A/N: Hi guys! I'm addicted to Maplestory again and I came up with this tale for my best friend, April. She's a wonderful person and mapler, and I'm dedicating this story to her. She recommended putting it up, so I hope you like it as much as she does; this is how I see the heroes.

Note: features the five heroes and Evan, with hints of different pairings (one of which is my shipping). Rated T just in case.

Disclaimer: I don't own Maplestory or the cover picture by AL-lamp on DA, but I do own my ideas, love for the characters, and writing.

Memory Lane

He found it intriguing, the way his hometown worked. Henesys, the hustle and bustle of Victoria Island; it was a never-ending chain of shops and people running in and out of the neighborhood.

At night, it was a birthday candle that melted into an icing of stars, and with the blow of 12 o' clock was out. The cheerful marketplace made room for the black market, and the rows of authentic mushrooms and toadstools let silent nightlife pass through.

What awed Evan even more was his memory of Henesys. It was a pretty picture freshly shot in his mind, and at the same time, it was a worn photograph of a town he couldn't recognize.

It took him several days to figure out that he was overlapping his memories with another. Someone who could've well been his past self, had he been as intuitive, as crafty…as real. To Evan, a farm boy was all he would ever amount to, despite bonding with a daring dragon he couldn't imagine his life without.

To Evan, the longing in his heart was nothing more than the twitch one felt after viewing a scrapbook, in which the pictures were not even his.

He decided, after a self-induced guilt trip, that it was time for his partner to listen to the memories Evan shared with this mysterious entity.

"Mir, wanna hear a story?"

A tender fire crackled under a glorious full moon, slivers of sparks fading into the navy blue heavens. Evan poked at the logs with a stick, chewing slowly on a roasted blue mushroom cap.

Mir was on his eleventh bowl of Mrs. Ming Ming's famous spore soup when he glanced at his partner. They had been camping out in the Henesys fields for a few days now, planning out their training and journey. Tonight, it was decided that they were in dire need of rest. This was a secret place, near the Golem's Temple; a quiet patch of grass, to listen to the melody of crickets and fireflies and knock off blocks of stress.

"That sounds nice. What kind of story?"

Evan tilted his head and finally swallowed. Mir found it rare to see the young man so reserved and melancholy. The usual sass was missing, not to mention pinches of confidence and perpetual disbelief. Was there something different about this night?

"Well, I wouldn't really call it a story. It's like a collection of memories, but there's a catch: they aren't mine." He paused, rubbing the left side of his jaw. Such a habit only emerged when Evan felt confused, lost, even.

"How can that be? Whose memories are they, then?"

"I think…" Evan shuffled his feet apprehensively. "I think they could be Freud's."

It took Evan almost everything he had not to laugh as Mir's soup shot out of his nostrils. He gagged, the soup bowl clattering to the ground and feeding the grass its contents. Once the Onyx dragon recollected himself, Evan let out the chuckle. His grin grew wider as Mir sent him a mock glare.

"Haha, very funny," Mir spat, ridding himself of excess snot-soup. The joking flare in his eyes disappeared, and he watched Evan's face shift into a sad pallor. "You have no connection to that hero. What makes you think they are his?"

Evan's baby blue eyes twinkled at this. "Oh, but I am connected to him. I'm his successor," he whispered, clutching his forearm. He could feel his muscles ripple and tense under the fabric of his cloak. "It's almost like I know him…I want to know him, and who he spent his days with."

It took a moment for Mir to register his partner's need for reassurance, and he sighed. "Let's hear it."

"What?"

"Weren't you going to tell me a story?"

Evan let his mouth hang until a smile gradually took over. "Thanks Mir, I needed that."

"Don't mention it," Mir puffed out of his nose.

The fire crooned as a time long gone came back to life.

1—

"This is your fault."

"I'm not the one who drags his comrades out into the cold to find a measly flower."

"Q-quit it guys. We're almost there."

"I assumed, with that cold demeanor of yours, a little snow couldn't hurt."

"And I assumed, with all that misplaced wit, you still had some common sense. Have you ever even heard of a flower shop, thief?"

"Guys—"

"I dare you to say that again, guardian angel."

"Guys, please—"

"Watch your mouth, birdbrain!"

"Oh, you did not just go there! I'll have you know, these feathers are the real deal!"

"Yeah? Well you're a real pain in the—"

"GUYS!" Freud yelled, having reached his limit. "Will you stop that? We're almost at the entrance of the Snow Witch's cave, for Minerva's sake! I can't believe you still have the nerve to fight in this weather!"

He watched as the boys clamped their mouths shut, sending each other a momentary glare before Luminous took up the lead again. The passive youth had slowed down just to quarrel with Phantom, who, believe it or not, had enjoyed the battle. People would have seen them as two children bickering over injustice, but only Freud saw them in a different light. There was a fondness between the two that no El Nath wind could chill, and Freud envied them, in a way. No matter how colossal their problem, they were inseparable. It was a comfort, knowing Freud was the only person who saw this side of them.

The snow crunched beneath his boots, and he pulled his red cloak closer to his body. He felt a feathery touch upon his shoulder, and turned his head to meet Phantom's smile.

"Remind me never to piss you off, good sir," he breathed, violet eyes radiating with mirth. "You've got a powerful set of lungs."

"When I'm with you guys, I do," Freud replied. He couldn't hide how contagious Phantom's laugh was. "Are we all set to camp inside the cave?"

"Tired already?"

Freud shook his head and watched his breath become winter wisps. "Just kind of cold. Being away from Afrien this long…it's a first for me."

"We're here." The group halted at Luminous's call.

The cavern didn't cover a large scale of the cliff, but it wasn't the smallest hole in the wall. Glowing ice crystals acted as embroidery around the entrance, flickering on and off. Instead of sight-seeing, the trio calmly entered.

Phantom whistled at the drop in temperature. "Freud, will you be all right in here?"

Over chattering teeth, Freud made a sound of approval. He was chilled to the bone, but he wasn't up to disappointing his friends, who seemed to have no trouble beating the cold. Deeper into the cave, they discovered a perfect camping site, and Freud found himself building the fire. He could feel his fingers again when it was blazing and welcomed the cool rock floor for a seat.

Luminous took charge of the meal, and Freud could only stare in amazement as Phantom and the light mage engaged in a broth-eating contest.

Hours must've passed by before they stopped at a draw. Luminous was out like a light, something Freud considered ironically endearing. In his sleep, the perpetual frown that dawned Luminous's eyebrows was gone, replaced by a dusting of shadow beneath his eyelashes and a faint smirk.

Phantom's voice broke Freud out of his pleasant reverie, "doesn't he look like a kid?" The blonde man pulled off his brown cloak and tucked it around Luminous. "His face doesn't match his tongue. With such an expression, it's a wonder why we fight."

Freud let his eyes wander across Phantom, and drank in a beautiful sight. Phantom, with an overconfident, playful appearance, was capable of such a peaceful look. A man who had lost a dream, who had lost the person he deemed as his world, looked almost whole again.

Freud closed his eyes and let his shoulders relax. He envisioned the house Aran had provided as their second home, and then the living room, where all the heroes gathered on the couch. He leaned against the doorway with a smile on his face. It wasn't just Phantom's laugh that was contagious. His friends were the one group of people Freud didn't mind dying for, and he wished with all his being that time was his ally, that it would stop for him. In that house, Freud didn't see heroes, but a bunch of children and the dreams hidden behind their eyes.

His lashes gradually flew up, and his vision disappeared. Phantom met his gaze and tilted his head.

"Freud, have you ever wondered why we're heroes, why we were chosen?"

The question threw Freud off for a moment. His months of pondering fate, and he had nothing to say. Of course, they all had similar goals. They all wanted the Black Mage to fall, but there was more to it than that. He focused on the way the firelight illuminated Phantom's irises and Luminous's swept bangs.

"Because we have the most to lose," he finally answered. "Perhaps, we have something the Black Mage doesn't care to forfeit."

"What would that be?"

"Memories."

Phantom's guffaw filled the air, and he shifted from his position next to Luminous. "If I lose the memories of our friends, I would certainly be nothing," he said, absentmindedly brushing a lock of Luminous's hair back. "You know, the only reason why I poke fun at him is to keep him active. I know he needs something to fall back on."

"You're always playing the bad guy," Freud commented.

"It makes more sense if I do."

"No," Freud whispered, releasing a breath he had been holding in. Powder blue eyes fell on Luminous again. "But I agree with you. Light cannot be born without dark. I'm just afraid for him. There is a darkness within his heart none of us can reach."

"For that reason, I fight with him," Phantom replied confidently. "I will never leave any of you behind."

"I am for you, good sir."

Phantom peered up, a baffled grin on his lips. "Did you steal that from me?"

Freud laughed at this, "Only from the best." He held his hand out, and Phantom took it. "Does Luminous know why we're here?"

The master thief shook his light locks. "I've never told him about Aria."

"Why?"

"Knowing him, he would stop fighting with me," Phantom said, guiding Freud's hand over to Luminous. The two of them held onto the sleeping boy's linked fingers. "Can you imagine that?"

"Routine would be broken," Freud admitted, enjoying the warmth. Blue met violet in understanding. "A flower for your thoughts, and for the girl we will both remember."

"And I am for you, good sir, and the smiles we share."

That night, sleep was not a dreamless lapse, but home.

2—

"What am I doing?"

Freud rubbed the left side of his jaw anxiously, ducking behind the low marble wall. He glanced at his fallen encyclopedia, sitting atop a bush, and groaned inwardly. Pursing his lips, and, forgetting his previous flip-and-hide stunt, he took a peek over the stone.

The temple the heroes had stopped to rest at contained a long hallway, and within this particular corridor stood Luminous and Mercedes. They were both fairly tall, Luminous towering half a head above the Elf. Freud leaned forward to catch onto their conversation.

"…see you…"

"I mean…good…"

He sighed, lifting his hand to his ear. An incantation later, and he could properly hear them. Freud didn't quite understand why he was eavesdropping. An impulse had taken control for a moment, and now he couldn't possibly quit.

He watched their expressions the most, how there was a longing glint in Luminous's gaze, the light blush upon his cheeks, and the excitement within Mercedes. It was as if the moment their voices met, an ambience had been created. Where she looked, he looked, and when he spoke, she listened and laughed. Freud compared the sight of them to a waltz, where only their eyes danced and words exchanged became the orchestra.

And then, like that, the promenade fell into a blue step.

"Sometimes, I wish you'd treat me the same way you treat Phantom. I am not porcelain," Mercedes said, squeezing the books in her arms to her chest.

"I couldn't possibly…"

"No, it's fine, I'm just too sentimental for my own good," she smoothed back her hair, and Freud saw the opposite party's hand twitch. How he must've wanted to do that. "I'll see you later, Luminous."

She walked past him, towards the temple library, and there it happened. The hand Luminous had willed to stay down lifted and ran through her fleeting hair without her notice. Freud felt an aching in his chest for both of them. Luminous stood alone, clenching and unclenching the same hand quietly. He held it up to his cheek, in a silent remembrance. Suddenly, he called, "Freud, you can come out now."

Gulp. Freud swallowed before fully appearing above the wall. He rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully, and threw on a sheepish smile. "Ehe, you got me." Taking his time, he walked around the wall and into the corridor to Luminous.

"Did you hear everything?" the guardian asked, letting his hand drop.

"I only paid attention to the end," Freud answered. He saw a flicker in the mage's eyes, and had to ask, "Why didn't you go after her?"

Luminous let his shoulders slump. He looked defeated and more tired than usual. "We do not see the same dreams."

"You don't know that—"

"Freud." The desperation in his friend's voice made Freud look up. "You forget, even light can destroy."

Luminous turned to leave, and in doing so, Freud murmured, just loud enough, "but you're not light, because light does not dream and love."

The final word came out more as a choked sound, and Freud realized how cold he felt. Perhaps he had been away from Afrien for too long again, but it was a chill from within. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he brought his gloved hand up to his mouth.

Oh, how he wished time was on his side.

3—

"So this is your getaway."

Freud pulled himself up the ladder, his crimson coat protecting him from the late night breeze. The adobe tiles of the roof were surprisingly warm under his fingers.

Aran slowly turned to stare at him, shooting one of her signature crooked smiles. "And here I thought you were Phantom, up to no good again."

He laughed and made his way over to her, careful of his balance. "Well, he's got his valuable points too."

"That's right," Aran breathed. Suddenly, she beckoned Freud to her side, light blue eyes glowing, "Hurry, I want to show you something, as a reward for finding me."

Freud sat down, a little closer than usual to Aran. He always found it exhilarating the way she drew people in and out; a young woman who cherished eye contact and actions more than words. "Where's Maha?"

"With my wolf. Are you cold?"

Freud brought his knees up and under his chin, locking them between his arms. "Not as cold as usual. So what were you going to show me?"

"This." She took him by the hand, and used his index finger to trace an unfamiliar constellation.

"I don't see it."

"Look closer."

Freud squinted, unsure of what it was he was looking at. "I'm not very good at this, I'm afraid—wait."

The sight made his heart leap, and he found himself in a stupor. "Is that…a dragon?"

"In Rien, dragons are revered creatures, like wolves," Aran replied, setting Freud's hand down and placing hers over it. She lightly tossed her head onto his shoulder, and he mimicked her by placing his head on hers. Snow white strands tickled his cheek. "In our band of heroes, you are the dragon."

"Afrien is our dragon, not me—"

"Shh," she interrupted subtly and met his eyes. She flipped his hand over, and began tracing the lines across his palm, just as she had done with the constellation. "You are what holds this group together, and I don't think anyone is as warm as you."

"I hope you mean that metaphorically," Freud said, feeling his chest rumble. "You guys are my home."

"And you are ours," another crooked smile. She let her head slip off his shoulder and took up a cup beside her. "Care for some ice?"

As he watched her dump a piece into her mouth, he gingerly accepted the container. "I'd love one."

The dragon in the sky seemed to wink at him.

—

Plip…plip…

Evan touched his face and felt the tears roll over his nails. They disappeared into the dirt, just as the fire faded into the sky. He bit back a sob, just as Mir crawled over to his log.

"Oh Evan," the Onyx dragon cooed, placing a wing over his partner's back.

"Freud was wrong," the boy mumbled. His voice was cracked and foreign. "They didn't have the most to lose; he did."

He curled up against Mir and openly cried. For an instant, Evan wanted nothing to do with Freud. He wanted to be a regular farm boy again, with no recollection of a Black Mage, dragons, or friends he would never know. With so much raw emotion in the air, Mir's eyes began to water. Evan continued, "He's gone Mir! All his dreams, all the things he loved, the heroes…who will remember him?"

"We will," Mir rocked Evan against his dark scales. "They're not gone yet. Memories are more powerful than you think."

Mir wondered if his words had managed to reach his partner, but that didn't matter as much. This night was different.

This was the night a boy and his dragon went down memory lane.

So there you have it! I hope you guys enjoyed, and I'd appreciate it if I got some reviews. I always need some encouragement and constructive criticism. I made an epilogue to this story, but I'm not quite sure I should put it up. If possible, tell me what you think! Author out.