It's Only a Matter of Time

Cygnus considered himself to be a patient man.

It was slightly agonizing at times, being able to peer forward into millions of possibilities for his future, and knowing every single person his fate intertwined with because sometimes he had to pick and choose. He couldn’t have Kal and Taikuri at the same time, or one of them would inevitably end up dead, whether they hated each other so much they killed each other or they ended up caring for each other so much that one died for the other. Aster was always a risk, because there was a 50% chance that he went crazy and murdered them all, but hey, you win some, you lose some.

He found it awfully amusing and quite nice that no matter which people surrounded them, no matter how or when the world ended, no matter how she looked or acted or spoke—

Cygnus chose the same girl to love in every single iteration of his life, regardless of whether or not she loved him in return. He had seen her at her worst and he had seen her at her best, and he was utterly besotted with her, even now, before he had even once laid eyes on her.

Excitement thrummed through every single nerve in his body.

Tonight was the first night he could approach her with a decently high chance of her not finding him extremely creepy.

So, here he was, perched on an oak tree with a squirrel in his arms, staring up at the dazzling night sky in all its glory, quietly mourning the fact that by the 21st century, a devastating 99% of these stars would be all but invisible to the naked eye.

What a shame. The beauty of the stars rivaled that of anything humanity could fashion. He took comfort in the fact that the moon would always be visible.

Cygnus would look at the stars for all those who would never get to see the splendor of a starry night.

Every time he died, Genesis requested to see the stars if he had enough time. He would have to find the white-haired boy this time— he was too precious to Kal to separate the two, and Kal and Katrina were always such good friends…

Cygnus had almost made up his mind as to which companions to bring along in this life when the soft sound of footsteps reached his ears.

He tore his eyes away from the mesmerizing glamour of the night to look at something a million times more precious than the moon, sun, and stars combined.

He couldn’t wait.

Cygnus hopped down from the tree branch, landing as gracefully as he could. Restraining himself from running at her and tackling her in a hug was hard, but he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable or be pushy.

“Hello, Mai,” He said softly as she came within ten feet of him.

She stopped. Cygnus wanted to scream at how she was so close and yet so very far. “Do I know you?”

“You will,” He offered, then wanted to slap himself for how corny that sounded. “Well, I know you.”

“That’s creepy,” Mai scowled, crossing her arms. She wasn’t walking away yet, so Cygnus took that as a good sign.

Every well-thought-out speech and witty response he’d planned for this exact conversation ditched him.

“I, uh, I know this is really weird, but this can’t be the weirdest thing you’ve ever experienced,” Cygnus ventured carefully, watching her expression for every change, no matter how small. Thankfully, by now, he knew exactly how to read her usually stoic face.

Mai stiffened slightly, but she didn’t reach for the knife he knew was hidden beneath her cloak. She always had multiple knives— one in her boot, several under her cloak, and two more quite literally up her sleeves. Mai was nothing if not thorough.

“How long have you looked twenty-one, Mai? Fifty years? Sixty? Perhaps even seventy.”

Her expression saddened slightly. “Sixty-eight.”

Cygnus nodded, taking a few tentative steps towards her, palms up to show that he meant no harm. “I’m sorry. I understand how hard it is. I’ve been twenty-one for hundreds of years, you know.”

She looked up, and the look in her eyes almost wounded him.

Hope, distrust, agony, loneliness, and vulnerability, all at once.

Cygnus had seen it so many times through his abilities, and yet seeing it in person felt like a sledgehammer to the stomach.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore…and neither will I.”

Mai shuddered with tears, and as Cygnus placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, she leaned forward till her forehead met his chest. “Well, better late than never.”

—

“Hey Mai,” Cygnus said tentatively, voice shaking as he slowly opened the ring box under the table.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” Mai replied without missing a beat.

He blinked.

Blinked again.

“How—”

“You’ve been reading me like the back of your hand for centuries now. It’s about time I figure out how to do it back to you.” Mai rolled her eyes, not even bothering to look up from her failed attempt at crocheting. “Took a little long, but better late than never. Cyg, are you sure I was good at crocheting in any future at all?”

“Yes, of course I’m sure, you even crocheted a veil for Katrina’s wedding at one point, but how did you—”

“Cygnus. My love. I have literally never seen you this nervous in the centuries and centuries I have known you. Also, you dropped the ring five times over the course of dinner.” Mai finally looked up, tossing her crochet hook onto the table. “I even picked it up for you once.”

—

“So you just…got married on paper, without telling…any of us…?” Kal clarified, frowning as he tried to wipe peanut butter out of Genesis’ hair. It was not working.

“Ceremonies are so much work.” Mai waved her hand dismissively.

“Half of us aren’t even here, and you’re announcing it now. Lex is going to have a fit when he finds out you told Kal before him,” Genesis giggled, then yelped as Kal tugged on his hair particularly hard.

“Yeah. And guess who has to deal with that. Me and Lia.” Katrina made a face at Cygnus, who sighed.

“Alas,” He mumbled, handing Kal wet wipes. “It seems that this is not one of the timelines in which I, in my infinite wisdom, convince her to have a ceremony.”

Cecelia smiled sympathetically. “You can always have a ceremony later,” She pointed out helpfully. “Hm, Kal?”

“Look, Lia, I’m just glad they finally got married,” Kal sighed, focusing on his current peanut butter predicament.

“I agree. Well, better late than never,” Mai shrugged, still practically in a fight with her crochet.

Cygnus smiled to himself as he looked up at the stars and wondered if she remembered how the first time she had said those words in front of him had been the first time they had cried together, and the first time they had laughed together.