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Today was our last day exploring this zone. Will log coordinates later when I get my hands on my tracking system. Tomorrow morning, we regroup with the others and report our findings. I have spent the evening logging today’s findings in my field book and I am now just updating my journal. The Flux Nexus we discovered didn’t give us much to learn. There wasn’t much to log. As predicted, there is an incoming metaflux storm. Both Xavier and I are able to sense the changes in the air. But we should be out of here by tomorrow morning. We’re not equipped to be anywhere near one.
I’m worried about Xavier. Our main objective is to get our ship repaired, but he seems distracted. In his own world. We’ve lost a few of our friends already, so it might be getting to him. I know he’s still thinking about her. It must be hard being in his shoes. I can’t even imagine what it’s like. I’ll sit with him tonight and maybe I can get him to open up over a cup of tea.
You inhale and exhale deeply before closing your journal. You have your electronic logging devices, but you still like to use trusty ink and paper to log your personal thoughts. They can’t get hacked or distorted in the way digital memories can. You stuff your journal into your satchel and lift the flap of your tent, stepping outside. Xavier is sitting by the fire he’s made, stoking it so that it becomes stronger.
“Hey,” you say, straightening up as you approach him. He regards you with a nod. “Do you want me to start on dinner?”
He adds a piece of wood to the fire. “What do we have?”
“We have those two fish we caught on the way back to base camp. Plus the last of the food that Jeremiah packed us.”
He nods again, so you get to work preparing dinner. You’ve learned how to gut and clean fish expertly, so you manage to do it with the small fish that you had caught earlier, while he sits and watches you. Once you have them cooking on the fire, he lays out the packed food that you have – cheese, bread and some sort of jam or marmalade. You’re not too sure what it’s made of, but it’s sweet, and it’s a small luxury that you’re able to enjoy.
The two of you go about your tasks in comfortable silence – that’s something that you like about Xavier. You can sit with him without saying anything, and neither of you feel like you have the need to fill the silence. You know there’s power in that silence and stillness. It spoke multitudes about him as a leader. Xavier’s strength is abiding and quiet. He believes in letting people’s merits speak through their actions. When he had asked you to give up your life in Philos to join his team of Backtrackers, you only hesitated for a few seconds before giving him your answer. You’d follow him to the ends of the universe.
You’ve admired him since your days at the academy. From small smiles and soft greetings when passing each other by to deep conversations about the countless stars in the sky during dark nights – you consider him not only as a leader, but also as a friend. Your heart stirs as you contemplate your relationship with him. You think you love him as more than a friend, but you know his heart is set on her. He would never look at you the same way. So you bury your feelings and love him in the best way that you can – by staying at his side.
You and Xavier eat in the same way as you prepared the food – silently. Even though he usually doesn’t say much, he has said even less these last few days. You’re starting to grow worried about him, as you had noted in your journal earlier. Both of you finish eating and he starts cleaning up, packing away any scraps and the things you used to cook. You get to work on the tea. You had picked some chrysanthemum blossoms growing nearby and had decided that they would make a good brew. You pour water into a kettle and settle it on the fire. Soon, it starts boiling, and you pour it out into two cups you had set out earlier.
You hand one to Xavier and he takes it from you as he sits down next to you.
“What’s this?” he asks, lifting the cup to his lips. He takes a tentative sip from it, then blows on it before taking a few more. He hums appreciatively. “It’s good.”
“Chrysanthemums,” you tell him, drinking from your own. “I found some flowers growing over there and thought they’d make a nice tea.”
He nods, then holds the cup in both of his hands, staring at the fire. You do the same, but instead of the fire, you look at him. Then, you look up to the sky, squinting. “There aren’t many stars out tonight,” you mutter. “Can’t see anything. Too cloudy.”
He continues to sip on his tea, not saying anything. You groan inwardly before deciding to speak up.
“What’s wrong?” you ask him, setting your cup down on the ground beside you. “You’ve been quiet, Xavier. Too quiet. What’s on your mind?”
“I think we need to stay another day,” he says, looking into his cup.
You blink at him. “But… there’s a storm coming. And we’re almost out of supplies. We need to regroup with the others.”
He looks up at you, his expression stern. You haven’t seen that from him in a while. You challenge his stare, maintaining eye contact with him.
“I know. But I’m making this decision. There might be something in that metaflux storm that could be useful.”
You gape at him, then close your mouth again. You grit your teeth before responding. “I think it would be dangerous and irresponsible to stay. It’s just the two of us. We don’t know what we’ll be up against.”
He stands abruptly, and you flinch, almost spilling your tea on yourself. He glowers down at you, his bright blue eyes cold and steely. “And who are you to speak to me in that way? Did you forget who I am?” He leans down, his eyes boring into yours. “I am your crown prince.”
He’s never spoken to you in this way before. Not once has he ever pulled rank on you or addressed you in a way where he didn’t consider you as an equal. You know he’s stressed, you know he’s desperate, you know he’s running low on hope. But Philos knows you’re not going to let him spiral.
You stand as well, squaring up to him, meeting his gaze. You dig your heels into the ground, your stance firm. “My apologies, your Highness,” you say, your tone low. “I thought you were just Xavier.”
You see Xavier clench his jaw, his eyes narrowing. You don’t break eye contact. He then sighs, resigned, shaking his head. You think you’ve won the argument, but what he says next renders you speechless.
“Fine. You go ahead and regroup with the others back in the city. I’ll stay.”
You want to tell him he’s crazy, that he’s not thinking straight. You want to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him, but instead, you just stare at him, your brain scrambling to find a way to respond. He doesn’t give you the chance. He sets his cup of tea down near the fire, then turns away from you, heading back into his own tent. You can’t do anything but watch helplessly as he leaves you by the fire, still holding on to your tea. You let out a trembling sigh before picking up the cup he left, pouring what’s left of both your teas, with their blossoms, into the soil.
“Dammit, Xavier,” you mutter, fighting your way through the brush. You hack at it with your small blade, trying to make your way back to camp.
You had left Xavier earlier that morning, following his orders. He still hadn’t come out of his tent when you had finished packing everything down, leaving him with just his essentials. You had already been travelling for about an hour, before you felt a sinking feeling settle in your stomach. It was partly due to the anxiety and guilt you were feeling knowing that you had just left Xavier to fend for himself during a metaflux storm. But mostly it’s because you felt the storm coming – your senses were on high alert, your body gearing up for a fight. You couldn’t stand it any longer, so you decided to defy what he had told you to do, and make your way back to him.
As you get closer to camp, the feeling becomes more intense. You know it’s going to be a wild storm. You’re almost there, when you hear the familiar sounds of Xavier using his blade to battle Wanderers. The air is thick with metaflux, and you hope you can reach him before a protofield forms. You drop your pack and start sprinting, ignoring the branches and leaves hitting you in all directions. You’re weaponless – you don’t have your own blade with you. You know you’ll have to fight with your own fists. Your concern for him overpowers the insecurity of being unarmed.
You break through the brush just to see him holding a protocore between his fingers. He studies it carefully, his eyes squinting in concentration. He’s completely oblivious to the Wanderer starting to spawn behind him. It’s huge – you’ve never encountered one like it. You don’t even know how to class it. Your boots pound against the ground as you run towards them, your heart hammering against your ribcage.
“Xavier!” you scream, trying to get his attention. His head whips towards you, his eyes wide. The Wanderer raises its… hand? Tail? Appendage? It prepares its attack, and you just manage to put yourself between it and Xavier as it strikes. You don’t have time to deflect or counter. It swings sideways in a wide arch, hitting you instead of him, its intended target. The wind is knocked out of you as your feet leave the ground. The momentum carries you across the clearing, and you hit a nearby tree with a sickening thud, before slumping down to the ground, motionless.
Xavier drops the protocore he’s holding and strikes at the Wanderer with his blade. It screeches, while he continues to attack it, his blows barely delivering any damage. He grips his blade tightly before taking a deep breath. He prepares his Evol, pushing it out into the blade. He goes in for a final attack, striking at the Wanderer’s core. The Wanderer shrieks before dissipating into a mist of light particles. Its protocore falls to the ground, but he ignores it.
Before the Wanderer has even completely disappeared, he drops his blade and rushes to you. He falls to his knees and scoops you up into his arms carefully. He brings his cheek to your nose, then presses it to your chest. You aren’t breathing. He can’t hear your heartbeat. His arms wrap around you tightly, his chest pressing against yours.
“Please, please, please,” he pleads, murmuring your name softly. “Please come back to me.”
His Evol flows out of him, and he wills it into your body, hoping the energy will wake you. But you stay limp in his arms. “Please,” he repeats, his voice breaking. “You can’t leave me like this.”
Light envelops you and him as he continues to pour out his Evol into you, but you aren’t responding to it. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing you to wake up, to take a breath, to give any indication that you’re alive. He feels himself faltering, his energy wavering. And then, he senses it. A slight change in the flow of his energy. He continues, forcing more out, until you take a gasping breath, before letting out a strangled cough.
“Xavier…” you croak. “You’re… crushing… me…”
He releases his grip on you and he holds you out at arm’s length. His Evol dies down, the light slowly diminishing. You blink at him, reaching out with your hand to stroke his cheek.
“You’re crying,” you whisper, astonished. His eyes are glistening, and his cheeks are wet. “Why?”
“I thought I lost you,” he admits. He holds your wrist and places your palm against his cheek. “I thought you were gone.” He releases your hand and holds you close to himself again. “You defied my orders,” he chides, still embracing you.
You return his embrace, burying your face into the crook of his neck, knowing that this will probably be the only instance of this ever happening. You close your eyes and relish in it, feeling a twang of envy for his beloved, knowing that he has probably held her like this countless times.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
You would later end up being wrong. It’s been decades since you distanced yourself from Xavier and the rest of the Backtrackers. Xavier was ridden with guilt, knowing that it was because of him that you were almost killed. He would treat you as if you were fragile, as if you were something to be protected, as if you couldn’t take care of yourself. Missions and expeditions became difficult with him constantly stepping in for you, and you felt like you were being suffocated. You couldn’t bear seeing what the guilt had turned him into, so you made a decision that breaks your heart to this day. You decide to free yourself from him, and free him from you.
You leave the group silently one night, no note, no indication of where you were going. You disappeared, like a ghost, taking all your things with you, leaving only your logs of research behind. You made sure that they wouldn’t be able to track you. You travelled and explored the world, still with Xavier’s initial goal in mind. You worked in libraries, schools, research centers, anywhere you could further your studies, trying to find the answers that haunted him. You hoped that someday, you could meet again, and proudly hand over the things he has spent years seeking.
You kept tabs on them at first, initially. At some point, you think Xavier and Jeremiah were the only Backtrackers left. You started hearing rumours about some masked vigilante named Lumiere, and you would chuckle to yourself – he reminded you of Xavier. Eventually, you stopped tracking them, not because you didn’t care anymore, but because you ended up missing them. Missing him. So you left them alone, hoping that you’ll be able to find them and face them again one day, when you’re ready for it.
A couple of decades have passed. You’ve aged only a little bit – one of the advantages of being from Philos. You have temporarily retired from your life of research, and have decided to settle down for a short while, maybe for a few years or so. You are now living in Linkon City, the proud owner of a newly opened cafe, right in the heart of the city center. You found that you could learn a lot by listening in on conversations exchanged over a warm drink. It’s another way to do reconnaissance and research. Plus, you have always loved making tea. Over the years, in your spare time, you would try to come up with unique and delicious brews and blends. You’ve decided to turn your hobby into a business, and it warms your heart to see people enjoying your concoctions.
It’s a sunny afternoon – the cafe has been relatively quiet, save for a few students that have been camped out at your tables for most of the day, studying. They bring in good money as they keep coming back up to the counter to buy refills of whatever they’re drinking, be it coffee or tea. You’re rearranging cups behind the counter when you hear the bell at the door ring, indicating that a customer has entered.
“Welcome!” you call to them, without even seeing them yet. You rush up to the counter again, getting your tablet ready to take their order.
“Hello,” a voice calls back. It sounds eerily familiar. You look up from the tablet to greet the customer that has reached the counter.
It’s her. She’s wearing a Hunter’s uniform, and she smiles at you with that same smile that she had, back at the academy. You blink at her, and you feel like your heart has stopped beating in your chest. There’s someone standing behind her, also wearing a Hunter’s uniform, but your focus is on her. Is it her? It can’t be her. But she has the same smile. The same eyes. The same gentle voice. You have to remind yourself to speak before she starts to get concerned.
“Welcome,” you repeat, trying to blink your surprise away and keep your voice steady. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Mm,” she says, placing a finger on her chin. She doesn’t seem to recognize or know who you are. “I think I’ll get an oolong milk tea.”
“Hot or iced?” you ask, your hand shaking as you put her order in.
“Iced please. What about you, Xavier?”
Your head whips up from the tablet to see a pair of bright blue eyes staring at you. The person behind her has stepped up to the counter, and he leans over, giving you a subtle smile. You fight to keep your face expressionless, but your heart is racing, your palms are sweating. You wipe them quickly on your apron, hoping that he doesn’t take note of it.
“I’ll have a chrysanthemum tea, please,” he requests softly, never breaking his gaze with you.
“Xavier, I don’t think that’s on the menu,” she tells him, a scolding tone to her voice.
“It’s okay,” you quip, looking away from him, punching the order into your tablet. “It’s not, but I have a special blend of it in my personal stash. I can make you a cup, no problem.”
The receipt finishes printing and you tear it from the printer and hand it to her. She takes it with another warm smile. “Wow, thank you, that’s so kind of you to do. Are you sure it’s no trouble?”
You mirror her smile with one of your own. “No worries. I always have it ready, just in case a special friend visits.”
You nod at both of them, unable to meet Xavier’s eyes again, but you know he’s staring at you. You call one of your staff to take over from you at the counter before turning around and heading back into the cafe’s office.
“That’s so nice,” you hear her say, her voice filled with wonder. “You got special treatment! Are you actually friends with the owner, and you just haven’t told me?”
You hear Xavier chuckle, amused. You pause as you reach past the doorway to the back of the cafe, knowing they can’t see you anymore. You strain your ears as you listen to the last bits of their conversation, your throat feeling tight, tears threatening to spill out of the corners of your eyes.
“Maybe in another lifetime, we were friends, sipping chrysanthemum tea under the stars,” Xavier muses, his voice rising just a little bit, as if he wants you to hear what he’s saying. “Could you imagine that?”