Chapter Text
Out of all the pain Maxwell had endured in Zern, leaving it behind hurt the most because it meant leaving Torse.
There was a distinct feeling of loss in seeing the original Zephyr destroyed, though he knew he certainly didn’t have the worst of it. Lots of items and memories were lost when it went down, but they all made it out alive and had to carry on. There was a finality to it, something set in stone to grieve and move on, just like when his grandfather passed.
Saying goodbye to Torse gave him no closure. They could pretend that it was only a matter of time before they saw each other again, but time was actually the issue. More specifically, how it was befrumpled. If Maxwell left now, even if he were to return through the next Calefactory Biangle, there was no saying when he’d return to. The realization that he might return to the problem they’d just lost so much to fix in saving Ludmila made him contemplate not leaving at all, but he had duties to fulfill to his family, a father to kill. Just as Torse had a duty to his homeland, still in ruin and leaderless if he did not take charge.
The crew was eager to return to Gath, especially now that they were accompanied by some form of Ludmila. She was a husk of her former self, wordless and shivering with a far-off unfocused look in her eyes, but she found solace in Marya’s arms so that's where she stayed. Still, after group farewells were said, they were kind enough to grant Maxwell a moment alone with his partner for a more personal goodbye.
“I promise I’ll be back,” he insisted, and though there were no eyes or expression to read, he swore he could feel the hesitation radiating off of Torse. Hesitant to hope.
With warm, bruised hands clasped tightly in metal ones, Torse chose his words carefully as he responded, “I am well aware of the Professor’s skill, but there are still limitations to this world that even she cannot change the nature of. You are a great man, but most of all, you are a good one. I ask that you do not neglect your own life for my sake.”
“I’ll be fine, but I’m not just going to give up-”
“Maxwell,” his partner cut him off, the gentle plea being more startling than if he were to shout. “The future is unpredictable and your life is limited by what the human body will allow. I care for you greatly and it is because of this that I ask you, if it is determined that you cannot return, promise me you will move on and live your life to its fullest. If you find joy in your world, it is something worth pursuing.”
“You are worth pursuing.” Maxwell dropped his hands in favor of reaching up for his visor, his gaze intense and set with determination. “I’m not going to make any promises because it won’t come to that. We’ll figure something out. And if I had to come find you from the past-”
“Maxwell,” Torse scolded him for even entertaining the idea.
“-then I would, but we know that won’t happen because it would’ve happened already. Chances are I'd find you in the future too. So please, don’t tell me to give up.”
There was a deep resonant sigh, felt through the vibration of metal under Maxwell’s palms. “I love you,” was all Torse could say in his defeat.
“I love you too,” the pugilist’s fervor softened to a bittersweet look as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the other’s helm. He was soon drawn into an embrace as silence fell between them, the weight of their goodbyes starting to sink in.
When they forced themselves apart, as Max knew he couldn’t keep his friends waiting forever, the automaton pressed a golden sphere into his hands. It had never been repaired, now that Torse had come to accept his iron heart as capable of more than the rage he'd defined it by, but he’d held on to the other once the former Queen was no longer looking to take it. Now, he gave it to his lover as a parting gift so that he may not be forgotten even when the mind grew feeble.
“My heart will always be yours,” he explained, “no matter where your life leads you. If this is the last time I see you…”
“It won’t be.”
“But if it is, then I hope you will take care of it like you have for me. I am… sorry that it is broken.”
Maxwell held the heart with reverence, punctured as it was, and shook his head. “I don’t care that it’s broken, I care that it's yours. I’ll bring it back to you someday, even if you don’t need it anymore.” When he pulled Torse down for one final kiss, neither of them acknowledged how he wiped away the bit of oil that started to fall from his lover’s visor.
A shout from the Zephyr Mark II put an end to their lingering as everything was set for takeoff. Max sighed, resigning himself to his departure. “I love you,” he made sure to say again even as he stepped away, holding the golden heart up to his own.
“And I, you,” Torse reciprocated with a nod, letting him walk. If he made one move to follow, then he feared he might abandon his station yet again to follow this man into an unknown world that he could not guarantee a timely return from. A terribly tempting idea, but the guilt he felt for the state of his homeland outweighed it, if only barely. It did not hurt any less to turn down the invitation that had been so eagerly extended to him.
Maxwell kept looking over his shoulder as he boarded, only to find himself a place on deck where he could still look back and see Torse waiting, watching. He managed a weak smile as he raised a hand to wave goodbye, only to be startled by Olethra seeming to appear at his side. Wordlessly, she wrapped an arm around him and began to wave too with a much brighter smile, an act of solidarity while also parting from someone she considered a friend. Wealwell was on his other side soon after, draping an arm over his shoulders and giving a salute to the man that stole his brother’s heart. It was… comforting, to not be alone.
He kept his composure for as long as he kept Torse in his sights, blades glinting in the light as he waved back. The two grounding figures at his side stop him from acting on the impulse to jump overboard and go scrambling back. Maxwell couldn’t recall the last time he properly cried, it had to have been around the time of his grandfather’s sickness and death. It’d been years at least, but he didn’t remember it being so debilitating. As soon as orange skies gave way to the blue of Gath, worlds put between them, his knees seemed to give out as he’s faced with the fear that maybe he was right, what if I can’t go back?
He never hit the deck with Olethra and Wealwell there to support him, turning to cry into his brother’s chest where he was firmly held with whispered words of comfort. They probably knew this was going to happen, despite the brave face he’d been trying to put on. He would surely be embarrassed by it later. For most of Maxwell’s life, he’d been convinced that romance just wasn’t something he was interested in, just as he'd convinced himself he was meant to stay on the ground, but then he flew and because of that, he met Torse, and now—
If he couldn’t even keep it together for a few seconds, how was he going to survive… however long it took to get back?
Torse could only watch, standing alone again in ruinous land. It was eerily quiet without the raging wars or the descent of Naughtomata, so he listened to the ticking mechanism of his heart instead. He counted each tick until a minute had passed, and when nothing changed, he resigned himself to his loneliness. He would not make the same mistake as Ludmila did, waiting by a door for someone who may never come.
He could not and would not blame Maxwell for that, and he certainly wouldn’t let it break the heart that he’d finally accepted as his own. It held more than rage. Love, for one, and sorrow. Many other feelings as well, but that’s what he felt most then as he turned to set off, to reinvent a land that had long since lost its way. Wherever and whenever Maxwell was, Torse trusted that he was still caring for his golden heart regardless.