not much else to say anyways, and the sentiments Khaslana did want to expose were too large for any human language to accurately encapsulate and express. All he knew was that this would be a lament like no other, filled with love and hope at the end. At least, Khaslana wished for it to be so.

Vibration from his pocket shifted his attention to the device stored there. Fishing his phone up, Mydei's name popped up on the screen together with a message notification. Involuntarily, a soft grin formed despite the situation. A melodic chuckle came from beside him, but Khaslana paid it no mind as he hurriedly typed his answer.

"Was it Mydei?" Cyrene asked after the phone returned to where it came from, sounding a bit more like her cheerful self again.

"What gave you that idea?" Khaslana tried to mirror.

"Oh, I don't know… Maybe that love-struck face of yours." Khaslana could not deny that, so he simply did not. After all, Cyrene had caught on to his crush way before he had even realised men was an option. If anyone knew, it would be Cyrene. It was almost scary how accurately she could sniff out other people's love life like that.

"Yeah, it's Mydei", Khaslana conceded with ease. "He's right just about to leave his friend's place so I should get ready to soon too." About to rise from his seat, to leave that old bed for good, Cyrene stopped him with a firm, insistent, hold around his wrist. Khaslana paused to look at her, puzzled.

"Before you run off, take this with you." In her other hand was the album. The cover was matt with age, but none of its content were torn or faded just yet. Now, she held it out to him. Khaslana was not even sure whether she could do that or not.

"Shouldn't we ask mom first?"

"Mom said I could have it, but we never found a good time to meet so I could bring it home with me, so, it's been stored here instead. Think of it as a 'safe journey' present of sorts."

How mean. How devastatingly kind. Khaslana had not anticipated such a significant farewell gift, and it was given to him in the same spirit as if he really was only about to travel for a little before returning back home to them. Ever so gently, he plucked it from her hands, and she let him.

"Even if you can't see us again due to your mysterious reasons, at least you can always see us again here. And we'll be with you in spirit too. As long as you remember, it's never truly goodbye, is it." She leaned closer, bumping their shoulders.

"That's one way to look at it." Khaslana carefully bumped their shoulder back.

"If it's a good way, then I don't see the problem."

"I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am."

And that was that. With nothing more to say, nothing more to do, there was an unspoken understanding as they trotted down the stairs again. Cyrene first, Khaslana following after her. Their footsteps were completely out of tune, yet the little song never clashed. In no time, they found themselves at the bottom of the stairs. Audata appeared from the doorframe, plastic bag in hand with a little envelope inside.

"Are you two heading out?" She asked, voice kind and expectant.

Khaslana bobbed his head left to right, up and down. The answer was not yet 'yes', but it certainly was about to be in mere minutes. He conveyed as much to his mother who hummed in turn. "I see. Your father is about to get ready for bed, but you're welcome to wait inside. What about you, Cyrene?"

"I think I might head home honestly. It's getting late and I'm sure Mem is giving my colleague a hard time right about now while bunny-sitting her for me", the pink haired woman giggled as she put on a thick, fashionable yet simple jacket and sturdy shoes.

Her movements were not rushed, taking her time as she exchanged goodbyes with their mother. She gave them both a hug, Audata, then Khaslana, before waving. Khaslana did not miss those purple eyes lingering a moment longer on him as her smile softened at the edges, crow-feet forming at the corners of her eyes. It broke the illusion of the casual exchange she attempted to sell him. Still, he returned that smile and waved back.

"Goodbye, Khaslana. Have fun on your trip!"

"Thank you, Cyrene, and goodbye."

Quiet returned to the home as the door closed. Awkwardly, unsure of what to do, Khaslana merely remained by the bottom of the staircase. Stuck between leaving and staying, stuck between his mother and the outer door. His phone remained undisturbed.

As if sensing his indecisiveness, his mom closed the gap instead. The plastic bag rustled in her hold as she held it out for him. Inside swirled the sickeningly sweet smell from earlier. It had barely just left his nose, only to be repainted by it again, but this was unimportant. Tilting his head, Khaslana nonetheless accepted it.

"What's this?"

"Some dessert for Mydei and a little money for souvenirs", his mother replied.

"What? No, I can't accept money, mom", but even as he said that, the elderly woman only shook her head, refusing to listen. Grey hair swayed with the motion. "Nonsense", she said. "Think of it as pocket money we never gave you. Hehe, go on. Buy something nice for yourself and Mydeimos."

"But-."

"No buts. Mom says its fine, so it's fine", and even if he could - being the debate champion back in the days, and all - Khaslana could not find it within himself to protest further. He gave a sigh of defeat, for he could never best his mother when it came to kindness.

"Thank you, mom."

"Think nothing of it", the old woman giggled. "You can send us a picture of what you two decide to spend the money on, if you have the time. I'm sure your dad would be ecstatic to see too."

Khaslana gripped on to the bag further. His mother only briefly acknowledged the noise it made before her eyes returned to him, a honey golden shine tender with affection and reassurance. The sealed off waterworks nearly busted then and there. He would have to take pictures, so many pictures, for them. None could depict him, but that would be alright. It had to be alright.

"We will", he nodded as his phone received yet another notification. Checking the device a second time, Khaslana wrote back 'I will be there in a moment! (°◡°♡) Give me 5 minutes!', fully aware they both knew five was far too many.

"That was quick. Was that Mydeimos?"

"Is it really that obvious?" He asked despite knowing the answer, which was easily confirmed by an amused hum and a nod.

"Of course. I'm your mom." It is rather difficult to argue with that. "So, I assume you're heading home now too." The words resembled a question more than not, and now it was his turn to give a nod, albeit slightly reluctant, which was silly, for the had braced himself for this for ages.

"Yeah, I think I should start heading out now too."

Khaslana moved slowly. He took those few needed steps to reach for his shoes. Once they were on, his mother handed him his jacket from the little wardrobe. The inside of that wardrobe was still filled with working boots and durable outside jackets. A little crooked with some sort of them. Knitted hats peeked from the top shelf while his dad's cane stood dutifully on guard, leaned up against the wardrobe, merely waiting for the next time it would be of use.

Once he was sure he could not procrastinate his leave for longer lest he would seem suspicious, Khaslana straightened his stance and accepted the hug, the last hug, she would offer him. Her face hid in the crook of his neck, just like he did, and he allowed just a little pressure to feel that warmth closer before he let go.

"I'm going now, mom", Khaslana quietly announced when his palm met the door-handle for the last time. The faint numbness within his chest surprised him as he opened the door, immediately being hit by the chilled night air.

"Make sure to take care of yourselves, the both of you." His mom's smile never wavering.

"Of course. You and dad too." Sapphire eyes glanced over his shoulder, meeting perplexed yet understanding honey. Indeed, Khaslana did not deserve this mercy he was shown, for his mother looked just as graceful saying her farewells, just as now, just as always. It was impressive, really, for he was sure that if she broke down, he would no doubt follow suit right after. Perhaps that was why those watery eyes never stopped encouraging him so lovingly.

"Goodbye, mom."

"Goodbye, Khaslana."

Tearing his eyes away, Khaslana stared straight ahead as he stepped out the door, gently shutting it behind him. His whole body felt ready to collapse on the spot yet he remained standing, refusing to do so. Not now, not yet. Forcing himself into motion, empty steps filled the little entry way lined up with flower pots and crooked wooden fences as the man walked into the dark night.

Eyes were glued upwards, for Khaslana feared his resolve might crumble should he glance over his shoulder. High above his head was a clear, starry sky. The distant suns blinking at him so far away, yet nevertheless present, even if a rare few had burnt out aeons ago. At least that would be never-changing during his lifespan.

Taken by surprise, rather than walking left, Khaslana's feet brought him to the right. It would seem someone had decided he would take a detour before meeting up with his husband. After all, he had the time to do so. There were few objections, of course, thus he obeyed them without a second thought.

As he walked past the crammed plaza with that old statue, his mind felt strangely blank. Even as he passed Galba's shop, his old school building, the community house, and even the small pond with the tree swing, not a single thought formed in his head as he moved on what felt like autopilot. His eyes only drifted from place to place, seeing and memorizing, yet feeling distant.

Next came the stonewalls. They stretched as far as the fields, safely encasing them like in the olden days. Khaslana's pace came to a halt in front of an old scarecrow. It was barely visible in the dark, obscured ever further by the harvest it stood amidst. But even so, Khaslana merely stood there - almost in a trance - despite hearing the distant hum of an engine further down the road.

He had not thought this scarecrow would prevail after all these years, with its tattered clothes and deflated sunhat which him and Cyrene had gifted it all those years ago, but it had. It's messy and fading face smiled crookedly, drawn by a child's hand. There was almost something poetic about it, the way it was still present after everything. Khaslana could not help but chuckle for himself - a weak cloud of white escaped his lips -, for he would like to imagine this was all fate playing tricks on him, somehow. Or perhaps a fairy knew something and made sure to maintain it for this very day.

What was he even thinking at this point? Khaslana must be losing it. Sure, this was not his first time conversing with a scarecrow, yet what was new was how his mind and body felt like two separate entities. Perhaps it was time to return to Mydei. He had kept the man waiting for far longer than 5 minutes. Even the engine had been killed at some point.

Thus, offering that encouraging - at least, Khaslana would like to think it was encouraging him - scarecrow one last glance, he turned his back and left that too. Past wheat fields he went until that well-known car came into view. The lights inside lit up the man behind the staring wheel, idly scrolling on his phone.

Without a word, Khaslana slipped inside, kissing that cherished man's cheek. Golden eyes directed towards him as the device in his hand was banished to their cup-holder as he instead took that plastic bag Khaslana had entirely forgotten. The blond man easily placed it in their back seat before turning to his husband again. About to open his mouth, it seemed like Mydei thought better of it. His eyes softened as he asked "Need a moment?"

There were no further words spoken. Only a torso adjusted his way and arms ready to catch should Khaslana need them to. Numbly, Khaslana shook his head. "Can we drive home slowly? Only until we can't see the fields anymore. Please…" Mydei let out a hum as the car was set in motion.

The movements were nowhere near hurried. Had this not been Aedes Elysiae, they might have gained more than just a ticket, but the road was empty and their surroundings tranquil. Khaslana allowed himself to greedily drink up every sight moving past the window.

The stone fences, the sea of golden stalks, the scarecrows with funny faces and hats. The old houses lighting up the village with life, the gentle waves by the docks, and the orange coloured trees waving farewell as they left his childhood home behind, eternally shining like gold forever more.

"Mydei."

"Mh?"

"I think… I need a hug after all."