forever//over

“Help you? How?”

Mele wanted to sigh. Was Fali really this dense - or was she simply not being obvious enough? She chose to believe the latter and continued.

“I can’t stop performing without a good reason. I already played the exhaustion card for this one, but I can’t do that again. So I need something else if I’m going to take a longer break. The only other option is a sabbatical, but that risks hurting my reputation. I’d have to keep making music and trust my manager to handle the public side of things. But I can’t do it alone.”

She waited, trying to convey her meaning with her eyes as the cogs visibly turned in his mind. Then, at last, he snapped his fingers.

“Oh! You want… no… you want me to help you make music?”

She nodded. Finally.

He looked both perplexed and nervous.
“But why me? What help could I possibly be?”

She smiled.
“You tell me. What do you think I’d need if I was going to take a year off from being constantly shuttled from hotel to hotel?”

Her smile widened as she watched his military-trained brain kick into gear, logic beating emotion as he began counting on his fingers.

“You’d need a place to stay, equipment to record with, sources of inspiration…”

She interrupted before he could continue forever.
“Okay, let’s take those three. Where could I get them?”

She was clearly enjoying watching him try to piece her hints together.

“I guess… I guess…”

And then a car screeched to a halt outside. Followed by a van.

People spilled out in a rush, and it took Mele less than a second to realize what was happening - the media. Someone had tipped them off.

Her heart sank. She knew exactly what would follow: a swarm of cameras, shouted questions, relentless flashes.

Fali caught on a second later, the look of horror - and then anger - that crossed his face confirming it. His instincts kicked in.

“We need to go.”

But they both knew it was already too late. Cameras were up; shutters were snapping.

Mele grabbed her phone, opening a social media app. A quick scroll through her tagged posts confirmed her fear - a fresh photo of the two of them laughing together, posted just minutes ago. The waitress.

It was already exploding online.
The Reaper’s Songstress and the Airborne Warrior - A Fated Romance.

The headlines wrote themselves. Theories would fly, rumours would spread, fanfictions would follow - and she was powerless to stop it.

She looked helplessly at Fali, half-expecting, half-hoping he’d somehow fix it. But to her surprise, he was already on his feet, his sharp gaze locked on the waitress.

The poor girl froze. Mele could tell from the look alone that she would never post another photo without permission again.

Then Fali turned back to her, his voice steady but low.
“Let’s go.”

She hesitated only a second before nodding. The metal chair scraped loudly as she stood and followed him. He strode straight for the door without even glancing at the reporters, who were already shouting questions like gunfire.

Mele stuck as close to him as possible - if she lagged behind, the media would twist the image into something far worse. For a fleeting moment, beneath the flashes and the noise, she considered reaching for his hand swinging beside her. The urge was strong, but she beat it down with the mental image of a grandmother brandishing a handbag.

A thousand thoughts swirled in her mind, none clear, none comforting. Relief only came when she finally shut the car door behind her, the chaos muffled outside.

Fali started the engine, forcing a few overzealous reporters to scatter as he pulled away.

But even as they left the flashing lights behind, dread pooled in her chest. How will they spin this? The photos could paint her as desperate, chasing him out like a lovesick fool.

Her spiraling thoughts were broken by Fali’s calm voice.
“I agree with you. Disappearing for a while would be nice.”

The words caught her off guard.
“Y-yeah. It would.”

The car hummed, filling the silence with road noise and unspoken thoughts. Fali gripped the wheel tighter, searching for something to say.

“Do you have any ideas?”

She shook her head.
“No, but I’ve got a few weeks left at the hotel I’m staying in to figure it out.”

He nodded.
“I guess it’ll be a while till I can see you again, then.”

She wanted - desperately - to ask if she could stay with him, to blurt it out and deal with the fallout later. But the words refused to come. Instead, she managed the next best thing.

“No! I’m sure we’ll meet up again soon. I’ll message you, okay?”

Her mind ached with frustration. It made no sense - she could stand before thousands, pour her heart into every lyric, but she couldn’t ask him one simple question?

“I… I want to see you again…”

Fali’s heart skipped more than a few beats, his chest tightening. He stole a glance at her - sitting in the passenger seat, nervously twisting her fingers, unable to meet his eyes.

He swallowed, forcing his voice steady before she could notice.
“So do I. We’ll find a time and place. I’ll look too. Okay?”

She nodded softly, still looking down.
“Okay…”

The afternoon was in full swing by the time Fali pulled back into the garage. The little car gave a tired splutter as the engine died, and he let out a long breath, sinking into the seat.

He’d dropped Mele off at her new hotel without incident - thankfully. But his heart had stumbled when she waved goodbye, and the entire drive back had been a blur of half-formed thoughts and quickened heartbeats.

Now, stepping out of the car, which rocked slightly as his weight left it, he was assaulted by a single thought - what now?

He turned it over in his mind as he climbed the stairs to his apartment, absently fiddling with the car keys in his pocket. But halfway up, the faint murmur of voices made him pause.

They weren’t coming from inside - no, they were just outside his door.

His pulse quickened.

As he turned the corner, his fears solidified: a small crowd of reporters stood waiting, cameras and notepads at the ready. The moment they saw him, the flashes erupted - white bursts like muzzle fire.

“Are you dating the Reaper’s Songstress?”
“Do you have plans to marry?”
“Are you aware of-”

He didn’t let them finish. He pushed through the wall of bodies without a word, ignoring the barrage of questions as if they were wind. The door slammed shut behind him, the lock clicking into place.

For a fleeting second he considered dragging a chair to bar it - but no. If things got to that point, he’d have bigger problems than an interview request.

He waited, back pressed to the door, until the voices outside faded and footsteps retreated down the hall. Only then did he exhale, sliding down the wood until he was sitting on the floor.

He wondered what it must be like for Mele right now - if she’d been greeted by the same storm of flashes and questions.

But one thought rose above all the others, sharp and certain.

This was the last straw.

It pained him to admit it, but he couldn’t see another way. The plan that had been lingering in the back of his mind for months suddenly took shape - something that, until now, had seemed irrational.

But after today, it made perfect sense.

He was going to disappear.