Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a sunny day, with clear blue skies and faint clouds overhead. Added with the chirping of birds around, it seems like nothing but a bright day ahead.

A little too bright, maybe, for Heathcliff’s taste.

So that’s why he’s now standing beneath the eaves of a tall tree, trying to shield himself from the sun’s bloody shining rays overhead. Contrary to the cheery crowd moving past and around him, he was scowling with sweat all over his body, with his posh yet thick and itchy uniform only making his irritation far worse. Really, on a day like this, he would rather cool off back at home or his office, or anywhere with a working air cooler over his head.

But he can’t, because he was assigned here for a job. A job from a very familiar client, infact.

A few feet away from him, there was a roaring crowd circling around two Fixers fighting each other. Although, for these specific Fixers, they have a specific term for that—though to be honest, Heathcliff doesn’t really give a damn what it’s called.

It’s called duels, held specifically by Cinq Association Fixers, whose roles are, to sum it up, to fight any conflict in their client’s place. Frankly, Heathcliff doesn’t understand why people would get into fights if they know they can’t win them, especially if they’re losing money for it, but he guesses being petty about any amount of money would be useless to someone dead.

Speaking of which, for an association that specializes on one-on-one duels, and has a damn amount of Fixers under their belt, it’s amazing how they have enough clients to keep them afloat. And what’s even more surprising is that each Fixers are paid a good wad of cash, too, because Cinq Fixers are damn expensive, even one from Section 6.

He would know. After all, he’d overseen and notarized much of their duels already. Especially that guy.

The guy he’s speaking of was, of course, none other than one of the most famous West Cinq’s Section 3 Fixer, Meursault, or otherwise known as one of the “Top Ten Up-and-coming New Generation Fixers” in the October issue of Fixers Monthly, as well as the #7 holder of the “Fixers I want to have dinner with” unofficial rankings and-

Heathcliff shook his head with a huff. None of that matters now.

What matters is that Heathcliff knows what the real person is like. Frankly, he’s an asshole.

Why? Because he can’t stop getting into duels with literally every damn Fixer that watches his streams, and he had to drag Heathcliff all the way out here on this bloody sunny day to oversee his third duel of the week, all while leaving him sweating in the heat like a drowned dog.

Although these duels are also technically paying his bills, and they’re much more relaxed in their nature compared to the usual contracts Öufi Fixers had to handle, still, Heathcliff wouldn’t stop that from complaining when he could.

The accused Fixer is now currently engaging in a duel with four Fixers from the same Office that Heathcliff couldn’t remember the name was for the life of him, probably something like the Redrum Office? Or something like that. A little back alley Office that can barely get some Urban Myth requests here and then, not something worth mentioning much.

But those Fixers had some talent in them, at least, for managing to last a few minutes longer than most other offices.

Of course, that wouldn’t change the outcome.

In a blink of an eye, Meursault thrusted his rapier at a tricky angle, accurately deflecting his opponent’s attack while also managing to pierce right through the right side of their neck.

Always precise and efficient, that’s what Meursault is like.

As the last Fixer finally dropped to their knees, the duel finally showed signs of ending. Heathcliff yawned before approaching the duelists, stepping over the pools of blood and unconscious bodies from the battle with a little bit of disgust—dammit, this uniform is hard enough to clean already. These blokes were some lucky folks that this duel wasn’t meant to be a death battle, otherwise Heathcliff was sure the duel would’ve ended a lot faster.

He stood between the last surviving duelists, Meursault and one of the Redrum Fixers, who was kneeling while holding his injured neck. Heathcliff held his pole straight in front of him, yet refrained from speaking until three minutes had passed between the two duelists’ last speech, just to ensure that the duel had actually finished. That was the rules, after all.

After the time limit had passed with no further movement from both parties, Heathcliff finally spoke, “This duel shall end with the victory of the Western Cinq Association’s Section 3 Fixer, Meursault. Does any party reject this decision?”

“No,” Meursault answered curtly. The other guy was still trying to breathe through his punctured neck.

Three more minutes had passed. No other sounds.

“Good,” Heathcliff slammed his polearm on the ground, “This duel had been judged as completed by the authority of the Öufi Association. Dismissed!” with that last shout, Heathcliff raised his polearm, also signifying the end of his responsibility. Now that he was technically off duty, he began stretching his taut muscles languidly before looking around. The crowd around them had mostly dispersed when the last guy fell off, with only a few of them still sticking around talking about how good the duel was.

What about Meursault? Heathcliff looked over. Meursault-

-already had that damn selfie stick out again, sticking it up into the sky in what Heathcliff assumes to be a nice angle for him. He was currently speaking to the phone, “-As I have briefed you earlier this morning, on this duel I have demonstrated how to deal with opponents attacking from three different angles and two blindspots at once. The duelists of this match were a good example for this, as they are known to specialize in overwhelming their opponents with their numbers and taking advantage of narrow windows in mere seconds. Should the viewers be further interested in this topic, I will refer them to the Cinq Association’s online encyclopedia, specifically on the topic of fighting more than one opponent at a duel-”

And he keeps going on and on and on, when does he ever stop? With gritted teeth, Heathcliff approached him and tapped his shoulder with his pole,

“Oi, the duel’s over, innit? Time to get off work,” Meursault immediately looked over at him, nodded, then turned back to the camera to announce, “-And that concludes the end of this steam. Tomorrow we will have another duel against the Scaredy Cats Office from the southern region, so viewers may look forward to that. Do not forget to subscribe to my channel so you will not miss any updates. Salut,” with that, Meursault shut off the camera and began folding up his selfie stick.

Behind him, Heathcliff scoffed with his arms crossed, “I don’t get why you do all this complicated streaming shit anyways, don’t you hate talking to people?” Usually people would feel offended by Heathcliff’s harsh tone, but Meursault did not seem to be offended by his complaint, rather, he answered neutrally, “I found that the anonymity of the viewers could become a beneficial source of feedback for my swordsmanship, as such there is no reason for me to refuse such a boon,” after thinking about it for a moment, he also added, “In addition, talking to a lifeless object is much easier than a person,” Heathcliff tilted his head at that, not sure how to respond. But it seems like it was just an idly passing topic for his companion.

As he secured the selfie stick to his waist, Meursault finally looked at him with an outstretched hand, “Now come, let us return. I apologize for making you wait in the sun longer than we usually do,” yeah, and they both know the reason why. Heathcliff only scoffed again, turning his head not to face him, but why does he feel his cheeks burning? Must be the blasted sun getting to him, “Hmph. You really took your time on this one,” Meursault only nodded at that, as if agreeing that all of Heathcliff’s suffering today was entirely his fault, “My apologies. I was demonstrating a different technique that cost me a few more minutes due to my unfamiliarity, but I have received many positive feedback from today’s session. Therefore, on the next stream, I will ensure we will return at the most efficient time possible.”

Heathcliff looked at the outstretched hand, then finally sighed, as if giving up, and took his hand. Yeah, that’s what Meursault’s always like, after all. He didn’t need to question it, after being friends with him for around three years and counting now.

“Lead the way,” he eventually said.

Afterwards, the two began walking side by side to their respective offices in companionable serenity, but something kept bothering Heathcliff. He was never one to shy away from his thoughts, so he turned to Meursault and boldly asked, “Hey, does your ‘viewers’ really help you a lot?” Meursault looked at him and nodded, “Yes, though that is not their only usage. There are plenty of types of viewers in my case, such as fans of my looks or the association I am in, although I have always always focused more on those who gave me advice on battles.”

Meursault tilted his head towards the selfie stick on his waist, “If you are curious, why not try it yourself?” Heathcliff looked at him, baffled, “You mean streaming? You’re bloody joking, mate. I ain’t gonna clown myself out to people I don’t even know!” At his fierce rejection, Meursault merely blinked, “If you are not comfortable with streaming, then you may also participate as a viewer. A livestream is a two-way street, and you may choose what is best for you.”

Huh. Maybe Heathcliff could give it a shot.

Later that evening, back at his apartment, Heathcliff was laying on his bed while he opened his phone and searched up the app that Meursault used to stream, “Tremor”. From what Meursault briefly told him, it was a popular entertainment website centering on livestreaming. Upon opening the home page, Heathcliff was presented with a lot of streams with a whole bunch of eyecatching titles and thumbnails. They were varied in topics too, some were domestic stuff like just chatting around or cooking, some into more serious stuff like fighting or consultations, hell, Heathcliff even saw official accounts of some of the well-off and popular Associations and Fixers he’d worked with in the past. Didn’t know that before.

But none of that interests him at the moment. He instead came up to the search bar and typed in Meursault’s account name, which he also told him earlier.

It was a very simple and plain name. “CinqMeursault”. It was so very like him that Heathcliff couldn’t even be mad at it.

Entering the search bar, he was immediately presented with Meursault’s channel page. Most of them were about his duels with the same boring caption, such as “Stream #298: Duel against Vendetta Office Fixer”, and there were also some short clips of the flashiest of his moments, which Heathcliff briefly watched but wasn’t interested in.

At the very top of the channel was the recording of today’s last duel, the one they just got back from. Curiously, Heathcliff clicked on it.

The stream began before the Redrum Fixers had arrived. Meursault was welcoming his viewers and was chatting with them about some idle topics. From the angle he’s in right now, Heathcliff could even see himself at the far back, leaning against a tree.

Not interested in whatever heated combat technique discussion Meursault is having with his viewers, Heathcliff skipped a few minutes forward until the Fixers finally arrived.

Now that’s better. Once the four Fixers stepped up on the rules-set arena boundaries, the duel was finally about to begin. Heathcliff also saw himself approaching, ready to begin the duel.

But before he could see himself speak, the camera suddenly shook a few times before stabilizing. The view had suddenly changed, from a perspective that previously looked like it was held by someone’s hand to showing a clear, wide view of the whole duel arena.

‘What the hell?’ As if to immediately answer Heathcliff’s thoughts, Meursault’s face came into view again to explain, “For new viewers, do not be confused. The selfie stick provided by the Western Cinq Association allows me to modify my selfie stick into a propped up standing stick, therefore you do not need to worry about missing any moment of the duel,” Heathcliff was, again, baffled. He didn’t know that damn selfie stick had this function. Is that why he always took so long to fold it?

Before he could mull over that thought, the duel officially begins.

As Meursault’s long-time contractor, he had grown familiar with Meursault’s actions, even down to predicting the movements he would use—especially when he knew the theme of the stream beforehand—yet this is the first time he’d seen it from his stream viewers’ perspective.

He had to admit, looking at it in this perspective was different from seeing it in real life. The camera seems to have captured the finest details of Meursault’s actions, easily capturing all of the little nicks and tricks he used with the utmost attention. The quality of the camera, the overhead scenery, and the dynamic clashing of rapiers and various handheld weapons, all serves to elevate what was nothing less but a grand performance that Heathcliff is watching right now.

In a way, it made him look a bit more... attractive than usual?

No, what was he thinking about? Heathcliff immediately shook his head. He suppressed his urge to throw away his phone, simply turned it off, and rolled back on his bed to try to sleep.

Again, that damn burning in his cheeks. But he wasn’t out in the sun this time, so why does he still feel like this?

Chapter Text

That day was, fortunately, a rather relaxed day. Heathcliff was sitting on a swivel chair at his desk in the Öufi’s office. They didn’t have a lot of contracts today, and Heathcliff had already finished his own portion a while back, so at this moment, he had a really nice day of doing nothing but just sitting back and relaxing.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t allowed to leave before the clock, so he had to find a way to fill the time somehow. Out of boredom, Heathcliff began scrolling through his phone. Then he suddenly remembered about Tremor, and Meursault’s streaming.

Yeah, at this time of day, Meursault should be doing his weekly streams. Sometimes he streams once or multiple times a week. It all depends on the duel invitations that he got or the quota set for the month by the association. One thing's for sure, he's always punctual on when he starts and ends his streams.

But given that he didn’t have any contracts today, then Meursault definitely wasn’t out dueling. There’s also no way Meursault would’ve dueled without him as the overseer.

Funny thing about this, he knows why Meursault wouldn’t, and had never chosen any other Öufi Fixer to oversee his duels, as well as why other Öufi Fixers would rather not accept his contracts, because he knows that guy and he knows his mates. Rarely anyone wants to deal with Meursault because frankly, the guy was just too incomprehensible to deal with—something that even Heathcliff also agreed to—but money’s money where it’s at, so back then on the first time they met, Heathcliff did his job plain and clear, then immediately left when he was done.

And that was the same on the next one, and the next one, and the next, until Heathcliff suddenly finds himself as Meursault’s unofficial exclusive contractor. The guy had too many duels that they inevitably had to interact more than what Fixers usually deemed necessary. Heathcliff didn’t mind. A friend’s always handy in some cases, and Meursault wasn’t a bad man, if you can ignore the fact that he only talks in a very straight and logical manner of what he deems necessary, and even then it’s mostly all about duels and techniques, ugh.

Nevermind that, now that he definitely knows that Meursault is streaming but isn’t dueling, he wondered what he was doing otherwise.

So he typed in Meursault’s very simple account name and pressed the stream that was ongoing live right now.

As he had thought, Meursault wasn’t out dueling, but was instead streaming from his apartment. He saw the banner of the Cinq Association behind him, so Heathcliff assumed he was using a green screen behind him or something like that.

Meursault was discussing and reviewing some of his past streams. A bit boring, but it was enough to kill some time, he supposes.

On the right of the stream was Meursault in casual but tidy clothes, a long-sleeved, ironed-out dark blue shirt and beige pants. He looked nothing less than an accomplished member of society.

Or in other words, a pompous ass. Heathcliff laughed at his own thought.

On the left of the stream was a recording of a past stream. Heathcliff recognized this one, it was against a pretty popular Fixer that was also a Cinq, from the southern second section. If he wasn’t mistaken, Meursault also once mentioned that it was one of his top rated streams, too.

No kidding. Heathcliff was lucky he was there to witness it personally. In real life, the duel was exciting and blood-boiling. Both duelists were moving in a blink of an eye, each strike aimed to kill or, at the very least, maim the other. It was also the first time Heathcliff saw Meursault get an injury on his dominant hand, which was also a very rare thing to see.

Meursault was pausing at a certain scene, using his mouse to draw green lines and circles around him and his opponent, explaining in detail about what he’d done, what his opponent did, and his current thoughts and reflections about the scene.

“-Once again, I emphasize the viewers to look over this spot in the detail. Do you see how the opponent’s body had leaned slightly further to the left? This shows how the opponent had already anticipated my attack, and therefore is planning to counterattack it. However, if we go over here-”

It all went in one ear and out the other for Heathcliff. Again, he didn’t really understand what Meursault was talking about, nor does he care, he just likes hearing him stream.

He had to admit, his completely flat, expressionless voice kinda has a way to lull you to sleep, especially when he’s explaining some lengthy, wordy stuff like this.

Heathcliff was about to do just that actually, when Meursault suddenly stopped talking. It seems like he’s resuming the recording.

A few more clashes happened in swift succession, before Meursault in the recording finally made a risky, desperate attack and blindly thrusted forward even while facing the opponent’s sword. The duelist obviously didn’t expect this, and was hit near his fatal spot on his chest. He would’ve died if Meursault had aimed a little bit to the right, but fortunately, that wasn’t the rules of this duel.

As the other Cinq Fixer kneeled in defeat, the crowd behind them erupted in cheers. Heathcliff also saw the ‘chat’ —which are the live feed of viewers that Meursault always mentioned to him about—quickly scroll by with similar cheers.

“-And that is the end of Stream #117’s review. Any further questions?”

A few questions came along, and Meursault answered them all diligently. He even spent the effort to write some of them down in a notebook before they get buried by the other responses of the viewers. He was always very attentive about that.

While answering the questions, Meursault did not pause the recording. It continued to play the end of the duel, and as Meursault was preoccupied with interacting with his viewers, the recording eventually showed Heathcliff himself slamming his pole in an all familiar pose that signifies the end of the duel. He then watched himself walk over to Meursault with an excited grin. He remembers it’s because he wanted to congratulate Meursault for the duel, something that he rarely does, but that duel was really an exception for how exhilarating it was.

Suddenly, the chat quickly scrolled again. ‘That’s strange,’ he thought, because the duel had already ended, what else were they excited about?

Upon taking a closer look, he saw that the chat was filled with viewers writing “meurcliff” in various styles and capitalization. Some saying how it was “real” or “canon” to them, especially once Heathcliff and Meursault actually began talking in the recording.

‘meurcliff’? What the hell does that mean?

Seeing that Meursault didn’t react to the word filling up the chat, he guesses it’s nothing that important.

But he is curious, though. Because the last of the word, ‘cliff’, sounded like his name, and the first of it, ‘meur’, sounds like Meursault’s. Was it a combination of both of their names? Why? What does it imply? And why did the chat only start saying it when he comes into frame?

Curiosity killed the cat, but it does have nine lives. So, Heathcliff closed Tremor and began looking up the term ’meurcliff’ online.

The first thing that came up was a link to a website called Lo3, or ‘Library of Our Own’. He did a quick scroll and found that it seems to be a website for fanmade stories? Of them? That’s pretty cute, if he had to be honest.

However, it didn’t give him the explanation he wanted. Looking it up in other websites also didn’t give him much either, as it all just showed him fan made arts and comics. Therefore, he guesses he had to start with the first website from before, Lo3.

He pressed the first story that had an interesting title on it, something about “the heat of the sun pales in comparison to the heat of your body”. The first thing he saw was the author’s note:

“hii everyone~ ^///^ i’m back with another oneshot for our lovely boys! this one’s inspired by the 223rd stream, hope you enjoy~”

He was right about one thing at least, these fan made stories are based around him and Meursault. Now he’s really curious, what did these writers write about between them?

If he’d remembered correctly, the 223rd stream wasn’t anything special, but it did happen on a particularly hot day that Heathcliff remembered complaining about, so much so that Meursault bought him a popsicle afterwards as an apology. That was probably the only thing noteworthy out of the stream.

Now, in hindsight, with a title like that, Heathcliff probably should’ve assumed that it was going to have inherently sexual themes.

On hindsight, he probably also should’ve read the tags and eventually saw the tags like “Anal Sex” and “Accidental Voyeurism” among the tens ish of tags that he skimmed over.

On hindsight, now knowing that this is a fan made story about himself and Meursault, he really, really, really should’ve anticipated that it wasn’t going to be about something normal like sparring each other under the sun or something like that—which was what he thought it was about—even though that didn’t happen in the 223rd stream at all.

In his defense, it did start off pretty normally, mostly exactly the same with what he remembered. The author pretty much glossed over the duelling part, which he guesses means that they weren’t really a technique fanatic like most of Meursault’s fans were. That’s kinda funny to think about, seems like he had found a fellow kindred in this flock.

However, things started to turn really weird really quickly after the duel ended.

After the Heathcliff in the story approached Meursault, instead of Meursault taking him to the local ice cream shop and bought him a popsicle like he thought, the latter instead-

-pushed him to the wall of a back alley?

“Huh?” Heathcliff couldn’t help but frown. That wasn’t what happened, what the hell?

The Meursault in the story lowered his head. His wide-brimmed hat hiding their faces from the unsuspecting passersby outside.

“I will relieve you of this sweltering heat,” he whispered in his ear.

As he read that, Heathcliff—the real Heathcliff—suddenly felt goosebumps riding up to his shoulders. Bloody hell, it’s like he could imagine the real person saying that to him right now. He rubbed his arms, trying to soothe himself. Why was this story so damn unrealistic?

At this point, he realized something was definitely wrong, because the next moment, he and Meursault-

-lowered their pants!

“Bloody hell-”

By pure instinct, Heathcliff suddenly threw the phone away with all his might. It hit the wall directly opposite from where he was facing, flying in a damn near-perfect horizontal line and landing screen-front with a loud slam. He winced, from how loud the cracking sound was, he knew his phone wasn’t the only thing broken from that throw.

The sound must’ve startled his mates, because one of them immediately came to his desk and asked, “Oi, what happened to ya, mate?”

Heathcliff’s cheeks were burning like fire again, and he didn’t have the eye to look at his office mate after what he just read.

So instead, he answered quite embarrassingly, his head tipped to the floor, hidden by his hat, “I-I broke my phone.”

His mate, quite understandably, just scoffed at that very obvious statement, “Well yeah, I can see that. It’s stuck on that far wall on the right, yeah? By the Head, Heathcliff, what’s gotten into you? You scared the shit out of us.”

He didn’t know either, honestly. The story shouldn’t have surprised him that much, but he was just so immersed at the beginning that he couldn’t help but imagine the real thing happening to him. Added with the fact that he knows what Meursault is really like in real life, his mind inevitably filled in the gaps that the author themselves couldn’t fill, and ended up imagining some pretty outrageous stuff, especially fueled by the story.

Instead, he only pressed his palm up to his forehead and took a deep sigh. He’s definitely gonna get scolded by the Director for this, as well as paying out of his own pocket money for his sudden outburst, both the wall and the broken phone.

His mind couldn’t help but wander to the last thing he vividly imagined before he instinctively threw his phone away.

Him and Meursault were both kissing each other passionately.

Chapter Text

Heathcliff knew that that whole discovery with the Lo3 thing really shook him up. Can you blame him? After knowing that tens of people were writing about you and your client—your close friend—in a very intimate way, can you still look at them with a straight face the next time you meet? Most probably wouldn’t.

He also knows that this accident is making him act very strangely, many times now he had been consciously making an effort to avoid coming into sight of Meursault’s camera, just so he didn’t have to imagine what chat is talking about with his imagination.

Dammit, he didn’t have to imagine it, actually. He knew exactly what they were going to talk about, and it really sends goosebumps up his sleeve.

Unfortunately, this wasn't a good enough reason for him to skip his job entirely.

Today was another uneventful duel. Fortunately, the sun wasn’t out for some hot, red blood today, but Heathcliff still preferred to stay far away from the crowd when he could.

The duel with the Crisis Office was just about to end. As usual, Heathcliff took up his pole and began walking over to the duelists. Though this time, his eyes unconsciously turned towards Meursault.

Not a single feather was even out of place, which seems to signify that the duel wasn’t even enough to make him break a sweat. The man himself didn’t seem to realize Heathcliff’s gaze, as he had already gone over to fetch his standing stick and fold it back up into a handheld one.

‘No, don’t get distracted,’ Heathcliff shook his head repeatedly. He still needed to finish his job, first.

“-This duel had been judged as completed by the authority of the Öufi Association. Dismissed!” There, with the pole slam, it was already over. As the crowd around them began to disperse, Heathcliff also turned around and tried to leave as fast as he could.

However, he had only taken a few brisk steps before his name was called out,

“Heathcliff!”

Startled, Heathcliff turned around and saw that Meursault was surprisingly approaching him. Well, that was really shocking, because Meursault had never taken the initiative to go up to him before.

His hand was still holding up his camera, though, and Heathcliff still couldn’t bring himself to show himself onscreen. Once Meursault was standing in front of him, he shifted away to avoid the camera. Meursault fortunately seems to have noticed his avoidance, and thoughtfully angled the camera away so that it only shows his own self, but not Heathcliff.

After confirming that Heathcliff had begun to be visibly more relaxed once the camera was out of view, Meursault asked, “Heathcliff, I have noticed that you have been acting strangely lately, are you well?”

He shrugged, looking away as to not make eye contact with him. After all, he wasn’t sure how to explain the whole Lo3 thing without dying of embarrassment himself. Didn’t Meursault ignore the word ‘meurcliff’ when it passed by the chat room? Yeah, maybe Heathcliff just needs to do the same thing. So he took a deep breath and answered, “Yeah, I am. You don’t need to be worried about me, mate,” Meursault nodded thoughtfully at his answer, “I see, is there anything else bothering you? You seem to have been avoiding the camera as of late, when you had no such problems before.”

Well, cat’s out of the bag. Though he guesses it was pretty noticeable, since Heathcliff never really minded it before. He hesitated to answer, because how exactly should he put this? “I don’t really know how to explain it, but,” he started, “I’d like it if you don’t show me in your streams for now.”

There was a brief flash of an emotion in Meursault’s eyes that Heathcliff couldn’t identify, but it was immediately gone before he could tell.

Meursault suddenly took a deep bow in front of him, which surprised him again, “I apologize. I have realized now that I have never asked for your permission to show your face on my streams until the present. If that is your wish, then I will not show your figure anywhere in my streams starting from now on. If you would like, I will also delete every footage that has your face on it from my previous streams.”

Now that really scared Heathcliff. Who doesn’t know that the top streamer ‘CinqMeursault’ has over three hundred streams and counting, and as his personal duel overseer Heathcliff is present in more than half of them? He quickly waved his hands, “No, no! You don’t have to do that. Just don’t include me starting from now on,” Meursault looked at him quietly and there! There really was something in his eyes again. Heathcliff couldn’t really tell what it was, but it seems like-

-he looked... sad?

Before Heathcliff could confirm his thoughts, the emotion had already disappeared again. Meursault nodded back to him, “I understand.”

Heathcliff shook his head out of his thoughts, he had time to think about that later, “Alright, so we’re done here, yeah? I’m leaving first,” Heathcliff immediately turned around and started walking away, as he didn’t want to see what Meursault would look like behind him.

Meursault seems to have hesitated for a bit before finally saying, “Of course. Stay safe in your journey back, Heathcliff.”

“You too, tin man,” he said without looking back.

It was quite a while later that Heathcliff managed to arrive back at his apartment. The cumulation of his stress and confusion really wore him down, and he even accidentally slammed his door shut in frustration.

Dammit, his mind’s really in a mess lately. What’s gotten into him?

Instead of introspecting himself on what he should do to solve this inconvenience like a proper, productive member of society, Heathcliff decided to turn on his phone and open up Tremor, relying on muscle memory to write down ‘CinqMeursault’ on the search bar and open up today’s livestreaming recording.

Avoiding his problems would definitely not solve his issues in the long run, but frankly, Heathcliff’ll rather be damned.

Originally he wanted to watch today’s streaming, the one that didn’t have him in it, but he was surprised to find that Meursault was actually live right now.

Shocked, he looked at the clock on his wall. The clockhands shows that it’s 5 pm. His eyes weren’t joking with him.

This is because Meursault had stated multiple times before, especially on stream, that he wouldn’t broadcast after the afternoon because he didn’t feel the need to showcase anything outside of his occupation, that is, his personal life.

So why now? What changed?

Immediately, Heathcliff clicked on it. The number of viewers were far less than usual, probably because none of Meursault’s usual fans expected that their favorite streamer would have gone live at this hour.

Currently, Meursault was still sitting on his desk, the same as always with his casual, non-duel streams, though Heathcliff noticed that his clothes were a bit more crinkled, as if he put them on haphazardly—which was very unlike him, because usually the man would always dress like the right proper standard of a professional businessman—and he looked slightly more haggard than usual.

Meursault seems to be lost in thought for a while, looking away into the space outside of the screen. It was really concerning, considering that it gets to a point where he’s ignoring the chat that’s quickly scrolling by with concern about him.

Heathcliff also felt his chest tighten as he worried about him. He wasn’t sure of it earlier today, but now he is.

Meursault was definitely bothered by something to get to this point, but what?

Is it... because of him?

A few more minutes passed by until Meursault finally seemed to snap out of it. He turned to his screen and briefly looked at the chat, but his eyes remained listless, dull.

“Good evening, viewers,” he nodded his head slightly, “I apologize for disturbing you this evening. I know this must have startled you, for this is also the first time I’ve opened a livestream out of our regular schedule.”

‘it’s alright! we’ll always be here to support u’
‘but seriously tho, are u okay? it’s not everyday we see you stream this late’
‘yeah, didn’t u say you’d never stream on the evening?’

As the chat immediately showered him with love and acceptance, they also queried all sorts of things, even imagining scenarios of their own to the most outlandish things, like Meursault losing a duel off stream. Obviously, that one wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, Heathcliff scoffed.

Heathcliff was almost tempted to comment out of his own concern too, but he held himself back.

After reading and thanking kindly to some of the more positive responses, Meursault continued, “Thank you for your support, everyone. Now, I will say what has been my concern for awhile. As a lot of you may know, my contractor—my companion—Heathcliff from the Öufi Association, had been acting quite strange lately-”

H-huh? It’s really about him? Heathcliff’s mouth was agape in shock. He’d had a hunch it would be like this, but he didn’t expect it to affect Meursault this badly.

“-Just today, he had officially announced that he will no longer show himself on our stream, and I chose to respect his decision. However, I cannot help but be concerned. I have reviewed our previous streams together and found that he had no problems until the 362nd stream, where Heathcliff began to avoid showing himself on camera. I could not find the reason why, so I would like to ask the viewers’s insight. Perhaps any of you had a similar experience with a close acquaintance, or have their own perspectives to share?”

Almost immediately, the chat exploded in responses. Obviously, they didn’t expect that this was the cause of Meursault’s first non-duel related stream.

Honestly, not even Heathcliff expected it.

The chat kept giving him equal amounts of advice as well as questions, and as they kept getting more and more outrageous, the worst part of it all, is how Meursault kept answering them diligently like how he usually answers in a normal stream!

He even had that damn notebook out!

‘maybe he was being harassed by a stalker online? that happened to RoseyBailey last week, you know’

“While that is a possibility, I find it hard to believe that Heathcliff would let himself be harassed by a stranger. As far as I know, he would rather go directly to the stalker’s home himself and beat them first. Though I will take that into consideration, thank you, username ‘No1CinqFan’.”

‘or maybe he’s just bored of being hidden by your spotlight for too long, and he wanted to make his own Tremor livestream channel!’

“I also find that hard to believe, because Heathcliff had mentioned to me once before that he feels uncomfortable with the concept of streaming to strangers, therefore I find that very unlikely. However, there is always a possibility your statement might be true, so I must also thank you, user ‘GlamourClamour’.”

‘guys hear me out, this might be a bit outlandish, but what if he found out about us shipping him with meur and got uncomfortable because of it?’
‘hey, don’t bring any ship discourse around here!’
‘but i’m serious!’

For once, Meursault actually paused for a few seconds before responding, now looking up from his notebook and directly at the chat, “I am unfamiliar with the term, ‘shipping’. User ‘Fujo4Life’, you may elaborate further.”

‘well, shipping is when fans pair up two or more amount of characters or people that they think fit romantically together! though, hehe, not everyone might be comfortable with that’

“I see. That is not something I have thought of before. Please elaborate further on your hypothesis.”

Given the spotlight, the username Fujo4Life excitedly continued,

‘now i’m not an expert on this, and i certainly didn’t mean to bash on meurcliff fans (especially because i’m a big fan of the ship myself!), but i’ve seen streamers who get shipped with their irls get really uncomfortable being on camera afterwards’

“I see,” Meursault nodded in agreement, “Then what did these streamers do to resolve this issue?”

‘they can just ask their viewers to stop talking about it onstream! though we’d be really sad if you ban it altogether’

“Do not worry, viewers, I have no interest in what your activities entails outside of our livestream room, however I only wish that you respect both Heathcliff and I’s privacy.”

‘yeah, i’m sorry for making you and heath uncomfortable’
‘i’m sorry too’
‘sorry’

“It is fine, viewers. Now, should I apply a ban for this term, do you think Heathcliff would tolerate showing himself on stream again?”

‘he should be!’
‘though we can’t say for sure, it worked for other streamers, so it’s worth giving it a try!’
‘you should do it, meur’

“Understood. I will adjust the channel rules from now on, and I will notify you of any progress on the following streams. That shall be all for today, and I apologize for the sudden notification.”

‘it’s okay, we love you and heath both!’
‘byebye~’
‘good luck, meur!’
‘i hope we can see heathcliff smile again’

Just before ending the stream, Meursault looked up at that last comment. Heathcliff saw the faintest trace of the edge of his lips lifting up,

“I hope so, too.”

And then the screen turned to black.

Hey, wait. Did Heathcliff just imagine that? No. Meursault, smiling? That’s impossible.

He shook his head. There’s other, more important things that he should think about right now, such as the conclusion that Meursault and his viewers agreed upon at the end of his very sudden evening stream.

‘shipping’, huh?

Honestly, he himself didn’t know what the hell’s wrong with him, but after watching Meursault’s stream, y’know, maybe they were right about something. Maybe just the thought of him being shipped together with Meursault weirded him out.

But-

Is it really because he felt weirded out?

Absentmindedly, Heathcliff exited the Tremor app and entered Lo3.

Huh. Never thought he’d open this damn app again.

He didn't know why he's trying to read another fanfic—the correct term for these fanmade stories—after the disaster that is the last time, but he just has this gut feeling that he’ll feel a lot less confused after reading one-

No, it has to be the right one.

After all, fanfics are kinda like alternate dimensions, right? Maybe he can find one that shows him an ideal life of what it’s like to be in love with Meursault?

Well, if he’s really gonna do this, at least he should try to be more careful than before.

This time, he learned his lesson and didn’t judge a fanfic by its title, taking his time to read the tags and avoiding any of them with sexual themes, and even observing their summaries.

Turns out all those days looking at complicated contracts had some use, he mused.

Eventually, he settled on a fanfic with a mild title, “couldn’t, wouldn’t imagine a life without you”. From what he could tell from the tags and summary, it was supposedly an imaginary domestic slice of life scenario where he and Meursault lived together in the same apartment. He also compared the word count to the usual word count of the contracts he read day by day, and judging by his quick comparison, it should also be a pretty short fanfic. He also made sure the tags didn’t have any sexual tags or themes this time. Although he was aware that some authors may not include it in their fanfics, he just had to believe he wouldn’t be shocked again by this one.

Right. Okay.

He took a deep breath, then clicked on the fanfic.

It told of a short scenario of his and Meursault’s daily life in their shared apartment. The story begins with them sleeping in the same bed together—and of course everything had to be shared—then slowly waking up while basking in the sunlight. After a short while of lazying around in their bed, refusing to get up immediately, they eventually managed to get up and did their respective morning routines.

It was a very heartwarming fanfic, actually. Again, Heathcliff really immersed himself in the story and managed to actually imagine himself living together with Meursault.

He ended the fanfic a few minutes later, his mind much calmer and his heart rather soothed.

Heathcliff began to think again.

Was this the kind of life he wants? The one where he actually falls in love with Meursault? Obviously, life wouldn’t be as wonderful as the fanfics said, especially in the City, but he could at least take this step out of his own initiative.

Right. First of all, how exactly does he feel about Meursault? Is it really love?

Well, he does feel something towards Meursault, a kind of warmth that makes his heart fuzzy and his cheeks burn like fire around him. It has especially grown a lot fonder these days, and he had to admit, he really did feel his heart jolt when Meursault opened a livestream for the first time out of his own work schedule before just because he was concerned about Heathcliff.

But he really can’t tell. He thinks he’d once been in love before, back at Wuthering Heights, it was with-

with...

with... who, exactly?

“Agh!” he held his head in pain. That’s strange, trying to remember who it was, even just thinking about it made his head hurt.

Well, best not to think about that for now, then. What’s certain is that he felt like he did once fall in love before, and he vaguely remembers the feeling. Does it compare to what he feels towards Meursault right now?

No, no, he can't do that. He can't compare these two feelings, not when they’re both two very different, very distinct things.

His first love was extremely wild and passionate. Although he could not remember who they were, he remembers that it felt like he was drowning alive with obsession, or like he was being possessed by a living wraith. It was exactly this obsession that drove him to leave Wuthering Heights where he was raised, and hell, it took all the life out of him to crawl out of that damned place and try to land a decent job for himself.

And that’s how he got here now, at Öufi Association. In fact, didn’t he do this just because he wanted to prove himself to those people back in that hellish manor? And to show... something, to the person he once loved, though he couldn’t remember much about it now.

Anyways, he didn’t feel much of his revenge at the present. Maybe because he’d grown used to this City’s Nest lifestyle and had gradually walked away from the pain of his past.

Now, Meursault.

Meursault.

The feelings he has for him are significantly different.

Instead of feeling like he was being showered by a torrential thunderstorm that threatens to swallow him whole, being with Meursault felt like standing directly underneath the all-encompassing sun.

Sometimes he feels too hot, so hot that he’d rather hide beneath the shades of a tree and grumble about the heat, but sometimes he also feels warm, warm enough that he’d willingly lay on a nice fresh patch of grass or a bed big enough to hold the two of them and bask in its rays.

So if Heathcliff had to say-

Heathcliff looked at his phone, to the still opened Lo3 fanfic that he had read down to the bottom, where the author has inserted a piece of fanart inspired by the fanfic made by a different fan.

It was an overview of their imaginary apartment’s bedroom, specifically of the scene at the beginning where they were still sleeping together while the sun gently shined on them.

He smiled.

“I like him,” he laughed, as if the statement was something humorous, and it is, because he realized that saying it brought him so much joy.

“No,” he shook his head, correcting himself, “I love him.”