A week since Aether returned, Albedo had been avoiding him.

He can't bring himself to confront him, to look at the shell of his lover. It's too painful. He feels weak for running away, but the thought of facing Aether's emptiness, his vacancy, haunted him.

Instead, he'd been cooped up in his laboratory, spending most of his time there, hardly coming out to eat or sleep. Sleepless night spent poring over alchemical tomes and notes. His eyes were red and sunken from lack of sleep and dehydration. He looked like a mess. His hair was disheveled, his clothes were rumpled, and he had dark circles under his eyes.

Albedo pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he hunched over his desk, notes and books strewn about unorganized. He tried to focus on the text, but the words blurred together, making no sense. Frustrated, he let out a sigh and shut the book, pushing it away from him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. His head was pounding, a steady throb in his temples. The exhaustion weighed heavily on him, but he refused to stop. Not until he found a way to bring the real Aether back.

The door to the laboratory creaked open, the noise startling Albedo. He's been so focused on his research that he hardly noticed the passage of time.

He swallowed hard, dread pooling in his gut.

Albedo's shoulders tensed slightly as he looked up from his scattered notes, expecting to see Aether’s hollow gaze, only to be met with Sucrose’s disapproving frown instead. The relief was fleeting, replaced by a familiar weight of guilt. He pushed his glasses up like it would cover the exhaustion in his eyes.

“Ah, Sucrose...” His voice was quieter than usual. “You know I’m not accepting visitors right now. Unless it’s urgent.”

Sucrose shifted uncomfortably in the doorway.

“M-Mr. Albedo, Miss Alice stopped by earlier. She... She wasn't happy.” Her voice wavered slightly, and she adjusted her glasses, unable to meet his gaze. “She said, and I quote, ‘Tell that brooding alchemist if he doesn't start taking care of his new creation, I'll turn his precious notes into confetti.’”

“I see.” His voice was flat. He had expected Alice to try and drag him out of his spirals. While he appreciated it, this wasn’t something he could just snap out of easily.

The silence stretched between them until Sucrose cleared her throat.

“She... also left Aether here. He's in the garden. Just... sitting there.“ Her voice softened, hesitant. “I tried talking to him, but he just stares like—”

Albedo stood abruptly, cutting her off. The movement sent a stack of books teetering, but he didn’t bother to steady them.

Without another word, he strode past her. The hallway to the garden felt longer than usual, each step heavier than the last. When he pushed open the door, the late afternoon light hit his face. His eyes squinted and slowly adjusted to the brightness.

Over the overgrown flower beds, Aether is alone on the garden bench. Motionless. Like a doll propped up in the sunlight.

Albedo’s chest tightened at the sight. He didn’t know whether to scream or kneel. He wanted to reach out, to pull Aether close, and to beg for forgiveness for failing him twice over. First by letting him die, then by being unable to fully bring him back.

Exhaling slowly to calm his nerves, he forced himself to step forward.

“Aether.” His voice came out hoarse. Too quiet, too raw. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Have you been waiting long?”