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It’s a Saturday afternoon, and the tempest is lying about in his room in Daath, reading reports and attempting to get comfortable. However, it is impossible. He’s too distracted to care about meaningless, small fluctuations in fonon levels in the northern tundra. This isn’t something new to him, however. He’s been distracted about this for a while now.

This thought is something he doesn’t want to think about, and he just tries to ignore it, but there’s just this devious part in the back of his head that keeps bringing it back up. He rolls over onto his back, staring down the paper that he’s been trying to get for the past ten minutes. Skimming over it again, he realizes that he didn’t absorb anything he read, and sighs in defeat.

He sets the report down, and just stares up at the ceiling, letting his thoughts run free.

The first thing he remembers is the red heat of the volcano and the knowing of what would happen next, and he feels tears coming to his eyes. Just the feeling of crying makes him stop, because he’s Sync and he will not cry. That being said, he feels a tear or two run down his cheeks, and he quickly wipes them away. This is enough to make him realize he needs a distraction.

He settles for a walk around the city, just to clear his head.

Just as he exits the cathedral, he spots a familiar face, and feels disgust boil within his guy. Not disgust for this person, but for what he did to this person. This person is Guy Cecil, and he’s exactly the one person who the tempest doesn’t want to see.

Sync attempts to sneak around the swordsman, but considering his green hair and obviously black outfit, he’s easy to spot. Guy calls after the tempest, and only receives a panicked look in response. To say that Sync is terrified of seeing the man now, after so many years, is an understatement.

They’ve not talked since Luke returned, three years ago. The only reason they even talked, then, was because the flame-haired noble had used his new powers Lorelei had given him to revive all who had fallen during their struggle. There was a silent agreement at that time to never speak again, and Sync had upheld it to a point. The only person he’d had any contact with was the Fon Master and his double, as well as Anise.

Other than that, he’d foregone any contact with anyone.

Obviously, age had been generous to Guy, considering that he still didn’t look a day over twenty one. Just remembering that Sync was now eighteen made the teen swell with pride, as well as kick himself for still being alive that long, despite his brothers deaths. He quickly stops that train of thought.

Sync attempts to sprint off, but before he has a chance to, Guy grabs his arm. There’s a determined look in his blue eyes, and the tempest can only shudder in fear as to what he’s thinking. Feelings of guilt and self-loathing hit Sync like a brick, and he feels the true repercussions of his actions for the first time in his life.

He’s not used to feeling so vulnerable. It’s the worst feeling in the world.

“Why did you run?”

It’s a simple question, but there is no truly simple answer that Sync can give without sounding like a complete flake. Instead, he looks off to the side, ashamed, and tries to yank his arm back. That’s a terrible choice on the tempest’s part, because Guy only holds on to it harder. Despite the pressure, he’s somehow gentle. Sync feels even more disgusting for thinking that.

“Because I know you hate me, and I didn’t want a confrontation.”

The look on the swordsman’s face makes Sync feel even more disgusting, because he looks so sincerely hurt. Why would he feel that way? It’s not like the tempest was much of an interest to him, before now.

“I see.”

Words so simple, yet they cut like knives. The tempest looks away, putting up his defensive face of nonchalance and detachment. Convincing, no, but he needs to hold up the act like he doesn’t care about what the blonde says. He used to be happy and content watching people –especially Guy- writh in pain and despair, but now that he’s no longer fighting for a purpose, he’s become a bit less destructive. He’s begun to realize just what guilt feels like.

He’s begun to feel alive, and he yearns just to feel dead inside again. These feelings are too much for him to handle.
Sync goes to yank his arm away again, but Guy looks him straight in the eye, stopping the teen in his tracks.

“Do you have a minute to spare?”

He sounds so sincere, so kind, and Sync wants to prick up his spikes and yell something at him out of spite. However, he decides against it. There was no need to cause a scene, especially since they were right in front of the cathedral. There is no hostility on Guy’s face, so there is no reason to respond unkindly.


It’s what he says, but how he says it. The blonde’s face twists a bit, almost insulted. It was obvious that Sync was insinuating something.

“I want to take you out to get something to eat. Just to make amends. What do you say?”


The place they arrive at is nice. Blue and white curtains cover the windows, and the inside of it is just a cozy little café. It isn’t anything extravagant, but Sync doesn’t complain. As they sit down at a table, Guy is going on about Fon Tech, and how marvelous it truly is. It doesn’t take long before he’s trying to actually get the teen to actually converse with him.

Sync feels detached the entire conversation, as if he isn’t himself. It’s almost like… happiness. He wouldn’t know.

The only time he had ever felt happy before was with blood on his hands, staring down at the bodies of his enemies. That was what satisfaction and happiness to him. He knows it’s wrong.

Their food arrives, and the tempest uses it as an excuse to try and avoid conversation. He’s disappointed when it doesn’t, though. If anything, Guy is still as persistent to get the teen to talk.

“So, why don’t you like talking? Do you have a problem with me?”

Sync doesn’t answer at first.

“I simply don’t want to. Is that really such a novel concept?”

It takes Guy a matter of seconds to shred his rationalization to pieces.

“You just don’t want to open up, do you? It’s understandable, I guess. Not to mention, we used to be enemies. I suppose I’m the last person you would really want to talk to, huh?”

It wasn’t true. Sync was dying to talk. He was just so used to building up walls between people –just to survive- that getting attached was out of the question. There were things he just could never say; for fear that the flood gate of his emotions would be opened.

“I just don’t want to talk about anything from the past. We were all different people back then.”

Syncs gaze moves to the window, staring out at the city, and the bustling commerce. It wasn’t a wonder that he had been so busy with reports and transcripts and whatnot recently. In fact, it was a wonder that he actually had time to go out to lunch with Guy.

“Well, I know you certainly were. You’ve grown up quite a bit since then.”

This snapped the tempest’s attention right back to the swordsman, who only looks at him with a content smile, and those happy blue eyes of his. Rage and embarrassment caus Sync’s face to flush up like a tomato, and he quickly tries to find a way to channel the energy without break the table. It was never ideal to cause a scene.

“Yeah, and what the hell would you know about it?”

“I’ve seen you around Daath, and I can tell just from the way you present yourself that you’re different. You’re not as angry as you once were. But I know that you’re probably haunted by your actions, huh?”

Guy hits the nerve right on the head, and Sync quickly tries to find a snappy response to prove otherwise. Instead, his voice fails him and he simply opens and closes his mouth over and over, attempting to find the words. A smile, and the blonde reassures him by grabbing his gloveless hands. If it was possible, Sync is even more flushed, and tries to hide his face behind his hair, cursing under his breath that he stopped wearing his mask years ago.

“It’ll be alright, Sync.”

Just the way he says the tempest’s name makes Sync swallow hard. He’s flushed and upset, and he’s sure that Guy is just playing with him at this point. The sincere smile on his face says otherwise.


This same thing happens every day for the next two weeks. They don’t bring up the distant past, nor do they bring up the green-haired teen’s inability to open up. The air is instead filled with casual conversations, and shared stories. Guy is great company, and even though he’d never admit it, the tempest feels as at peace as he’s ever felt when the swordsman is near.

Sync enjoys his time spent with the blonde, despite how well he hides it, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling perplexed and disgusted. After all, what would Guy want with him now, of all times?

On the last day of the second week, when they’re walking back to the cathedral, Sync figures out the answer to his question like a smack to the head.

Some women in one of the venders are looking at them, making adoring faces and the tempest can overhear the words ‘couple’ and ‘surprised’. At first, Sync feels a bit annoyed by them, but decides to simply ignore them. From what he can tell, Guy doesn’t notice these women, or their comments.

That is, until he can feel the swordsman’s hand wrapped tightly in his. He hears the women giggle softly to themselves, as if amused by this embarrassing act. The tempest’s face flushes bright red, but he doesn’t pull dare to pull away. It feels too natural to be real.

They walk that way, hand in hand, for the rest of the way to the cathedral. When they arrive there, Sync expects for the swordsman to wave goodbye and walk away, like he always does. To the teen’s surprise, Guy doesn’t begin to walk away or even let go of his hand. He holds on tight, and Sync doesn’t understand what his expression is saying. This man is too much of a mystery.

“You know, I’ve never seen your room before, and I’m kind of curious. Could I see it?”

Sync can’t say no to his sincere smile.


Inside of Sync’s quarters, Guy finally removes his hand from Sync’s, and the teen feels like he’s left wanting. He quickly ignores it, though, as the blonde proves to be nosy. It takes a few hand swats for the swordsman to stop trying to look in the God General’s desk. He settles on the bed, lying back, with his boots square on the floor.

“The order really does know how to treat you well, huh?”

Hesitant, Sync sits next to Guy, making sure to keep his gaze at the wall. He doesn’t want the swordsman to see the embarrassing flush on his face, especially since he can’t write it off to being upset.

“I suppose. I actually have the smallest room out of all of the God Generals. You would be amazed at how obnoxiously huge Asch’s room is. He really can’t get past his roots.”

Guy chuckles at this, and the tempest feels himself smile at the sound. He looks back at blonde, his confidence boosted a bit, only to feel frozen. The same, sincere smile is on his face, and Sync doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Before he can truly register that it, Guy gently grabs his hand, holding it in his. Their fingers entwine, and Sync mentally curses at himself for the flush that he knows is showing. For some reason, this man can see straight through him, and make him drop all of his masks.

With his other hand, Guy sits himself up, being mindful to keep holding Sync’s hand during this. It takes all of three seconds for him to invade the tempest’s personal space.


It’s the softest of whispers, and he’s cut off by the swordsman’s lips against his, ever so softly. Everything about this is so gentle, as if the older male feels he’s handling a ticking time bomb. This feels so right, so natural, and Sync doesn’t think he deserves it. He calls himself disgusting and horrible mentally, and feels like it fits when Guy pulls away, concern on his face.

They don’t speak for a moment, almost as though trying to tell what the other is thinking.

“Sync, you don’t like me do you?”

The tempest looks away, ashamed. He would love to yell yes, and push the swordsman out, but he knows it would be a complete lie.

“I do. But I don’t deserve you.”

In mere seconds after saying, Guy has pulls him in close, the teens face buried in his chest. His arms circle the teens small frame, and he mentally curses at just how light the boy is. Even if it’s stupid and small, Sync is so ecstatic when he notices how comfortable Guy’s arms feel when they’re wrapped around him. He had never felt so… human.

“Sync, you deserve so much better than you think you do. You deserve to be loved.”

He could feel tears in his eyes, but he refuses to cry. He absolutely would not ruin the first glimpse of love he had ever been shown just because he couldn’t keep himself together. The act of keeping it bottled up makes him shake, and Guy can tell he’s upset. Gently, he pulls the teen into his lap, staring him straight in the eyes as he tries to not cry.

“It’s okay to be upset, Sync. You’re only human, after all.”

Sync lets a single tear roll down his cheek, and buries his face in Guy’s collar, his arms tight around his shoulders. The shaking begins, and soon the tears are flowing. He feels pathetic, but Guy only whispers lovingly to him, to soothe his vicious thoughts of self hatred.

Having never felt so vulnerable or human before, this is new to Sync, and he feels like he’s going to die from embarrassment.

“Can I ask you something, Guy?”

He can hear the nervousness in Sync’s voice, and he feels pity for the teen. It had been many years since, but he can remember a time in his life in where he had felt he would be exiled simply for asking the wrong question.

“Of course.”

He’s in a good humor, despite the mess of a teen sitting in his lap. Just knowing that the teen isn’t actually the emotionless robot that he claims to be is enough of a victory for him.

“With what you said, does that mean that you-”

Shifting, Sync buries his face into the bigger male’s shoulder. He’s embarrassed and doesn’t want to finish his question, as a safety net from being told no. All he wants is to know that he is loved, but just the thought of asking tears him up inside.


He gently places a hand on the side of the teen’s face, pulling it up so he can look him in the eye. His beautiful emerald orbs are glassed over, and red from crying. Guilt hits Guy straight in the gut, but he can’t be bothered by it right now. He has to fix this, quick.

“I mean what I say. I love you.”

Sync never thought he would hear those words directed towards him, let alone from the most unlikely of all candidates.

“I may not be able to fully mean it yet, but I love you, too.”

Even if Sync thought he was a broken machine beyond repair, Guy would be there every step of the way to put him back together and kiss away the tears.