sage

anaxagoras hates long distance. aeon's, it does something to him. sure, he could work, threaten his students, dive back in and head first into the never-ending work life he had before you, but that's the thing, it's impossible to. he cannot focus if he doesn't feel the natural pull towards you from across the room, because it meant you were present, still there and in arms reach. now you're off doing aeon's knows what and he's worried beyond belief. this ache is only soothed if he falls asleep to the smell of your cologne/perfume in the room, he becomes foolish enough to believe you're there for just those few nights.

mydeimos cannot bear the fact you've been bedridden for two weeks now, unmoving and still, easily mistaken to be a statue of beauty if not for your complexion not being one of stone or marble. he knows well enough that he has duties, and they are not neglected (for your behalf), but every road somehow lead him back here, by your side, using his will and belief alone to have you wake up. it does not matter the distances he's crossed for the day, it does not matter his exhaustion or if his body is on the verge of breaking, if he does not visit—he feels as if he is not the man who has sworn to love you through sickness and health. which is who he will remain being.

when another cycle starts, it means it's just another chance to save amphoreus, or end up in ruin. but for phainon? it's another chance for him to fall inlove with you again. it doesn't matter that he loses you in the end, and that it feels like he will always end up losing, what matters is that he has you. has had you. that you find your way into his heart in every cycle, that it's in his arms that yours stops beating. the cycle of life and death is cruel, but he can find beauty in it with you.

how cliche. how cliche it is for boothills target to end up being his former love. it's like no matter how far he runs, every shitty bar leads him right back to you. so of course, of course he can't do it, can't collect a bounty as if he wasn't made to do so. mechanically programmed to perform exactly what his trigger finger is hesitating on. and look at you, as sweet and lively and alive as he remembers. boothill won't do it, he tosses his gun to the ground and yells, would curse but he knows it'll sound like childish gibberish. the missions over—but he isn't leaving. not after knowing this is where you've gone.

sunday shouldn't be here, he's aware of that, but what aeon will stop him? maybe his sin isn't worthy of attention of the aeon's, but it's definitely of gallaghers interest, how sunday's been eyeing his newest bartender like a man starved. there was no subtlety when it came to sunday, he made his stares obvious and hungry. "might do you well to actually order, sunday." the older man huffs, amused. while sunday may have just told him to mind his business, it was.. a fair point, he was lucky gallagher wasn't kicking him out for loitering without a single drink. but he was also fine with this, admiring you from afar, coming back night after night to just worship.

a few moons ago, march 7th had curiously asked each of the astral express members where their favorite place in the stars was. dan heng, with no hesitation, answered: "xianzhou." confused, march asked him to elaborate. was that not where he had unwillingly been revealed his 'true' identity? however, his answer had nothing to do with him, but with someone else entirely. in the luofu, that was where dan heng had met you. a kindhearted warrior who he had met by chance, who acted as their guide in the xianzhou, who he had fallen quietly for. it was nothing dramatic, just.. true. once he bid his farewell, he swore to carry you in his heart until he would return. something sworn true, as there was not a day he didn't pray for your safety, and his return.

mike didn't know life without the party.

they were his glue, holding him together, and it started with the core four. the people who had his back when he was bullied, scared, mourning, hurting.

and now he had suddenly grown up, saved the world, and had to live in it without them. lucas had max, dustin had suzie, and the wonder twins were free and had each other.

so mike, the boy who was terrified of one day never being needed, that the heart of the party would one dag die.. had you. sweet, amazing you.

he hadn't noticed it before, your longing gaze (it was hard having to deal with two other ones, he sometimes jokes), the way you stayed when people assumed that what he needed was for them to go, that it was just mike wheeler at it again, trying to be the tough guy, swallowing down all of his emotions. but you saw differently.

even if both of you were only thirteen, you saw it, him, just a boy terrified of the things he saw. and it was like a promise was made that day that neither side ever acknowledged. that you would be impossibly close to mike's side, and for all his sass, his temper, his 'we don't need anyone else in the party!'

mike let you.

mike let you seep into the cracks on his skin like gold fixing porcelain, mending his wounds, even if they'd still be there. the scars were irreversible but apparently so were you and the influence you had on him. the party kept their murmurs quiet, noticing how mike's hair had suddenly become.. neater. no less wild and untamed, but it was remarkably presentable.

how he spoke more when you were at the table.

how his attention seemed to be elsewhere when you weren't.

oh, and god forbid, the bracelets.

it's not as if the core four were assholes, but they were boys. they were all little, immature boys once, who said that even if they'd go through hell and back for one another.. they would never wear something as corny as friendship bracelets.

guess the gossip discussion of lucas, dustin, and eddie for the next couple of weeks. lucas went as far as to write to jane and will because of it—which was a rather hilarious effort on his part.

and sure, mike wheeler was most definitely changing. but everyone with a functioning brain was more than confident that he couldn't make a move if his left arm was on the line for it. he could roll a 20 on charisma, somehow stutter on a single word, blame it on you, and you never see him again. that's just how he was.

thus his eternal debt to the universes way of planning had begun the day you asked him out. nothing big, just milkshakes after school, maybe even go to the park afterwards. albeit it could have very well been a friendly gesture, hell, he'd done a bunch of milkshake runs with dustin in the past.

key difference: dustin wasn't flushed or embarrassed while asking, nor had mike ever been holding his breath for so long just waiting for any indication of it being some cruel joke. (it wasn't)

"crazy, isn't it?" mike chuckled, cleaning up what could officially be called his last dnd module. the figurines he's made through the years displayed on a shelf nearby. of course, the paladin and your role of choice next to one another. "i would've ended up a loner in my moms basement if you didn't want to satisfy your sweet tooth after school one day."

he doesn't miss your little amused snort from the other side of the room, keeping away the chairs that the party had long outgrown. "wow, thanks. it took me years of courage to ask you out, and all you remember were the milkshakes."

"they were sweet." "don't—" "your lips were too, you know."

"wheeler, you say that every time we talk about that day!" you say in faux annoyance, like your grin isn't obvious as you steal a glance his way, the playfulness from your youth never truly fading. "just can't let it go, huh?"

"you're the one that kissed me after i dropped you off at your place." he reminded. "not my fault you couldn't wait for a mint and settled for your favorite flavour of shake."

the room feels warm, not hot, but familiar. it's like years of banter and memories will be forever preserved 8 feet below the home of the wheelers. stories of love, friendship, breakup, and so much more. all safely kept in those four walls and the hearts of many who walked out its door. "well, you kissed me back. and were awful at it." you reminded him with a tease.

mike smiled at you longingly, placing down the module and making his way to you. "i was surprised that you were confident enough to tell me that."

you turn at the sound of his footsteps, not a single attempt to stop the smile on your lips as you cross your arms. "someone had to."

"then i didn't kiss you for three whole months." "yeah, which made me think you hated me!"

"quite the opposite. i loved you so much, i was terrified of ever messing that up again." he was infront of you now, tall as ever, grown into his looks. you remember the nights that you couldn't stop shaking, terrified of the idea that you'd never be able to see him this way. whether it meant because of his death, or yours.

"but then you had the genius idea to do it after meeting suzie at her house—" "it made me realize how lucky i was that you were always right there, while dustin only had radiotowers and stupid-singalongs!"

you don't know when mike's arms wrapped around your waist, but you just know it's something you've grown familiar with, the magnet that always pulled you towards mike's touches. "good. my god, i can't believe it took you that long." you mumbled.

as he leaned his head down, his glasses slightly pressed against your face as he nose softly brushes yours. "i'm sorry. but hey, did you doubt me any other time? when i brought you your favorite flowers, or food, or snuck into your home even when i shouldn't have?"

oh how he relishes the way you lean into him, following his gentle affection as you close your eyes. "mm. not really."

he's supposed to say something smooth, something like: "allow me make up for the three months", anything to convince you that he's the cool suave guy he believes he grew up to be.

the only issue is that you beat him to it. "wheeler, your glasses are sharp."

and under no pressure— "sorry, sorry." he mutters under his breath, awkward hands fumbling for his glasses as they slide down his nose, stuffing them into his back pocket as now you're forced to be subjected to his weak, kicked, puppy-dog eyed stare. "i forget how pesky these things are."

"and they make you look like your dad." you added with a shrug. "do not say that." mike scoffed. "i have an amazing partner, an amazing life, a whole world of opportunities outside that basement door.."

with his glasses out of the way, he's able to lean down lower, pressing a chaste kiss against your lips. "and so much time to spend it all with you, okay?" ... he goes for another, but this time, doesn't break the kiss. he loves you gently, and you remember that each time his lips are on yours. "that makes me nothing like my father."

now, slowly pressing against the nearest surface, your hand in his hair to ruin the sidepart that was also making him look like ted wheeler.. mike looked like mike again. a mess of curls, with hands that didn't know what they were doing, truthfully. with the person who saved his life, the reason that he was able to fight until today.

you, his happy ending.