Archive of Our Own ^beta

Phoenix stands atop the Punklorde rooftop. One of the highest ones on the planet. It looks down upon dozens of other buildings, all decked with neon lights that blasted the night sky. He glances up to the stars, which failed to shine through the advancements of humanity. If you were to ask anyone in the cosmos what “light pollution” was, they’d give you a one way ticket on the star rail to Punklorde.

He leans against the railing of the building, which has a chock full of holograms hovering in front of it. Originally, he had planned to go with Jett and Iso to check out a new film at the largest, most renowned theater on Punklorde. He and the rest of the express crew were here for no real objective anyways, might as well have some fun. As much as they can before they get roped into some world-ending multilevel marketing scheme with Kingdom Corporation on another planet. 

Despite how promising the theater looked with all its cool Punklorde technology, he backed out last second. When asked why, he made up some bullshit lie that there was a gaming tournament he wanted to attend, and neither of them bothered prodding much further. Less money that needs to be deducted from the express crew funtime funds, which are decreasing at an alarming rate. 

Jett saw right through him, though. He could tell, from how she sighed and backed off so easily—usually she would persuade (or for better word, annoy) him until he relented and came with them. Truth is, he didn’t want to go to that specific theater because of memories. They were good ones, as much as Phoenix hated to admit it, but they were tainted with the problems of the present. It reminded him too much of a certain prick . It was the place where Phoenix first met him, after all.

Ironic, considering he went up to this specific rooftop instead of going with Jett and Iso to the movies. The same rooftop where he invited Ryo to the express, and the same rooftop where Ryo declared his departure. Well, he goes by Yoru now, but Phoenix still remembers him as Ryo Kiritani. He runs from the past, yet he still chases it faster. Much faster than he’ll ever be able to escape. Pathetic.

Phoenix lets out a bitter laugh to himself, until a familiar sound of the galaxy breaking apart interrupts his mental sobfest. Following that was footsteps slowly approaching from behind. He could recognize such sounds from anywhere, unfortunately. “What do you think you’re doing?”

A chuckle. Phoenix doesn’t even bother to turn around as Yoru stands behind him; the last thing he needs to see right now is Yoru’s smug, bitchass smirk. “What do you think you’re doing, Phoenix? This is my planet.”

“I’m trying to enjoy myself here,” Phoenix grumbles in response, not enjoying how arrogant Yoru was. “Of course you just had to ruin it.”

“Last time I checked, your definition of “enjoy” wasn’t such a solemn activity,” Yoru says dryly. “In pure solitude, too?”

“Oh, fuck off, you twat,” Phoenix says in annoyance, bringing a hand to his head. “The last time you checked was forever ago.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s been that long,” the Stellaron Hunter pauses before adding on yet another snide remark. “Just long enough for you to replace me with some Xianzhou boy.”

“Why are you all salty that we got a new longtime express member?” Phoenix furrows his eyebrows. “What, you still care?”

“Do I?” 

“Don’t turn the question on me,” Phoenix huffs, crossing his arms on the railing. “Who do you think you are, a philosopher? Cypher?”

“The fuckass space station guy isn’t your only example for “philosophical”, is he?” Yoru asks, a hint of amusement in his voice. 

He chuckles, not even noticing how Yoru had walked over to his side to lean back on the railing. “You clearly haven’t heard him talking about the Aeons.”

“I guess I haven’t,” Yoru admits laxly. “I never got acquainted with him. Don’t have a point to.”

“I dunno man, his research is real useful,” Phoenix shrugs, unknowingly glancing over at Yoru. He didn't even process it. “I learnt most of the shit about random planets and the Aeons from the research in his space station.”

“I see,” Yoru muttered before meeting Phoenix’s eyes curiously, almost teasingly in an infuriating way. “I didn't know you were the type to relay information to your enemies.”

Phoenix freezes. He immediately breaks away from Yoru’s gaze, his eyes idling on the city skyline before them. Fuck, he didn’t mean to go all casual with Yoru like everything was fine and dandy. It just came naturally, as if nothing had changed from all those memories ago. “I… wasn’t relaying info. It’s not like Cypher would help you bastards.”

“Omen would find a way,” Yoru claims, as if challenged by Phoenix’s words. He doesn’t give the other man any time to respond before continuing with an unreadable smile. “And you’re still no good liar. It’s almost like you still see me as your ally.”

“I don’t,” Phoenix denies sharply, feeling a pang of sadness in his chest despite everything. “You’re an enemy. My enemy. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Yoru replies, almost mockingly so in Phoenix’s eyes, yet his true intention was completely indecipherable. 

Silence fills the air. The noises of Punklorde’s busy and bustling city district are drowned out by the tension. Tension so thick that it could be cut in half with a rusty dagger—uncomfortable and, quite frankly, painful . It takes Phoenix time, far too much time, to muster up a response. The words come out of his mouth hoarse, almost desperate. “You still owe me so many answers.”

“I don’t owe you anything. You’re my enemy,” Yoru says curtly, using Phoenix’s own words against him. Phoenix feels his heart squeezes in his chest—the world’s crashing down on him again.

“Ryo…” He buries his head into his arms that rest on the rails, his voice cracking. “Don’t kid with me.” 

“Ryo?” Yoru takes a moment, and Phoenix could only wish to know what’s going on in Yoru’s mind right now. “It’s been a long while since I’ve heard that name.”

“Right. You ran away from it,” Phoenix says bitterly, so many words left on the tip of his tongue, yet none of them able to come out. Just like how you ran from everything else. 

The riftwalker hums, running a hand through his hair, which was still in the same spiked-up style as always. “You were the last person who uttered that name to me before I left. Funny how you’re the first person to say it after all this time, too. It’s not a pleasure.’

“…Do the Stellaron Hunters never call you Ryo?” Phoenix asks, not commenting on the other remarks Yoru made.

Yoru shakes his head in nonchalance. “They don’t give a flying fuck. I told them Yoru, they call me Yoru. I can’t spare 2 shits for any of their real names either anyways, so why would they care about mine?”

“Whatever floats you guys’s boats,” Phoenix redirects the topic, not bothering to indulge in such casual discussion for any longer. “Enough smalltalk. I still want to know why .”

“Why what?”

“You know full damn well what I mean!” Phoenix spits impatiently, clenching his fists with frustration and impatience. “Why did you just… leave everything behind like that? At least give me a reason! Was all our time together just a joke to you?!”

Yoru doesn’t answer. His face is stone cold, not revealing a single answer, not a single expression, not a single thought. Not even a single hint to the truth. “I don’t provide my enemies any intel.”

“You…!” His vision blurs. He couldn’t tell if it was from tears, anger, sorrow, or a cruel mix of all of them. It takes all his energy to contain himself, to not launch a fiery punch to Yoru’s face. “You’re such a sack of shit! If I knew it would end up like this all those years ago, I would have never fucking invited you to the express! I should have just left you all lonely on this stupid planet!”

“And I would've never joined,” Yoru says, looking over at Phoenix once more. “It would be better off that way. Then I’d avoid this shitshow.”

“You know what can help solve this shitshow?” Phoenix repeats passive-aggressively, though it was basically just boiling rage at this point. “If you just gave me a reason.”

“Im fucking tired of your yelling,” Yoru grumbles, shaking his head. “I have no clue how I tolerated you for so long back then.”

“You didn’t. You were always a prick,” Phoenix responds in annoyance. “But stop trying to run away, ‘cause you seem to love doing that. Tell me wh—you bitch!”

In the blink of the eye, Yoru had ripped through the fabrics of reality and created a rift. Phoenix tried to follow him through to no avail. Admittedly not his brightest idea, but so many muddled thoughts were running through his mess of a mind that he could care less.

When the rift closes on him, Phoenix feels his heart burn in desperation. He doesn’t know why he even tries at this point. Yoru’s gone ahead and refuses to look back, while he’s still stuck trying to grapple with the past. It’s cruel. Cruel of whatever sick fate Phoenix was treading down to ruin him so, but even more cruel of Yoru himself. Phoenix just couldn’t understand, no matter how much he tried, why Yoru couldn’t just tell him anything . 

His gaze lingers on where the rift was, his breathing heavy, and his heart burning like an unquenchable flame. Maybe he should just forget that all this ever happened, like how he had forgotten himself.