Work Text:
Round 1: Saparata vs Fluixon
Saparata, who had long since drowned in the noise of his own thoughts, slowly lifted his head toward Fluixon. He was already walking ahead of him, each step steady as he approached the wretched stage awaiting them. Not once did he look back.
Then, all of a sudden, Fluixon spoke.
“I'll see you on stage.”
His voice was empty—devoid of anger, fear, even regret—as if he had already accepted the cruel fate prepared for them both.
The sound of it made something twist violently inside Saparata.
It was the first time Fluixon had spoken to him since their heated argument days ago, yet there was nothing left in his voice. No bitterness. No warmth. Nothing.
…
“Are you hearing yourself right now?!” Saparata shouted in disbelief.
Fluixon only sighed. “Saps, let's be reasonable here,” he reached for the hand of his angel, clasping it tightly in his own. “You and I both know this is a death trap for one of us.”
“And that ‘one of us’ doesn't have to be you!” Saparata’s voice cracked as he pulled his hands away.
He searched Fluixon’s face desperately, hoping for even the slightest hint of hesitation, but all he found was determination laced with fear.
“I don't want you to die.” Saparata admitted, his voice quieter now, trembling as he lowered his head.
“But you don't want to either,” Fluixon scoffed.
“That's why I proposed we should balance our scores!”
“Are you stupid?!”
Fluixon's voice finally rose.
“They’ll just force a rematch on us! One of us will die either way!”
This was the first time Fluixon had ever yelled at him.
Maybe he was just as desperate as he was.
“I— Saps…” Fluixon stepped forward before pulling Saparata into an embrace.
“I just wanted you to live.”
His arms tightened slightly around him.
Saparata fell silent.
For a moment, just for a brief moment, the world seemed quieter. As if they were back at the Anakt Garden, lying beneath the superficial stars they used to call paradise.
“But that doesn't mean you are obligated to die.” Saparata whispered, standing motionless in Flux's embrace.
“I'd rather die than live without your light.”
Saparata's breath hitched.
“You're such a selfish bastard.”
The moment the words left his mouth, regret crept in.
A blasphemy spoken to a God.
…
Perhaps none of it mattered anymore.
Oh how Saparata had missed hearing his God’s voice. It was a voice he considered a sin to even imagine in his mind, a voice that belonged to Flux only, sacred and unreachable. The voice of God. His God.
Saparata gazes upon Flux's disappearing figure among the stage lights, stupidly mesmerized at the sight before him. How pathetic he was. Then slowly, he turned towards the other side of the stage.
and he smiled.
Despite knowing Fluixon's brazen plan, despite knowing he would soon have Fluixon's blood staining his clothes, despite knowing his God will depart forever.
He still smiled.
Because just for a few fleeting minutes, they could be children again—children who sang and laughed beneath the false sky, oblivious to what the cruel world had to offer.
Saparata stepped onto the center stage, where Fluixon was already waiting for him.
Soft neon lights glimmered behind Fluixon, casting an iridescent glow through his dark hair as the wind swayed the loose strands across his face. Though his amethyst eyes seemed absent, distant and hollow, the shifting hues of light gave them life.
Fluixon's gaze remained fixed at the microphone before him. He looked completely unbothered by his surroundings. Untouchable. Unreachable.
For a brief moment, Saparata couldn't help but stare, as if that was the only thing he was taught how to do.
He would give everything he have to see this view under a different circumstance. One where it promised Saparata an eternity with him.
Then he noticed the aliens.
The ones who sat high above in the endless rows, countless eyes followed their movements like vultures circling their prey, too wide, too irregular, too unnatural. The pale glow from the giant holographic screen displaying his and Fluixon's profile illuminated these creatures’ faces in shades of whites and blues.
Saparata dreaded looking at the screen. It felt like a silent reminder of the inevitable demise of one of them. A bad omen. A judge that will deliver the final verdict of this twisted game.
However, he also noticed the tiny snowflakes that continuously fell onto the stage.
His eyes looked hurt as tiny flakes drifts into his hands.
Ah…I'm so envious of them.
…
“Those are the ashes of dead children like us.”
A raven-haired boy suddenly appeared beside Saparata, who was admiring the tiny flakes drifting across the Anakt Garden, sitting cross-legged next to him.
Saparata shrieked and jolted upright.
“You scared me!”
The raven-haired boy blinked in surprise before clearing his throat.
“Ahem…well—”
“Oh aren't you the kid who got perfect scores in all of the tests?”
‘Uhm.. yeah.” The boy looked away awkwardly.
Saparata's eyes lit up.
“That's so awesome!” He grabbed the boy's hands with no hesitation.
“My name is Saparata, what about you?”
“I—I'm Flux, Fluixon…!” He exclaimed, completely overwhelmed by the burst of energy coming from the boy in front of him.
Saparata grinned brightly at Fluixon as he shook his hands, but then suddenly stopped.
“By the way, the thing about snowflakes..” He looked at Fluixon as he tilted his head.
“Oh.” Fluixon lay down on the grass and reached for a falling flake. “My brother told me they were ashes.”
“He said that when children like us fail and die, we turn into these.”
Fluixon quietly examined the melting flake, not noticing that Saparata had already laid down beside him wide-eyed.
Saparata gasped and covered his mouth.
Fluixon glanced over to him briefly and quickly added, “Well…my brother was feeling a little ‘unwell’ when he said that.”
He crushed the snowflake with his tiny palm.
“So just take this as a scary ghost story.”
He hummed softly and turned to look at Saparata, who still looked disturbed.
“Are you scared?” Fluixon teased with a grin.
“Nuh-uh!” Saparata scoffed immediately.
Fluixon laughed as if he believed him, immediately making Saparata pout.
After a moment, Saparata mumbled, “I think it'd be fun to be a snowflake.”
Fluixon frowned slightly. “Why? They are boring, small, and easy to crumble!”
He turned to look at Saparata, intrigued by the strange comment.
“But they can fly!” Saparata said ecstatically, flailing his arms to imitate that of a bird. “They look so free, and I think flying would be fun.”
“Correction,” Fluixon replied, mildly irritated, “They are falling.”
“Same thing!” Saparata stuck his tongue out.
“Whatever, white boy.”
“Whatever, nerd!”
…
Saparata let the snowflakes melt and slip from his hands. Hoping they wouldn't.
He had loved those tiny white flakes ever since he was a child, but now they felt almost mocking, flaunting the very thing he could never have. Freedom.
With a quiet sigh, Saparata reached for the microphone, his fingers tightening around it—trembling slightly as dread and unease found its way into his chest. The audiences buzzed with anticipation, but he barely noticed any of it, his attention was fixed entirely on his God.
One thing he learned from being glued to Fluixon is that he was unpredictable.
What if he decided not to sing entirely?
That thought terrified Saparata more than anything.
Then the music began.
The creatures erupted into cheers as the opening lines rang across the stage, their voices shaking the arena with excitement. Lights spilled over both of them in soft neons, illuminating every movement.
But to Saparata, the crowd did not exist.
The noise, the excitement, the sea of audience before him, all of it blurred and faded into nothing once Saparata's gaze reached Flux.
Flux stood beneath the lights, untouchable and almost divine, like a God gracing his subjects with his presence. His expression remained the same as always: calm, composed, distant. Beautiful in a way that made him feel surreal, unreachable, even when he was only a few steps away.
The snow drifted softly around him, briefly settling on his dark hair and shoulders before melting away. Each falling flake seemed to draw more distance between them, as if winter itself yearned for him the same way Saparata did.
How undeserving Saparata felt to stand beside him, to meet his eyes, to be loved by him. In his own mind, he was just another snowflake, so miniscule and fragile, merely waiting for its turn to land in Flux's hands, to let him decide whether to preserve or destroy it.
And yet, when their voices intertwined, Saparata felt something inside him turn.
The doubts that had consumed him moments before vanished completely. There was no audience anymore, no stage, nothing except the space between them. There were only the two of them. Saparata and Fluixon, together not as rivals, but like lovers clinging desperately to one another before time could tear them apart.
Saparata tightened his grip around the cold linings of the microphone.
His chest ached with something far too vast to be called love. Love felt small and fragile for his heart, not enough compared to whatever this feeling is. What he felt for Flux consumed him completely, until he could no longer tell the thin line between devotion and obsession.
Perhaps there was no difference after all.
If this unbearable feeling was obsession, then he would accept the name gladly. As long as Flux allowed him to remain at his side, Saparata would ask for nothing else.
Do you believe in God?
As they continued to sing, Saparata slowly began to notice just how many lines he had been carrying on his own, barely given a moment to breathe before another verse was forced onto him.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Wait.
Shit.
Flux?
How can he forget about this?
…
“There you go.” Fluixon exclaimed as he highlighted the last part of his line.
He immediately hands over the annotated music sheet back to Saparata with a proud look on his face.
“Flux,” Saparata barely glanced at the music sheet, “You highlighted some of your lines with my color.”
He glared at Fluixon, who started humming absent-mindedly.
“I told you I wanted the golden-colored highlighter, didn't I?” Fluixon glanced at him briefly.
“But purple suits you better!” Saparata yelled as he hit Fluixon's hand hard with the purple highlighter.
“Plus, I took the gold one first.” He continued.
Fluixon shrieked.
“How utterly outrageous.” Fluixon rubbed his hand that turned red from the spot where Saparata had hit him.
Once upon a time, mankind has religion
This time, it is Fluixon's turn to glare at Saparata who was smirking at him.
“Awww.. poor baby…” Saparata teased, leaning on Fluixon's shoulder as he poked his cheeks playfully.
“Shut up.” Fluixon pushed him away. His ears flushed from embarrassment.
To Fluixon's dismay, his behaviour only seemed to encourage Saparata to be bolder. Before he could make sense of it, he felt Saparata's palm slide over his own.
“What are y—”
and believed in God.
The words got stuck on his throat as Saparata gently lifted his hand and pressed a soft kiss on the wound he inflicted.
“Does it still hurt?”
Fluixon jerked his hand away, face quickly burning hot as he stared at Saparata in disbelief.
“W-what was that for!” He stammered.
Saparata didn't answer. He didn't need to. The smug look on his face already said more than enough.
They believed that which could not be solved by human strength,
…
Fuck.
If only Saparata wasn't fixated on his God would he notice how unfair the distribution of their lines was.
This was going according to his plan.
It doesn't even matter what Flux does at the stage anymore.
He was guaranteed to lose from the start.
“Flux—” The microphone buzzed.
Oh, but what could he do?
was the will of God.
As much as Saparata despised admitting it, he was a coward. The one who feared death with every piece of his soul. The mere thought of it twisted him out from the inside, reducing him to something small and helpless.
And now, when it mattered the most, he found himself unable to move against the cruel music notes already written for them.
The ending had been decided long before either of them stepped onto this stage.
By the God he worshipped.
By the God he loved.
By the one he called his lover.
Believed that the entire universe
Saparata could do nothing but stand there, fingers gripped uselessly at his microphone as every instinct screamed at him to stop this, to grab Flux's arm and drag him away, to sing, to shout, to do something. But fear overpowered his own will as it chained him to the ground.
He hated himself for it. Hated the way his heart pounded with dread. Hated that some selfish, ugly part of him was relieved it was Flux was walking toward death instead of him.
And perhaps Fluixon knew it too.
Revolved around the earth.
Slowly, Saparata lifted his gaze toward him, desperation painted in his eyes. It was a silent plea, raw and pathetic in a way words could never capture.
Their eyes met.
For one moment, Saparata thought Fluixon might hesitate.
But instead, Fluixon simply smiled.
Warmly.
That smile shattered something inside him.
Because it meant Fluixon had already accepted it, his fate.
A snowflake that was doomed to melt.
That hurt far more than anything else ever could.
They thought that unreachable place
…
“Get it out, get it out, get it out…”
The words repeated endlessly in Saparata's mind, growing louder the harder he tried to silence them.
Water rushed over his hands as he scrubbed at them relentlessly, fingertips dragging harshly against skin already numb. His nails bit into his arms without him noticing, leaving faint red trails in their wake. The sting was barely noticeable. It was easier to focus on that than the thoughts clawing through his head.
No matter how long he stood there, he still felt unclean.
that connected with the sky was..
“Selfish bastard.”
The words he had spoken earlier lingered in his mouth like something bitter and rotten. He could still hear them too clearly—every selfish thought directed to the one he should have adored most.
No, it had started long before that—back when Saparata first learned of Flux’s plan, long before the argument, long before everything fell apart. Saparata's first reaction, the one deep inside him, a small, shameful part, where he felt relieved by the thought that Flux would die in his place.
How disgusting.
Get it off of me.
Saparata continued scrubbing at his hands mindlessly, as though he could cleanse the thought from his skin itself. But no matter how hard he rubbed, he never felt clean. The ugliness of it clung to him stubbornly, seeping deeper and deeper like permanent ink that will never fade.
Like a sin he can’t erase simply by repenting.
What was he thinking?
Saparata lowered his head, breath uneven as cold water continued to spill between his fingers.
He had forgotten himself for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered quietly. “Please forgive me.”
where the Gods lived.
His hands slowed at last.
What would Flux think?
Only then did he notice the faint tint of water around the drain.
Red.
Saparata stared at it for a second before quickly reaching to rinse it away, watching the color disappear down the sink as if it had never been there at all.
I have to clean up.
From the moment humanity left the universe,
…
The scores fluctuated, and as Fluixon expected, it was all in favor of Saparata.
Seeing this, he tried to hold back, softening his singing in an attempt to close the distance between himself and Flux. But the gap between them had already grown far too wide to narrow so easily.
Saparata could already hear the aliens erupting into cheers for Fluixon's demise, their voices swelling louder with every passing second. And just for a fleeting moment, Saparata could have sworn he was no longer standing where he was, but inside a roaring colosseum, face-to-face with Fluixon in a duel—a sword gripped tightly in his hands where his microphone used to be.
This sense of deja vu scared Saparata to the core.
We all forgot about God.
“If there was a God,” Saparata pleaded silently, his thoughts trembling over themselves,
“I’m begging you.”
“Please save him.”
“Please don’t take my Flux away from me.”
“I’ll be good. I swear I will.”
But even as the words formed, another thought crept in his mind.
Isn't it too late for that?
The music was already nearing its end, the final notes slipping away one after another like a snowflake falling through Saparata’s open fingers.
There was nothing Saparata could do now to salvage their scores, nothing left to change the outcome. All he could do was stand there and watch helplessly.
The two of them unraveled together, each drowning in the image of the other until neither of them seemed separate anymore.
To enjoy their last moments together.
To become one.
The lights suddenly became too blinding to bear, overwhelming as it tainted the stage in a merciless snow white glow. Beyond it, the crowd roared—a mixture of cheers and laughter, as if they were mocking Saparata's pathetic silent pleas.
But if believe in God is human
Yet Fluixon kept singing.
Even now, he kept going.
Just like he always does.
Unwilling to give up.
His voice remained steady, as if it bore no weight of this damning fate looming beyond them like a pack of wolves.
His figure always stand out among the presence of the ugly, sinful beings like Saparata.
Saparata felt his own throat tighten. He wanted to reach for him, to pull him away from the stage, away from all of this, but his body refused to move.
If all I can do as a human is to believe..
Fluixon glanced toward him then.
Just for a second.
My God,
Saparata could see a flicker of fear in Flux's eyes, tainted with the disgusting reflection of himself.
My universe.
Unbeknownst to him, Fluixon felt no fear at that moment. Whatever terror had once gripped him had long been replaced instead by the quiet reassurance that he would be able to save the light he had adored for so long.
…
“I had a nightmare,” Fluixon paused, “multiple of them.”
Saparata turned to look at him, who was sitting underneath a tree. “Nightmares?”
“I won't go into details,” Fluixon looked at the painted sky—foggy and peaceful filled with snow, “but in every each one of them,”
“we were always separated.” He mumbled, his attention drifted onto a snowflake that fell right into his hand.
Saparata blinked. “Like we live in separate facilities?”
“No, you stupid chud.” His God sneered.
“It was more like, one-of-us-is-fated-to-die kind of separated.” He threw the snowflake away as he lowered his voice.
Saparata, who had been standing among the falling snowflakes, trying to gather enough snow to form a snowball, paused and looked at him who was deep in thought.
“That's really unfortunate.” He mumbled as he approached Fluixon and sat beside him—gently placing the half-made snowball right beside himself.
“I don't know…I'm kind of worried that it was some sort of warning.” Fluixon sighed, burying his face in his hands.
However, Saparata only let out a chuckle, light and friendly, completely unbothered by his God's paranoia. “And since when do you believe in that kind of stuff?”
He leaned onto Fluixon's shoulder, brushing a fallen snowflake off of his hair in the process.
Fluixon rolled his eyes. “You never take me seriously, do you?”
“I do,” Saparata closed his eyes as his head continued to rest on Fluixon's shoulder, “it's just that I don't see how we can be separated in this one.”
“I mean, I'll save you the moment I realize that you are in danger.” Saparata added while wrapping his arms around his lover as he made this promise.
What a disgusting lie.
“I know, Saps.” reassured, Fluixon smiled at his angel as he gazed upon the small flakes that softly drift onto the ground.
…
Final score:
89 - Saparata
70 - Fluixon
Saparata wins!