#guess I'll do that!

[bookwyrminspiration]

you were in the darkness too, so I stayed in the darkness with you (ao3 link)

guess what @solreefs, I was your secret santa and all those queer lines I was sharing were tiertice :) (thank you to @song-tam for organizing this! also I said more on ao3 so. read that)

summary: The Solreef family is having a rough night and ends up in pairs comforting each other after a series of nightmares, ending in a proposal that will change their family forever.

word count: 19.5k

warnings: canon-typical horrors (kidnapping, burning), all part of the nightmares, brief mention of scratching at skin

ao3 link above (recommended) or read below the cut! this is in multiple povs

There was space. A savage, bleeding space where he had been where he was supposed to be where he wasn’t.

She could see him, imagine him, feel the shape of his hand in hers as the world left them behind. He stood right in front of her, tugging at his bangs, footprints leaving marks in the wet sand.

And then he was gone and there was a space, a space she could not bridge, dripping and frothing and echoing so silent, so solemn.

The chasm opened and it thrust them apart, away away away as they’d never been and they were strangers and there was no one there to watch as it swallowed her whole, as it swallowed him alongside her.

It pulsed, pulsed, pulsed, washing against her feet in an ocean of space, twinkling as the footprints disappeared beneath their uncaring, vast sweep.

As though he’d never been there, as though it was only a memory and there’d never been anyone but her and an ocean storming her mind, swirling and begging and dancing and crying.

Please, no. Please, don’t leave.

She reached and reached and reached, the twinkling waves pulling and pulling and surging forward as she cried out silently, trying to draw him back together, as though it would make her brother reappear, as though she could save him.

But there was only water, washing in to fill the void he’d left, the dark.

The twinkling swelled, static in her fingers as the sand fell beneath and clung to her fingers and there was only space and space and--

[Paragraph break]

“Linh,” a firm voice said, and she gasped, jerking upright and away, a hand falling from her shoulder as she scrambled away, panting, not enough breath in the world for the way her lungs wanted.

Her fingers dug into her blankets, all twisted and damp around her, trapping her. All she could do was try and breathe, try and find herself.

“You’re fine,” Rayni--the voice, it was her voice--added, though she hadn’t reached out again, perched on the edge of the bed. “Probably.”

A noise she couldn’t describe, somewhere between a sob and a groan, escaped her throat as she swept her hands across her face, trying to wipe away every fragment and piece of the images clouding her eyes, flashing in her vision whenever she closed them.

Sand and beaches and waves winking like the night and space and space and--

Nightmare. That’s all it had been. A stupid dream trying to get under her skin. It wasn’t real.

It wasn’t.

Rayni made her own noise, and the bed shifted beneath Linh as she crawled over her legs. She sat still, rubbing at her eyes, trying to erase the feeling of that twinkling water from her mind. She was in control. Not the water, not her power. Her.

Maybe if she said it enough, she’d believe it.

A slight squeak sounded and cool air brushed against her burning skin, stirring strands of hair into her face and sticking to her lips.

When she looked up, the window stood open, Rayni peering into the night beyond, pursing her lips in thought. Her hair had been pulled back into a braid, though a few chaotic curls had slipped out. It suited the rumpled look of her pajamas, decorated with stars and constellations she didn’t know. Sophie probably did.

“Why are you…” Linh began, but trailed off, clearing her throat, rubbing at her arms as her body tried to adjust, an uncharacteristic dryness in the air. The night soothed the repugnant, stifling heat trapped in her blood, brushed it away, but the sweat on her skin made her shiver. Water loved to freeze.

Rayni lowered from the window, plopping back onto the bed. “Why am I here? How about are you trying to flood the house?��

“I--what?”

She gestured to her face, clearly wet, as though she’d stuck it in a puddle.

Linh frowned, reaching forward and twisting her fingers, opening her senses and focusing only on the water on her face, tuning out the rest of the world calling for her, drowning for her, pulling it off Rayni’s skin and dispersing it into the air.

“Why are you wet?” she asked.

“Your bubbles,” she explained very helpfully, rubbing at her now-dry face. “The ones made of water floating all through the house, apparently one was right next to my pillow and I rolled right into it and it popped all over me. Which is not a fun way to wake up, by the way.”

Linh started, pulling back the covers and shivering at the rush of air as she pushed out of bed, feet meeting the ground.

She froze right there, didn’t need to go any further.

All across the floor of her bedroom stood puddles of water, as though bubbles of it had fallen to the ground all at once, now a pockmarked safety hazard if you weren’t careful. A particularly dense patch had all melded together, giving the impression someone had poured an entire bathtub of water right onto her bedroom floor.

She was usually so careful, so in control, had spent years learning not to lose it.

“I’m sorry,” she said, rubbing a hand through her hair as she grimaced, reaching the other towards the marks on the floor. No wonder the air felt dry: she’d stolen all its moisture.

Rayni shrugged. “It’s not my problem. Though whatever’s going on with you…that might be a problem.”

Linh didn’t answer, too focused on the careful, deliberate expansion of her senses. She would only feel for the water in the house, the water on the floor, wouldn’t go any further. She wouldn’t feel the air, wouldn’t feel the dew on the grass outside, wouldn’t feel the clouds.

Just the puddles, just her mess.

Exhaling, she curled her hand, and in a sharp jerk, dispersed all the puddles, all the water she could feel. Concentrated around her room, they lessened the further she went, but still reached all down the hall, into Rayni’s room, into the bathroom, as though she’d drenched the second story. There was just one spot she could feel on the third floor, different than the other, but she didn’t pay it any mind.

Slumping back, she winced as the hand in her hair got caught, tugging on a tangle.

“Not to be rude, but you look like a mess,” Rayni said, tapping at her nails as she watched Linh dismiss the water, give it back to the air as the cool night pressed against her flushed skin. “I didn’t know your hair could get so…”

Linh gave her a look out of the corner of her eye.

“Alright, cool, cool, it’s totally fine. We’ll fix it.”

Before Linh could say anything in response, Rayni had hopped off the bed, clamoring back beside her and nearly tripping as she pushed to the floor, disappearing out the door on bare feet.

Running her fingers through her hair, she tried to smooth it down, but it wasn’t going very well. Even with all the practice she’d had in the neutral territories without access to toiletries, this was bad.

A thunk sounded a few rooms away, followed by sharp, muttered curses.

“Okay, here,” Rayni said, reappearing as she pushed the door open with her hip, hands full. One held a brush, the other a vial of spray, a few hair-ties dangling off her pinky finger as she hopped back into bed, dropping her haul.

Hands free, she rubbed at her thigh, wincing.

“...thanks,” she managed, grabbing the brush, which worked much better than her fingers. “Are you alright?”

Rayni nodded, glowering at her limbs. “Someone left the cabinet doors open, and those corners hurt.”

Linh said nothing, just humming in response. She and Rayni were still figuring things out, learning where they fell in each others’ worlds. She’d gotten past the worse of her anger, of her blame, of her jealousy. But that didn’t make conversation…easy.

Not that Rayni picked up on it.

Rayni didn’t care what anyone thought, what anyone else did. There was no hiding, no trying to please anyone else. She talked to Linh like she talked to anyone, even though Linh…couldn’t reciprocate.

But she was getting better. It was getting better. It was.

“So, you wanna talk about whatever it was that had you thrashing and making bubbles?” Rayni asked in the same way she’d ask about the weather as Linh tied her hair back, mimicking the braid across Rayni’s shoulder. She was too tired to think of any other style and needed something to do with her hands.

She tensed. “It’s nothing.”

“Yeah, right, it’s nothing,” she echoed, eyes on the open window, squinting at something beyond. “If you don’t want to talk, how about we do something else?”

“What do you mean?”

Rayni grinned, getting on her knees to push at the window screen. “Follow me.”

[paragraph break]

Hands on his wrists, blisters on his skin, and pain pain pain pain pain. Every inch of him a haze and oh so alive in all the wrong ways. Every piece of him lit up and dazzling and he wanted it off, wanted it gone, wanted everything to go dark.

He didn’t know what they wanted, didn’t know how to answer, didn’t have the answer but they didn’t believe him.

Again, the question.

Again, he didn’t know,

Again, the light.

Burning and burning and burning and they never slipped, never grew careless, never strayed from the jeering rigidity watching and watching and asking and hurting.

It hurt, more than he’d ever told.

The chair against his thighs the rope on his wrists the bubbles and boils and blisters on his skin and the light in his eyes the light the light the light.

He never wanted to see it again, to feel the heat, to touch it to know it. He wanted far away he wanted out he wanted it to be over.

They kept him conscious, kept him awake, never let the hurt give in to the dark.

He wanted it, so bad.

Please.

Let it wash over him let it take him let it drag him down never to return, he didn’t care, it didn’t matter so long as it was away from the light, from the burn, from the brightness on his skin with each snap, each press.

Darkness, please, someone give him--

[Paragraph break]

“Hey.” A voice called, quiet, gentle, low.

Wylie nearly screamed, every muscle in his body tensing, rigid.

There was a hand on his arm.

Tam drew back, glancing around the room, as though uncertain whether he should be there or not, and everything in him quieted.

“Hey,” he croaked back, absentmindedly pressing a hand to his chest, to the heart howling beneath.

Tam shifted away, tugging at his bangs as he shifted his weight. “I’m--sorry. To scare you. You were making noise and I--”

Wylie shook his head, pushing up from the bed, running a hand over his cropped hair, exhaling. “You’re alright. I’m sorry--for disturbing you.”

Rubbing at his eyes, spots danced in front of them as his body shivered against his will, his wrists aching, body trying to set itself alight.

He grimaced.

“Are you…alright?” Tam asked, hesitating. They never knew just quite how to act around each other. Were they friends? Acquaintances? Family? Strangers in the same house, sharing the same roof? Something entirely new?

Wylie nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry about me.”

I’m supposed to be the one worrying about you.

“I don’t believe you.” Tam’s eyes were on his wrists. He hadn’t realized he’d been rubbing at them, but the pain refused to leave, stuck to his skin the same as those blisters and welts had clung to him--or so he’d been told. He hadn’t been awake when Livvy had patched him up.

Wylie dropped his grip, but the light in his skin didn’t stop.

“I’ll be back,” Tam said, disappearing out the door, footsteps almost imperceptible against the floor as they faded.

Blinking, all he could do was wait, rubbing at each bit of skin burning even though he knew nothing was wrong.

About a minute later, the sound of someone coming down the stairs came from above, and Tam reappeared in the doorway a few moments after that, first aid kit in hand as he set it down on Wylie’s nightstand, immediately backing away.

Whatever Wylie’d been expecting, it wasn’t that.

“You got--I didn’t even hear the cabinet,” he startled. The emergency kit was kept under the sink in the bathroom on the second floor--the middle of the house--but the cabinet doors had been finicky for a while. No one cared enough to fix it, but--

Tam shrugged. “The doors are too loud, didn’t wanna wake anyone.”

“I guess we just have to hope no one runs into them, then,” he said, reaching for the kit, pushing the blankets off further. Not only were the doors loud enough to hear from his room a floor below if you weren’t being careful, one of them had a wicked sharp corner.

There was no use pretending he didn’t ache, not when it had been obvious enough Tam had gone to get their first aid, so he moved slow. Every shift, ever stretch of his skin reminded him of the light, the burn, the blisters.

The fire, melded into his skin and pressed into his bones. That’s what it was. He could call it a million different words, but that wouldn’t make it any less fire.

Popping the top off a painkiller--Elwin always made them a rich magenta color--he downed it as quick as he could, setting the bottle down next to the kit as he rubbed as his skin, waiting for it to kick in.

“Are you--do you…” Tam started, reminding Wylie he was still standing there, still watching. Too observant, nothing slipped past him, not the mindless circles he rubbed into his skin, not the bags under his eyes, not the slump to his posture. He hated knowing what, exactly, had forced him to be that way.

Wylie looked out the window, through the sliver of the curtains, wincing at the light he found there, dancing and curling through the air. Ever there, ever present, he couldn’t get away from it.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to get back to sleep,” he admitted, trying to make it light. Tam wasn’t supposed to worry about him, take care of him like this. It was Wylie’s responsibility to take care of him, him and his sister and now Rayni, too.

Instead of lightening the mood, Tam nodded sagely. He glanced around the room, then said, “Snack?”

“Huh?”

“Midnight snack. It’s what I do when I can’t sleep.”

Wylie almost asked him what he’d been doing awake, but instead found himself nodding, “Sure. Snacks.”

[Paragraph break]]

Everything was glass shattering into sand in his hands, laughing as he tried desperately to fix the pieces. There was no fixing this.

All he could do was watch, watch as every piece, every memory disappeared and ground itself into dust scattered in the whirlwind of his mind, him screaming and begging it to stop, for him to come back.

His mind swallowed the screams like they swallowed everything else: whole and without remorse.

Could he even feel remorse anymore? Was there enough of him left to register, to understand, to feel? Or was he too far gone? Please, don’t let him be gone.

He hoped so, desperately, with everything he had left.

He hoped something could feel he hoped he could save something he hoped there was a world, a universe where they--he--didn’t need to be saved and everything was okay and he hope hope hoped every sick and twisted person who’d done this to them would rot, and burn, and suffer a thousand times over.

He didn't have a body, didn’t have eyes, but he could still see the way his mind sucked down down down, shatters of memory, of sanity, of a mind he had so loved, still did, vanished into itself, a black hole devouring, tearing itself to shreds.

It tried to take him, too, and he wanted to let it. He wanted it to consume them both, flesh and mind, leave nothing behind. No more pain, no more ache, no more echo where he’d used to be.

But could he give up the ache, the imprint left behind? Could he bring himself to destroy all he had left?

Glass shattered in his hands, pummeling itself into sand and brushing itself away, laughing as he tried desperately to think, to fix, to do something so he’d stop losing people and running his fingertips over the edges of the holes they’d left behind.

All he could do was watch, watch as every--

[Paragraph break]

“You’re dreaming,” a voice said, and Tiergan’s eyes flew open as he gasped, flinching, fingers clenching in the blankets as he took a breath, frantic gaze darting between the nightstand, the wall, the ceiling, his hand.

Groan muffled as he pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, he closed his eyes, breathing. In and out, in and out.

Dreaming.

In and out, in and out, a cycle. That’s what he’d taught Wylie, only months after he’d moved in with him. A middle of the night, a gentle cry waking him, tears as they both tried to figure out what to do, what was next.

“You’re alright. It’s alright.” Prentice. That was Prentice’s voice, and Tiergan opened his eyes again, rolling just enough to look over his shoulder in the dark.

Prentice rubbed under his eyes, squinting down at him from where he sat, clearly dazed, tired, exhausted. He’d propped himself up on his elbow beside him, hardly space between their faces. A few of his locs had fallen around him and he tucked them back in place, other hand squeezing in reassurance where it rested on Tiergan’s arm.

All he could do in response was shift further, half-turning and half-flopping back as he moved to face Prentice; he’d been sleeping with his back to him, but now lay on it looking up, eyes searching the face that searched him.

His hand covered Prentice’s on his arm as he let out a deep exhale, unable to take his eyes away.

“You’re trembling,” Prentice frowned, looking where their fingers intertwined.

“Am I?” His voice cracked, lips sticking to each other.

Tapping against his skin, he whispered, “Everything alright?”

No. Yes. Never. Always, when you’re here.

He didn’t say anything, all the words stuck in his throat as he stared into his eyes, as though he could see the mind beyond.

Was it glass shattering into sand, sifting away in his fingers as he tried to shovel it back, force it into pieces that made sense, that could be saved? Was there anything there, or was it imploding inside itself right before his eyes and he didn’t even know, only watched as his mind disappeared forever beneath the--

“Hey,” Prentice interrupted. “None of that. What’s going on? Bad dream?”

Eyes watering, Tiergan blinked hard, refusing to close them, in case when he opened them again, he’d be gone.

In case he’d be alone in their bed again, waking in the middle of the night with one side always too-cold, untouched, sacred.

“Tiergan, love, it’s okay. It was just a dream, alright? It wasn’t real. It’s alright, I’m here.”

I’m here I’m here I’m here I’m here.

“You’re here,” he whispered, lips trembling, biting his tongue as the tears welling in his eyes slipped out. “You’re really here.”

Prentice’s eyes, already creased with concern, softened further. Looking at their intertwined hands, he carefully, gently lifted them to his lips, pressing a kiss into the skin of Tiergan’s palm. “I am.”

He didn’t resist as Tiergan moved his hand from their laced hold to his face, thumb brushing against his cheek, needing to feel, needing to touch, needing proof this was real. That he wasn’t dreaming again.

Breath trembled in his lungs as he blinked, evidence of his distress falling silently down his face, no matter how much he tried to wipe the tears away. There was always another.

“Please. Keep talking,” he managed. Please. Be real.

Prentice only blinked once before nodding, hand coming to rest atop his own on his cheek. “Alright, love. One moment, I need to think of something to talk about.” His lips twisted in thought, eyes searching something he couldn’t see for a long few seconds. “How about this--do you remember, when we were young, all the things we used to do together?”

Tiergan paused. “Do you?” He’d thought everything was gone.

He winced. “Not truly. Everything is…well, that doesn’t matter. But even as my mind is now, there are still glimpses. Flashes of the past. And the more one thing happened and I interacted with it, the better chance it had of sticking, because it was in more memories, more places. Harder to destroy them all. How do you think I remembered Wylie? Or Cyrah? Or you? It’s because there is so much of you in my life that years of shattering couldn’t erase that, you were always in the pieces. The more one thing happened, the more I can remember.”

Tiergan waited, wiping at his eyes, unsure where this was going.

“I…don’t know how often we did it, or why, but I can see…” Prentice pressed his eyes shut, leaning into Tiergan’s hand, brow furrowing as he concentrated. He had the sudden urge to press his fingers to that crease between his brows, to smooth it away.

“What can you see?”

“A rooftop. Perhaps more than one. But we were…looking at the stars, I think. You’ve always loved them.” The tip of his tongue stuck between his lips in thought. “Kitchens, but it’s dark out. I can see the moonlight through the curtains, how it catches your hair, that ridiculous style you used to have. I think you were grabbing bowls.”

Nodding even though Prentice couldn’t see him, he brushed his thumb against his cheek again, new tears slipping where the others had dried.

Through the thickness in his throat, he explained, ignoring the comment about his old hair, “For midnight snacks.”

“Midnight snacks? That does sound like you.” Prentice smiled, eyes still closed in concentration, and Tiergan nearly burst with the light it lit in his skin, burning every doubt away. “There was…a library--no, it looks too small. But there were books all along the walls, and we must’ve been there often…”

“My family’s personal library,” Tiergan breathed, a laugh bubbling beneath.

“You really are a know-it-all.”

Prentice opened his eyes, blinking down at Tiergan, who couldn’t look away. Never, not in all his life, could he bear to look away.

Before he could think to stop himself, his other hand was reaching, cupping the other side of Prentice’s face, holding him in the palms of his hands, the space between them so small compared to the vast, eternal shattering sands they had endured.

Prentice’s breath caught, loud in the silence. “Better?” he asked, as though struggling to hold on to the words, dazed.

“Thank you,” he managed, taking a breath.

With his free hand, Prentice reached towards Tiergan’s face, thumb tracing through the tears, looking like he had something on his mind. Was thinking of leaning in closer.

“You should drink some water,” he murmured. Already, his attention was elsewhere, looking to the nightstand for a bottle of Youth. Instead, he frowned. “Wasn’t that full last night?”

Tiergan followed his gaze, humming in agreement at the empty bottle of Youth next to his bed. He’d grabbed a bottle before they’d gone to sleep, but had only taken a few sips.

Now, it sat on its side, barren of all water, cork nowhere to be found.

Oddest thing was, there was no puddle around it either. No sign that, even though it was on its side, it had spilled.

“Water does strange things in this house,” he said, offhanded, dropping one hand from Prentice’s face to wipe at the final tears drying to his skin.

“So do shadows, and light,” Prentice mused, gazing towards their balcony, the glass doors leading out into the night on the third story.

Tiergan followed his line of sight, and for a moment he could’ve sworn small flickers of color, of light scattered themselves through the air, barely perceptible, hanging in the air like stars.

Shaking his head, he dismissed the thought. He was seeing things, his rattled mind putting black holes and empty space where there were none.

Prentice thought for a moment longer, tapping absentmindedly against Tiergan’s face where his fingers rested. “It’s a good night to look at the stars.”

He pulled his eyes from the night and pushed from the bed, covers falling away as he pulled Tiergan after him, skin soft against his own.

“It would be,” he agreed, and he let all thought of the imagined light fall from his mind. He’d much rather think about Prentice, about the edge of his jaw in the soft dark, the tilt of his brow as he smiled, the warmth of his skin beside his own, his body in the same bed that had sat empty for so many years.

His mind. Awake. Alive. Intact.

“Come on, let’s get you a drink,” Prentice said, feet silent against the carpet, smiling down at him.

He couldn’t help but say yes.

[Paragraph break]

“This doesn’t feel safe,” Linh half-hissed, half-shouted, fingertips white as they clutched to the sides of the house.

Rayni turned to look at her from a little ways above her, feet braced on the edge of a windowsill on the third floor. “Well, first of all, you do unsafe things all the time. That’s kinda how your friend group works. And second of all, we’re levitating. It’s not like we’re gonna fall.”

Linh was, in fact, levitating. Her body floated weightless in the open air, anchoring herself to the house with her hands as they propelled themselves, controlled, along the wall. She had plenty of experience with the skill from the years she and her brother had spent banished in Exillium, so she wasn’t at any significant risk.

That didn’t mean she wanted to admit Rayni was right.

The window of her bedroom lay open beneath them, the screen pushed out, letting in all the cool air in the world as they made their way up.

Up, up, up, and away from all the people she cared about.

“You can push off here, at a slight angle, and that’ll get you to the edge of the roof,” Rayni was saying, drawing her attention back.

She watched as she demonstrated, grabbing at the top of the windowsill, leaning out from the wall slightly, tongue sticking out as she pushed off, hand extended before her to grab the lip of the roof. It stuck out a little ways over the wall, hence the angle needed to get over it. Otherwise, she’d either bash her head against the lip or go flying off into the free air.

Rayni neatly floated herself over the edge, body disappearing until she stuck her face back over, looking to Linh.

With only slight grumbling, she pulled herself to the same ledge Rayni’d stood on, heart pulsing harder than it should’ve considering how little danger she was in.

Maybe it was the height. Maybe it was the novelty. Maybe it was the lingering sandy beaches in her mind and vanishing shadows, people swept beneath her waves never to emerge again that had her pulse screaming so.

Maybe it was the fact she was following Rayni of all people.

Either way, she trembled as she let out a breath, eyeing the edge of the roof, sticking out a foot or so from the wall, Rayni ducking her head back out of the way to give her space with an encouraging Hurry up, will you?

“Okay, simple,” she told herself.

She pushed off, hands braced above her head for when she passed the edge, ready to grab.

Except she’d misjudged the angle she needed, Rayni’s nonchalant commentary urging her to act when she knew, she knew she should’ve been careful, should’ve waited, shouldn’t have sacrificed control for anything else. She’d learned that the hard way a long time ago, so why was it so easy to forget?

A small shriek escaped her as her body passed by the edge completely, into the open air and away from where she was trying to be.

Okay, I just need to--

Before she had the chance to correct her course, something she was entirely capable of doing, Rayni reached out and grabbed her, pulling her down to the roof where she already sat against its slant, nearly losing her balance as she tugged her next to her.

“I had it,” she frowned as she found her footing on the roof, fingers pressing into the slope as her bare feet slowly took on more of her weight as she stopped levitating. Rayni had already set herself down and was crawling ahead up the slope, towards a section of the roof that lay flat.

“Sure, but this was faster,” she called back as Linh found her footing, following after her, ignoring the grime that she could feel start to coat her soles, her palms, the knees of her pajamas--they were covered in cats, a gift from Tiergan when she’d gotten Princess Purryfins.

And now she was dirtying them. Roofs were not, generally speaking, clean places to be.

Rayni didn’t seem to care about the grime as she plopped herself down on a flat expanse of it--the space above Tiergan and Prentice’s room, where they’d be sleeping right below. She tried to be ginger and deliberate with her steps, to stay quiet, but she had no clue how well it worked.

Twisting her fingers, she drew some of the moisture from the air. “Why are we even up here? This is pointless.” She let the gathered water soak into a section of the roof across from where Rayni sat with her legs on either side of her, making a W with her body.

“If it’s pointless, why did you follow me?”

Linh quietly blasted the water off the roof, leaving one spot slightly cleaner than the rest, which she lowered herself down on, legs crossed. There was no way she was getting her body to bend like Rayni’s

Rubbing at her eyes, she tried again. “Fine. What’s the point of the roof?”

“Look.”

Dropping her eyes and blinking through the spots, she raised her gaze. Rayni had her hand pointed upwards, head tilted back and staring towards the sky.

Linh did the same.

“Oh.” She saw.

All the sudden, she was eleven, freshly banished, shivering against the chill of the earth and sweating inside her thick Exillium robes, too big for her tiny body, brother beside her as they looked up and up and up, the stars looking back.

No roof above their heads, they hadn’t found a place to stay, no gnomes to keep them company and tell them children’s stories as they shared their meals, not yet.

Only the two of them, a darkness, a weight she couldn’t fathom shadowing her brother's eyes as they watched the night twinkle, washing over itself in solemn silence, lulling them to sleep with indifference. It didn’t care what happened to them, wouldn’t notice if they disappeared.

And yet it offered them so much.

Comfort. Calm.

She’d forgotten how long it had been since she’d looked to the sky, wondered what was beyond it. How it would feel to drift among them, to see it all in person. To let it consume her and give it control, just as she wasn’t allowed to let the water do.

Planets of construct she could only imagine, cosmic events started long before her lifetime, that would take eons to complete, on a scale her small mind couldn’t begin to fathom, but would continue to try.

Wylie had told her of a trip beyond their world the day he’d become Lord Wylie, member of Team Valiant. Oh how she envied the opportunity.

To be there, to watch, to get away from it all, lessen the constant pull against her senses, even if she couldn’t escape it entirely.

Rayni made a noise. “Tam told me you’ve always loved the stars.”

“He did?” Her response hardly more than a whisper, she couldn’t bring herself to look away.

“He spoke of you more than anything else--when I could get him to talk, that is. He’s very stubborn.”

Something sour coiled in her stomach. “You mean when you were with the Neverseen.”

“Yeah, when we were in the Neverseen.” She said it so casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Linh said nothing, eyes above, trying to pretend she was alone, that it was her and Tam, side by side in the neutral territories, scared out of their minds but together.

Her eyes on the sky kept her from noticing Rayni’s eyes on her, the scrutiny as she looked her up and down, from the rumpled pajamas and the tackiness of her skin, not quite sweaty but not quite calm, either, the rushed braid they shared, the bags beneath her eyes as they longed for the night.

So when Rayni shook out her hands and snapped, it caught her entirely by surprise.

Specks of light winked into the air around them, twinkling in whites and blues and purples and reds, suspended in motion, drifting slightly. Pin pricks of color danced alongside milky clouds, puffing and swirling and ever changing, a gradual, private existence. Vast and unending, pouring from her fingertips into the world, lights crashing together, revolving and twirling into one. Flashing and pulsing, arranged in personal patterns and images, casting colored spots of light onto her hands, her face, the stretching cats on her scuffed pajamas. Different sizes, all scattered about with no real rhyme or reason, but she could still recognize it for what it was.

Rayni had brought the stars to them.

“He also told me you’d always wanted to go out there, to the stars,” she added,light flickering along her fingers and in her skin.

Finally, Linh looked down, stopped trying to ignore the girl sitting across from her on the roof, who’d dragged her out here in the middle of the night. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

“You had a nightmare.”

Linh, impatient, waved away the explanation. “But why do you care?”

Rayni’s hands lowered, falling into her lap, fiddling with her fingers, mirroring the way she shifted uneasily, uncomfortably. A frown pulled as her lips, brows puckering, the stars around them the loudest thing between them.

“I’m not the bad guy, you know.” She plucked at her pajama pants, the stars printed there. “I know you tolerate me, and we don’t fight anymore--at least not as much. But I know you still think of me like…the enemy, sometimes. And I’m not.”

“I don’t think you’re--”

“You do, Linh. You don’t have to try and hide it.” Reaching out, she let a flickering, dying star roll across her knuckles. “I see how you look at me. And I don’t know how to make you understand that the reason I joined the Neverseen wasn’t because I like them--I left, after all--or because I believe you need to hurt and destroy to change the world. It was because they were my only option; it was the kindest thing I could do for myself. Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“I would never willingly join the Neverseen.”

Rayni made a noise, shaking her head. “You say that now, but think about it. Actually think about it. If someone found you and your brother in the neutral territories while you were shivering and starving on the ground, cursing the people who’d done this to you or mourning the life you’d lost. And they promised you a roof over your head, a meal, to take care of you, to acknowledge how fucked up the world was and what had happened to you--wouldn’t you say yes? No knowledge of what they’d done, all the people they’ve hurt, just someone saying they’re on your side and you aren’t alone anymore, do you honestly think you’d pass that up?”

Her mouth had been open, ready to argue, to deny anything that would tie her willingly to the people who had hurt her so.

But…

As much as she was loath to admit it, Rayni had a point.

“Hate me all you want, it’s nothing new. But don’t try to tell me that we’re so different. Tell me when I fuck up and I’ll fix it, but don’t blame me for saving myself. Especially not when you’d do the same. When you did the same. You were just lucky enough the Black Swan found you first.”

Linh pressed her hands to her face, rubbing hard like she could reset the world and do it all over again. Do it all right.

“You made your point. I get it. I’m too harsh and you’re throwing it back at me. But can you blame me? A complete stranger, working with the people who kidnapped my brother--who he hated--and then you’ve suddenly switched sides and he suddenly trusts you? My brother, who hardly trusts anyone?”

Rayni let the star drop from her knuckles and thought for a moment, conjuring a planet of rich, red light between her palms, shaping the colors and swirls, dim, dull lights casting her face into deep shadow.

“No, I can’t,” she finally said. “I wouldn’t believe my story either. Especially if my brother was involved.”

Linh stifled a yawn, the adrenaline from her nightmare and the climb to the roof starting to ebb, the weariness of that ending ocean settling into her bones. “And where does that leave us?”

“It leaves us…” she pondered for a moment, letting go of the planet, letting it join the medley suspended in the air, still drifting around them, all held in place by her control.

“It leaves us?”

“Even. It leaves us even.” Rayni finished.

The two of them sat, surrounded by faux stars on the roof, facing one another. A chill breeze pressed against their pajamas, blew stray strands of hair from their matching braids, cooling, calming. A universe between them, not separating them, but created in tandem. It watched over them, whispering and swirling and flashing.

They watched, eyes on the other, waiting, and waiting, and watching.

Then, Linh held out her hand. “Let’s start over then. Hi, I’m Linh.”

Rayni’s answering grin shone brighter than her stars. “Hey, Linh. I’m Rayni. Rayni Aria. It’s nice to meet you.”

Rayni’s hand was warm in hers, and she jolted slightly when she felt the chill of Linh’s skin, as most people did. Something about the water always dragged the heat out of her, no matter how hard she tried to hold it in place.

Making a face for a moment in deliberation, Rayni moved, half-crawling and half-scooting around on the roof to come closer, so they were more next to each other than facing one another, though not quite. It was as if they were in a group huddle, but the rest of their group had abandoned them, leaving only them on the roof.

“Since we’re friends now--or closer to it, yeah, I get it.” She waved away any objections Linh might’ve voice about taking their time. “But since we’re starting over, let me ask, as someone who cares at least a little bit about you--do you want to talk about that nightmare?”

She was tempted to say she’d almost forgotten about it up here, amongst the stars. But that was a complete and utter lie. Not a moment among the cosmos had she forgotten the twinkling of the beach of her mind, the person dragged under by her own waves.

“It’s…nothing. I’ve had nightmares before, I’ll be fine.”

“It was about Tam, wasn’t it?” More statement than question, Rayni picked at her fingernails, squinting at the light beneath her skin.

Linh started. “How did you…?”

“I…may have omitted some of my story,” she admitted, dropping her hands, sighing as she brushed a hand through the air, sending the stars swirling, drifting.

Linh squinted at her, ready to scoot away, but reminded herself they were even now. They were starting over. That she should listen before she did anything else.

Rayni didn’t look at her. “I wasn’t lying to you, if that’s what you’re making that face about. I did wake up to water in my face, and it was all over the house--I think I even saw some out the window. And that is why I came to find you. But…you weren’t just making little spheres of water all over the place.”

A myriad of older memories surged from the back of her mind. “My parents?” she guessed.

“Do you often make people out of water when you sleep?”

She shrugged. “Not as much as I used to. But I had nightmares about my parents a lot when we were…you know. Scared the shit out of Tam more than once.”

Rayni peered curiously over at her, her hands, as if imagining her molding those nightmares into waterlogged flesh. “It wasn’t your parents tonight.”

Linh shifted, quiet, even though she could guess what she’d say next.

“I woke up sputtering, and right next to my bed was Tam. At first I thought it was him--you know, because I was disoriented and sleepy and it made the most sense. But when I asked him what he was doing, he didn’t say anything, didn’t move, and then I realized I could see through him. Because he was made of water. He just stared at me until I got up to get you, and when I started moving he started following me. His steps sounded like splashes as he walked behind me to your room, and I swear even though he was made out of water he could see me. He collapsed into a puddle when I woke you up, but as soon as I got close to you he started reaching for me. He didn’t get the chance to touch me though, but I don’t know what he would’ve done. Has anyone ever told you your ability is seriously freaky?” she finished, nonchalant, brightly, as though she hadn’t recounted a horror tale.

“I’m…sorry,” she said lamely when Rayni didn’t continue. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Rayni waved her off. “It’s not like I was sleeping well anyways. But I’m guessing there’s a reason Tam showed up in my room tonight.”

They lapsed into silence for a moment, and a planet was about to bump into her head when Linh sighed, shifting. They were starting over even now, she didn’t want to hold back, to harbor grudges.

“I was dreaming about losing him,” she admitted.

“And your mind connected that to me.”

“Yeah. It did.”

Rayni said nothing for a moment, only pushing the impending planet away from Linh’s skull before it could crash.

“I know--I know you’ve told me, and Tam’s told me that that’s not what you were trying to do. And I’ve seen it in the months we’ve all been living together that you’re not trying to take him away from me and it’s a stupid fear, it was just a dumb nightmare. I don’t actually think you’re going to do anything. So.” Linh cut herself off, shivering as dew condensed on her arms, trying to brush it discreetly away.

“I get it,” Rayni said. “I can’t blame you, even if I don’t like it. But I’m used to it. But I guess now it’s out there and we both know. You still have trouble fully trusting me, and I understand why. But I can be patient,” she added. “Take your time. I won’t rush you--though I might have a problem if you keep waking me up with creepy water people.”

“I really can’t control that.”

“Well, we’re gonna have to, because seriously it’s terrifying.”

“...We?”

Rayni shrugged as if it was the most casual word in the world. “Unless you want someone else to help you deal with your issues trusting me. I don’t care who it is, I just want Water Tam to stay far away so I can sleep in peace.”

“So that’s your ulterior motive, why you dragged me up to the roof,” she squinted, a slight tease to her voice that surprised the both of them.

Exasperated but smiling, Rayni rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I took time out of my night to drag you onto the roof, my safe spot that I’m sharing with you, and show you that I’ve paid attention to you to try and get to know you--because, you know, we do live in the same house--and help calm you down after a nightmare all because I have a secret motive of wanting to sleep. You know, the thing I’m not doing right now.”

After a moment, Linh offered a small, “Thanks. For caring. Even though I’ve just been tolerating you.”

“Forget it,” Rayni told her. “We’re starting over even, remember? All that’s behind us.”

Linh opened her mouth to respond, to agree and remind herself where they were now, that it didn’t matter what had happened in the past, only what they were trying to do now.

Before she had the chance to, a crashing thud resounded through the house from below, cutting her off.

Rayni startled, all the stars falling out of the sky, the planets and galaxies crumbling into nothing as they both stared down, as though they could see through the roof to whatever that was.

“What was that?”

“We should probably…” Linh trailed off, Rayni already ahead of her, climbing towards the edge of the roof with her body weight lowered, ready to launch herself over the edge.

“You coming?”

Linh pushed to her feet. “I can’t believe you even have to ask.”

[Paragraph break]

Wylie had nearly debated himself completely in a circle over whether it was a good idea to make a small light to see by, or if he should surrender himself entirely to the bumbling darkness and avoid the light altogether, bumping into walls be damned. On the one hand, he was perfectly fine never thinking of or seeing light for the rest of his life, not when each thought of it reminded him of that blinding burn, the suns beneath his skin boiling and bubbling from the inside out.

On the other hand…how pathetic was it to be a flasher avoiding light?

Fortunately, before he got too circular in his reasoning, Tam solved the problem for him.

Moonlight spilled through the curtains as he pushed them open, soft, careful, cool. Nothing bright enough to burn, but enough to see by.

Wylie stopped in the entrance to the kitchen, standing awkwardly and rubbing at the almost completely faded aches in his wrists as Tam moved about with a practiced precision, pulling open cabinets and walking on the pads of his feet, minimizing the noise. His all-black pajamas only served to meld him further into the background, in sharp contrast to the bright patterns of his own, orange and yellow sunbursts repeated all down his pants.

He paused before the cupboards, however, hand halfway between the bowls and the plates. He glanced over his shoulder. “What do you want?”

“I don’t…” he started, dropping his hands when he noticed Tam’s eyes on them, always noticing. He didn’t want him to worry. “I don’t have a preference. I don’t usually do anything like this.”

Tam nodded, as though he expected that answer. “There’s leftover mallowmelt. That good?”

“...yes.”

Grabbing plates, Tam gingerly set them on the counter with only a slight clink. With clean movements, he withdrew the mallowmelt Edaline had been so kind to send back with the twins when they’d been over at Havenfield the other day, citing something about how she didn’t trust Tiergan in the kitchen and thought everyone could use a treat.

If he was unnerved by Wylie watching him as he cut two slices, plating them and grabbing forks from the silverware drawer as he returned the sweet to its place, he didn’t let it show, only quietly handed Wylie the plate with the bigger piece when he was done.

He took it in equal silence, wincing as the fork scraped when he shifted, so unlike the phantom Tam was as he leaned against the counter.

“Do you want to stay here, or…” Tam trailed off, looking him over.

“What do you usually do?” Maybe, if he was careful about it, he could learn something about this mysterious ghost of a kid who’d come into his life, who lived in the same house yet so far apart.

Tam gestured with his chin as he said, “I spend most of my time either in the living room out front or the side porch.”

“Great. Perfect. I’ll follow you,” Wylie offered with a flourish that didn’t ease the concern in Tam’s eyes, eyes far too young to have seen the things they had. If only he could’ve done something, but what? Been there to protect the twins? As if they’d even want him in their lives like that. Awfully presumptuous of him. But he couldn’t stop the thought.

Tam only nodded, oblivious to the storm of his mind trying to figure out what they were, if he was allowed to care as much as he suspected he did.

Wylie trailed behind as Tam brushed silently through doorways, Wylie trying to copy the way he moved, failing, but still trying, watching.

They passed through the living room, curtains pushed back just far enough to let a burst of gentle light onto the couch, where a book he didn’t recognize sat open on the cushions. Tam didn’t pay it any mind as he readjusted his hold on his plate to allow a free hand to unlock and open the door to the porch, the one practically invisible from the front due to the thick foliage on one side, wrapping around the side and open to the sky, dotted with stars oh so far away.

Wylie vaguely remembered Linh mentioning once that she loved the stars, the sky, everything oh so far away. He had half a mind to go get her so she could see, but figured it was better to let her rest. No need to bother her with his nightmares.

Tam fell into a seat with such casual grace he must’ve done it a thousand times before. Even though Wylie had lived here for years, he’d hardly used the porch, and certainly never at this time of night.

“How often do you do this?” Wylie asked, taking a bite from his mallowmelt now that they were settled. Any crumb, any inkling of information about this kid who wasn’t even a kid at heart anymore.

Tam shrugged through his own bite. “Whenever I can’t sleep.”

“Do you have trouble sleeping?” he frowned. He couldn’t blame him after all they’d been through, all the battles and close calls and kidnappings had left their mark, but Tam was so quiet about it. Everyone knew Sophie hardly slept, that Dex stayed up late working on his inventions and gadgets, that Marella needed a fireproof bedroom just in case.

But Tam never said anything about himself.

“Says the one who woke up crying from a nightmare,” Tam snorted, poking at his mallowmelt with his fork.

“Crying?”

Tam shifted. “I heard you. I was in the living room, and you were crying out, so I woke you up.” His face started to close off, as though bracing for something, so Wylie interrupted before he could.

“Thank you, I--I appreciate it. And for letting me intrude on your…” he gestured vaguely at everything, the porch and the mallowmelt and the sky and the chairs and the two of them.

“You’re not intruding.” Tam took another bite. “I offered.”

They lapsed into silence for a minute, content to enjoy the dark, everything outlined in white silver from the moon above, eating mallowmelt side by side as Wylie tried to let the shivers of light in his skin fade, the echo of those burns and binds pushed to the back of his mind.

But with each moment of silence, they started creeping, crawling back towards his mind with claws digging into the dirt, impossible to vanquish. Lights and burns and bubbles and cloying sweetness stuck to his lips, his skin.

“Do you need to talk about it?” Tam asked, shattering the silence like glass, catching Wylie’s attention. He hadn’t realized he’d started to drift, and saw Tam eyeing his hands suspiciously.

Glancing down, faint marks marred his skin where he'd been scratching, rubbing, trying to ease the feeling, already fading.

Wylie sighed, scratching at the back of his head self-consciously. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“Maybe if it keeps happening that means you’re not dealing with it right.” Tam polished off the rest of his mallowmelt, setting the plate down on the small crystalline table between them, threaded through with sparkles of rainbow as though he hadn’t rocked Wylie’s mind to its core.

Was he dealing with it all wrong?

Whenever one of the nightmares came back to haunt him, kidnap him from rest and hold him hostage under the light, he’d try to breathe his heartbeat back into place. He’d wait, keep all the lights off to stay away from that burn, and hold himself close until it faded, until the phantom pains that he knew weren’t real stopped plaguing him. He’d stay quiet in the dark, and either fall back into fitful sleep or brave the morning with a smile he didn’t feel. He didn’t need anyone worrying about his stupid nightmares. He was an adult and there was so much else to deal with. His kidnapping had been over a year ago, there wasn’t time in the day to focus on what lingered.

But it wasn’t day.

“My kidnapping,” he found himself saying. “It comes back, sometimes. The memories, even as…hazy…as it was.” Because he was drugged. Because they hurt him. Things had gone fuzzy even before time had started to creep over, images blurring in his mind, leering faces fading away where they’d once haunted him, empty space he’d never fill.

But not the feelings.

Those were crystal clear.

The sear of fire against his skin, pushing through the layers until he screamed, held in front of his face and blinding him as question after question was asked. A question he didn’t know he had the answer to. Yellows and oranges and reds that turned blue and bored into the bones of his being.

“Hey,” Tam said, a hint of something sharp beneath the words. Nothing friendly, but stern. “You’re okay now. They can’t catch us off guard like that anymore, they can’t take you like that again.”

“They took you.”

They took you and you took Linh with you.

Tam might’ve paled, but he couldn't be sure in the washed out light. “That’s different.”

“How?”

Linh had turned into a ghost of herself, and nothing Tiergan tried could fix it, nothing Wylie tried. And then she, too, was gone. Back to her shitty parents because of a warning and it was just Tiergan and Wylie and sometimes his dad in a house too big, a house that’d used to hold so much more.

“I wasn’t…” he started, tugging at his bangs. “I wasn’t going into it blind. We knew something was happening, and we saw it all coming. I was already involved in everything at that point. You weren’t. You were collateral.”

“Thanks.”

“I didn’t mean it like--”

Wylie waved away Tam’s flushed corrections, smiling wryly. “I know. I’m just teasing you. I get what you mean, but you’re way underselling your own…whatever you wanna call it.”

“Why are we even talking about this?” he grumbled, sinking into his seat a little. “You’re the one with the kidnapping nightmares.”

“Yeah, I am,” he sighed, looking down at his wrists, turning his hands over and watching the twist of the smooth, unbroken skin, no sign of blister or light. If he pushed up the sleeve of his pajamas, he’d find the same, the same dark brown without a bubble in sight.

And yet he couldn’t shake the feeling.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about…whatever it is that haunts you, too,” he added, looking back at Tam, who was looking at him.

Tam averted his eyes.

“I’m not haunted--”

“You couldn’t sleep. You don’t, regularly,” Wylie reminded him. And immediately wondered if he should have, if this was a boundary he was allowed to cross, or one he was supposed to remain firmly outside of. What was he allowed to do?

What was Tam to him?

“I’m a shade.”

“Is insomnia a symptom of shadehood?” “Maybe.”

Wylie nodded. “Uh-huh. Sure. That’s definitely what it is and not you having problems.”

“You have problems,” Tam shot back, making a face. Not an offended one, but rolled eyes, exasperation mixed with fondness. The kind Wylie often saw when he was bickering with his sister.

It was enough to stun him where he sat, mouth falling open, unable to decide whether to gasp or smile. His eyes stayed on Tam, heart panging away inside his chest.

What was he supposed to do with this kid?

“Wylie?” Tam waved his hand back and forth. “Hey, I was just teasing you. You thinking about the nightmare again?”

Wylie shook his head. “Ah, no. No, um…” he trailed off, unsure what to say next.

His nightmare, the light, it was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. He’d actually forgotten that’s why they’d come out here. The conversation, the dark, it had distracted him.

Tam raised a brow at him, head tilting to the side in question.

Fuck it. “I was thinking about you,” Wylie sighed, sinking back in the chair, shifting to keep his limbs from tingling.

“Me? What about me?” Suspicion laced his voice thicker than Wylie thought possible.

“What to do with you.”

“Do with me?”

A nervous smile pulled at Wylie’s lips as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “You make it sound so much worse than it is. I meant…I don’t know where to fit you. In my life. Are you…are we friends? Friends who live in the same house? Are you Linh’s brother, and we’re polite with each other but not really friends? Are you…are you my…” he stopped, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it, it’s my thing to work through.”

Tam had gone quiet, not just in voice, but in every part of his being. His expression, his posture, all stood somehow silent. He couldn’t tell what was going on behind his eyes, the ones looking far away from Wylie, up towards the sky, arms crossed over his chest as he sought something out among the stars.

Wylie grimaced as the silence wore on, heart pounding in his chest. Maybe he should’ve just stayed quiet, worked it out on his own without telling anyone, let Tam do his own thing with the people he loved without interfering.

Finally, Tam asked, “What do you want to be?”

The words were small, almost lost as they fell from his lips, lips he bit at as he reached for his bangs, like he couldn’t help protecting himself against something, everything, someone.

Against Wylie.

Wylie’s heart calmed a touch. “I don’t know. I just…want you to know that I care. About you and your sister. And Rayni,” he added at the end. “She’s newer, but she’s important to you. So I’m…trying to understand better.”

Tam took a breath, and Wylie swore he could hear his heart hammering right alongside his as he said. “When we were…when I was a kid, I always wanted an older brother.”

Was his heart still beating?

Tam had practically sunk through the chair, pillows swallowing him whole as shadows bracketed his posture, trying to steal him into the night as he eyed Wylie out of the corner of his eye, watching and waiting with bated breath.

“You did?”

Tam nodded, opened his mouth, but closed it again, as though he couldn’t bring himself to say anything else yet. Not until he knew what Wylie would say.

“I’d like that. To be that,” he clarified, clearing his throat as he felt his face grow warm.

The shadows curling around Tam melted, fading into the wood of the deck and slithering off into the night, like he’d released a breath, a weight alongside Wylie’s words.

Maybe it was the night, maybe it was the comfort the darkness held that prompted them to speak, drew the secrets out of them, because a moment later, Tam opened his mouth again.

“When I was a kid, I always wanted an older brother so that it wouldn’t have to be me anymore. I know Linh and I are twins, but…I was the one who stepped up, because she got so in her head struggling with her ability, and our parents never cared. Not unless we were messing with their precious reputations. And I always wished…there was someone else who did care. So I wouldn’t have to be the responsible one anymore. I love Linh to death, don’t get me wrong, but…”

“But it’s a lot,” Wylie finished for him, nodding. “And it was too much to expect of someone as young as you were. Even if you don’t regret it and would do it all again, it’s still a lot.”

“Yeah.” Tam blew out a breath.

“I can’t…I can’t go back and fix it and be there for you and Linh when it was really bad,” Wylie said, looking off into the stars. “But I can be here now. If that’s worth anything to you.”

He glanced back down, watching Tam’s gaze flicker towards the windows, the second story windows where Linh and Rayni should be lying fast asleep, unaware of the movement of the house below. The nightmares and restless nights that had drawn the two of them out here. He was eternally grateful that at least the two of them were having a restful night.

“It is,” Tam said, quiet, drawing his attention back away from the window. “I…uh…appreciate it.”

Wylie nodded, unsure what to say next, savoring the ease in his heart as they sat in silence.

He could see what Tam liked about this, why he came out here when he couldn’t sleep. The world was quiet here, calm in a way he hadn’t felt in a long while. Soft gales rustled the grass, brushing patterns into the dewey blades, catching the silver light. Chill air rested against their skin, still but not stagnant, a blanket wrapped around them and holding them, a casual embrace. Nothing and no one expected anything from them, least of all themselves. They could sit and do nothing, fade into the background of the night and let the weight they carried so valiantly wash away in the silence, passed on to something infinitely larger than themselves.

A small pocket of time where the rest of life didn’t exist, that’s what this was.

“Thank you,” he said again. “For sharing this with me.”

Tam shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“That I can’t sleep sometimes? Yeah. Linh lived with me for years and Rayni…well, she found out. But that I come out here? No, that’s just you.”

Just him. Something melted inside him, but he couldn’t figure out what, searching the sky above them like they’d say something back, like the answer would be up there.

Maybe there was, because he could’ve sworn something about the sky looked different near the edge of the roof, like the specks were brighter, closer. Stars brought down to their level to live among them, but he knew that was absurd.

He turned to Tam, but before he could get any word out, a sudden, powerful thud sounded from inside the house, and those stars he thought he’d seen winked out of existence, like he’d imagined them the whole time.

Tam jerked up, fingers clenching in the pillows as his brow furrowed. “What the--”

Wylie was already on his feet, glancing back at him, as he moved to the door, pushing down the handle and pulling it open all in one movement.

All he could think was that there were people he cared about in this house, that he needed to find them, to protect them.

“It’ll be fine, it’s probably nothing,” he said, trying to be reassuring. Trying to convince himself as he took a breath, stepping over the threshold, searching for the source of that noise.

His little brother didn’t look entirely convinced, but he let him lead the way.

[Paragraph break]

The house sat silent as Tiergan let himself be pulled along, Prentice’s hand warm in his own, and he sent thanks somewhere in the world that at least the kids were having a peaceful night.

He tried to be gentle on the stairs, and Prentice did the same, each holding their breath and listening for any disturbance, letting out their worries when there were none.

“Ah, someone left the cabinet open again,” Prentice mumbled, pausing in the hall of the second floor.

He dropped Tiergan’s hand, ducking through the open door to push the sink’s cabinet doors closed, being oh so careful to stay quiet so they wouldn’t wake anyone. They’d been in need of fixing for a while and had a tendency to slam and thunk if you weren’t paying attention.

But Prentice was. As always.

“Sorry,” he smiled sheepishly, taking Tiergan’s hand again. “Don’t want anyone to run into them or anything. Those doors have sharp corners.”

Tiergan didn’t say anything, only squeezed his hand tightly in reassurance, following along as they passed through the rest of the hall to the stairs that would take them to the kitchen, the stairs that would wake Wylie if they weren’t careful; he’d learned that the hard way when they were still getting to know their new lives together.

Prentice led the way, face set, already thinking ahead. Tiergan almost interrupted as they passed by Linh’s room, remarking on a bit of a draft he felt under the doorway. Had she left her window open before she fell asleep? He remembered her mentioning how she’d liked to keep it open sometimes during the night, all the nights she’d spent in the outdoors in the neutral territories had acclimated her to the fresh air. If she closed the window it got stuffy, which she said made her more likely to be restless and have nightmares.

In that case, they could all deal with a bit of a draft if it eased her mind.

They both let out a sigh of relief as they successfully made it to the kitchen without disturbing anyone.

For the second time that night, Prentice dropped his hand, carefully opening the fridge and retrieving two bottles of Youth, shivering from the cold glass as he handed Tiergan one.

“Thank you,” he murmured, absentminded, having crossed to the other side of the kitchen to close the pantry door. He could’ve sworn he’d remembered to close it when cleaning up from dinner the night before. A small smile tugged at his lips as he got a glimpse of the mallowmelt Edaline had sent, and he made a mental note to send her a thank you with the kids whenever they went over next. Prentice had an excellent rosewater cookie recipe, perhaps that would work.

It couldn’t be from him, though. Baking was…interesting, when he tried it.

Pushing the door, it moved on silent hinges and closed with an empty thud, and as he looked at the mallowmelt disappearing from view he could’ve sworn a few more slices were missing.

He hummed in surprise as Prentice’s arms wrapped around him from behind, unconsciously leaning back into him as he toyed with the cork on his bottle.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, lips against his shoulder, locs falling forward and brushing his skin.

He couldn’t help himself. “You’re a telepath, Prentice.”

Fingertips pressed into his skin as Prentice pulled him closer. “I’d never read your mind without your permission, Tiergan.”

Oh.

“I was thinking,” he started, swallowing to clear the sudden thickness in his voice, “that I should ask Wylie to talk to Tam about whether he’s been taking some late night excursions. I only have suspicions, nothing concrete. But he’d respond to him better than to me.”

“He would? Why do you say that.”

Tiergan blew out a breath, and Prentice’s fingers brushed against him in response. “You’ve seen how the twins act around me. It’s like they’re always waiting for me to have enough of them and kick them out. If I started telling Tam I was worried about him because of whatever he does in the night, he’d stop. Pull back further into that shell of his.”

“But he wouldn’t if Wylie was asking about it.”

“Right.” Finally, he pulled the cork out of the bottle.

Prentice pulled back, arm dropping from where they’d held him, allowing Tiergan to turn to face him, to watch those dark eyes watch him back, a crease between their brow.

“What is it?” he asked, reaching out, pressing his fingertip to that worry mark and watching it disappear beneath his touch.

Prentice sighed, a smile pulling at his lips, lips his attention lingered on. “You’re the one having nightmares. I should be asking you that.”

A roiling, jolting wave crashed through him, alight with painful electricity at the reminder, a bucket of ice water dousing his system. His fingers tightened on the untouched bottle, his heart quickening.

Shattered glass into sand, sand trickling away through his fingers as he desperately, selfishly tried to hold it together, begging it to come back, to reform, to do anything but leave him alone--

“Hey, hey, come back to me,” Prentice soothed, and Tiergan took a gasp of a breath, shaky sight searching the room he hadn’t realized he’d left until it'd come crashing back.

When had they gotten so close?

One of Prentice’s hands held the opened bottle, easing it from his shaking fingers, setting it on the kitchen island behind him. The other held his face, thumb brushing against his cheek in slow, deliberate rhythm. They swayed slightly to a tune hummed under patient breath, a melody he faintly recognized but couldn’t place.

Bottle safely out of the way, Prentice’s other hand returned to his waist, fingers warm through the fabric of his night wear. They’d been a gift from Wylie once when he’d revealed his identity, he somber rock face embroidered like a patch on the front wasn’t his, but it was close enough. Prentice’s had a matching swan decal.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push. I thought the distraction and joking were working, meant you were alright. I didn’t realize it was still so sensitive. Please, forgive me,” he said, tucking an errant strand of hair behind his ear, watching the movement.

“No, it’s--” Tiergan cut off, clearing his throat, reaching up to wrap his fingers lightly around the wrist of the hand on his face. “I know. I didn’t either. It’s not you.”

Prentice said nothing for a moment. Then, gentle, “You’re lying.”

“I thought you weren’t reading my mind.”

“And you’re avoiding it.”

Tiergan’s fingers tightened on his wrist, eyes flitting away.

But he couldn’t keep them away.

What if, what if he looked away and when he looked back, it was all gone? What if this was nothing more than a brief reprieve, a dream come true of the desires he never let himself think about all those years alone, raising Wylie and pretending it didn’t ache as the way he quirked his brow reminded him so much of someone else. Someone gone.

If this was a dream, he hoped he never woke.

He hoped this moment stretched into eternity, as vast as the night sky, twinkling and burning and remaking itself over and over and over again.

“I…I can’t,” he whispered, closing his eyes, breath shaking. “Not yet. Give me time. I don’t…” the words stuck in his throat.

I don’t know how to tell you I can’t stop thinking I’m losing you.

“Okay, that’s okay, love,” Prentice assured him, and Tiergan could practically see him think, watching him wrack his memory. “How about we do what we used to do when we were young? Another distraction until you’re ready. Rooftop, snacks, or libraries. What would you like?”

What would he like?

You.

Taking a breath, letting it out slow, he looked around the kitchen for inspiration. Rooftop? The thought of climbing out there, sitting on the cold, hard tiles already had his back aching. Maybe another night, but not this one. Snacks? The idea of eating something turned his stomach, melting and molding it into sour sludge. Which left…

“Library,” he decided.

Prentice only nodded, turning to grab the cool bottle where he’d set it on the island, pressing it back into Tiergan’s hand, taking the other as he led the way once more.

When they were young and Prentice had been staying the night in Tiergan’s family home, they’d stay up late, then quietly make their way into his family’s personal library, trying to find the most ridiculous passages and lines in all the various books kept there. His mother’s interest in dwarven poetry had led to a few interesting ones, but the dwarves still had a measure of depth and importance even with the unfamiliar diction and structure. Prentice, however, always had a knack for finding the most pretentious sounding elven writers. Elves had a habit of thinking themself important, and it made them fools in their work and oblivious to their embarrassment.

Now, even though it had been centuries since he’d seen his family home, he couldn’t help thinking of all those nights as Prentice pushed open the door of their own family library, flicking on the warm yellow light. .

It’d originally been on the third floor, but soon after Wylie had moved in, he’d moved it to the first floor. The poor kid had been too nervous to run into him on his way to get a book, so he’d never take any despite how much comfort he found in them. So, after he’d realized, he’d put it on the same floor as his bedroom. Then, he’d have a much smaller chance of encountering him while they were still figuring out how to live together. Tiergan had always been in his life as a baby, but never the way he’d been after…everything had happened.

“I think this might be my favorite room in the house,” Prentice said, offhanded, turning to shut the door with a soft click behind them.

Tiergan hummed in agreement, reaching out a hand to run them along the spines of a nearby shelf, inset words delicate beneath his fingertips. One was missing that he didn’t remember taking down. Odd.

Split into two levels, shelves lined the walls on the left all the way to the ceiling well above their heads, so tall a sliding ladder hooked onto a railing at the top to be moved where needed. To the right, half of a second floor overlooked the first, like a mini balcony complete with twining railing to keep any particularly clumsy children from tipping right over the edge.

On the first level, under the balcony, sat a desk; it didn’t belong to anyone in particular, but he used it more than everyone else. And since a lot of that work was classified Black Swan work, the kids usually stayed out of it. They hadn’t at first, of course. But multiple attempts where they found only the most boring, in-depth reports on the most menial things possible had dissuaded them from ever trying to learn anything via the scrolls he left out again. Little did they know they’d left those ones there on purpose. What kind of rebellion member would he be if he left scrolls out? Did they think he was an amateur?

“You’re thinking again,” Prentice said, drawing him towards the stairs curling around the room, ending at that second half-level. The bottom was work oriented, but the top he’d furnished with plush couches and chairs, thick pillows and luxurious blankets with embroidered gnomish patterns telling stories across the fabric. An assortment of seating options perfect for reading, resting, or recovering.

“I do that sometimes.”

“Care to share?”

Tiergan hummed a smile. “Remembering when we tricked the kids into thinking we would leave important documents lying around, and that those documents were boring.”

Prentice grinned in return, huffing out a laugh as they climbed the stairs. “They’re brilliant kids. But so gullible sometimes.”

Cresting the top, Prentice clearly had his eyes set on the couch near the railing, not even glancing at the rest of the comforts as he settled into the forgiving cushions, adjusting as Tiergan followed in his stead.

Sinking into the softness, he let out a small noise of satisfaction, leaning back, savoring the released pressure from his joints. A night of restless sleep hadn’t been kind to his body.

Prentice moved in closer, their sides pressing together as he draped an arm over his shoulders, body heat shared wherever skin pressed together, even through their clothing. Prentice had always run hot, and Tiergan had always run cold. He’d made some joke once about them matching when they were young, but he was sure he couldn’t remember it.

“I remember…I remember the books, all the shelves, but I’m not sure what we used to do,” Prentice said faintly, his mind was elsewhere, and when Tiergan glanced at him he was squinting off into the distance.

Tiergan reached for his hand, ignoring the tremble in his fingers at the thought of all those lost memories, how he’d watched them slip away.

“We would look through all the pompous books my parents owned. Try and find the most ridiculous lines we could. We made a competition out of it.”

Prentice hummed to himself, blinking, eyes searching for something he couldn’t see.

Then, he shook himself off, abandoning the effort. “That sounds like something we’d do. Though I doubt our library will be as easy to find pompous lines in.”

It definitely wouldn’t be. The ridiculous lines had only worked because his parents had so many ridiculous books. He’d once found one theorizing about how elves should try harvesting starlight and consuming it. Something about how it would balance the body’s natural glow, because elves were made primarily of light. Despite nothing ever being found about elves made of light.

It had been over 800 pages long.

“How about a different category then,” he proposed, leaning into Prentice, settling against his chest to make room for the arm around his shoulders, savoring the feeling. There’d been a time he’d thought he’d lost this forever. That he’d never be allowed to have it.

Prentice’s fingers tapped mindless patterns against his arm, his other hand brushing his locs out of the way over his shoulder. “Well then, what books do we have? Lots of reports, lots of history books…I found some poetry the other day as well…”

Smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt, he proposed, “Most superfluous word use. Even if our books aren’t as pompous, some of the authors…like to get creative.”

“Perfect,” Prentice smiled, then stuck his tongue out between his teeth in concentration as he furrowed his brow, reaching his free hand forward to catch the book he’d telekineticked into his grasp.

It’d come from the history section below, and from the name of the author he knew Prentice already had a head start, so with only slightly childish motives, he slapped his hand over the book, holding it closed in Prentice’s lap as he reached out and grabbed his own book from the poetry section with his--admittedly rusty--telekinesis.

“I thought we were adults,” Prentice chastised, but he was laughing as he said it.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” Tiergan told him as he flipped open his own book, a poetry anthology of various authors, the engravings on the exterior only slightly familiar.

Comfortably nestled in Prentice’s embrace, he skimmed through the words, hoping a particularly bold writer had left something that would work in his favor.

A few minutes later, Prentice exclaimed with delight, nudging him. “Look, here, second paragraph. They called the battle a hoplomachy. That must be worth a point--I’m assuming this is a point system at least.”

“It is,” Tiergan said, frowning. “How do you even find them so quickly?”

It was a few anticipatory minutes more of impatiently paging through poetry before Tiergan held up his own book in triumph. “Xertz. Fourth stanza. I believe that’s a point for me, my dear.”

Prentice squinted down at the page, sighing in acceptance. “That’s a point. Wait--did they rhyme xertz with hurts?”

“Rather disappointing, I know. You’d think for as creative a word as that, they’d come up with something better.”

“We’re tied now,” Prentice noted, floating another book towards him from the wall.

“I suppose we are. For now.”

He lost track of the time they spent searching through books, Prentice blissfully never asking what, exactly, had dragged him breathless and frantic from sleep, what had frozen him in place in the kitchen with only a thought. Even though he couldn’t quite forget it, not as every breath of a touch reminded him of all he could lose, had lost. He never knew how to think of it.

All he knew was he’d gotten two more points for miniaceous and paedonymic, but Prentice had found epalpebrate, quadragintireme, timenoguy, and quodlibetificate for four more.

He wasn’t actually sure what any of those words meant, but he knew it put him a solid two points in the lead.

“I was fighting a losing battle from the beginning,” he groaned, rubbing at his eyes as he let his current book--something about ogre-troll weaponry fusions in centuries past, which he wasn’t sure how he’d come to own--fall to the side of the couch.

“Are you forfeiting?” Prentice asked, all too sweet.

He set his own book down, shifting to rub soothing circles into his back, an affection Tiergan had never told him he enjoyed but Prentice had discovered made him melt all on his own. Even when he tried to hide it.

“Yes, I forfeit. You win, just like when we were young.”

Prentice’s hand faltered for a moment. “Did I win a lot? When we were kids?”

“Always,” he breathed, swallowing.

I never stood a chance against you.

Holding his breath, Tiergan turned, Prentice stilling beneath him as their eyes met.

Neither of them spoke, bated silence growing thick, heavy, that crease reappearing between Prentice’s brow. Their chests rose in tandem, breathing, waiting.

Prentice broke first. “You’re worrying me.” He spoke it like a confession, head tilting to the side, fingers fumbling in his lap as though they wanted to reach out.

“I’m sorry. For worrying you.”

“Please. Don’t be. It’s part of this, of us, for me to worry about you.”

Tiergan blinked. “This?”

Prentice offered a small smile. “You look so surprised. As if you aren’t the same. You are mine, Tiergan. The good,” he interlaced their hands, tracing the lines of his palm, “and the bad.”

He reached up, cupping Tiergan’s face, trailing his fingers across his forehead, a small frown marring his lips.

Tiergan wasn’t sure he was breathing anymore, didn’t dare do anything to break the moment, the faint echo of shattering glass playing back in his mind. All he could do was watch, helpless, as Prentice watched him back, eyes trailing over him from the tremble of his fingers to the pulse beneath his skin to his lips and finally, finally back to his eyes.

“You keep freezing when I touch you. Why? Should I stop?” He started pulling back.

“No,” he managed, voice suddenly hoarse. “No, please don’t.”

“Alright, love. I won’t.”

The books lay forgotten around them, piled erratically on the floor, poetry and history side by side, and for the life of him he couldn’t seem to care about how tedious it would be to find where they’d come from.

Prentice leaned back in, fingertips warm on his skin. “You’re always so cold,” he murmured, filling the silence for him.

“You’re always so warm,” Tiergan offered in return, playing along, both of them oh so aware they were only waiting, time ticking away between them, filling the space until he could speak. They both knew he was going to, it was only a matter of letting it happen, being there in the interim.

“We match, then.”

We match.

Each brush against his skin sent his heart thundering, a dizziness building in the back of his mind, cradling him from the shadows and their secrets as the seconds passed, until, with the comfort of a hand in his and the ease of the game, that nightmare no longer pounded against his conscious, threatened to tear him to pieces and scatter them in the night.

It burned in his throat, the words he’d shoved down that wanted out.

“You were right,” he admitted into the quiet, a salve against the ache.

Prentice only continued his touches as he spoke.

“You were right, it is you. Not in the way you thought. You haven’t done anything wrong; you’ve been…” he couldn’t find the words, and paused for a moment. “More than I could ever hope for. Whatever this is, whatever we are…I wouldn’t change a moment of it.”

He could’ve sworn there was a flicker of something on Prentice’s carefully impassive face, but he couldn’t place it. Fondness? Amusement? Worry?

He took a breath, averting his eyes, continuing. “But I worry sometimes. And sometimes, it haunts me at night.”

Raising his gaze from their interlaced fingers, he met Prentice’s eye, searching his face. “Sometimes, I dream I’m losing you again. Watching your mind, your memories fall apart and all I can do is stand there and watch. As you disappear and I can do nothing. And then I wake and you’re right there and I can’t stop myself from wondering if it’s real, or if this will be taken from me, too. If this is too good to be true and I’m dreaming again. If I’m fooling myself and you’re disappearing before my eyes, just like when--” he cut off, letting out a shaky breath.

“It’s okay, we’re okay,” Prentice soothed, squeezing his hand. “I’m real. I’m here.”

“You are.”

Prentice pressed his lips together, eyes a little glassy as he blinked. “I may not know what it was like for you, to lose me, and Cyrah, to raise Wylie on your own. I don’t know how the years have been. And I know you don’t like to talk about it. But I do know it’s all going to be okay in the end. I believe it will be.”

Tiergan couldn’t help a small, sad laugh. “Your optimism is incredible; I don’t know how you do it.”

He’d spent so many years in the dark, struggling day by day to get through the next, to just hold on, hold on a little longer, stay afloat. The storm would pass, they’d promised it would pass, it would end some day. He’d get him back.

Now that he had, he didn’t know how to stop trying to survive and starting trying to live.

“It’s a struggle, some days,” Prentice whispered, his hand falling from Tiergan’s face and settling in their laps. “You are not the only one who fears my mind will collapse again.”

Tiergan didn’t know what his face looked like, but it had Prentice smiling, a soft, sad thing.

“No need to look so shocked. I see how you all watch me, you and Wylie more than most. You tiptoe around me some days, like you’re waiting for me to shatter again. And I try to be patient, and show you that I’m here. I’m here. It helps you, I can see that. The tension eases in your shoulders and you smile more. But there are times it is…more difficult, because I’m trying to convince not just you, but myself that I’m here. That everything is okay.”

He was drowning. He sat on dry land with warm touches but there was no air and he couldn’t breathe and the water wanted to pull him under. It lurched and raced through him, whiting out everything and anything he’d ever thought before, wiping the slate clean and leaving him breathless, his heart pounding in his chest as everything in him shifted.

“Tiergan?” Prentice’s face, vulnerable, had drawn back, hardened, brows furrowed as he sat up straighter, hand hesitating between them. “Tiergan, what is it?”

A half-strangled noise escaped him, his lips, his tongue refusing to cooperate, his blanked out mind incapable of sentences or sense.

All he could do was surge forward, wrapping trembling arms tight around Prentice’s, pulling him close, books falling from the cushions to the floor with hardly noticed thunks as Prentice gasped out a small oh, hands landing light on his back.

After a frozen moment, Prentice moved, sighing into the embrace as he held him back, palms against his body, fingertips pressed hard against him, nearly digging in. His head rested against the crook of Tiergan’s neck, breath warm on his skin, unsteady but there there there.

“I…” Tiergan started, but his voice caught. “I didn’t know you worried, too. Oh, how many times have I made it worse for you with my fretting when I could’ve been helping, doing something, anything, I don’t know what. If I’d known--Why didn’t you tell me?” He spoke the words into Prentice’s hair, lips pressed near his ear, hushed tremors all too loud in this silent night.

Prentice’s heart thundered, the echo of the beat reverberating in his own chest, pressed as close as they were. “You were already so worried, I didn’t want to add to it. You do so much for so many people, for me. I want to help you, I want to ease that burden, not make it worse. I know I’m not what I once was, that I can’t help however I used to. But if I can help you even slightly, that’s enough. I’ll take that. And, if we’re being completely honest…I didn’t want to give my fears a voice.”

He cut off, letting out a shaky breath, arms tightening for a moment.

“Thank you. For telling me.” Tiergan’s hand came to rest atop Prentice’s head, nestled in his body as he was. “And for listening to me.”

He hadn’t realized how it had weighed on him, just how heavy the fear was, pent up, shoved to the back of his mind and molding under the neglect he treated it with. All the months he’d spent oh so aware of what he’d lost, what he’d been mercifully allowed to have back. All the months he’d kept quiet in front of the kids, telling them everything was okay when he, himself, harbored unspoken terrors tingeing every word.

And the facade hadn’t fooled Prentice for a moment.

“I told you, it’s part of the deal, part of what we are. I listen when you need me too, and you listen when I need you. Because we want to and care. I care. There’s nothing to thank me for.”

“There are a million things to thank you for.”

For being alive. For being here.

“Please,” Tiergan continued, “let me appreciate you..”

“I do. Every day. You’re quite ridiculous with it at times,” Prentice laughed, pressing a kiss into his neck. “The kids are always embarrassed by us because of you.”

“I won’t apologize for that.”

“I’d never ask you to.”

Something in his words, the tone, nestled heavy over them, hushing them into a poignant quiet, the seconds sneaking past until Prentice shifted in his arms, palms rested over Tiergan’s heart as he pulled back just enough to meet his gaze.

“So where does that leave us?”

Tiergan thought it over for a moment, bracing himself as he ran his mind over the edges of the worries, the blades of glass poking and prodding, nestled in deep by the years of darkness he’d survived.

They still stung, would bleed if he pushed too hard. One night of confessions wasn’t enough to undo more than a decade of panic, of grief, of waking alone in the night. Sharing their fears didn’t erase them. When the sun rose, he’d still wonder whether this was something that would truly last, or if it would crumble like sand in his hands, slipping out of his grasp and washing away.

But now he could run his fingertips over the blades, their sharpness dulled to an ache that wouldn’t break skin at the gentlest touch. Each breath came easier, and the glass breaking into sand stilled, calm, washed clean beneath the waves even if it was still there.

“Better,” he finally answered, shifting so his hands were between them, their palms pressed together. “It leaves us better.”

Prentice smiled at that, a soft, private thing. “Better. I like that.”

He traced his finger over the lines in Tiergan’s palm, light touch sending shivers across his skin as Prentice started trailing up his own fingers. Tiergan watched the movement in silence, content to just be for as long as they could be.

He paused on his ring finger, fingertip lingering over the empty skin.

“You said something earlier,” he started, his tone shifting, and he had the sense whatever they were about to discuss was entirely different. But he wasn’t sure what it was.

After a few moments, Tiergan prodded. “What did I say?”

Prentice hummed, tapping against his ring finger a few times. “You said, ‘whatever we are.’ What are we to you, Tiergan?”

“We are…” he stopped, blinking. No answer came to mind, nothing he could put to words. “I…don’t know. I haven’t thought about it. I suppose I was too caught up in having you back to worry about it.”

He nodded, then asked, “And if you did think about it. What would you want us to be?”

Eternal.

The word popped, unsolicited, into his head. He’d hadn’t even tried to think of an answer, it had provided itself.

“You thought of something,” Prentice noted after a moment.

“It’s silly.”

“We were just playing a game from when we were young where the whole point is teasing ridiculous authors.”

Tiergan could hear the laugh in the words, and sighed. “You’re right, as usual. Alright. When you asked…I thought of a word.” He took a breath, his heart taking off. “I want us to be eternal. I don’t want this to be temporary. I don’t want to lose you. I want to be yours, whatever way you’ll have me, for as long as we’re here.”

“Eternal?” Prentice toyed with his fingers, his focus on the ring in particular. “Not forever?”

“Either. Both. Anything you’re willing to give, I’ll take. If you’ll have me.”

“If I’ll have you,” he repeated, quiet, as though tasting the words, their weight on his tongue. “You are…more important to me than I can ever say, Tiergan. Of course I’ll have you. All of you, the good and the bad. You’re not going to lose me.”

Tiergan couldn’t hold back his smile, didn’t want to, not as Prentice leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together, cradling his cheek in the palm of his hand.

“And you?” he breathed. “What are we to you? What do you want us to be?”

Prentice hummed, and Tiergan swore it was nervous. “Eternal would be nice. But I’ve been thinking recently, your finger looks awfully bare.”

“My finger?”

“What would you prefer: silver or gold? Though I suppose we don’t need to limit ourselves to two options. You’d look good with something copper, or something darker.”

Tiergan leaned back, searching Prentice’s face, his eyes, oh so observant, so loving, eyes he hoped would never leave him again. Eyes watching every minute reaction. “What are you saying?”

Prentice took his hand, trembling, raising it to his lip. “You can be so dense at times, it’s adorable. I’m saying, if you’ll let me, I’d like to put a ring on your finger.”

Tiergan stared, heart pounding.

“I’d like to marry you, Tiergan.”

He blinked, staring and staring and staring, a warmth blossoming in his chest, a buzz building in every nerve and iota of his being, whiting out anything and everything in its path.

Prentice shifted, head tilting to the side. “Are you alright?”

A worry crease formed between his brow, lips hinting the beginning of a frown, and he swore he could hear his heartbeat through the air, matching his own.

“Yes.”

“Yes, you’re alright? Or yes--oh,” he let out a soft gasp as Tiergan’s arms crashed around him once more, pressing their bodies tight together on that sofa.

“Yes, I’m alright, yes, I’ll marry you. I never thought--I didn’t know--” he stumbled over the words, trying to say a million different things at once. I never thought I could have you, I didn’t know you wanted the same things I did, after Cyrah, with Wylie--

Prentice was laughing, bright, relieved, pulling back out of his embrace and searching his face, cupping it in his face and leaning in close, eyes alive.

And then his lips were on his, warm as the rest of him, soft, tender, smiling, breathing a contented sigh against his mouth, knee bumping into his leg as he moved in closer, dropping a hand to his chest and pressing against his heart.

Tiergan’s arms fell slack, trailing against Prentice’s sides and holding to the fabric, trying to pull him closer, eyes fallen shut as bliss, golden and comforting, rushed through him, blooming from his chest and spreading to every nerve in his system at the unending, undoing touch.

He wanted to live in the moment, the two of them eternal side by side, sensitive kisses loving him breathless until the end of time as he surrendered his body and mind to the wonder of Prentice Endal.

Prentice seemed perfectly content to let him.

He could burst from the joy of it.

Without warning, a resounding, world-ending crash reverberated through the room, a cacophony akin to the house collapsing

They sprung apart, gasping for air as they sat up, eyes wide and searching searching searching for the source, minds reeling towards attacks and explosions and the kids--

“Huh,” Prentice breathed, eyes scanning the room as the echoes faded.

All around them, books sat scattered, flung across the floor, flipped open to random pages in their fall. Piling haphazardly over each other, pages overlapped, covers pressed against each other, words blending into each other as the wooden floors disappeared beneath it all.

“I don’t think there are any books left on the shelves,” Prentice observed, tension draining from his body in the silence, leaning subconsciously into Tiergan, who’d gone rigid, pulling him closer as though he could shield him, save him from whatever was happening and offer himself in his place.

Glancing over the railing, he scanned the shelves, coming to the same conclusion. “I don’t understand, what hap--ah,” he managed, faintly.

His rigid posture melted into swaying, the room spinning as he tried to breathe, hand grasping for the cushion to steady himself as the reverb hit him, unable to focus on anything as his body tried to compensate.

“Tiergan? Tiergan.” Prentice tapped on his shoulder, pressing a hand to his forehead, his pulse.

“I’m…alright.” He took another breath, and the dizziness eased further, enough for him to lift his head and watch the anxiety ease in Prentice’s eyes, though they still searched, frantic, over every inch of him, fingers trailing in search of an answer.

Prentice exhaled. “Was that you?”

“I believe it was,” he answered, a burning heat rushing through his skin. He knew he must be bright red, and cleared his throat. “It wasn’t intentional. I was…excited.”

Brushing his locs back, Prentice huffed a laugh, looking at the carnage in amazement.

“If I’d known how you’d react, I would’ve asked you sooner.”

“Have you been thinking about it? Us?”

“Every day.”

Tiergan faltered for a moment, caught between the fading adrenaline and the absolute wonder threatening to burst him apart at the seams.

There’d be more to say, more to talk about, questions to ask, confessions to make, decisions to debate. What to do, the next step, what to tell the kids, what this meant, and rings. Rings and vows and so much to consider.

All he could think to say was, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He reached out, squeezing his hand, one without a ring but with the promise of one.

And then the door burst open.

[paragraph break]

Of all the nights he’d spent lurking, wide awake as the rest of the house lay quiet in the dark, never before had Tam found his heart pounding as hard as it did as he followed Wylie.

Reeling from their conversation, brother brother brother echoing in his head, it took him a moment longer than normal to start his usual methodic breakdowns.

There’d been a noise, a crash, and it’d come from inside the house.

Was it the Neverseen? Had their home been attacked? Both Wylie and Prentice had been targets in the past, two of them in one location could’ve been too good an opportunity to pass up. But Wylie had been outside with him, a more vulnerable position than inside. It didn’t make sense for them to be inside the house.

Was it Linh? Things could happen with her in the night. He’d woken up screaming to their water parents more times than he could count. But water splashed, it didn’t crash like that.

Was it Rayni? He hadn’t spent as much time with her, but he wouldn’t put midnight mischief past her. But her ability wouldn’t crash either, and devices were Dex’s territory, not hers.

All those thoughts filtered through his mind in the seconds it took for Wylie to open the door, pushing through.

“It’ll be fine, it’s probably nothing,” he said, trying to be reassuring, but Tam didn’t believe him.

What, like something had crashed for a good reason? Yeah right.

Banging shut behind them, they paused in the living room, Tam’s book from before still laying out on the cushions, page marked with a scrap of paper he’d stolen from the desk in the library. He’d been reading it when he’d heard Wylie’s soft cries and hadn’t bothered to put it away yet.

Tiergan had mentioned it a while back, so he’d been borrowing it from the shelves at night, working his way through it.

“It came from that way, right?” Wylie asked, pointing down the hall, towards where his bedroom was, a few rooms beyond it.

“I think so.” Corners flowing with shadows called to him, quieting his steps and gathering at his wrists, his fingertips, staining his nails black as they started moving, past his door.

Wylie made a noise, pointing ahead. “See, the light!”

Before he could follow his direction, pounding footsteps above caught his attention, and he stepped back, pressing his body to the wall as he raised his arms, shadows curling.

Linh and Rayni stopped halfway down the steps, her mouth falling open in confusion as she saw the two of them.

Tam dropped his arms, but kept the shadows close.

“Was that super loud and disruptive crash you?” Rayni asked, then squinted, looking him over. “No, it wasn’t. You’re way too wound up.”

Wylie made another noise. “It came from the library.”

He was still pointing; Tam looked.

Under the door to the library, a sliver of warm yellow light sliced into the dark house. Someone was in the library.

A good someone?

Wylie glanced at him once, a strange expression on his face he tried--and failed-- to contain as he started forward first, Tam still following behind, now with Linh and Rayni bringing up the rear.

With a burst, he shoved the door open, other hand raised, light flickering beneath and over his skin in a rainbow of hues in preparation, just in case.

Tam couldn’t see into the room beyond, but he watched Wylie’s shoulders loosen, the light dismissed as he dropped his hand.

“Huh,” he said.

“What?” Rayni asked, impatient, the sound of her foot tapping against the floor filling the hallway.

Instead of answering, Wylie stepped through the door, eyes on the floor, leaving the rest of them to follow.

“What,” Tam started, “the fuck.”

He’d stepped through after Wylie, shadows ready, but there wasn’t a shadow in sight anymore, not as his arms hung loosely at his sides, turning in a slow circle, surveying the damage.

Books scattered across the floor, piling on top of each other, pages bent at odd angles Tiergan would bemoan later. He hated to crease things. He’d said as much when he offered Tam the suggestions he’d been working through.

“Oh, hi,” Linh said, and when he looked at her, she was looking up.

Tam looked up.

Tiergan and Prentice looked back.

Prentice watched them as they stopped moving. “Hello.” He frowned, looking them over. “Were you all awake?”

Tam didn’t answer, leaving it to someone else as his gaze slid to Tiergan beside him, who rubbed at his temples, an uncharacteristic flush across his cheeks Tam was sure he wanted to know nothing about.

“If I hadn’t been, that awful crashing would’ve woken me up for sure. Do you hate books that much?” Rayni asked, toeing at a nearby cover before squatting next to it and picking it up. “Advanced Social Theory of the 1300s: A Guide to Intuition and Anomie,” she read aloud, then made a noise of disgust. “Nevermind, I get it now.”

“Sorry about that,” Tiergan said, leaning forward alongside Prentice so he could look down at them, too.

It was odd, having a conversation between two different floors.

“I…why…?” was all Wylie could manage, gesturing helplessly at the room, then back to his dads.

Tiergan’s face reddened further, wincing as he looked around. “It was an accident, I was excited--hey, why are you two all dirty?” he interrupted himself, looking between Linh and Rayni.

They both immediately hid their hands behind their backs, but that did nothing to disguise the scuffed, blackened knees and feet, evidence of their…whatever they’d been doing. The matching braids only made the two look more similar standing there next to each other.

“Nothing, we were just,” Linh floundered, “hanging out. Stargazing.”

Together? Linh and Rayni had been doing something together? Alone? And were both alive to tell the tale?

Was he the one dreaming?

She noticed his attention, and made a face that said, Don’t be so suspicious.

You’re being suspicious, his said back.

She scrunched her nose at him, effectively ending the conversation none but the two of them were privy to.

Tiergan was going to say something else, but cut off with a noise as he gazed around. “Ah, sh--shoot. Those creases are never going to come out. They were some of my favorites.” His eyes rested on something Tam couldn’t see from the bottom level, but he could only assume it was another pile of books crammed together. He’d wrecked the entire place, afterall.

It was impressive, if he was being honest. Usually only Sophie could cause that much damage with her head. If she even bothered to use it, that was. Then again, if she used it, then he’d have so much less to tease her about, and where was the fun in that?

“It’s alright, we can salvage this,” Prentice assured him, hand lingering on his shoulder, the fondness in the gesture visible even from this distance. Apologetic, he looked back down at them as he stood from the couch, purpose in his posture. “Sorry for disturbing you all. Would you mind helping? Or do you have other things to do at…” he trailed off, looking around.

“One in the morning,” Tam supplied for him, giving a nod of acknowledgement when Prentice thanked him.

Wylie and Linh spoke in tandem. “Of course.”

“It’ll go faster with extra minds,” Linh added, smiling that smile he’d once thought had disappeared for good.

So he added, “Sure.”

“Well,” Rayni looked between them all, “now I gotta help or I’ll look like an asshole.”

“You’re welcome to go do something else--” Tiergan started, but she cut him off.

“No no, I can’t have you all being better people than me; I’m helping. Shush. I’m not listening to whatever else you have to say.”

Tiergan closed his mouth as she held out an outstretched palm, silencing him.

“Well,” Wylie scratched at the back of his head, “we’re never going to get anywhere if we keep standing here.”

“I bet I fix exploded libraries better than you,” Rayni said to no one in particular, reaching out a hand as a conduit, lifting the topmost dozen or so books from the nearest pile.

To his utter amazement, it was Linh who responded.

“You forget, I spent years skill training in Exillium. Your Neverseen time can’t compete with that.” With a smirk, she reached out her hands and lifted twice as many books, reorienting them so they sat the right way, spines facing out.

Tam traded a glance with his brother, who looked just as surprised as him. Had Linh just casually mentioned her time with the Neverseen? What had they been doing?

He deadpanned, “Who are you, and what have you done with my sister? Also, I spent just as long at Exillium, so good luck.”

He lifted another pile off the floor, matching Linh in number.

Then, he added one more, just to spite her.

Wylie sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, but it didn’t hide his smile.

When Tam looked up, Tiergan and Prentice leaned side by side over the banister, watching over the four of them with something like awe, though it mixed with a healthy dose of confusion.

“Don’t bother organizing,” Tiergan said, rolling his wrists, preparing himself. “The system was haphazard to begin with. This will just make trying to find anything…interesting, to say the least.”

That seemed to be the cue, the six of them falling into the task in tandem, working side by side and around each other to grab books, smooth out the creases they could--some were hardly noticeable, but others would be permanently scarred by this night; all they could do was keep it from worsening--and shoving them back on the extensive shelves wherever they’d fit.

Linh, Wylie, Tiergan, and Prentice were all methodical about it, going shelf by shelf, filling one before moving on to the next.

Rayni and Tam, however, had different ideas.

“Do you enjoy causing chaos?” Tiergan asked Rayni as she snuck a book from the bottom floor onto the second, right where he’d been about to put one.

She smiled. “I’m helping! You said not to bother organizing.”

“I did,” he admitted, a rueful look adults sometimes got when dealing with smartass kids gracing his features. “I can’t deny that. It was implied we’d generally keep things where they were supposed to be, but I can’t argue with you. Or you,” he added to Tam, who was putting books upside down and backwards on the shelves. Just for the hell of it.

Tam tried to shrug nonchalant, but a bit of a smirk shone through.

Though if he ever needed to find one of the books he’d left backwards, it’d really come back to bite him in the ass. That was a problem for Future Tam, though, not him.

Prentice shook his head, but didn’t do anything to stop them, indulging their antics. “What were you kids doing up this late? You didn’t look dazed at all when you burst in.”

“Responsible things,” Wylie told him, right as Rayni muttered something to herself he didn’t quite catch.

He could’ve sworn it had something to do with cabinets.

Tam frowned then, turning towards Tiergan and Prentice. “What were you doing up this late? That ended in,” he gestured wildly towards everything, “this.”

Tiergan went red again, glancing at the couch, fingers floundering as he pressed his lips shut tight. Was he trying to avoid looking at Prentice? Because if so, he was failing miserably.

It was embarrassing to be around them sometimes, he had to admit.

“I just had a sort of…proposal, you could say,” Prentice explained, looking far too amused as he watched Tiergan cough. “Since we couldn’t sleep, just like the rest of you.”

He didn’t explain further, leaving the four of them to look suspiciously between each other.

They were over halfway through the mess, but that didn’t mean they were done, so they let it slide, chalking it up to more of their quirks. Living with Tiergan and Prentice was…interesting, to say the least. Between the homely baking, loving bickering, and the way they always seemed to learn towards each other without knowing it, you’d never know there was a near decades long gap between the two of them, that they’d only had each other back for months, that they’d ever been apart at all.

He wasn’t sure how much everyone else noticed, how much they saw. Maybe it was another symptom of shadehood like the insomnia, or maybe it was just the way he was, but Tam saw more than anyone else ever had.

Shadows hid secrets, but uncovered them just as readily for those willing to look.

Either way, he couldn’t watch one of them without seeing the other, in their expressions, their mannerisms, the word choice. Prentice didn’t exist without Tiergan, Tiergan without Prentice. Maybe they never had.

But tonight there was something…different, between the two of them. He just didn’t know what.

Rayni slid next to him, shoving books on his shelves. “I know I’m newer here, but I can’t be the only one thinking something’s is going on.”

“Oh definitely,” Wylie agreed, passing behind them, pretending to be very focused on smoothing out a few folds in a book. “They’re terrible at hiding it. How they kept secret identities for years is a miracle.”

“This is the most obvious secret huddle I’ve ever seen,” Linh said, joining the very obvious secret huddle.

Above them, they heard Prentice comment on how they were practically done, Tiergan replying saying he’d finished his half of the upstairs. Downstairs they were about the same. Only a few dozen books remained, and Wylie’d pressed out their creases, making them ready for their chaotic storage.

Steps sounded on the stairs, and they tried to act inconspicuous--Tam had never seen anyone fail as spectacularly at is as they did--scattering back towards the shelves, Tam stepping back to let Linh and Rayni lift and put away the final books, looking almost as good as new. Some of the volumes looked out of order. Tiergan could deal.

“Thank you,” Tiergan said, “for the help.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Linh said, kind as always, fiddling with the end of her braid. “I’m just sorry so many of your books got bent.”

Sighing, he nodded in agreement, surveying the room. “It is…unfortunate. But they’re just books. Since you’ve been kind enough to lend me your time, is there anything I can do for the four of you in return? I know it’s late, but--”

Rayni’s hand shot into the air. “Yes! You can tell us why you lovebirds keep looking at each other like that. You’ve done a horrible job hiding it. Not to be rude,” she tacked on at the end, to little effect.

The four of them turned expectantly towards the two of them in silent expectation.

Tam raised a brow.

Tiergan had flushed again, floundering about for words, trying to find something to say.

Prentice laughed, laying a hand on his arm, quieting him. “I told you they’re brilliant kids. There was no hope keeping it secret.”

“You were trying to?” Wylie asked, teasing.

Prentice thought for a moment. “No, I wasn’t. I was occupied with the mess, that’s all.”

Tam huffed out an impatient sound. “Okay, we get it, you’ve got something to share. Will you get on with it?”

“Please,” Linh added for him, kicking him lightly in the leg and looking not at all remorseful when he yelped.

Tiergan and Prentice shared a look, the kind that spoke without words, and after a moment turned back to look at them.

“How do you feel about weddings?”

[12neonlit-stage]

you're allowed to discuss and work together, reblog for a higher sample size or something

You have 1 week, good luck!

[nardacci-does-art]

I meant to draw this back when I did this other doll comic as another side, to show a doll that had been cared for instead of abused, but somehow I wasn't able to finish it till like 10 minutes ago, anyway I did it *confetti*

[kitteecafe]

im so late to pride posting lmao

[homeofwyrm]

Work's been busy (good thing) so I haven't been able to draw much. Here's Anastasia

[egophiliac]

WAIT when did he get FANGS

[jasminebythebay]

thank you for your help 💎

--

By popular demand, this piece is now available as a print! https://jasminebythebay.etsy.com/listing/1707594190

[verflares]

(click for higher quality!) draconified link concept ive been chipping away at this past week ..... here's my funny little compendium concept for him:

"A heroic spirit has taken the form of this bestial dragon. Unlike it's kin, this creature exhibits an extremely aggressive disposition. It appears highly territorial, and will relentlessly chase down those who disturb its skywide patrols - of which it seems to be endlessly searching for either a long-time vassal or foe. Unfortunately, it seems the spirit within has long since forgotten exactly who it was looking for…"

[k1d1c4rus]

thinking about how armand was turned bc he was dying from being stabbed by a scorned grown man who was in love with him. he nearly died from rejecting unwanted advances. its such a key explicit detail of his origin that teaches him yet again that what he wants is utterly unimportant and even deadly in the face of survival. everything about his character is informed by the fact that he adapts entirely to the situation he is forced into because that's the only way he can survive. he adopts the satanic doctrine for 200 years not because he believes in it but because he knows that is the only way he'll survive and as soon as lestat arrives he knows he can abandon it. for half a millenium he believes he can't get what he wants and also survive, he has to choose one or the other. God.

[barghest-land]

drawings from paleo expedition to dagestan, done right on the trip. sometimes messy when it was cold and rainy, but i won't correct it. i think it's cool to leave it just the way it was done, and not retouch it after. there will be more drawings later, but those will be done from home

[knifearo]

being aromantic is like. hey btw you're going to live a life that is the culmination of most of society's worst nightmares. sorry lol ✌️ but then you turn around and take a really good hard look at it and it turns out that living in that nightmare is fucking awesome and you get to wake up every day and take that fear that other people have and laugh and hold it close until it's a great joy for you instead. and being happy is a radical act that you define instead of someone else. and you're sexy as fuck that's just a fact of life i don't make the rules on that one

[dannypocalipse]

Sleepy Danny after full Phantom-mode night

I had to redo this pic so many times, but I finished it!! Finally :D

Really like the colours on this art, guess I just enjoy softness???

[ruubesz-draws]

I'm pretty sure this would be Godzilla's reaction if he saw Baby Kong.

Also, I really gotta get used to his new design....

If you know the reference, you have my utmost respect

[ricky-mortis]

They're the best of each other!

[chalkrub]

strange fellas

[saragrosie]

As promised, incredibly stupid s4-5 drawings