The Demon Lord and his Hero (BL)

"Enemies that turned into friendly acquaintances."

A scenario so far apart from the expectations that the anti mage held.

"Enemies? that's impossible. I could never in any lifetime not want to befriend you."

But that's exactly what had happened, Syryn wanted to reply - you forced a reluctant demon lord to accept your friendship and now we're stuck in a paradox.

"But this is good. I'm not crazy after all." The anti mage turned to Syryn looking radiant. "There must be a reason why this is happening. I recall that it was only after meeting you that I began feeling and hearing things. Has there been anyone else going through the same?"

Syryn thought about how Red appeared when he had interacted with Lucien's core. Was he the trigger for their awakenings?

"One, there's one more person apart from you," Syryn replied. "I cannot tell you who it is."

Rowan nodded in understanding. "What else can you tell me then?" In a graceful motion, the anti mage sat between the luminous blossoms. Syryn lowered himself to join Rowan when the latter looked at him expectantly. He was however more careful about crushing any part of the pretty flowers that were slowly swaying in the breeze.

"You grew your hair out and I loved it." The anti mage smiled at the nugget of information he had grasped.

"What?" Syryn turned to his companion with lifted brows. Out of all the important plot points in their tragic world-ending story, and this was what Rowan chose to remember?

"Am I right?" The blonde had his head tilted, chin on his hand.

"How- how am I supposed to know? You never mentioned it to me!" Syryn blustered. He was aware that Rowan liked his hair but the blonde had never made mention of it.

"I never did? Why wouldn't I?" Rowan's gaze drifted to the brown earth beneath their folded legs. It allowed Syryn to stare at the deep features on the anti mage's face that would open up in his adulthood. Nothing about Rowan was average, especially not his enviable bone structure.

"Anyway, this is a repeat of our lives. You have to get strong fast Rowan. There is a danger out there; a disaster that will end humanity if it isn't stopped."

Rowan's gaze snapped up to meet Syryn's, eyes sharp and brows furrowing. "And I'm supposed to stop this disaster?" The doubt was clear on the anti mage's face. Rowan had no idea what a powerhouse he would become in the future. It humbled Syryn to see the young Rowan so unaware of his own limitless potential.

"Only if you want to," it wouldn't do to pressure him with the fate of the world. At 16, no one was old enough to be told he would be battling a demonic emperor in the future.

"What about you Syryn? What's your role in this?" The anti mage was hovering on a fence between belief and disbelief. The alchemist was telling him a strange story but it made sense when he put it together with the craziness occupying his mind.

"My role?" To kill myself again if we fail. Syryn was willing to die a hundred times if it meant that Rowan could live on in a world free from Traxdart's influence. "To help in any way that I can."

The observant anti mage did not miss the brief appearance of despondence that clouded Syryn's face. It irked him when the alchemist kept hiding information from him. Rowan still wasn't sure if he would regain the motes of memories that floated in and out of his consciousness and dreams like dust he could not catch. What was Syryn hiding? He needed to know. The sense of loss in his heart intensified and Rowan knew that something important to him was at stake.

"You say I have to save the world? Promise me that you'll stay by my side." Rowan slipped his hand into Syryn's and held it tight.

Panic creeping into Syryn's wide eyes, he tried to pull away but Rowan wasn't letting him go. "Promise me Syryn."

"You're being selfish," the alchemist replied after he stopped struggling. Hand clasped in Rowan's like a dead fish, Syryn watched his future implode from the complicated tangle that his relationships were turning into.

"Why can't I be selfish? I want you. The world needs saving but if you aren't in it, then it matters no more, Ryn." Rowan stated with clarity so sharp, it startled them both.

Syryn stared at Rowan in shock. The anti mage looked non-plussed at the words that had come out of his own mouth.

"Why did you call me Ryn?"

Rowan's hand moved to his own chest. Fingers gripping the black uniform, he squeezed the cloth into a creased knot. There was a realisation that Rowan had come to. Cerulean eyes pinned Syryn with a stare that bled violence.

"I think we should leave."

"No," Syryn replied in a tone that demanded he be answered. "Why did you call me Ryn?!" He wanted Rowan to remember everything and go back to how it used to be. He missed their easy friendship.

"I don't know... it felt right." Rowan was losing his sanity again. There were too many unexplained feelings that were assaulting him. "Syryn, did something happen to you?" He asked, knowing from the clues he gleaned from himself that a tragedy had befallen them both, an incident that was leaving him restless. Was this about his promise to Syryn? It always came back to the promise.

The alchemist was unnervingly silent. His face had gone blank, emotions erased and replaced by a mask of neutrality. "Yes, I was lost to the war. It's a mistake I won't make again." He assured the blonde.

"And even if it does happen again, you'll be alright Rowan," the alchemist smiled up at his cheerless friend, "soon, you'll find love at your doorstep. She will give you strength to fight even when I leave."

Rowan was possessed by a desire to shake Syryn. How could he say such callous words with that smile telling him it was alright. "Ryn, do my feelings not matter to you at all?" He was hurt more by Syryn's words than anything he had encountered tonight.

"Feelings won't save humanity. Accept that and prepare yourself for the worst," Syryn replied coldly. He was bothered by what Rowan had said about the world not mattering if Syryn wasn't in it. Just what the hell had happened after his death?

"I'm leaving." Syryn's words were like thorns that kept telling Rowan to stay away. The alchemist stood to leave and this time, Rowan made no move to stop him. Even for the golden boy, there was only so much rejection he could take in one night.

Syryn left the anti mage behind surrounded by dimming flowers and a chill that no fire could dispel. Rowan's head was bowed towards the earth, a weight of emotions pulling him down stronger than gravity. If this was the medicine that would cure the anti mage, Syryn was willing to hurt with Rowan. They had to emerge as strong individuals committed to their paths.

It was in the early hours of the morning that Syryn pulled the rope and sent the house bell chiming. Alka was in a few minutes standing at the door in his nightclothes, hugging a puffy pillow to his chest.

"Syryn, what happened?" He immediately realised that something was wrong with his friend. The alchemist made no move to reply so Alka ushered him in and led him straight to the kitchen.

When a mug of mint tea was placed in front of him, Syryn nearly cried. Nearly. Having friends that cared was the best thing in the world and not even kisses could compare.

"Alka, I think I've lost something I was never meant to have," Syryn whispered.

The green-eyed mage padded over to Syryn and wrapped the boy in a hug that shook the younger boy's tight hold on his emotions.

Alka's night shirt was wet with Syryn's silent tears. Smooth fingers combed through the alchemist's dark hair, comforting and soothing the distraught boy.

"Then the happiness that you will find from what you're meant to have will surely be greater than the sorrow you feel now." Alka's chin rested on Syryn's head, hand rubbing circles on his back.

"I don't deserve good things," Syryn replied, he deserved only punishment. This had to be his punishment right? Having to reject a Rowan he wanted so bad - a Rowan who wanted him just as much.

Alka disengaged from their hug and cupped Syryn's cheeks, forcing him to look up. "Those words go into the weak wench lexicon. Don't ever let me catch you saying something so stupid," he threatened in a silky tone.

"Or what?" Syryn retorted.

"Or I'll feed you to the pet I'm hiding in the basement," Alka mischievously replied. Syryn couldn't tell if the plant was mage was being serious. With Alka's track record, he could very well have smuggled a troll into the basement, held captive for a forest jaunt.

"Good riddance then," Syryn answered. He hated how much of a loser he was being. Demons had their moments of weaknesses and he was allowed this day of moping, he told himself.

Alka glared and then rolled his eyes at Syryn. With a smack, he placed a key on the table next to the cup of tea. "Here, my lovestruck brother decided to give you an estate of your own. He says it's payment for taking care of him so you can either accept it or throw the key out."

Syryn was struck dumb. A gift from Artemus?

"The property has already been transferred to your name so sell it if you don't want it."

Wealthy people were strange.

"Why couldn't he just tell it to me himself?" Syryn asked dumbly. The black key was longer than his forefinger and engraved with a wreath of silver roses.

"You're going to ignore the lovestruck part of what I said?" Alka glared at Syryn again.

"You and I both know that isn't true Alka. Artemus likes me but that's that."

With a sigh, the green-eyed mage replied, "Yes. Even so, Artemus has never courted anyone.. be careful how you handle his feelings. Don't hurt my brother Syryn." It was a plea from a sibling that cared deeply for his older brother who deserved a little more than lukewarm promises of a dalliance in the future.