Part I - Summer - "We took the train."

There had been no reason to think, at the time, during that first (and … well, final) journey to Lazumere as a couple—sitting side by side in the artificially-cooled booth of the crystal-powered traincar, his hand in hers, hers in his—that the summer trip would end up spiralling out into a complete and irreconcilable disaster: with shattered hearts on both sides; and separate futures, perhaps once mutual, irrevocably set upon different trajectories; and, most importantly of all, with words neither could ever take back, no matter how agonizingly either one—the human boy, the elf girl—would yearn to do so, in the lonely, desolate, war-torn years that followed that ruinous summer.

The trip had certainly seemed like a good idea at the time. It'd even been her idea to begin with, when she brought it up on a whim, sometime near the end of their third-year exams, when the two of them were hanging out in his dormitory room.

"You should come with me," Miyu had said.

"Hmm?" asked Cameron, lying on his twin bed, going over his handwritten notes for his Advanced Crystalline Circuitry course, the final exam for which was a mere three days away.

"You know. When classes end for the summer. You should leave Crystal City, and come with me back home. We'll go together."

"… To Lazumere?"

"Yeah! You keep saying how much you want to see the countryside." She poked his cheek. "Don't you want to see the place where your beloved elf girlfriend grew up? Hmm? Hmm-mm?" (She continued poking his cheek, going 'Pu-nyu~, Pu-nyu~' with each poke.) "Become one with nature," she intoned, in a mock, monk-wise affectation. "Leave technology behind, attune yourself with the universe. Achieve the perfect harmony you so seek, Cameron Callihan."

"Stop that." Cameron tried to act annoyed, but couldn't hide the smile spreading across his face. "No, seriously. Stop that. Stop poking me. Miyu, I'm not going all the way to Lazumere."

A mischievous, smug smile crept across Miyu's face. "Ohh, I get it. Little Cammy is a big scaredy-cat. He's too afraid to leave the modern conveniences of the big city. What will he ever do without shops and restaurants every few feet, and crystal cooling everywhere? Hmm? Hmmmm? The sweltering heat, the constant buzz of cicadas. A-and"—she gasped loudly, exaggeratedly—"grass! And trees! The smell of dirt and soil! What horror!" She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, swooning theatrically. "Whatever will poor Cam do?"

Cameron tossed aside his papers. "You are so annoying. Oh, I'll show you precisely what I intend to do. Come here."

At which time they were interrupted by the sound of the dorm room opening, followed by a loud groan from Cameron's roommate, Heinrich Ambergris, who had come back from classes earlier than expected.

"Ugh," said Heinrich, "you guys are on your lovey-dovey crap again. Alright, I'll come back in an hour or two. … Or, uh"—sighing dramatically—"… maybe I'll just never come back." And then he stormed off, making a show of it, ranting about 'typpies', a term he had proudly coined himself to describe, quite rudely, those who lived what he considered 'typical' lives (derogatory) and had 'typical' (again, derogatory) life experiences—with a particular emphasis on (though he vehemently denied this) typical romantic relationships (hence … 'typ'-pies)—which term Heinrich only occasionally employed in everyday conversation, apropos of nothing, but one which he utilized generously when he found himself within, hmm, let's say, fifty feet of any romantic couplings.

… And considering just how inseparable Cameron and Miyu were, all the time, ever since they officially became, as the modern parlance went these days, a thing, the young couple were all but accustomed to the usual utterances of inane Ambergrisianisms such as, "… Freakin' typpies … go explode …," or "2D will always be superior to 3D …," or "… You laugh at me because I'm different … I laugh at you because you're all the same …" whenever Heinrich was around.

"Meh, he's not a bad guy," Cameron would say, somewhat apologetically, to anybody exposed to Heinrich's, err, unique, mannerisms for the first time. "Just … marches to his own beat, you know? He's … a good friend. No, seriously."

"Yeah, Heinrich's alright," Miyu would pitch in, if she happened to be there. "He's always nice to me. Really. He's just … rough around the edges. A-and! He's a pretty good artist, too!" (As though that last point had anything to do with his personality …)

And after all, if Heinrich were really that bad—would Cameron and Miyu have invited him along on their trip to Lazumere? Would he be sitting across from them in the private railcar booth, right now, on this south-bound train—gazing out the window, watching in child-like wonder at the sheer vastness of the picturesque southern landscape zooming by, the verdant plains, the endless rolling hills, the occasional herds of sheep, or cattle—as the third traveler of their four-member crew, headed together for the remote, elfen countryside? … A-and would he still have accepted the invitation if there hadn't been the faintest possibility, however remote (hint: it was very remote), of ending the summer with an elf girlfriend of his very own?

The answer to all of which was, collectively, No—and so therefore Heinrich sat there now, watching the countryside, uncharacteristically optimistic for a change, voicing once in a while his strategies to find true love by the time summer was over; while beside him, having not deigned to utter a single word since boarding, sat Miyu's older brother, Elegia Nocturne, the only sound coming from his end the occasional turn of a page in the book he was reading, as well as the soft swish of his hair as he flicked his bangs away whenever they fell into his eyes. (… Which happened a lot.)

"These private booths really are nice," sighed Miyu, stretching her legs further out. (Her brother, seemingly unaffected by his sister's legs encroaching into his personal space, continued reading his book.) "You know, with a standard ticket, you're not even guaranteed a seat. Elegia and I have had to stand the entire four-hour ride a few times." She looped her arm around Cameron's, rested her head on his shoulder. "See? Dating you has finally paid off." Then Miyu's face grew dark, and she whispered into her boyfriend's ear, severely, squinting her eyes: "I'm just using you for your money."

Which didn't really make sense, even as a joke, because it's not like Cameron paid for four first-class tickets himself—his parents still paid for everything. His tuition, his food, his lodging … the train tickets … and even then, the tickets hadn't been full price, because as a Crystal City Railway engineer (that is, a engineer of crystal mechanics; not to be confused with a train operator), Cameron's dad had managed to use his various employee discounts to score a fairly good deal on all four tickets, the total final price on which he then had to pay himself, anyway, in the end, all so that his son, and his son's girlfriend … and his son's girlfriend's brother … and his son's, uh … roommate (??) could travel down south for the summer.

So … uh …

"… I mean, it doesn't have to make sense," pouted Miyu. "It was just a joke."

Cameron gave Miyu's heat a pat. "It's okay. Look, part of life is finding out what you're good at, and what you're not good at. And you're not good at being funny. The important thing is, you tried."

To which Miyu retorted, "Oh, shut up. You're so annoying," with a gentle punch to Cameron's stomach.

Which in turn, caused Cameron to start tickling Miyu's sides. "No, you're annoying …"

… Kicking off this whole back-and-forth routine of escalating physical retaliations between the young couple, a common enough sight to Heinrich that he could at least roll his eyes and tune out, but an upsettingly, if not sickeningly, disruptive spectacle for the uninitiated … or those trying to, oh gee, I dunno, read maybe?, like the silver-haired, taciturn, older (Miyu: "Pfft, yeah. Only by, like, a year …") elf sitting directly across from Miyu, who glanced up from his book, glared at the couple, and admonished simply, "Hey. Kids. Stop it," before flipping his bangs out of his eyes and returning to his book.

"Sorry," the couple said, in unison.

After Cameron and Miyu settled down, the four of them (this group of undergraduates—same college, different disciplines—all headed for the same destination: one-half homebound, the other bound for a part of the continent that their kind, before the advance of crystal-powered transportation, could only ever dream of visiting) spent the rest of the train ride in relative peace.

Elegia read his book.

Heinrich stared out the window, his mind already at work, engaged in the act of—when it wasn't fantasizing about all the elf girls who would surely throw themselves at him once he stepped off the train—turning the scenery before him into paintings and sketches he would later set down on paper.

Miyu wrote in a pocket leather-bound rabbit-themed notebook, adding to her list of must-do summer activities ("Oh, oh! And we must go fishing by Old Logan's Creek …") every time she managed to think of a new one.

And Cameron, his arm around Miyu, lightly squeezed his girlfriend's shoulder with one hand (M: "And just what are you smiling about?, Mr Callihan?" … C: "Nothing. It's going to be a good summer."), while the other, in his pocket, felt idly around for the small burlap pouch that concealed the object he would present, when the time was right—after obtaining the necessary blessings, first … from her father, to begin with—the hand-made ring made with … no, not diamond (they had once walked by a jewelry store in the city, close to winter break, and she had made a face of disgust as they passed by the display window of diamond engagement rings, saying, "Too flashy, too gaudy," this one off-hand comment informing his decision to spend what little spare time he had these past few weeks, in between studying and spending time with Miyu, down in the school's metal workshop), but crystal—because A) crystal engagement rings weren't exactly something you could buy off the street, and B) even if Miyu hadn't stuck her tongue out at the storefront window that day, it's not like he could've afforded anything offered in other display windows anyway, and he certainly wasn't going to ask his dad for the money—which jewelry he couldn't wait to place on her finger by the end of the summer.

Because, after all, he was going to—