Chapter 6

Chasing Delusions

Never in his life had he been frightened. Everyone would easily believe that.

Never in his life had he doubted himself. Everyone would also have easily believed that.

Never in his life had he been heartbroken. Everyone would have obviously believed that, because that used to be true.

Not anymore.

Never in his life had he felt true fear, never had he wavered on his course, never had he questioned his purpose, never had he retreated, never had he lost focus, and never of course had he been heartbroken, because it was ridiculous to think that Cor the Immortal could fall in love to begin with. The world around him seemed to really buy into that stupid legend, and had truly begun seeing Cor as an Immortal.

He wasn't; Cor was just a man.

A very mortal man with very mortal emotions and thoughts and sentiments, however well he was able to hide them and control them.

Cor had walked his path since he was ten, and had never once stumbled.

Stumbled now, so hard that he had fallen on his face.

And the worst part of it all, really, was that Cor had no one to actually blame, for every single one of the problems he suddenly faced were all of his own making. Cor had gotten ahead of himself, had seen what he wanted to see, and had built up a fantasy in his head that didn't hold up in the real world.

Cor hadn't meant to fall in love, no, but had accepted it, because it had felt so natural.

Just one day, out of nowhere, seeing Ignis differently and feeling that pull—it had been so striking, so out of the blue, so powerful, that surely it had been meant to be. It had been planned, ordained, it had to have been, because Cor couldn't justify it any other way. Couldn't explain it at all, and therefore assumed it was the natural path.

Cor's manner of thinking lacked complexity, because Cor was rather simple as a man.

It seemed simple to him; he had never felt that way for anyone, so it must have been meant to be. That was all. Cut and dry.

He was wrong.

Cor had been so fervent in his belief that he and Ignis were destined that he had accepted it as fact, and just counted down the days until it was acceptable to the rest of the world for him to at last extend his hand. Didn't even think to stop and try to make Ignis fall in love with him in turn, because he foolishly presumed that Ignis felt the same way he did.

After all, the gods wouldn't have made that feeling one-sided if they were supposed to be together.

Was it so wrong of him? Ignis would look quickly away whenever Cor glanced over, as if startled that he had been caught staring. Ignis watched him always, as he watched Ignis. Cor didn't think it really needed to be said aloud, when he felt that magnetic pull and could see little else.

Blinded.

Cor patiently waited until Ignis was seventeen, biding time and planning a hundred different scenarios in which he put his heart on his sleeve before Ignis. Dreamt every night of waking up next to someone. Of the first date he would go on, of how he would rearrange his home to accommodate someone else.

He had even sat down in his office at midnight and penned a letter to Regis, requesting Ignis' hand formally. He sealed it up in an envelope, put it in his dresser at home, and waited until he could finally send it.

Cor had planned his entire future around Ignis being at his side, without once ever actually thinking to inform Ignis of that.

Cor had even, ridiculously, sized up Ignis' finger from sight alone for a ring.

And then, in the midst of Cor's dreamland, there had been a very unwelcome and very alarming intrusion :

Titus.

Came absolutely out of nowhere, it seemed, but maybe Cor was just so mesmerized that he hadn't seen Titus creeping steadily up. Cor was so single-mindedly focused on Ignis that it never really occurred to him that someone else might have noticed Ignis there, and that Ignis would have noticed them in turn. It had never occurred to him, of course, because of his ardent and ridiculous belief in some higher calling.

Titus.

Couldn't believe it, couldn't, was so certain there was some mistake, because it didn't make sense at all, couldn't be true. Even as he watched it with his own eyes, saw it plainly, he couldn't bring himself to believe it.

Not right—

Ignis was supposed to be for him, he had been so sure.

The shock sent Cor into a complete and utter daze. Could honestly say he had never been knocked so entirely senseless.

It would have been devastating regardless of who had stolen Ignis' attention away, yes, but somehow that pain was amplified a hundredfold by it being Cor's only real friend that had done it.

Titus was the one man Cor had ever really called a true 'friend'. Different than the rest. Clarus and Regis were friends, of course they were, but something about Titus was distinctive. Titus and Cor understood each other on different levels, on a different plane, and Cor could tell Titus things he would never have been able to express to Regis or Clarus, because he and Titus were so similar.

Brothers.

Titus was the only one that Cor had been able to say to, one lonely night, 'I don't want to be Immortal anymore.'

Could never have said that to anyone else, because everyone else held Cor to those ridiculous standards and would have been shocked to hear such words from his lips. Not Titus. Titus had gently clapped Cor's shoulder, gave him a firm shake, and then uttered, so quietly, 'I know.'

Titus, in turn, confided in Cor, and would never have said to anyone else one night, with a slight tremble in his soft voice as he blinked too quickly, 'Cor—I'm homesick.'

It had been Cor's turn that night to clap Titus' back, leave his hand there, and utter, 'I know.'

They understood each other like no one else could. Two men held to ridiculous expectations, who weren't expected to feel, who weren't expected to show any sort of weakness or emotion, always alone and wrapped up in work.

They were friends; this betrayal was unfathomable.

Betrayal...

Maybe it was only a betrayal in Cor's mind, because of course Cor had never made his feelings known to Titus, though Titus surely must have noticed. Cor had never made a statement, made a claim, made a move, and it was a free country, wasn't it, and there was technically no bound that had been crossed. Cor had been too stupid to realize that his sentiments may not have been reciprocated, and Titus hadn't seemed to exactly go out of his way.

Hurt like hell all the same.

Cor hadn't extended his hand immediately to Ignis upon Ignis' seventeenth birthday, because Cor had decided it would be good form to not look desperate. The gala had been in Cor's mind, had seemed like the right place and the right time. Ignis had shined up so well for the gala that Cor had foolishly assumed Ignis had intuitively known of his plan. They were meant to be, after all; Ignis may have known more than Cor did, always on Regis' ear as he was.

It was Cor's intent to creep up on Ignis in a quiet corner somewhere and keep him there with conversation and then whisk him off home afterwards for a late night date in Cor's living room.

Had everything at home ready to go.

He had cleaned his house, stocked his kitchen, made the bed, put a blanket atop the couch, bought a bottle of wine and new cologne. Everything set. Everything planned.

And then a wrench.

Before Cor had gathered up enough nerve to pounce on Ignis and drag him away from his friends, he was suddenly looking up to see Titus of all people waltzing Ignis across the floor. Stunned and breathless, Cor had stared in utter shock. Couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and was certain that there had been some mistake.

Titus didn't dance; the hell was he doing?

Some kinda joke, for sure. Titus had been playing around, that was all, trying to give Cor a kick in the ass. Titus had noticed Cor's staring, naturally, and was trying to force Cor to act by being so outrageously audacious.

...right?

Had to be; couldn't accept any other explanation, but Cor had turned his back all the same because seeing Ignis in someone else's arms was like a dagger to the chest. Everyone was gawking, whispering, because no one had ever seen Titus Drautos take to the floor, and Cor had waited until the music stopped before he turned back around.

Oh, that hurt—

They had lingered there, Titus and Ignis, Titus' huge hand still on Ignis' waist and Ignis' hand loftily resting atop Titus' shoulder. At their sides, the fingers of their clasped hands were intertwined, locked in place, and they were standing so close together that their chests nearly touched. Just stood there and stared at each other, as if in a trance, and Cor couldn't stand it.

Had he missed something?

This couldn't be right, something was wrong, there had just been some kind of misunderstanding.

Monica had crept up beside Cor then, smiling away, and had leaned in to Cor's side to whisper, so casually, "It's about time, huh, sir? Long as they've been flirting! I'm happy to see the Captain finally act. They look quite nice together, don't you agree?"

No—

Cor whipped his head to stare over at Monica, and prayed that she couldn't see his heart breaking there before her. 'Long as they've been flirting'? Had he truly been so blind? Had he just missed something so massive? He stared at her, unable to form words, but she didn't notice because she was still smiling away at the man Cor had called 'friend'.

Cor slunk away in shame, and retired for the night. Retreated like a coward, as Titus and Ignis stared each other down.

Walking home alone, when everything had been set up...

Cor sat down on the couch, looked around, heard utter silence, no one there with him, hung his head, and felt like the city's biggest fool.

Barely felt like getting up the next day, and gave bare minimum effort. Every single thing he had planned had suddenly fallen into ruin, and Cor dragged his feet into council because he couldn't stand the thought of seeing Titus, and that was something he had never imagined would cross his mind.

His friend.

When Titus' eyes had fallen upon him, Cor turned his head. Couldn't even look at him.

He zoned out, didn't hear a single word, and stalked out as quickly as he could lest Titus attempt to speak to him. Found himself lingering in the hall, however, where several councilmen had gathered and were chatting. Cor was never in the midst of gossip, never cared and was always very behind, but he found himself slinking up, eavesdropping on them all the same, because he was hoping that there had been a misunderstanding.

Just wanted there to be some awful mistake.

"—told you so!"

"No, no, no, doesn't work like that! That doesn't count! Anyone can ask anyone for a dance at the gala; that doesn't count as Drautos pouncing. Bet's still on!"

A groan, and then a mutter, "Dammit— I was sure it was gonna happen."

"You're just upset 'cause you know you're gonna lose! Told ya all along; Scientia will be the one pouncing, just you wait. It's coming. Especially now. I swear for a minute there he wasn't going to let Drautos go."

A rush of dread. Ice down his back. A pang in his chest.

...was he the only one that hadn't known?

They noticed Cor standing there, and waved a hand at him, hissing, "Marshal! Want in on our bet? Three to one that Scientia jumps Drautos first. Whaddya say?"

Cor must have looked aghast then, because he felt the entire world crumble down around him. Everything he had planned, everything he had waited for, everything he had built up in his head, everything all gone, then, with one extension of Titus' hand.

That future he had envisioned dissolved into ashes.

How had he missed it? How long had this cat and mouse game between Ignis and Titus been going on, for the council not only to have noticed but to be actively engaged in it? For Monica, who avoided gossip as much as Cor, to have been gleefully waiting? To have bets in place, and not only bets but a majority in the favor of Ignis acting first—

Ignis had never noticed Cor there, and Cor knew why; his eyes had been drawn somewhere else.

Ignis hadn't watched Cor because he was in love with Cor. Ignis had merely been watching his instructor, an Immortal, someone he admired perhaps and aspired to be, as all men watched idols. Ignis saw him every day, but hadn't ever seen him there before him.

Ignis had seen Titus instead.

Cor's fervent belief that Ignis had been meant for him had been only in his head, and Cor was finally forced to accept that then, as those councilmen stared at him.

He looked them over, brow low and lips pursed, and then turned on his heel to stalk away. Scoffs behind him. Because Cor, of course, was Immortal; dry, bland, boring, emotionless, not up for any fun at all. A mindless little marionette, swaying only at the word of the King.

Sure.

Hell, they were probably right.

Felt as if he were lost in some fog then, walking around in a plane of shadows that he didn't recognize. He went home that night, and drank the bottle of wine alone as he wondered what Titus and Ignis were doing at that very moment. He went to his dresser, pulled out the letter he had penned to Regis, held it in his hands, and then promptly tossed it into the fireplace. It faded into ashes as much as Cor's fantasy world had.

Cor the Immortal, they called him, and he remembered then that he was expected to be just that. Ignis could never have fallen in love with him, because Ignis was human and wanted a human in turn.

Days dragged, and Cor lifted up his head sometimes in those moments Ignis came to sit in on council. Just glances here and there, quick and discreet. Didn't need to be discreet; Ignis was never looking at him.

Had eyes only for Titus.

Now that Cor knew, it seemed so obvious. He had been so blinded by Ignis before that he hadn't been able to clearly observe the situation, and now that he knew, he could so plainly see it. It was impossible to miss, the way Titus and Ignis danced around each other.

Unbelievable.

When they passed each other in the hall, Titus and Ignis would lock eyes, their paces seemed to slow, they seemed to hold their breath, and it was as if the entire world around them disappeared, the way they looked at each other. When they left each other behind, both of them would cast a glance over their shoulder.

After council, Ignis would saunter up to Titus, incline his head, and utter, "A pleasure, Captain."

Titus would puff out as Ignis' eyes ran over him, expanding and bristling, and Titus would murmur in turn, "The pleasure is all mine."

The way they stared at each other—how could he have ever missed it, even with such a distraction? It was so obvious.

And indeed he was the only one that had missed it, because every time Ignis threw out his hip and Titus' eyes raked his legs, Regis would smirk and quirk a brow, nudging Clarus in the side. Every time Titus' chest puffed and his biceps flexed and Ignis' eyes trailed over his shoulders and arms as he bit his lip, Clarus would stand up on his toes, brow high and barely smiling. Every time Ignis and Titus leaned in to the other to speak, the entire council fell still and quiet, watching and waiting, and some of them subconsciously had their hands in their pocket above their wallets, ready to either pay up or be paid.

Everyone knew.

Except Cor.

And nobody had a single goddamn problem with it, no one, no one ever stopped and said, 'Is this right?' No one questioned it, no one seemed to care about the age difference, the positions, the implications, the morality, the concerns. No one cared, and that hurt too because the heavy judgment of the world was what had stopped Cor from acting immediately, was why he had waited, why had he hesitated. But no one cared. Regis, who claimed Ignis as a second son, just smiled, and Clarus, who treated Ignis as he treated Iris, just leered away happily.

Titus was older yet than Cor, if only by a year, and no one had a problem with it.

Cor had made a massive blunder by doubting himself.

Titus had made it very clear throughout their lives that he never wanted a relationship. Too busy, he said, too much trouble, too many complications. Titus and Cor used to sit in bars in their youth and watch people coming and going, would help the other snag the attention of a one-night-stand, and always Titus would say to Cor, 'Be careful not to fall in love. It will ruin a man.'

Titus had been right.

Cor was ruined.

Not the only one, perhaps, because eternal bachelor Drautos was the talk of the city these days. Titus, who seemed to have broken his own rule. It was easy enough to stand there and think to himself, 'This isn't serious'. A fling, just a little game, because Titus liked to engage in those from time to time.

But Cor had never seen Titus look over his shoulder like that.

Had never seen Titus smile for just a moment after someone was gone.

Titus could say it was a game, and maybe even to himself he thought it was, but Cor and Titus were all but twins and Cor saw far too much of himself there in Titus when Titus gazed at Ignis.

Too much, and not enough.

Cor stared at himself in the mirror, shoulders slumped and chin low, and tried to figure out what, precisely, it was that had drawn Ignis' eye. What Titus had that Cor didn't. What about Titus had snared Ignis and left him so blind to Cor.

Titus and Cor were so similar, and yet Cor realized then that they were actually quite different.

Titus and Cor were the same height, more or less. Cor stood perhaps a centimeter or two taller, but Titus was broader by a bit. Titus was heavier than Cor, bulkier, more muscular, because Titus relied on brute strength as much as Cor relied on speed. Cor was lighter on his feet, quicker, more graceful perhaps one could say, whereas Titus was less elegant with a much tougher stride. Cor placed one foot in front of the other with purpose in mind, always kept his gait even, and Titus just stomped about rather brashly and would have knocked over anyone in his way.

Ignis, perhaps, found Titus' clomping charming, as much as Ignis had always snorted at Noctis' gracelessness.

Titus' face was a tad more square than Cor's, his eyes wider and a bit bigger. Everything about Cor was sharper, be it his nose or cheeks or forehead, and Cor's eyes were sharper, too. Titus' brow was softer than Cor's, higher, less creased. Titus didn't have Cor's line of tension in his brow nor forehead. Titus' eyes were as pale as Cor's but more grey than blue. Less intense than Cor's, because the shape of Titus' face and the height of his brow made his gaze just a bit less unnerving. One could meet Titus' eyes and not feel that they were a second away from having a weapon swung at them.

Ignis never could meet Cor's gaze for long, and yet stared so happily into Titus' eyes, because Titus' eyes were piercing but much less so than Cor's. Cor didn't mean to stare everyone down; it was habitual, instilled in him.

Titus was so effortlessly put together while being at the same time so messy. Cor had started ironing his clothes and being neater, trying so hard to draw Ignis' eye, while Titus wore the same uniform every day with no deviation and didn't bother combing his hair. The same heavy stubble day after day. Out of uniform, Cor knew Titus' style, or rather lack thereof; t-shirts, sweatpants, slacks, a few sweaters here and there, an old jacket that was falling apart. Maybe Titus owned one button-down, and rarely used it. Owned a suit now, granted, because Cor had seen it in person and wouldn't have believed it otherwise. Titus threw on whatever was nearby, and Cor had been that way once, too, but Ignis was neat and prepared so Cor had tried to be as well.

Didn't work.

Ignis had always tried to comb down Noctis' hair as Noctis bolted for school, and Cor imagined that Ignis also chased after Titus sometimes and tried to smooth down Titus' messy hair, smiling away.

Titus' hair was several shades lighter than Cor's, his skin was a bit lighter, his hands were bigger, covered head to toe in so many scars. Titus looked more frightening than Cor, perhaps, at very first glance, until Titus opened his mouth. Titus' voice was so far from what anyone might have expected, and took people off guard. Titus' voice was soft, breathy, gentle, and Cor was certain that if Titus had tried to scream someone into filth he just wouldn't have been able to, for his voice couldn't get that loud nor that harsh. Cor's voice was deep, even, hardly wavered, very bored and monotone, as cold and hard as his face, and even when he was happy Cor couldn't really express that well through his voice. Titus used monotone for work, too, of course, but it wasn't perpetual, and even then it wasn't so bored. Titus' voice was soothing, and Cor had always found that so strange, but so entrancing. Who wouldn't have found it fascinating, such a huge, terrifying man that had a voice that sounded more suited to a therapist?

Once, it had been Cor that had loved sitting beside Titus and listening to his calming voice babbling away, and so Cor could understand in that end why Ignis would have felt the same. Cor had always wished that he possessed Titus' voice; one of the very few things Cor would have so gladly changed about himself.

Brothers, and yet not.

Titus and Cor were similar in nearly every way, but all that mattered, at the base, was that Titus allowed himself to express emotion, Titus could speak up and make conversation, Titus could banter, Titus could soften his eyes and face and become approachable. Titus could take the monotone out of his voice, could lower his stance, could become, with little effort, far less threatening. On paper, Titus was more frightening than Cor, more intimidating, but when they were put side by side it was easy to see that that wasn't the case, because anyone would have gone to speak to Titus before they would have dared try Cor.

Titus wasn't Immortal, and never pretended to be.

However hard Cor tried, he just couldn't seem to drop his wall entirely, even when he was content and amicable with those around him. Hell, all these years and he still couldn't make his voice sound less bored when he talked to Monica, and he loved talking to Monica.

Did she even know that?

How could she? Cor always sounded the same. Cor always looked the same. Cor always acted the same. Regardless of the season or the mood or the situation, Cor's posture and face and voice and gaze never changed.

Titus smirked and sometimes laughed when Ignis ducked in and whispered to him, resting one shoulder against the wall casually and leaning in with lidded eyes. Ignis wasn't afraid of Titus, because Titus had been able to shed his defenses and show Ignis the man beneath.

A lesson Cor had never learned.

Cor didn't want to see them together, and had no choice, for they all worked together and Ignis was one of the higher ranking members of the Crownsguard. Couldn't escape, wherever he went, and so Cor could only drop his eyes every time he saw them together and walk on, trying hard to pretend that he wasn't actively dying inside.

As if anyone would know how he felt—that had been the problem all along.

Six days after the gala, Cor rounded the corner, and came across a horrible sight.

Titus and Ignis at the end of the quiet, empty hall, murmuring quietly to each other. They hadn't noticed Cor behind them, and he immediately took a step back, hiding himself around the corner and staying out of sight. Didn't know why he lingered then, instead of retreating. He peered out, in spite of the twist of his stomach, because perhaps at some level he was still in denial.

They were side by side, heads leaning in and whispering, and it hurt more than anything, to see the top of Ignis' head bumping into Titus' jaw, to see Ignis' shoulder tucking into Titus' breast, to see Titus' hand resting so barely atop the small of Ignis' back.

Couldn't stand it, and couldn't look away.

It would appear that, at long last, one of them had pounced. Who, however, was a mystery, and Cor wasn't looking forward to knowing, because if the council had been right and it had been Ignis, it would have just been twisting that dagger.

Titus' thumb ran up and down Ignis' back as they whispered, and Ignis restlessly shifted his weight, cattily reaching out from time to time and running a finger across the line of Titus' belt.

A private moment that Cor shouldn't have been spying on.

Titus suddenly leaned down, pressed his lips into Ignis' ear, still whispering away, and Ignis smiled and squirmed, taking quick hold of Titus' belt in one hand. Had never seen Ignis smile quite like that, teeth showing and eyes crinkled, because Ignis always attempted to remain composed in public. The most beautiful thing Cor had ever seen, and also the most horrible, because it wasn't Cor that had made Ignis smile like that.

They way Ignis smiled at Titus was the way Cor had dreamt every night of being smiled at.

Would never be.

Titus leaned over and kissed Ignis' cheek then, and suddenly they had parted ways and carried on as if nothing had happened, faces once more calm and composed.

Cor was aghast.

Titus? Kissing cheeks? Since when? Had never imagined such a thing.

Cor was out in space, barely paying attention to the world around him, and during Crownsguard training that day he stared blankly at the wall and didn't bother observing the students.

Couldn't stop seeing Titus' thumb running up and down.

The following day, Cor passed Ignis in the hall, and Ignis rushed by, briefcase in hand. Ignis was briskly striding along, and Cor was struck by the pretty smile on his face, bright and wide, and when Ignis came closer, Ignis inclined his head and cheerily offered, "Morning, Marshal!"

A churn of Cor's stomach.

Longing.

Oblivious Ignis passed him by, looking so happy, and Cor felt sick because it was Ignis that had walked by him but it was very much Titus that Cor had smelled. Titus' cologne there faintly above Ignis. The scent of Titus on Ignis' skin.

Couldn't get rid of those awful images in his head. Flashes in his mind. Couldn't stop seeing them together, and it was killing him.

Jealousy, simple and potent.

Every time Titus passed him, Titus would open his mouth, and Cor couldn't stalk away from him fast enough. Never gave Titus opportunity to speak, never gave him time, never gave him occasion, and Cor knew that it was petty and childish but he was too hurt to relent. Titus hadn't done anything wrong, but Cor couldn't stand looking at him all the same.

A double thrashing for Cor on that end, to lose both his only desire and his only friend in one fell swoop.

And all because Cor had been arrogant and overconfident.

Now Cor lied alone in bed at night, and looked over to the empty space beside of him. Ignis wasn't lying alone, and neither was Titus.

Could see them so plainly in his mind.

Titus on his back, hands behind his head, as Ignis rested his chin atop Titus' chest and ran an errant hand down Titus' abdomen. Ignis wearing one of Titus' t-shirts. Titus running a hand through Ignis' hair. Titus in his office, Ignis straddling him in the chair and their lips locked. Titus holding Ignis by the back of the neck and pressing in to kiss his cheek. Ignis running a hand down Titus' chest while murmuring. Titus closing his eyes and appearing subdued as Ignis smoothed down his hair.

Two normal people engaging in normal behavior.

Two normal people who may have been falling in love.

Something Cor could never be; normal.

'Never fall in love', Titus had said, but Cor was so certain that that was precisely what he was witnessing, when Titus' eyes would follow Ignis everywhere he went, when Titus would speak to the King and yet turn his chest in Ignis' direction, when Titus would smile out of nowhere with no context and then seem startled to realize he was doing it.

Cor looked around in bewilderment, and felt lost at sea.

No one batted an eye, no one seemed to care, no one took any sort of issue at all, and instead it seemed that the entire city found this scenario to their liking. Titus and Ignis; everyone smiled. The Crown City took to them, accepted them, embraced them, and only Cor stood there on the sidelines and felt something so wrong.

It wasn't right.

The worst part of it all, perhaps, was that there was no one to talk to, no one to turn to, no one to confide in, because Titus had been his only friend and Regis and Clarus were happily goading Titus along. Monica had already expressed her approval of this relationship, and Cor had no other recourse. As it had been his entire life, Cor was alone.

Always, always, alone.

No one to blame, either, because Titus had beat him fair and square. Not hard to do, granted, when no one had ever known the Marshal was even in the running.

Supposed that was one lesson Cor had learned the hard way; when planning a life with someone, maybe let them know about it in advance.

The only choice Cor had then was to push it down, as he pushed down every other emotion he had, and force himself to carry on. To follow this unwavering path, and pretend that he had never once intended to take the back road in favor of the highway. That he had never faltered to begin with. That he wasn't suffering now, because of course he would never be so foolish as to fall in the first place.

To pretend, as he had his entire life.

Cor walked on, even when everything in him was screaming that he should turn around. Go back. That it wasn't too late, that it hadn't gone so far yet that there wasn't a chance. That Titus could be swayed, that if Cor explained to him how he felt that Titus would take pity on him and bow out.

And then Ignis would smile and run a hand down Titus' side, and Cor was reminded that it was too late.

Even if Titus took pity on Cor, Ignis wouldn't, and Cor would never have asked such a thing of him.

'Can you pretend to love me as I love you?'

Pitiful.

Cor had always thought that he and Ignis were destined for each other, swore he felt it there in his chest, and could see now that he had only been fooling himself. If the gods had meant it to be, then Ignis wouldn't be smiling like that at Titus.

The world was upside down, and Titus took Cor's place.

Darkness and mist.

He carried on alone, as his friend fell in love for the entire world to see.