#FINDINGFLOWERS AU FIC TWO!!!!! BIG DAY!!!

[riptide98]

title: wishin’ you were kind enough to be cruel about it (from cool about it by boygenius)

word count: 4437

desc: the riptide captains have some chats. gillion stops breathing. chip opens up. jay socializes. we think.

there’s always something new to find on islands you haven’t been on before, especially if they’re as tiny as honeydew isle. gentle clouds, forever blossoming trees, warm breezes that feel like soft kisses against rough skin, small-town population where almost everyone knows each other, sweet smells filling the air....what’s not to love? it’s cozy, it’s somewhere where you can feel at home no matter if you live here or not, it’s beautiful.

it’s hard to see it all, though, when you’re floating in a pond and thinking about how you nearly killed your best friend. or, at the very least, trying not to.

gillion stares through the pink-white petals of the trees above him, watching them cascade down around his body, some fluttering gently to rest upon his skin as he floats on the surface of the small pond. its waters are shockingly clear, the small fish swimming around and plant life that thrive in the freshwater completely visible underneath him. he doesn’t exactly know how long he’s been out here, but it’s likely the majority of the day since he came out at sunrise and it’s close to sunset at this point; the clouds are beginning to clear, which, as he’s learned over the two days he’s already been here, is a sure sign the day is coming to a close. he takes a deep breath, exhaling before dropping down into the water for a moment—sitting, breathing, composing. after a few beats, no more than a minute, he surfaces and climbs out of the small body of water. the warm wind catches his wet hair, the green strands gently blowing around his face. he grabs the towel jay had brought out to him a few hours ago for some ungodly reason, because who would the moisture master be without his moisture? he barely runs it over his mop of seaweed-green locks so they’re not dripping everywhere, for the sake of everyone else, and begins his, as always, barefoot trek back to the house.

it’s quite large, said house, considering that it was originally meant to house just three—five? the twins’ stories were unclear—people, but it’s cozy nonetheless. like a large wood cabin, it has vines creeping up its sides with small white flowers curled in on themselves growing off them. the decor is what one would likely think of if you said “remote cabin in the woods,” lots of scenery paintings and fairy lights and plants galore. apparently, it’d been like this since before the twins were born, but gillion can’t help but think wren had at least a minor influence over it. he hip-checks the double-action back door open, leaving it to swing lazily behind him as he steps, still dripping, despite his very halfhearted attempt to dry, into the kitchen. it’s almost shockingly empty. he’d grown used to everyone else bustling around the house, working on various projects, lounging around, all in all being very lively. it reminds him of his own crew.

“‘knew you were a fish, but damn, you like the water, don’t you?” a now familiar drawl mumbles from the couches not too far away. gillion perks his head up, slinging the towel over his shoulder and approaching the couches. he peeks over and is met with the dark gaze of one leon dawson, buried under at least five different blankets and using around three different pillows, all at various points around his body. gillion can barely even make out his face from under the cushiony pile.

“it’s nice out there,” gillion offers as a reply, mustering a small smile even though it feels like his face muscles forgot how to.

leon lets out a small, approving exhale. “this whole place is nice. way different from where i’m from.”

gillion nods.

the two awkwardly look at each other in silence for a beat. and then another. and another. and—

“hey, your buddy’s been holed up in his room all day, too. nobody’s really seen either of ‘ya today.” leon sits up from his mess of bedding, shaking out his braids. “at least you’ve come in to get food at mealtime; chipper up there hasn’t come down at all.”

gillion freezes. just slightly. “he hasn’t?”

“nope.”

more awkward staring.

“you wanna....check on ‘im?” leon licks his lips, rubbing the crust out of the corners of his eyes.

gillion swallows. “uh....uh, yeah. yeah. i’ll....do that. yeah.”

gillion has now come to the conclusion leon has very nice eyes.

“alrighty.”

“yep.”

silence. staring. still.

leon awkwardly nods. “i’ll be here.”

“o-kay.”

gillion does not, in fact, move to go upstairs. he, instead, stands behind the couch, still staring at leon.

“you....gonna go up?” awkward eye shifting.

“yep.”

he still does not move.

“....anytime soon?”

gillion feels his gaze begin to slightly unfocus. still standing.

some moments pass, the awkward staring contest gillion, for some reason, can’t bring himself to break, well, not breaking. after what feels like an eternity, gillion takes a breath and moves his gaze to the stairs. his lungs feel like they’re crying with joy as he takes deep gulps of air. apparently, if the screaming in his chest means anything, he hadn’t been fully breathing. great.

after a few deep breaths, gillion moves his hand to grab the back of the couch, squeezing it almost like his life depends on it, and then begins to, hesitantly, walk to the stairs.

“alright, man, good luck, i, uh....i guess,” leon says behind him, blankets audibly shifting. gillion attempts to say something coherent in reply but just kind of squeaks.

gillion tidestrider, champion of the undersea, hero of the deep, world’s best conversationalist.

it’s not that gillion doesn’t want to see chip; of course he does, he’s his best friend! it’s that he doesn’t want to face how chip’s dealing with what gillion did to him. he doesn’t want him to look at him with disgust and hatred because it’ll feel like his training all over again plus chip is one of his absolute best friends in the world and he never even wanted to almost rip his guts out and smite him a billion times and watch him let loose that slight tension that was still in his body and his hands would shake and he’d start bawling all over again because as much as everyone says it’s not his fault it really honestly is and he hates that everyone’s lying to him because he hates lying especially when it’s to him and he knows that if he was fully aware of what was going on he could’ve prevented that in the first place if he hadn’t followed an obviously off wren—literally anyone could have seen something was up even if they didn’t know her—into the basement and realized what fucked up shit was happening he could’ve stopped it all from happening and chip would just be doing regular post-revival recovery and it wouldn’t be his fault and everything would be fine but it’s really not fine no matter how much he says it and how much everyone says it is and how much he’s told it’s going to be because he knows it’s not going to be and it’s going to affect everyone for the rest of forever and it’ll be his fault forever and always.

you know?

so there’s some hesitation as his hand hovers over the handle that leads to the room chip has been staying in. understandably, right? it’s not like gillion doesn’t almost want to curl into a ball and sob every time he imagines seeing chip again. yeah, he was with him no matter what when he was out, but now that’s he’s up and about again? gillion can’t bring himself to face him. it almost hurts physically, like he’s the one getting his heart ripped out and eaten by some crazy spider lady.

and of course he shocks himself when he, almost on autopilot, grabs the handle and clicks it down, opening the door.

the scene gillion is greeted with is so serene but so heavy with some sort of sadness it makes his gut twist just a bit tighter. the window is open, casting the first slivers of golden light across the bed and the hunched figure sitting on it.

chip’s back is mostly to the door as he’s facing the window, but gillion can see the slightest peek of his brown eyes, glowing almost like molten bronze in the muted yellow glow of the sun. his mahogany hair shines slightly red in the soft light, quite visibly unkempt, like he’d just woken up as it curls around his sleepy face and down onto his shoulders. he’s shirtless, exposing the flame tattoos gillion is so familiar with but also ones he forgot about, like the small coral crown and bluebird, and ones he’s never even seen, i.e the familiar “nk” crescent moon gillion constantly looks down at his own wrist on chip’s lower back. scars litter chip’s exposed, tanned skin, and his arms cradle an unfamiliar guitar so gently it’s like he’s holding something fragile, something easily breakable. his fingers expertly move up and down the frets, playing a soft yet melancholy tune that makes gillion’s shoulders relax just a bit. chip stares out the window at the forever blooming trees, his hands moving almost on their own, like he’d played this tune a million times before. maybe he had.

chip doesn’t look over when gillion clicks the door open.

he doesn’t look over when gillion stands and watches him in silence for several minutes, listening to the gentle plucking and strumming of the strings.

he does look over, however, when gillion makes another involuntary squeak.

chip whips around, his hair falling around his face in a way that the light almost gives him a flaming halo around his head, fingers falling silent on the neck of the guitar. “fuck, gil, how long have you been standing there?” his voice is hoarse, either from disuse or maybe sleep. it’s hard to tell since gillion is too busy trying to make himself not shut the door, run away, and hide that he can’t figure it out, much less respond.

chip blinks at him. “gil?”

“that’s me,” gillion squeaks out. definitely playing it cool. yep.

chip shifts his body around to face gillion, running a hand down his face, and it’s only then gillion notices how bloodshot his eyes are and the shimmering streaks down his face. shit. he’d been crying.

“is everything okay? you’re turning bluer than usual.” chip’s tone is somewhat playful, but his concern is obvious. and what does he mean by—?

ah. there’s his lungs squeezing again.

fuck.

gillion takes a deep breath—stupid brain making him forget to breathe again. “yeah. yep. i’m. fine.” way to go, tidestrider, definitely smooth with it!

he takes another deep breath, trying to compose himself. “i just heard you hadn’t come out of here all day and i wanted to....” he trails off. what exactly is he doing here?

“what, check on me?” a small grin is etched on chip’s lips as he rubs his eyes again. “i’m fine, just havin’ an off day. am i allowed to have those?”

despite chip’s tone being lighthearted and joking, gillion can’t help the sinking in his gut at his words.

almost repeating the scene from earlier, the two of them stare at each other in silence.

“gil?”

gillion snaps out of it faster this time, blinking rapidly and finally fully entering the room, shutting the door behind him. “yeah, i came to check on you— sorry, am i being, like, weird? it’s an off day for me too, i was at a pond i found all day and i just kind of floated there for basically the whole day and really only left to eat— have you eaten today? i was told you hadn’t left here all day and that just hit, that you probably haven’t eaten, i mean—”

“gil, buddy, relax.” chip is suddenly in front of him, guitar strapped across his back, one of his hands on gillion’s shoulder and squeezing gently.

“when the fuck did you get there?” gillion whispers.

chip’s gaze is full of concern, those bloodshot brown eyes trying to meet gillion’s. gillion doesn’t let him. nuh uh. not. happening.

“gil. look at me.”

“why?” gillion’s voice begins to tremble, as do his hands.

“because i want you to?”

“i should be the one concerned about you, you’re the one i practically gutted and who hasn’t left his room all day, at least i was outside—”

“gil. gillion. gillion tidestrider.”

gillion’s gaze remains firmly locked on the ground. when did chip’s nails get painted? they look nice. black, but there’s this subtle red-orange glitter overtop that gives it a really cool fiery effect—

his shoulder is squeezed. “look at me. please.”

gillion keeps his head bent but flicks his eyes up to chip’s for less than a second before returning them to the ground.

“gillion.”

at the sound of guitar strings being hit and then muted, gillion feels a hand, chip’s hand, leave his shoulder for a moment, come back to cup his face, and tilt it upward—sometimes he forgets how tall chip is. he finally meets chip’s eyes, brown sand crashing into blue waters.

“what’s wrong?” chip practically whispers. gillion feels a pressure akin to banging against the backs of his eyes as chip runs a thumb across his cheek, as gentle as the wind outside.

“i fucked up,” gillion breathes. “with you. didn’t i?”

chip looks genuinely taken aback. “how did you fuck up with me?

“i stabbed you.”

“okay, well, dude, that—”

“that wasn’t my fault, it was the ghost or whatever they’re calling it, everyone knows i didn’t want or mean to, blah blah blah, yeah, i know, you don’t think jay or wren or everyone says that to me, like, every two seconds?”

“i’m just trying to help—”

gillion almost laughs, but it comes out as more of a strangled snort. “you shouldn’t be helping me, chip, i should be helping you! that’s the whole reason i came up here! to make sure you were okay and to let you talk to me if you weren’t and i’d go downstairs and raid the kitchen for us and maybe find jay and bring her up here and we’d snack and chat and do the silly stuff we always do! but of course i had to go and make a mess of things and make it all about me, didn’t i?” he throws his hands up, choking back tears—when did he start crying?—and almost collapsing back toward the wall. his back crashes against it as he slides down, sobs and hiccups slipping from his lips as he buries his head in his arms, face dripping. “i could’ve fucking killed you. why the fuck are you still being so nice to me?”

“because, gil. hey, just relax for a second.” chip crouches in front of gillion, pushing the latter’s hair out of his face. gillion shakes, hiccuping back tears. “you’re my best friend. plus, and as much as everyone has said this already—” he holds up a finger before gillion can speak up as he lifts his head. “—it wasn’t your fault. you’d never have done it otherwise, right?”

gillion remains silent, sniffing.

“gil?”

“no. i wouldn’t.”

“i didn’t think so.” chip sighs, sitting down properly in front of gillion. “gil, you’re one of the best people i’ve ever met. you wouldn’t do that without your hand being forced, i know that. we all know you wouldn’t. you like to psych yourself up over the smallest of mistakes for absolutely no reason, even when nobody’s mad at you for them. so. it wasn’t your fault, nobody’s holding it against you, so why are you getting all worked up about it?”

gillion brings his head up, looking chip dead in his eyes, vision swimming with more tears threatening to brim over. “because you should be mad, and you should be pissed at me— gods, chip, why are you being so nice about it?”

chip exhales gently, a soft, sad smile on his lips. “i don’t think you realize that i honestly can’t imagine a world where i’m mad at you for this. i’ve said it so many times, and i’ll say it again, man, it’s not your fault.” he brushes stray hairs away from gillion’s face. “remember when we lost felipe?”

gillion nods, but his face contorts with confusion. “yeah, but what does that have to do with any of—”

“you blamed yourself for his disappearance even though you couldn’t have prevented it. it all happened because of something out of your control, yet you still tried to pin all of it on yourself.” chip raises his eyebrows. “are we seeing a pattern yet?”

gillion drops his gaze. oh, he sees a pattern, all right. a perfectly reasonable one, because despite both of these situations happening because of things out of his control they’re still, basically, entirely his fault. and for some reason nobody is willing to admit that.

a heavy sigh. “gil. c’mon, man, hey. look at me.”

gillion bites his lip as tears spill over his cheeks again. his chest feels constricted, squeezed, as he tries to take a deep breath to steady himself. “i’m sorry.”

“you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, gil,” chip says. “nothing, okay? i don’t want to have to make the same points over and over again, so let me just say this one more time so it’ll stick in that fishy brain of yours.” he flicks gillion’s forehead playfully, and gillion lets out a wet, genuine chuckle, but drops it when chip speaks again. “this wasn’t your fault. this was out of your control. you had no way of preventing any of this from happening. it’s. not. your. fault.”

the sun, at this point, has set enough that behind chip, through the window, the sun glows golden. rays peek out from the soft strands of his hair and show through onto his face. it’s such a gentle scene that gillion has to choke back another sob.

gillion takes a deep breath, exhaling shakily and wiping the tears off his face with a nod. “okay.”

chip gives him a soft smile. “okay?”

gillion returns it. “yeah.”

“alright.” chip squeezes gillion’s shoulder again, rubbing his thumb back and forth gently.

“now can we do what i came up here to do?” gillion asks with a sniff.

chip gives him a wider grin. “and that is?”

“making sure you’re okay.”

that grin slips off of chip’s face almost in an instant. “i’m fine, gil.”

gillion steels his jaw. “you haven’t left your room all day.”

“because i’m recovering? and i’m fucking exhausted?” chip runs a hand down his face. “i’ll be perfectly fine, gil. again, just relax.”

gillion wipes off the remainder of his tears and wraps his hand around the one chip has cradling his face, pulling it down and leading him to the bed. he gently moves the guitar out of the way, bringing his own free hand up to chip’s face. “you can talk to me. if you let me say whatever the fuck i just said to you, you can talk about how you’re doing to me.”

“i’m fine, gil. just tired.”

“the tears on your face when i came in say otherwise.”

“gillion. dude.”

“talk to me.”

“gil.”

“you did this same thing to me, didn’t you?”

“this is different, you were obviously in some fucked-up mental state— that’s a shitty thing to say, i’m sorry—”

“and you crying when i walked in? what’s that? not a fucked-up mental state?”

chip sighs, running a hand down his face and through his hair. “gil, all’s it is is that i’m hurting—physically—because this fucking revival makes me sore, like, all the time, plus i’m fucking exhausted, and i just need time to rest. okay? that’s all it is.”

gillion swallows. taking his hand off chip’s face and dropping it into his own lap. “are you sure? i’m not trying to force you to talk, i’m just....” he sighs trailing off and looking out the window at the golden sunset.

“giving me the option?” out of the corner of his eye, gillion sees chip give him a gentle smile.

“yeah. i just want you to know i’m here for you if you need me. since you were here for me. always.”

a gentle silence falls over the two of them. the quiet chirping of birds outside twirls through the air as the sun sinks lower, casting a molten orange light around the room.

“i just....feel useless, y’know?” chip says after a beat, biting at his cheek. “like everyone’s been treating me like i’m made of glass, like i’m fragile, like one small amount of pressure will break me just because i died and got brought back or what-the-fuck-ever.”

gillion blinks, shocked. “you’re not fragile! you’re just recovering and we’re just—”

chip bobs his head, basically nodding. “yeah, yeah. yeah. yeah, but you came in here—”

gillion reaches over and takes one of chip’s hands in his own. “i came in here worried you would be pissed at me and that i ruined everything, not worried i was going to break you, chip. okay? i wasn’t scared that i’d do anything to make it worse—that’s mostly because i honestly wasn’t even planning on getting close for fear i would hurt you again, but i do not think you’re fragile.”

chip sniffles, wiping his free hand down his face. “still, you guys are, like, walking on eggshells around me, like one wrong move and i’ll....” he chokes back a sob, almost aggressively wiping tears away. “fuck.”

“hey....” gillion swallows his own residual tears and takes his other hand to wipe away chip’s. “i’m sorry. especially for how i came in here, i was just anxious about how you felt about me after everything—”

chip exhales gently. “gil, you’re fine, seriously. i just hate feeling like i’m a liability now because—”

“you are not a liability, chip.” gillion rubs his thumb against chip’s cheekbone, wiping stray tears. “you’re one of the strongest of us! you’re incredibly far from a liability. you’re hurting. you were hurt. you’re not one hundred percent right now, and that’s okay. you don’t need to beat yourself up about it.”

“says you,” chip works out through soft sobs, laughing quietly.

gillion chuckles, rubbing away his own salty streaks. “it’s not wrong for you to feel fragile, but i just want you to know you aren’t.” gillion drops his hand on chip’s face down to his shoulder, squeezing. “right now, maybe. but always? of course not. we just need to give this time, give all three of us time, to recover and feel okay again. you’re not the only one who’s feeling shitty right now, and i’m not trying to override how you feel, but just know you’re not the only one upset and you don’t need to be alone, alright?”

chip nods, his smile having returned. “and you neither.” he pokes a finger into gillion’s arm playfully. “if you’re fucking yourself up over me being pissed at you or literally anything, man, come talk to me, okay?” he slings his arm around gillion’s shoulders, grin wide.

gillion laughs quietly, leaning his head against chip’s shoulder as the latter brings him closer. chip puts his own head on top of gillion’s as the two of them, shifting around to face it, watch the last dregs of the sun drop down below the horizon.

the door clicks open about maybe an hour later, gillion sleepily poking his head up from where it rests against chip’s shoulder. a sliver of red hair peeks through the door before all he sees is a wide grin and a blur of—

“where the fuck have you two been?” jay whisper-shouts as she slams onto the bed, her full weight pressing against gillion’s legs as chip groans behind him.

“sleeping, talking about our feelings, having breakdowns, what about you?” chip mumbles, lighthearted sarcasm dripping from his voice. jay peeks her head up from where she’d thrown it down, the smile that was wide on her face dropping down a bit.

“what d’you mean?” she says, sitting up with her legs crossed.

“just not feelin’ good today,” chip replies, a sleepy smile on his face. “i’m feelin’ better now, though.”

jay nods. “thats fair, it’s....a lot.” she looks over. “gil?”

gillion blinks, still half asleep. “wh.... oh! oh, i’m, yeah, i’m alright, just was a bit anxious.”

jay tilts her head slightly. “about....?”

“oh, you know, the usual ‘what if my best friend hates me because i almost killed him’ anxiousness.” gillion gives a playful smile, but drops it when jay’s doesn’t return.

“i’m here too, if either of you want to talk to me!” jay exclaims, that smile returning before she lightly tackles the both of them back down onto the bed.

“we would, if we had any clue where you are,” chip remarks, smirking. “you accuse us of going missing when nobody has any clue where you are, ms. jay ferin.”

jay rolls her eyes. “okay, first of all, shut the fuck up.” she lightly punches chip on the shoulder, eliciting a playful groan from him. “second of all, i’m literally just in town. you guys can come find me literally whenever; i’m just working on projects with quinni.”

“ah, made some friends while i was schnoozin’, i see.” chip smirks, yelping when jay reaches to muss his hair.

“yeah, no thanks to you—”

“all thanks to me, actually, we wouldn’t even be here without me.”

jay sticks her lip out in a pout but breaks into another grin. “alright, you guys are obviously ready to crash—” jay gestures to the two of them, still half curled around each other. “—and i’m liking the cuddle pile. may i?” she begins to climb around to chip’s other side, wrapping herself around his back and tucking her head in the divot in chip’s collarbone.

“guess you didn’t need permission,” gillion mumbles, smile wide on his face as he reaches over to muss jay’s fiery mess of hair. jay giggles, taking gillion’s hand and shaking it around lightly.

“bedtime, you weirdos. i said so.” jay smiles brightly before snuggling in, wrapping her arms around her co-captains and pulling them closer.

“g’night, jayjay.”

“good night.”

“i’m taking you guys around town tomorrow. no objections.”

“bet. sounds awesome.”

“are you being sarcastic?”

“genuinely, no—”

“good night, you both, i am tired, go to bed.”