"Phainon, you've arrived." Aglaea greets Phainon as he enters the Chrysos Heir Bath.

He waves back, his expression conflicted as he walks over to where Aglaea lounges in the warm water. Phainon takes off his armor and removes his boots, then lowering his feet into the water. "What did you need from me, Lady Aglaea?"

Aglaea's eyes face him, but they're not quite looking at him. She's probably looking at the golden threads that must've alerted her of Phainon's recent woes. "I know it feels like we're running out of time. But… I know that you've been struggling with an illness of your own. It is a rare case, but one I have seen in my lifetime before."

Phainon perks up, puzzled and surprised. "What? The… you know, coughing up flowers thing?"

"Yes." Aglaea returns quietly. "I believe you already came across the term in your research. It's called the Hanahaki Disease."

Ah, so it did have to do with flowers. Phainon's heart sinks at the revelation, twisting in his chest, almost as flowers itself restrain his heart and lungs alike. It's certainly a sort of aesthetic Castorice would love, with her love for flowers and her association with death.

Although, his symptoms haven't at all abated. They've actually been worse after Mydei left Okhema. It really does feel like things have started to go downhill from there. Phainon knew that it would be a difficult journey, and especially that it would not be so kind to all of them. The Flame-Chase Journey, after all, is meant to have sacrifices and loss along the way. He just could've done without the loss in morale.

"So… what is it exactly?" Phainon asks, focusing on his submerged feet in the bath. The water feels lukewarm around him as the imaginary constriction around his chest seem grows more taut. "Like, where are the flowers coming from?"

Aglaea purses her lips. "To phrase it more romantically, those feelings for another person are like seeds scattered in your heart. The yearning acts as the sun, cultivating these seeds to sprout forth. When the emotions overflow, so do the flowers. They've taken residence in your chest, blooming as the feeling fosters. The more it accumulates, the harder it becomes to withstand. After all, your heart isn't meant to be a garden."

Phainon tries to visualize this in his head, but it seems mostly grotesque with the scientific imagery he thinks of. It's all thanks to his professor, right…

"Don't imagine it in terms of the human anatomy." Aglaea sighs. "A certain blasphemous professor of yours must've taught you as such. Take a thread from your current teacher and imagine your heart as your inner world. It can be whatever you'd like for it to be."

To Phainon, that would be… the wheat fields of Aedes Elysiae. Before that black-robed swordsman mercilessly burnt it all to a crisp, killing his dear friend he loved. It's not like that in his heart. It's like the alcove in the forest right before the entrance to the fairy's maze. There lies a small garden. From there, flowers have grown, chasing after the sun inside. They've must've become abundant if Phainon had been coughing so many up… after all, something will overflow only if there's no space for it.

"I think I understand." Phainon responds with a small smile. Phainon had thought the world his teacher, so he would think his love for the world would've been the spark for his garden all the same.

"Phainon, remember that you have a big heart. For the sake of understanding this disease, though… you must think in terms of a lover. Who they are, or how they've become to be your heart's desired is up to you." Aglaea shifts slightly, and it's like she weaves the story for him in a warm and glimmering gold.

His garden has grown when he met Mydei. Meeting Mydei gave him vitality, and… he suppose that overtime, it began to fester. Perhaps to a dangerous amount. He bites his lip, knowing that it'll be impossible to even consider telling Mydei. "So… what happens if you can't say anything about it?"

"Then it'll continue to fester." Aglaea continues solemnly. "The case I've seen… she endured it to the end, keeping it close to her chest. For the only ways to cure this ailment is to either have these feelings responded to in kind, or to remove the source of the feelings. Usually this would call for some sort of memory manipulation, or otherwise falling out of love with the subject of your affections. In that case, though, her beloved fell first. She, the ever loyal and steadfast knight, loved her until the end still, holding onto her garden so that it was enough for a bouquet at her empress's place of rest."

It seems oddly specific at that point, so Phainon hazards to guess that this acquaintance of Aglaea is someone closer than what she first introduced it as. Surely a companion from before. Phainon wonders if that'll happen to him, too. Mydei will succumb to the Black Tide first, and despite being the Undying, he'd perish, somehow, in his weak point. Perhaps he would've suffered enough that he would ask Phainon to kill him.

He can't bear to think about it too long.

"So it rarely results in a happy ending." Phainon's no fool. He knows better than to cling on the hope that'll he will be able to confess these feelings and have them returned in kind. There's no way he would forget Mydei, either. He would make the same choice as the woman before. To hold onto these feelings until he perishes. "Thank you, Lady Aglaea. It would seem that I have my answer."

Aglaea sighs, inhaling and exhaling all the same, and fluttering his eyes shut for the moment. "It seems that you would have little other choice. We are, however, close to Era Nova. It won't be for longer, Phainon. I believe you can do it."

"Yes." Phainon murmurs. It's not just belief… Phainon has to. "I won't let you or Amphoreus down."

Haitham emerges from his kitchenette holding two mugs of freshly brewed coffee. He sets one in front of Kaveh, and quietly nurses his own in his hands. “Why did you come?”

Kaveh blinks, pausing before he sighs. “I needed to see you.” He stares at Haitham’s overall body language, trying to discern anything that’ll give him away.

“We haven’t talked in years.” Haitham returns with a straight face. His lips don’t quiver, but Kaveh notices that the hands curled around his mug are tense and that his arms tremble slightly. “You’re already living with the General Mahamatra. It sounds like work is stable… and Sumeru is rebuilding.”

Kaveh raises an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with anything? I mean, about Cyno. Not everything else. This… isn’t how it should be, Haitham.”

Haitham averts his gaze first, and then he takes a sip of his coffee to act unaffected. “We’re not friends.”

“We aren’t really—ugh, I mean, I guess we’re friendlier? But, this situation right now isn’t how it should be.” Kaveh repeats himself, shaking his head and leaving his mug unattended. “Haitham, can you just listen to me? I know we didn’t make up or whatever in this timeline—”

“Timeline?” Haitham places his cup of coffee down. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s complicated! I come from a time where we reconciled, sorta, but it’s more like you let me live at your house when I was swaddled with debt. You took my burden on yourself.” Kaveh explains, already feeling tears prick at his eyes. “We were at Lambad’s the day before. I asked how your life would change without me in it. You didn’t answer and said we would have that conversation another time.”

Haitham looks up at Kaveh, an intensity burning in his eyes indicating that he has something to say, but doesn’t know how to say it. He opens his mouth, but clamps it shut, remembering Kaveh’s demand for him to stay silent.

“The next day, I had a commission at Port Ormos. While I was on the way back, I ran into this… leyline, I think. Then there was a flashing light, and… I ended up in this timeline, where I wasn’t living with you anymore and I was living with Cyno instead! Cyno! I thought I’d be in the forest rangers with Tighnari and Collei if anything.” He sighs, pausing to take a quiet sip of his coffee. “Just… What happened? I know you never really liked explaining yourself or talking for that long, but… just tell me. I just need to know all the facts.” 

“The time ‘jump’ is more important. You should return to your original time.” Haitham leans over to grab his mug again. “Unless you like it better here.”

“Have you even been listening to me?” Kaveh retorts, “Why would I come all the way here and complain to you if I liked the new arrangement? I clearly don’t! It’s… it’s weird!”

Haitham tilts his head. “What makes it weird?”

“Y-You…” Kaveh grumbles, both relieved and annoyed that Haitham’s still as obstinate as ever. “It’s because you’re not there. It’s not Sumeru if you’re not there.” He clamps his mouth shut after his admission, cheeks burning a bright red as he attempts to again avoid Haitham’s eyes. He winces as he repeats the words in his head again, horrified to recognize that it sounded very much at least a confession that Kaveh misses him. It’s what he’s been meaning to communicate, but saying it becomes all the more daunting. He’s hesitant as he finally looks back over at Haitham, who’s been silent all the while.

The other man continues to ponder on those words, staring into his coffee with a hint of a smile on his face. “I see. Well, Fontaine is fine, but it’s not home.”

Kaveh’s quick to respond. “Right! I figure it could become home in a matter of time, but…” Kaveh frowns, his mind wandering to his mother again. No, no… he shouldn’t impose on her. His existence already was one that only reminded her of the worst times in her life, and a stain on her past that she flew away from. After all, it’s his fault that…

“Have your ideals been realized?” Haitham asks quietly.

It’s almost the same words Haitham had said to him on that fateful day. "How has realizing your ideals gone for you?"

Even still, he refuses to give up on them. The fantasy world where Kaveh is a world-famous architect who saved the lives of many people with his designs is still a far off dream. It’d be a miracle if he even came close to achieving it.

To achieve such a dream, he has to sacrifice what he holds dear. To ensure his mother’s happiness, he let her go. He never wrote to her. He thought it’d be better if she never heard from him.

In lieu of that, he’s found Al-Haitham, where their philosophies still clashed on a daily basis, but the times they found solace in each other were the times that Kaveh now realizes that he treasures the most. To think that this is the time in which he’s survived this long without Al-Haitham, in which everything went better for him, and…

Kaveh scoffs, blinking away his tears. “I should ask you that. Are you happy with your decisions and the life you lead now? What happened back then that led you here? Seriously, talk to me. Don’t just listen to me now.”

Haitham sighs, crossing his legs and staring directly at Kaveh. He doesn’t avoid eye contact and remains morose. “In… this timeline, as you call it, I never reconciled with you. I would see you occasionally at Lambad’s when I would buy alcohol. You were always happy hanging out with your friends. I figured that you found it more ideal that I wasn’t in your life, so I never intervened.”

“I didn’t go into debt over the Palace of Alcazarzaray? In my time, the Withering destroyed the progress made on the building, and Dori—Lord Sangemah Bay—decided to pull out. However, I wanted to finish what I’d consider the epitome of my ideals. A beautiful mansion with true grandeur and artistic integrity. I funded it out of my own pocket, and had to take out a loan from her to have it finished.” Kaveh explains, and even recalling it now makes him wince. He’s gotten… past it, but it still remains with him. “Cyno said it went fine. He came to know me from that project.”

“It was raved about. Your popularity soared once the project was completed and you were never without clients.” Haitham interjects. “None of that happened. You flourished, and I wondered if you were trying to prove me wrong. It seemed like it was more likely that you had moved on from that, and you were earnestly pursuing your ideals.”

Kaveh blinks at Haitham’s response, and something squirms inside his chest as he hangs onto each word. They’re spoken with a gentle tone, with a resigned fondness that Haitham had become more capable of in his recent memory of their co-habitation.

“I see. So, your ideals…” Kaveh pauses. He doesn’t know if Haitham might’ve developed his own ambitions in their time apart. Surely, right..? Without Kaveh there, Haitham is free to pursue whatever he wants. Then what landed him in Fontaine?

“A comfortable life.” Haitham shrugs in return. “I helped the Traveler initially in their attempts to save Lesser Lord Kusanali. I accompanied them to the desert, but when Cyno appeared to take me back under the orders of the Grand Sage, I returned. I said I had nothing to do with anything, but I found it more annoying if the Sages got out of hand, so I pulled my own methods. To be blunt, I was discovered and fired for my infractions against the Akademiya.”

“But that’s all over now. Yet you didn’t return?” Kaveh frowns, remembering that there are times where Haitham looks especially lonely. In those times, Kaveh would find it in himself to play the part of a generous roommate and keep him company. That’s the thing that Haitham never talked about, nor made known. “You could’ve. I’m sure they’d be happy to have you again as their Scribe… as far as I know, they still haven’t hired a new one!”

“I see.” Haitham repeats, gaze flickering over to Kaveh again. “You wonder why I ended up here instead. It’s honestly pretty stupid, but I had nothing better to do.”

Kaveh raises an eyebrow. “You don’t usually do stupid things.”

Haitham coughs. “Fontaine was close by. I also remembered that you told me, back then, that your mother moved here.”

“Were… you going to ask her for advice!?” Kaveh starts to rub his temples. “Good thing I came here. That would’ve been a terrible idea. You absolutely can’t do that.”

Haitham shifts uncomfortably. “Didn’t have anyone else I could ask.”

“How about the Traveler? Since you were hanging out with him so much!” Kaveh doesn’t really have it in him to be upset. Honestly, if he thinks about it, this probably means that Haitham has always been thinking about him in some way. It seems like Al-Haitham has actually been insecure over not reconciling with him this whole time…

Haitham coughs, clearing his throat. “I still think it’s worth checking out Petrichor. I’ll go back with you afterwards. In Sumeru, I’m sure you can consult your friends about returning back to your time. I’ll just grab some stuff from my house and return here.”

“You’re not coming back here, Haitham. I think you should stay in Sumeru. You don’t need to work at the Akademiya if you really don’t want to, but… I don’t think you should stay here.” Kaveh frowns. “Wait, do you have a job here?”

“No. I’m on vacation.” He emphasizes with quotation marks, although it’s more of a dry joke than anything else. “I was seeing if the Fontaine Research Institute would take on more researchers, but it seemed more bothersome to get started there. I considered getting a government job, but I’m sure not being a native Fontainian would prevent me from doing that.”

For the first time that night, Kaveh laughs.

“Come back with me.” Kaveh whispers finally. “You probably still think I don’t need you, but…”

Haitham’s breath hitches.

“I do. I’m sure the Kaveh who was here feels the same way. That he’s missing a really important part of his life. Someone who’s part of his ideals, even though he may stress over it.” Kaveh finishes, his cheeks growing red from the confession.

On one hand, at least he finally figured out the strange feeling he was having.

On the other hand…

He’ll probably have to repeat himself once he returns back to his time.

That is, if it’s even possible…

Haitham, though, looks actually flustered for once. Red dusts his cheeks, eyes wider than usual, and then a slight curve of his lips.

“I…” Haitham begins, albeit awkwardly. “I need you, too.”

Robin has tried to be the solace in her brother's life, but she never understood the magnitude of that importance until she came to take his role. Countless inquiries, and new headaches presented by memetic entities, with none to spare for rest. It almost feels like the role she played as the naive and innocent teacher spreading the word of Harmony was easier.

It wasn't. She still remembers soothing her worried students. To remain upright even in times of crisis. Her fingers were poised directly over her piano's keys. Frozen with fear. The quick slam against the keys when an explosion peaks. Her voice, almost miniscule and squeamish, commanded.

“Why don't we sing along, everyone? Do… re…”

Silence. 

She wakes up with a start in her seat (her brother's seat) in the office of Dewlight Pavillion. The Bloodhound Family members outside don't check in on her which is a relief that she cannot take for granted.

She couldn't save their lives. What could Harmony do? She's had time to ponder her answer, but nothing comes to mind.

Paperwork. Tea. Public appearance. She knows how to play any role given to her, including this one. She sucks in a breath. 

Robin drains the remaining amount of tea in her cup. She sets the teacup back on its saucer, pouring herself another cup. Ceylon tea. Two sugar cubes that melt and dissolve into the steaming liquid. A hint of honey. Tidbits of lavender. A splash of milk to taste.

This is so she can rebuild their dream. She must make it happen, whatever the cost. And there's no dream if Sunday was shackled again.

It was memetic entities that destroyed their home, killed their mother, and was their beginning. She wonders, in turn, whether the world she and her brother were working toward existed in the vast sea of memoria. If it held the answer.

But they both knew that dreams could not be reality.