These Yesterdays
Disclaimer: I do not own Galactik Football and I make no money from this fanfiction.
Warning for time skips (back and forth) and change of tense/person.
If you could go back, what would you change?
Artegor looked up at the bluest sky he had ever seen, not a single cloud in sight, the brightness of the sunlight making him squint a little. Summer wasn't usually his season; he usually preferred to hide away during this sort of weather.
There was nothing about being with Aarch that wasn't unusual.
Fingers laced together, casually, loosely, without needing justifying or explaining. There was no-one to be afraid of, no-one except nosy little Norata or Aarch's overbearing father, there are no paparazzi here. There was no-one there to watch as they kissed, railings digging into Artegor's back, nobody ever came to the old warehouse; no-one except the two of them.
The future stretched ahead of them, a future that Artegor hadn't even dared to hope for before, a future so inviting.
That was the moment you probably should have ended- it would have been perfect.
But how could you stop when there was so much to play for?
If you could go back, what would you change?
Aarch wakes up in a sweat, looking pale and shell shocked; his breath coming in shallow staccato gasps, swallowing stale air in a vain attempt to become real again. His body is motionless, except for the slight twitching of his hand, but they both know that the paralysis will wear off in a matter of seconds.
He's still there in his head though; he's still in that place of ringing silence and pale shadows, that place which even Artegor feels slight apprehension towards.
He doesn't want to be here anymore and this is the moment you both realise it (although you don't admit it yet).
(You'll never admit it yet, not quite.)
If you could go back, what would you change?
He will come back. He will come back. He will come back.
And you will be waiting.
He woke up. He'd allowed himself to fall asleep for so long and now he was finally awake.
The first thing he saw was Aarch's smile, the first smile he'd been able to return since…well, he couldn't actually remember.
You say you're awake but still the only thing you can see is his face.
If you could go back, what would you change?
He calls him, hits the speed dial (number 1 of course) before he can stop himself. He's standing on the empty pitch, on the exact spot where it had happened, he always ends up coming back here (there's no marker or stain but he still knows that it's tainted).
He gets no response, just the droning of dial tone ringing in his ears.
If you could go back, what would you change?
His first experience with the Smog was exhilarating- it felt strangely natural, the Breath had never quite felt like it belonged to him- it was the Flux of his Planet, his supposed home but it wasn't his.
The Smog was his; it burned strongly in his veins, like it had always been there.
To use the Smog is to be alone, of course it came naturally to you, you were always meant to be alone.
You know that now, but would you change it if you could?
He feels the pull too but it doesn't hurt him like it does Aarch- that's why they don't talk about it- that's okay, they don't talk that much anyways. The feeling had started creeping over him; he hadn't even noticed at first, he'd only slowly come to the realisation of what was happening and by then it was far too late.
The more he used the Smog, the more he felt it, like something crawling inside of him- something that he had invited upon himself.
Death.
Everything about that place, the place they go for those brief moments, reminds him of death.
He doesn't care. It doesn't matter where he goes as long as it's with Aarch.
So he left but like a ghost he never really went, he rested upon you like a cloak of mist you never could shake of.
You bonded yourself to him, there were always going to be consequences of that.
But you wouldn't know who to be without him, for all your posturing, you'd never change what you had with him.
He pushes Aarch away. Aarch pursues him; says he's here to help cure the rot in Artegor's soul (it's his mess to fix after all). He allows himself to fall and waits for that breathless second of uncertainty
-until Aarch catches him.
They stop for a while, catch their breath, hoping against hope that they won't have to start again.
Aarch pushes him away and makes a run for it.
You've lived this again and again; aren't you bored of this? You didn't have even have to go back to change it, you chose to keep making the same mistakes, you chose to believe that he could save you.
You chose to walk into his traps again and again.
Aarch smiled, flashing teeth as white as freshly fallen Akillian Snow, and Artegor wondered why he hadn't been offered more advertising contracts.
"This is going to be great for our careers," he said, all too confidently, squeezing Artegor's arm just a little too tightly for it to be a gesture of ease.
'This is going to be great for us' was the part he had implied but chosen to leave unsaid.
It might have been hindsight but Artegor reckoned that he had always know that he was acting the part (he'd believed him anyways, Aarch was nothing if not convincing, and Artegor needed to believe)- he just was never sure if Aarch knew.
This is the end for you, this is your happy ending- he's holding your hand, you know?
So let go and let that place take you forever.
The End.
Author's note: I started this months ago but never got around to finishing (my goal for the summer is to finish all the fics hanging around in my WIPs folder)- I'm not sure how to feel about the fic now that's I've finished it, it was kind of an experimental one for me in terms of style, although me writing morbid Aarch/Artegor is nothing new. So yeah, please leave me a review, I'd love to hear what you think.