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“I’m simply a very quick study, I promise you—“ blushing for himself and wistfully he wished, with all his heart, that Matt could’ve been there with them. He could see in some distant periphery of a dream how fun it would’ve been, the way he could’ve sat flustered at the pairs feet while they talked love shop and he simply swooned for it. The way his heart wouldn’t have secretly ached like it was forever being bitten at by leaf cutter ants— shedding one piece at time in tiny increments.

It should’ve all been so easy, but everytime he was with one now he found himself inexorably thinking of the other, feeling caught and torn and wrong between them. Like his outreach in the hopes to mend had somehow become all of their undoing at once. He’d been the final straw—-

He’d known it then, the second he told Matt and got that specific reaction—- that his first shared kiss had been their undoing, for all that he repeated them still. Returned Nikki’s effortlessly, feeling known and not and like he knew her and didn’t all at once and that unsureity and newness didn’t deter him any at all. He thought it’d maybe feel like that every time.

“And knowing the words — and putting them into actions? Being book smart means nothing in the real world without practice. I assure you.” And he made it sound like a good thing, as though he were happy to have people with whom to practice, as if — if his words had been better? Somehow they wouldn’t be here. It would be the three of them instead of just the two and his words would have use other than being pretty good varnish and silver trimmings.

“Oh—boyfriend—“ and he did perk up for more than just her closeness, his eyes skated the blooms again, fell on her peach dusted cheeks, he felt the marching heat in his own. “I’ve never been afraid of commitment, Nikki. I think I’m too at ease with it even…not in ways I’d ever thought I’d be…that maybe I commit too much? And then refuse to back down…” and he fidgeted uncharacteristically where he sat before he found his center in her eyes and answers with a softer smile.

“But it is something I want to talk about with you. Since that is what I’m doing, right? Committing to Order while trying to hold onto chaos — committing to you — without having actually asked how you want things to be between us?” He hedged as he tilted his head and finally set the flowers fully aside, crossing his legs at the knee and considering the date she’d set them up on. Something more than princesses, something that boyfriends and girlfriends did — would do —

“I wasn’t kidding about the ring you know…even if it’s only promissory…it only has to mean what we want it to, I think, for us?” a gentle half shrug and he squinted at something inside his own mind, seemed to come to a decision. “So yes, I absolutely do want to talk about it. What it’ll mean — hah — for the two people who, and correct me if I’m wrong? But we seem to end up uncommitted to fairly often— I don’t want to repeat that — not for myself — not for you either.”

He knew he wanted things fair, and equal, and that he could wait if that was what was needed. But talking about it seemed like the right priority! A good first step in the right direction.

“I’m not unready for a princess I just—“ he huffed as he took the offered cookie, cutting himself off to listen. It was hard, wasn’t it? Unusually so. And he sought for the words to explain, struggling after them in spite of all his booked learning. No amount of smarts helped him in the face of her truth, her honesty? Pointing out the glaringly obvious with the kind of precision even he didn’t want to acknowledge.

“It does seem right though, doesn't it? But, then, so does everything you’ve said so far…” and he knew it, and he knew she knew it. Could see it in the way the tears tried to stain her cheeks and she thwarted them valiantly. The way he realized it for her? How she’d thrown her entire heart into this, not even into him, not at first, but into Fulgurite? And how many times could a person be asked to take certain risks – to do it for love – Syrus himself wasn’t sure. He knew that he loved her, that he loved Matt. That while Nikki had been the one living in his head as ‘the other’ for so long, Matt had been living with him.

There was no year gap of absence to leave him feeling used or jilted or cold—

Everything with Nikki was so new….they’d neither seen the other at their worst. On ugly mornings, after a fight, arguing over little things and making up. He would have laughed for it, how easily everyone around him seemed to let go at the onest and how he – in spite of all his stupid knowledge – wanted to cling – moreso even now that it felt like he’d be losing one way or another. No matter what. Losing everything, and gaining not a stranger, but gaining something that held so many unexpected surprises!

He could look at Fulgurite and see how staying became easier every day—

“It’s the easiest thing in the world…and also the hardest…” he scoffed as he reached down and took another cookie from over her, out of habit, because he wanted something to chew on between beating himself up with words.

“If I…” and it helped that they were delicious. That he could lose himself in them as he lost his sentence and switched tactics. “With the others? It doesn’t feel like letting go. I know I’ll see them, and them me, even if we’re on different sides. They’ll miss me and I’ll know it even if I forget? I’ll miss them, and I’ll know it, even if I forget who they are. It’s something, at least. It makes it hurt less, however superficially.”

“With Fulgurite? I feel like — I feel like if I let him go? If I do it completely…I don’t know if there will be any turning back – if I’ll see him again.” In the pit of his stomach he did know, in his core, in his heart. He dreaded that truth more than any other. The way it had teeth and claws and would hurt him if he so much as looked at it long enough. He knew. He knew. He knew. That the second he was done it was over, and he might as well bury his friend and the ring as one. That he could only get to him from here, from right now, and once that had gone past? There would be no undoing it. Only regrets. It made him extra grateful for Nikki’s willingness to give him time to try and tips to use and gods if he could’ve involved her in ways that wouldn’t get people messily killed…

Or worse? Drive Fulgurite away entirely, making it even easier to leave, ensuring he’d never see the man again. Gods, but he hated that idea.

“I regret having apologized for – for having said anything to him at all. Hah, about ‘wasting his time’.... I’d thought it’d spur him into action, into anger, or that it’d force him to look at what he was losing and move to fix things?”

“I was very, very wrong…..in the same ways you’re very right…”

“So maybe we should be waiting then? To call each other anything until we can make it true, instead of just empty promises. We can still – we can still do all of these things, can't we? Together. Exactly like this. Without having to hurt each other over them. We can still be ‘dating’ – it’s all still new enough for both of us that it shouldn’t cross any lines, hmm?” He was hopeful, that it wasn’t too much to ask for, that he wasn’t pushing too hard, that – that Nikki’s heart could hold out a little bit longer. A shame he’d dragged it into this and muddied all the waters – a greater shame that he couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad for taking a chance exactly like this one.

“How about you tell me about them, then. Your princesses – I’d rather hear it from you than Albite? Though most of his reviews are strangely, if violently glowing…”

Syrus listened in silence at first, resisting the urge to swipe at each new prickle of tears that formed on Nikkis face, lest the action dredged up his own weeping and they both became some amalgamation of inconsolable being. It was easier sometimes to simply look away, to cast his gaze aside and focus on the melt of black and white chocolate and soft crumb over his tongue, or a crunch of sprinkles over sugared assorted cookies between his teeth. To listen, and then give the entirety of himself over to that singular act.

Nikki deserved to be listened to didn't she, to be heard? What she didn’t deserve? Was to have her heart broken time and again, stepped on and ground into pieces without her permission. The way he realized it wouldn't have mattered if they ever had labels between them or not, any of them, if he’d become Matt’s ‘fiance’ or not? The hurt still would’ve come the second everything came to a screeching, grinding, abortive halt.

Everything that ended hurt—

Even giving hurt, giving everything, especially love? When one felt so strongly as the way he felt sometimes. The way it sounded like Nikki felt so often; though she hid it under soft smiles and pink tinged laughter. So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise, the way she expressed that same sentiment in his direction instead of Fulgurites, and yet it did – The shock that stole his face as his eyes riveted back onto hers, wide and suddenly tearful. All his attempts at stalling them failed suddenly beneath her warm hand on his shoulder, that singular anchor holding him down like gravity before he found himself enveloped in her entirely.

How he’d not noticed – not realized – and maybe it was in Nikkis nature, he wondered? To fall as fast and hard as a shooting star, to crash and burn at both ends with that fierce sort of love. To pull him down with her and express that she loved him the same as Fulgurite—

With time spent and closeness earned — that they had become equals at one point in her heart. How he’d not imagined she’d seen him that way—

Was he any better than her, any different? Wasn’t all his ice and aplomb little more than a facade. But he’d never expected— and so he squeezed her back as he sucked in a breath and choked on some unnameable thing. Swallowing Nikkis hopes for him like something harsh, remembering how Pendour had asked him, specifically, what kind of person he wanted to be; what was in it for him, why? For himself. He would choose to leave one world behind for another that promised no greener pastures or brighter, whiter fences.

Only freedom of self — a choice to make all his own —

“I’m coming even without him–” he choked on the words, he knew he shouldn’t have, but he did. He would go without them all. He’d meant it before, and if he needed to keep saying it? To repeat it? For his own self, for Nikki. To reassure them both and remind himself of the course he was setting himself upon.

“I think I’ll be looking forward to it – like getting a new haircut? Except it’ll be an entire new life…” he tried for levity with ill ease and off-centered sorrow, found he simply melted into her touch instead. That it was easier to crumple a little and be held while holding her back; trying his best not to get crumbs over her bewinged cape as he thought over what seemed like endless options of…

“Ah–are there no princes?” the question genuine, laced with curious surprise as he mulled over the myriad of what she’d lain before him. The way he knew he’d need time to think – or no time at all – because of all the princesses he’d heard anything about? He thought Ida and Cybele to be the most forthright and honest – from mixes of others stories – from Nikki’s own cheerful words. That Ganymede would’ve been the easiest option, the most stunning, she owed Nikki one…but when it came down to it? He wanted someone who would fight for him. Who had fought for others – he knew – and there would be no escaping the larger target at the end of it all. But to draw on the likes of – gods – the way he’d seen things go down with Lysithea? The stories of Gany’s capture…

He realized, with a soft chuckle, that just knowing there were options, any options at all, several in fact? Was good enough for him at the end of the day, and playing with the concept of choice was all hope and whimsy for if things went well. That he was humoring himself by asking at all, knowing that when the day came he would settle for whoever answered the call.

“Not that I’m averse to a princess–any princess, I don’t think I can technically be picky now, can I? But I’m rather surprised….Albite talks so much of his ‘Star-Sisters’ and I honestly thought he was kidding? But….” he huffed some small laugh even as he brushed her hand gently in reaching for another cookie of his own, watching the treats disappear and he’d hardly noticed before.

“He means astrologically I think? Within distance of where Praxidike should be—not biologically—and he’s never once called Cybele a ‘sister’ of any kind. That much I feel sure of.…” Happily exasperated, and a part of him almost wanted to defend the concept that Albite didn’t inherently hump the leg of every pretty skirt or silken short he saw. Murder or fight? Possibly. There would be no denying that, nor the Chaos worship, nor the – dare he say it if only in his mind – ‘evil’ if one could be evil by bumbling proximity to it.

“Or I think I do? He’s a weird and wild card….and…well…” he shrugged because she was right, in the grand scheme of things? For the future of what mattered. That particular topic certainly didn’t. Albites' opinions, or whether a majority of the princesses floated anywhere near Jupiter’s gravitational sphere.

It would ultimately be on him, and on Nikki, and if he could swing it? Possibly on Matthew. And if not? If not he would make the venture unalone, if not some margin of afraid, but he would make it nonetheless. With Nikki as the only person he knew if he had to. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, that he could keep more of himself than he bargained for, that he would meet enough people on that other side to constitute as filling the void of the self made family he was losing—

That he wouldn’t lose Nikki and lose his mind and have to rebuild it all from scratch — the way his mind abruptly did when she asked him if it’d be tonight, almost playfully. And before he could open his mouth to softly, ever so ******** softly, decline her for the night. The way throwing himself in front of a princess right now felt closer to throwing himself in front of a bus than onto a well padded safety mat at the bottom of a jump —

The way he swallowed, a click, a flit of blues over pinks and he could feel the heat of his own blush, the way his heart melted at the quiver in her voice.

“Ofcourse—” rushed in a single breath, he didn’t try to fix the surprise on his face this time, to hide the heat there. “Oh–Nikki—” testing the words, seeing if he’d burst into flames for saying them, if they’d break some unspoken rule. “My Nikki?” but they didn’t, and he didn’t and it was every sweet thing he wanted, every lie, every bit of softness he’d denied himself.

No became nonexistent within his own vocabulary, a useless throwaway word that he’d heard too much of as of late.

“Of course—”

As long as she liked, until all the hurting stopped.