If you remember me saying I think it'd be fun to get a custom Angus tryambaka ball, here it is! Made by my brother (who doesn't have an active social media to tag).
In a rare occurrence, Faust was already awake when Angus entered the kitchen that morning. He had bundled himself onto one of the stools that were too small for him, fully dressed save for his white coat, which lay neatly folded over the seat of another stool. He looked up when he heard Angus’ footsteps.
“Good morning, Mr Faust.” The paper bag covering Faust’s head wrinkled, betraying the wide smile on his face.
“Morning, Dr Ramstein.” Angus returned. He paused, and then grinned, leaning up to give a quick peck to Faust’s papered cheek. “I like that one, actually.” Faust hummed in agreement, but his attention couldn’t be any more distracted by staring at his newly wedded husband. There were practically small pink hearts floating off of the doctor as he extended a hand. Angus took it without prompt, and Faust gently brought their joined hands close to his face, pressing a soft kiss to Angus’s knuckles.
“Did you sleep well, my dear?” His hold lingered when Angus slipped from his grasp and walked past to get to the fridge.
“Mm-hm.” Angus nodded as he grabbed a carton of eggs and set them beside the stove. “I think I needed it, too. All that running around yesterday really tuckered me out.”
“Tell me about it. I can’t remember the last time I felt so nervous.” Faust’s hands fidgeted with themselves where they rested on the counter. He lowered his voice, “I couldn’t help but feel our guest list was a bit…lopsided…” Faust didn’t have much left in the way of family or friends. Compared to those on Angus’ side, the amount of empty chairs left on Faust’s hadn’t been hard to notice.
“It was wonderful.” Angus said with a decisive nod, “You were wonderful. You looked so handsome in your suit and your vows were so sweet.” Soft affection flashed across Angus’ face. He walked back and slung an arm around Faust’s, squeezing, before letting go. His tone took a joking turn as he once more wandered towards the fridge, “You did everything except carry me across the threshold.”
Faust sat up straight with a comically loud gasp.
“You’re right! How could I have forgotten such a crucial rite of passage!?”
Angus laughed but waved a hand dismissively.
“Oh, no, it’s alright.” He assured. His eyes fell and then he added, “I don’t think you could pick me up anyway…” Faust visibly perked up. He made a show first of getting up from his seat, then rolling up his sleeves, and finally strode towards Angus. Angus’ eyes widened, but as he tried to protest, Faust scooped him up off the ground. It was a tad finicky, perhaps, but not particularly difficult for Faust to hook his long spindly arms underneath Angus’ knees and back.
“There!” Faust declared, beaming with pride. A yelp escaped Angus, and he clung to Faust’s shoulders, trying not to look down at the distance to the floor below. Faust was almost double his height, so the idea of a fall from where he sat now was daunting, regardless of how secure Faust’s grip was underneath him. “And here you thought I couldn’t. Pffah!”
“Well, yeah, but-”
Faust hoisted his husband more snugly against his chest and spun. Angus immediately held onto him even tighter and let out what could only be described as an unflattering squeak. Despite being uncharacteristic of him, it still sent butterflies fluttering into Faust’s stomach, and Faust couldn’t help but respond with a giggle of his own.
“Okay, okay!” The spinning slowed, and Angus breathed a sigh of relief. He conceded, “Alright, point taken.” Mild aftershocks of laughter shook through Faust as he shifted his stance to steady the both of them. Even though they had stopped moving, his hold around Angus remained firm, holding him as tight against him as possible.
“I’ll do anything for you, lambchop.” Love swelled in Faust’s voice and he nuzzled his temple against Angus’, “You should know that by now.” Angus smiled, and whatever doubts remained in his mind were lifted, scattered as effectively as dark clouds in the wind.
“I do.” He answered, with the same promise and devotion he had said the same words with before, hardly fourteen hours earlier. He pulled himself forward and kissed the nearest patch of paper-covered face. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Faust sighed.
A moment passed. Neither of them wanted it to end. Eventually, Angus pulled back just enough to look at Faust, and his usual sunshine-like demeanour returned at proper strength.
“Eggs and bacon?” He offered.
“I thought you’d never ask.” Faust stole one last squeeze before carefully putting Angus back down on his own two feet. Angus raked the dishevelled brown curls from his face and straightened his pajamas before striding over to the stove. The egg carton was still waiting beside it, and Angus flipped it open, starting the familiar routine of preparing their breakfasts. He only faltered when a sudden thought made him frown.
“You didn’t wait to eat until I got up, did you?”
Faust was quiet behind him. Angus turned around to see Faust had returned to his seat, and he now looked quite sheepish.
“It…must have slipped my mind?” Both the excuse and the accompanying high shrug of his shoulders failed to convince, but Angus gave an insincere narrow of his eyes as the corners of his lips curved upwards.
“Well Fausty, you’re in luck,” Angus declared as he turned back and started searching through the drawers and cupboards for a pan, “Because you’ll get to spend the rest of your life eating my cooking.” With his back turned, Angus didn’t see Faust’s curled frame relax with another, silent sigh, or see Faust fiddle with the golden band newly homed around his finger.
Summary: Angus sucked in a deep breath, his grip shaking around the doorknob. He braced himself for the terrifying, awful idea that Faust wouldn’t remember him at all.
Word count: 1544
Author's Note: Includes some vaguely spoiler-ish details from Strive's second main story. Big thank you to Ky for motivating me to finally put this scenario down into proper words.
Angus didn’t know what to expect. He’d been told that Faust was…different, now. Nobody would elaborate on what ‘different’ meant, or why they felt the need to pause and look elsewhere before they said the word. The lack of information only worsened the dread gnawing at Angus’s heart. He stood in front of the door, the one Faust, his husband, was supposed to be behind. He stared at tiny brushstrokes in the wooden door’s paint, but his mind was far, far elsewhere.
A hand touched his shoulder, and Angus jumped. He turned around, releasing a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. A firm pair of golden eyes watched him closely.
“You can take more time if you need it.” Ramlethal inclined her head, which only emphasised the sharpness in her expression, and the softness in her voice. Angus searched her face, but for what, he wasn’t sure.
No. They’d been separated long enough; Since far before the attack on the White House, far before he could have expected any kind of catastrophe to happen.
“I’ll be alright. But thank you.” Angus gave a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, or match the waver in his voice. But Ramlethal pressed her lips into a line, then gave a nod and released his shoulder. The smile faded from Angus’s expression and he stared at the door again. Even reaching for the doorknob tied his stomach in knots, and it felt like there was a rock sitting in his chest.
He barely knew anything, but he’d caught murmurs after the May Ship II had returned; something about Faust's mind. Angus sucked in a deep breath, his grip shaking around the doorknob. He braced himself for the terrifying, awful idea that Faust wouldn’t remember him at all.
Waiting any longer would only make things worse, so Angus marched through the door and went inside. The plain, red-carpeted hallway was left behind for a sparsely furnished and grey-carpeted room. There were a few chairs and small tables dotted around, and it felt comfortable, but not welcoming. It must have been a waiting room of some sort for the floors above. Angus’s gaze flicked across the room as he stepped aside, holding the door open for Ramlethal behind him. She didn’t enter, hovering in the doorway, but Angus didn’t notice. His attention had frozen on a figure sitting hunched in one of the chairs.
At the sound of new arrivals, the figure stirred, twisting his body around. Long gloved fingers unfurled and wrapped around the chair’s arms. He rose to his feet with a lurching, shambling gait, gripping the chair as if the only way to move his giant body was by heaving it in the desired direction. Like rubber, he swayed and flopped as he came forward, dragging his feet across the room. Angus’s eyes widened and his heart jumped into his throat as the figure lumbered halfway across the room, then stopped. Faust’s blue medical scrubs hung off his skeletal frame, and his ribcage expanded and contracted as a breath shuddered through him. The paper bag covering his face wasn’t new, but a bright red circle of light flared through the hole in the paper, a pinprick that centred entirely on Angus.
A hush fell on the room. Angus stared at Faust, the doctor’s curled stature still towering above him. Neither of them moved or spoke, save for Angus wringing his hands between his fingers. It was Ramlethal who eventually broke the silence.
“I’ll give you some privacy.” She said quietly, head bowed as she closed the door. One soft click of the lockset, and the two of them were left alone, watching the other. Compared to Faust’s boneless stance, Angus stood completely rigid. Hesitation welled in his dark brown eyes as they darted across Faust’s body, still absorbing its new appearance. Faust’s head tilted slowly; he was looking back at Angus, but he didn’t seem to fully register him. Angus tried to stifle the stab of hurt he felt at that. Swallowing, he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, and moved himself forward - step by step, until he was standing within arm’s reach of Faust. Faust only seemed even larger now that they were so close, and although Angus wasn’t afraid of him, it was hard to ignore how small he felt.
“H-Hi.” His voice caught at first, forced through a weak smile as he inched a step closer. “...Do you remember me?” He watched Faust closely, keeping a smile on his face. The red light narrowed, and Faust hunched down even more, the sharp drop worryingly close to a fall. One hand brushed the carpet as Faust leaned forward, and then stilled. A moment passed, then Faust twitched, and stilled again, head sunk at a sideways angle. It was like watching a marionette with strings that were too loose; barely standing, limbs dangling bent and movements jerking. Angus’s brow furrowed sadly, his stomach twisting again. “Faust?”
Angus knew it was him, he could feel it. He’d travelled across the world with Faust, they’d spent years together learning about the other inside and out. But Faust’s sunken lack of energy now was so jarringly different from the man Angus remembered.
“It’s Angus.” He tried again, fighting the sudden thickness in his throat. “I’m- We’re- Do you recognise me at all?” His voice sounded strained, but Angus looked into the glowing eye-hole with desperation and hope clawing between his ribs, hands reaching forward. He needed something, anything at all, to prove that the man he loved still loved him in return.
Faust blinked. His head turned back upright, and his neck dipped, receding from Angus’s space. The paper bag remained plain and expressionless, rustled by a long, raspy breath. Angus’s hands hung outstretched in the air, but Faust remained silent, watching calmly - but blankly.
Angus paused, and his shoulders sank. He averted his gaze to his boots, squeezing his eyes shut against the building pressure there. The weight of loss and guilt he’d been fighting since Ramlethal had first found him pressed down ten-fold, threatening to crush him underneath it. His throat felt too tight to speak, stretching the silence. Faust watched intently as Angus shifted his weight, uneasy on his own two feet. Faust rose back to his previous partially-hunched height, fingers flexing at his sides.
“Alright. That’s okay…” Angus took his hat off, roughly tousling a hand through his brown curls as he muttered. “We can figure out what to do from here.” He looked away and blinked a few times, the grey carpet becoming a little more bleary in his vision. He thought he had prepared himself for this outcome, but he felt like he was being buried alive; the air was slowly being squeezed from his lungs.
Faust made a sound, although it could have easily been another unintentionally audible breath. His arm bent, stretching towards Angus. The movement brought Angus’ gaze back to him, and a gloved finger pointed at the cowboy’s chest.
“Ram…”
Angus froze. He clenched the brim of his hat in both hands, eyes wide as the last flickers of his earlier hope bubbled in his chest. It was just one syllable…he could’ve been talking about Ramlethal, she had just been here a minute ago…
“Ramstein?” Angus tried, sounding far more quiet than he’d intended. It was Angus’ last name, and if that’s what Faust meant, then maybe, maybe…
The finger pointing at him moved, curling into a hook around the edge of Angus’ vest. He let himself be tugged forward, and the towering doctor leaned down, bringing his face close to Angus’ own. Faust tilted his head again, and the red pinprick of light glimmered even brighter.
“Eggs…every morning. Sunny side up.” Faust let his head fall, bumping gently against Angus’ own. Angus huffed, the grip on his windpipe dissipating as a smile broke on his face. The wave of relief almost felt more terrible than the anguish preceding it, washing over him with enough force to tear him off his feet.
He made Faust eggs almost every morning for breakfast, always ready by the time he woke up. Faust liked them sunny side up, which Angus really didn’t, but he made them regardless because that’s what Faust wanted.
Angus choked on a laugh. He leaned more firmly into the forehead against his own and reached up, his hat completely forgotten to wrap his arms around Faust’s shoulders. He could feel his hands shaking as they clenched around blue scrubs, but it was lost in the overwhelming joy burning through him from head to toe, holding onto Faust as if he might disappear again. Faust wobbled on his feet, but his arms wrapped around Angus’ back, clutching him tighter against his chest.
Angus grinned, shifting to press a kiss firmly against the paper bag. He felt a shiver pass down Faust’s back, and he giddily squeezed the spindly form in his hold.
He had been terrified that he’d lost his husband forever, and at a loss himself on what he could possibly have done with Faust untethered from his side. But when Angus pressed a hand to Faust’s chest, he could still feel the ring sewn into a small inner pocket, right next to the doctor’s heart.
Considering what happens to Australia in Guilty Gear, there's some untapped potential there r.e. Angus' childhood + what he went through during/after the Crusades
