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“Did you lose your way, Phainon? There aren't any coreflames for you here, you know.”
Caelus leaned in and peered up into the hood of the black-cloaked figure before him. With one blank eye gazing vaguely back at him, the silence between them stretched on.
He didn't seem inclined to answer.
Caelus smiled.
“Would you rather I call you by a different name? Like Khaslana, NeiKos496, or… maybe simply Flame Reaver.”
No response.
“I guess you don't have a preference, then. In that case… I'll just continue to call you Phainon.”
Caelus took a step back, and swept his gaze across the area surrounding them.
“This scenery is unfamiliar to you, right?”
The two of them stood in the Herta Space Station’s Master Control Zone, the expansive panels of glass providing a view of the galaxies just outside. Though it was such a large space, only the two of them were present.
“This is just one place that exists beyond Amphoreus's sky. It's also where I was born as a Trailblazer.”
There was a tint of nostalgia to Caelus's voice. A gentle laugh, short and artificial, escaped him.
“You once showed me around your hometown. Do you still remember that?”
By this point, Phainon's silence was a matter of course.
Caelus took one of Phainon's hands in his own. Admittedly, it was a little uncomfortable. The metal was sharp against his palm, and there wasn't a single trace of body heat between their intertwined fingers.
“It's only fair that I repay the favor.”
He tightened his grip, and flashed a bright smile to his guest.
“Now, first off would be…”
They stood in an unremarkable room, just like any other in the space station.
With the receptacle at the room’s center remaining empty, it was a space defined by the absence of ‘something.’
Now, with Caelus having returned to this place, could it be considered as it once more fulfilling its intended purpose?
Who knows. It wasn’t like he could ask Herta, or anyone, anymore.
“This is where I woke up. The start of my journey as a Trailblazer.”
His grip on Phainon’s hand tightened just a little bit.
“It’s rather ordinary, isn’t it. I’m sorry that I can’t show you scenery as beautiful as what you shared with me before.”
Caelus let go of Phainon’s hand, and stepped into the receptacle.
“Right here is where the Stellaron within me was stored. The reason I came to exist.”
He let out a laugh.
“I'd show it to you if I could. I'm sure it's like nothing you've ever seen.”
Idly, he wondered. Could he?
He would try, certainly, as long as Phainon just… asked.
But if he were to, maybe, reach in and just pluck it from his chest… was such a thing possible for him?
And what would that mean for him?
To remove the very reason ‘Caelus’ came to exist?
Would he still be Caelus? Or would he become someone else entirely?
… As he was now, was he still even Caelus?
Though, maybe there was no longer any meaning in pondering such questions.
Regardless of if he found an answer or not, nothing would change.
Caelus's train of thought broke as he noticed Phainon's presence before him, having silently drawn closer from where Caelus had left him.
Caelus smiled.
“Is there something wrong, Phainon?” He said in a light tone. “Ah, is this stop boring for you? It's really nothing special, after all, and…”
Caelus's words trailed off as Phainon extended a gauntlet-clad hand between them.
“... Ah.”
A silent request.
Caelus took hold of Phainon's hand once more, cold metal meeting cold flesh.
“Is this what you wanted?”
Of course, Phainon didn't reply. He simply tightened his grip ever so slightly.
Caelus's gaze lowered to their intertwined fingers, eyes narrowed in what might have looked like amusement.
“... Haha.”
He laughed a humorless laugh.
Clingier than he expected.
With a frigid sensation of needles poking and prodding at his heart, Caelus's grip tightened in return.
In reality, Herta's Space Station really wasn't that big of a place, and it had little tourism value when the guide lacked in-depth knowledge of the usual work that took place there.
Well. Along with his declining social skills, of course.
The two of them returned to the Master Control Zone, and had since simply taken a seat on one of the benches to gaze at the stars above.
“... I wonder how long this can last,” Caelus said, to no one in particular.
He didn't know what the answer was. He didn't know what he wanted the answer to be.
Caelus lowered his gaze to take in the sight of Phainon, at rest on his lap.
Slowly, gently, he caressed Phainon’s face, as cold and white as sculpted marble, with one hand. Like a tamed dog, Phainon obediently leaned into Caelus’s touch.
“Is it comfortable?”
Caelus smiled wistfully.
Phainon made a slight motion that might have been a nod.
Surprisingly responsive.
Caelus didn’t know how to feel.
If he had to, absolutely had to put it in words…
All he could say was that his heart felt exhausted.
His eyes, an almost abnormal gold, narrowed slightly, as if he could find an answer to these emotions of his in Phainon.
… It always seemed to come back to this. Him and Phainon.
While Caelus had seen some of his other companions in these dreamlike encounters, the only repeating visitor was Phainon.
He seemed to be an existence that Caelus just couldn’t let go of. Caelus’s heart would ebb and flow like the tides, its rise and fall dictated by Phainon’s gravitational force.
In a way, it was tiring beyond all else. In a way, it was the best thing that could ever happen to an existence like his.
Caelus loves Phainon. That’s a simple fact. He’s accepted it, even if he thought it wasn’t ideal. In this way, he’s lived out his regretful existence wracked with a feeling of longing that never fades.
These moments he’s allowed to spend with Phainon are the sweetest and most painful he’ll ever know.
A twisted push-and-pull.
He smiled wryly.
It almost felt like some sort of prank played just for him, made by some higher force with chronically bad taste.
… Maybe it would be easier if Caelus hated Phainon. Or if any of the Phainons that visited hated Caelus. If that were to happen, he could just—
Let it go.
Let go of the feelings that bloomed in his heart whenever he saw Phainon. Let go of some of the guilt he carried.
But Phainon was… always, always, so kind to him. Even now, when he said nothing at all.
No, Caelus could never hate Phainon. Even if being with him made Caelus feel sick to his stomach.
And Phainon…
Caelus almost wished Phainon would hate him. Take serious issue with the annoyingly evasive way Caelus acted around him. Take the responsibility of one of the only choices Caelus could make out of his hands.
But that wasn’t something Phainon would do, was it.
Briefly, Caelus thought back to what he had said the first time he'd met Phainon in these dreamlike encounters.
“I don't want you to be so kind to me,” he'd said.
…
He let out a sigh, and brought his attention back to Phainon, lightly caressing his cold skin with a knuckle.
If Caelus had to guess, Phainon looked content. Or, as content as he could be, considering everything.
Caelus softly brushed some of Phainon's hair aside in order to better examine him.
As handsome as always.
… What a shallow thought.
He breathed out a laugh, and then gazed into Phainon's blue eye with his own narrowed amber.
Something boiled over in his heart.
“Phainon. Would you maybe be able to…”
Caelus's words stalled in his throat, as if his heart was trying to tear those selfish feelings of his back into the depths of his soul before they could be laid bare.
“... Stay with me?”
His voice, usually so even and composed, wavered with undeniable emotion.
Onto the water’s surface that was his heart, salty tears fell, disturbing the calm with countless ripples.
Phainon’s existence was an indelible mark on Caelus’s soul, just as Caelus was to Phainon for all those cycles.
The melancholic pair of two were different. They were the same.
This ‘Caelus’ that existed as a mirror, reflecting every flaw and bad ending, every single failure that deviates from the path of the ‘true’ Trailblazer, persisted at Finality’s dead end. In a way, stronger than every Caelus that came before, but that strength was meaningless when there was no longer anywhere for him to go, witnessing every possibility when he lacked any of his own.
This ‘Phainon’ was a living, dying symbol of Phainon’s perseverance and obsession, having persisted on for millions of cycles, but he fell short of being able to enact the desired change that his journey started with. The warmth of countless Coreflames burned within him, giving him the power to continually reset, all for the sake of passing them onto the next Phainon, before burning into cold ash.
Neither of them deserved the title of ‘Deliverer’ as they were. The time for them to stand on stage, under the spotlight of the ‘protagonist’ role, had already long passed them by.
For the two of them, there was no longer any concept of ‘saving’ or ‘being saved.’ Caelus could not save Phainon. Phainon could not save Caelus. A doomed relationship between agents of futility.
The only thing Caelus could do for Phainon was try to provide a sense of comfort. In turn, Phainon granted Caelus’s being with meaning and worth.
It wasn't an equal exchange, was it.
“... Nevermind.”
There was a seed of guilt in Caelus's heart.
In the end, he was powerless, it seems.
Finality was a prison, and he was simply one of its favorite inmates.
It was almost laughable.
… As if. It wasn’t funny at all.
But maybe his sense of humor had broken, after all this time by his lonesome.
He laughed sardonically, short and faint.
The amusement lasted only for a moment, like a star shooting across the night sky, and it left him with a still, empty coldness.
“I wonder just what I look like, in your view.”
Caelus's thumb traced the edge of the rift over where Phainon's other eye should have been, before gently angling the other man's face down. Absently, Phainon leaned into the touch. His attitude of obedience was endearing, but also stained Caelus's heart with a slight sense of heartache. Caelus smiled at Phainon, gentle and warm.
He then leaned in, and planted a reverent kiss to that jagged edge, as light as a spring breeze.
Phainon won’t stay with Caelus.
He can’t.
He still has a role in the story, even if he could no longer be the hero.
So Caelus, as someone that existed outside of the story, can’t make him stay. No matter how much he wanted to.
That’s fine.
He can accept that.
He doesn’t mind at all.
He’s known this all along.
So it’s fine.
Really.
He’ll send Phainon back to his lonely, but necessary, duty, and remain in this lonely place himself.
Just how it’s supposed to be.
Gloved hands gently moved to cover one eye, still a vibrant blue.
“Listen to me. You won’t remember a single thing that occurred here. And… good luck.”
He had wanted to say something appropriate for the man before him. Something profound, maybe. A proper blessing fit for a hero's journey. But nothing came to mind. He knows exactly how it'll go, so what point was there in wishes and prayers? It won't change his fate. The only one who could do such a thing would be… the other Caelus. The ‘true’ Trailblazer. Not him. He knew that. He knew that, but…
If he had to be honest. Completely genuine and sincere for once. He selfishly wished that he could be the one to save Phainon. Envy grew in his heart, despite his attempts to suppress it, where it then withered into guilt.
Caelus felt sick. What worth did such childish dreams have, for someone like him? He should be past that sort of thing by now, right?
A cold hand, bigger than Caelus's own, covered his, snapping him from his thoughts.
“Phainon, you…”
And then it faded away.