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accidentally-in-fictional-love · 4 months

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Arc of a Bird - Joshua Whitmore/Reader

Warnings: Gender-neutral reader, no use of Y/N, unspoken mutual crushes to lovers, slow burn, fluff, domestic bliss, bit of arguing, angst, hurt/comfort, brief canon-related mentions of suicide, lots of baths, kissing, making out, grinding, soft smut, happy ending.

Wordcount: 15447

Summary: It's been two weeks since Joshua moved in with you, and while making sure he learns how to take care of himself turns more into you learning how to taking care of him, you'd do it all again as long as it keeps him from disappearing.

Notes: This is the extra long sequel to Breaking the Code~ I've been headcanoning more in dastmalcord with my friends and those sessions led to how this one went, meaning there's a lot more hurt, a LOT more comfort, and a bunch of baths ;w; I nearly made them cry with this one and it nearly made me cry as I was writing it so be ready for a whole ton of cuteness and pain 😊💗💗💗 I've also decided that this is going to be my only world for Joshua if I write more, so any new requests or headcanons or drabbles will take place in this world unless specified otherwise~

It’s been a month since Joshua Whitmore was admitted to the hospital a couple blocks from your duplex, and two weeks since he pulled another disappearing act, his miracle broadcast all over the news as he once again went missing. You’re standing in your kitchen/dining/living room as the smell of coffee fills the open area, food cooking on the stove and mixing in with it as the sound of footsteps on the stairs makes you look from the TV to the source. The man on the screen stares unemotionally at you between his gallery promo photo, his long hair slicked neatly back and a dark suit replacing his oversized shirts and hoodie, and something candid from when he started to become a recluse. When you look up you still see that same man, only 7 years older and a lot more lively, stretching as he reaches the final steps, his old shirt lifting to reveal the way his baggy pants were sliding over his hips.

It was a sight you still weren’t used to, your cheeks brightening despite the early hours as he cracks his neck and groans about needing a cigarette, but he already knows you won’t let him have one; his month off of them has him grouchy at least once pretty much everyday since you never let him pick the habit back up once he started staying with you, but still he smiles when he sees your face before he hears what’s playing nearby.

You reach for the remote but he stops you, wanting to hear what they were saying, apparently they’d managed to bribe someone on the hospital staff successfully but only enough to reveal that he was there but wasn’t any longer, the hunt on for him as an actual reward flashed on screen for any information. ‘It’s like I’m a criminal,’ he wonders, but he says it in a way like he finds it humourous, the reporter talking to him directly as she asks to be the first to get an interview while his artwork shows beside her as a montage.

‘Breaking and entering does make you a criminal,’ you remind him as you set down a couple plates on the table, and he tries to wave that fact away.

‘They don’t know that,’ he starts to say right as the reporter starts talking about how he was found breaking and entering an abandoned house where he’d been staying, footage of everything he’d painted while he was there filling the screen, and it’s timed so perfectly you can’t help but laugh. By now you knew everything, it’d taken him another week but he’d opened up to you one night about what had taken place, and as he looks at his work you come up behind him. You look up at his ear as the reporter talks about how he was held at gunpoint and tried to force his attacker to shoot him, the information still making something in your chest hurt as you wrap your arms around him.

‘I’m so sorry that happened to you,’ you murmur into his back just like you had that night, and his hand rests on yours a moment before he pulls you off of him just enough to spin in your arms, your face mere inches from his chest instead. He still isn’t used to this kind of thing, but he allows you this much as the woman keeps talking behind him.

‘I was so ready for him to end it,’ he confesses, something he hadn’t said that night, and you rest your cheek against his chest, right over his heart to hear it beat as the reporter talks about the young delinquent attempting to rob him, the camera showing the blood from his ear on the ground as well as the bullet hole in the wall from where it’d grazed him. ‘After the night before, with Cass’ father, and then those kids taking so much of what I’d done over the years and trying to sell it, to make my life nothing but a price tag again, I didn't wanna do it anymore.’

‘I’m so glad he missed,’ you tell him, and he hesitates before his arms wrap around your back to complete the hug as one more plea goes out for anyone with information on him to please come forward.

‘I’m glad too.’

It’s hard to get him to readjust to a life off the streets, for it’s all he knows now, and that becomes apparent the more time he spends in your home. You didn’t notice it much at first since he was still a bit reclusive, but as the first week stretched into two you started to notice things about him that weren’t obvious when he was at the hospital; for instance, he really didn’t eat that much, still used to the few things he could pack away when he was on the road. He ate when you cooked for him, but he never made anything for himself, or asked for anything, he barely even remembered that he could grab a glass and pour himself some water whenever he was thirsty, preferring to stick to the old plastic bottle he kept by his side while he worked.

For another, while he was very dutiful about brushing his teeth since a toothbrush and toothpaste was easy to pack, he kept forgetting to shower, probably used to not being able to get one anywhere outside of public use places. You didn’t want to make a big deal of it, but since he didn’t notice you found yourself reminding him more and more when he’d keep putting it off, like he was still expecting to not have access to the full bathroom upstairs attached to your room, not just the half-bath on the ground floor where he usually worked. He agreed to continue sleeping in your bed easily enough but still avoided your personal bathroom with all the things it held you eventually discovered when you caught him trying to wash his hair in the downstairs bathroom’s sink one night; you were half awake and in a blind panic to make sure the garbage was ready to go out in the morning, and the sound of the water drew your attention to the room as you stumbled around in the dark, finding him trying to hide it from you in the dead of night since he knew you were always up early.

‘What are you doing?’ you ask as he jumps and hits his head on the tap, knocking over his nearly empty shampoo bottle you’d retrieved along with the rest of his stuff weeks ago, and you rush over to make sure he’s okay as he drips water all over the fake tile floor.

‘Didn’t wanna wake you,’ he groans as he grabs a towel, and you can tell that he must’ve been doing this since he left the hospital, no staff to make sure he used the attached bathroom during the hours you were at work and not visiting him.

‘You know you can shower when I’m gone, I don’t mind you using my bathroom,’ you tell him as carefully as you can, you don’t want to embarrass him, but getting caught is enough to make him shy away from you and him making this mess is only adding to it.

‘I know I know, it’s unbearable, isn’t it?’ he mutters as he tries to close in on himself, and you wonder how many people called him out on this kind of thing to get such a reaction.

‘What? No, it isn’t, I just want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, you don’t have to act like you’re intruding here,’ you say, but he doesn’t look convinced.

‘But I am, aren’t I? I know you want me to stay, and I know you keep giving me excuses so I don’t have to sleep on the couch, but I’m taking up space in your world, eating your food, borrowing your soap, stealing your heat and your light and your air, and I figured… this might be enough until I find someplace else, so I’m not the one taking from you… so I’m not a burden.’

The sound of dripping water fills the room as you look up at him, his shirt is soaked and the towel is hanging limply over his head, doing little to soak up the water, and you suck in a deep breath before grabbing him by the wrist, thinking better of it, and instead going behind him to herd him upstairs. He looks uncomfortable as he trails water through your bedroom, the blankets a mess on your bed since he never makes it when he wakes up, and you take him straight to the bathroom and turn on the light. You take the towel off his head and toss it onto the counter before telling him to just please have a shower, not because you had a problem with him, but because you needed him to know he was welcome.

‘You said it yourself, I want you to stay,’ you say as you look down, and he looks at the jacuzzi bath/shower combo against the wall, it honestly the selling point of the place when you first checked it out, but doesn’t move to get in, like he doesn’t think he deserves such a luxury anymore.

‘Fine, just- I don’t need you to babysit me,’ he gives in, and you leave the room as he starts to undress. Since his arrival you’ve been shopping for him a few times, getting things in his size along with stuff for yourself so his items don’t stand out too much on their own, and you grab some of the pajamas you’d bought that week to leave on the dresser nearby. When you hear the shower start you make the bed for him, but honestly everything could go for a wash as well, and you hurry to your closet to grab the spares for guests to quickly change everything out.

It’s the middle of the night now, and you’re way too tired to get up at your alarm, and you’re just about to slide on the new fitted sheet when he walks out, his shower having lasted five minutes or less, his old clothes back on again. ‘...Nope,’ you simply say as you ditch the sheet entirely, and you grab the new clothes and turn him back around, already tugging at his shirt as he tries to fight you off.

‘I did what you said!’ he almost stutters as you relent, the mirror not even fogged from how fast he was in and out, and you just run a hand through your hair as you let out a sigh.

‘I’m not gunna give you a time limit here,’ you tell him, and he tries to argue when you continue. ‘Tell me the truth, when was the last time you actually took care of yourself?’

‘I take care-’

‘Joshua, please,’ you beg tiredly, and he thinks about it a while before looking up at you from his place on the tub’s rim.

‘2008, I think? Back when I still had a bit of money from odd jobs to get motel rooms,’ he admits like he’s ashamed, but you just brush his wet bangs out of his eyes, your hand resting on his cheek.

‘As long as you’re here with me, please don’t think of yourself as a burden, okay? I… I asked you to stay with me for a reason, and I want this to feel like home to you, not just another place to stay in while you wait for me to kick you out, I’d never do that.’ You purse your lips as he looks up at you, water running over his forehead and down his face, shirt still soaked and making him shiver in the chill of it. ‘I really… I really want you to stay with me, okay?’

He takes in your words, really mulls them over before nodding slightly, just enough for you to feel him shift under your hand, and you want to kiss him but don’t as you pull away.

‘Thank you, now, take care of yourself for me, please?’ you ask lightly, and he nods again before taking his shirt back off; you take it and toss it into the hamper to be washed, your face reddening as he then undoes and takes off his paint-stained jeans, those too added to the pile, and when he’s fully nude behind you you stiffen and wait for him to reenter the shower. The curtain is pulled shut, and the sound of rushing water fills the room again, and you don’t leave until you see his blurred form get under the stream with a content sigh, like he was so used to quick cold showers stolen from public pools and other such areas that he hadn’t even bothered to turn up the heat earlier.

When the mirror starts to fog you leave again, going back to the bed as he takes his time, and when the bed is freshly made and the old blankets, pillowcases, and his clothes are waiting in the laundry room downstairs, you return to your room to wish him goodnight when you hear him swear under his breath. ‘Joshua?’ you ask worriedly as you knock, and when he doesn’t answer you open the door and just see red; he’d been a little too rough and had disturbed his stitches, his eyes scrunched up in pain as the shampoo he missed seeps into the wound, and you sit him back down to clean him up.

He smells like your soap now, just wearing his new pajama pants as he holds a towel up to his ear, and you take over for him and see that it’s actually not that bad, but the water had made it spread and seem worse than it actually was, nothing you can’t fix without needing to sneak back into the hospital. You part his hair so there’s less on his left side, brushing it out of the way so you can work, your towel now stained red but it doesn’t matter as the wound is cleaned again, most of it healed by now save this disturbed nic.

‘Sorry for ruining your stuff,’ he mumbles softly, and this time you do kiss him as you press your lips to his forehead, a shiver going down your spine when he sucks in a small breath at the feeling.

‘I can always buy more, you’re more important than an old towel,’ you reassure him, and then toss it where the hamper used to be, it downstairs and waiting for the load to start. He stares at it and smiles, your faces still incredibly close before you pull back. ‘I uh, need to get some sleep, alarm goes off at 6 and all,’ you remind yourself more than him, and he gestures to the bed behind you.

‘I can sleep on the couch tonight,’ he offers, but you won’t have it, he’ll be way too cramped on it after spending so long in an actual bed, plus you don’t want him to hurt his ear again, those are definitely the only reasons why.

‘It’s a big bed,’ you just say softly, and you take his hand and lead him to your room, his hand hitting the wall and turning off the light as you climb backwards onto the clean comforter, his body following yours as you lay down in the dark.

He becomes more aware of taking care of himself after that, but you still have to work on the eating when you come home and find him in your spare room, it now his makeshift studio. It used to be filled with all the random things you didn’t have a place for, and together you’d cleaned and sorted everything, moving a bunch to the garage, a few things to your closets where they’d fit, and when the room had been emptied he’d moved all his things inside so he had a place to paint again. You come home at 6PM as you always do, tired from the walk and just wanting to collapse onto the couch and eat something, and while you are hungry you’re also hoping that maybe he ate up all the leftovers you placed in plain sight for him in the fridge.

You head inside, kick off your shoes, set down your messenger bag, and find the food still in its place, along with everything else you’d left behind that morning. You sigh and take out the tupperware, transferring the contents onto a plate and heating it up before going to him, the sounds of him working on the other side of the door. You knock and he makes a noise of surprise, and when he opens the door he seems surprised to see you.

‘It’s 6, yeah,’ you confirm as you hold out the plate, and he looks at it before shaking his head.

‘That’s yours,’ he just says, and you push the plate into his hands, which are covered in mostly blue among other colours.

‘Did you eat today?’ you ask, and his stomach growls as if on cue. ‘If you don’t want this I can make something else, or order something, what would you like?’

‘You don’t have to,’ he quickly says, his default response when he doesn’t want to put you out, and you sigh again and take him into the living room. He hates TV for the most part but you quickly pop in the DVD he recommended last week, knowing he’d be unable to resist as you sift through your collection of takeout menus. ‘I’m fine with this,’ he insists, now ready to take the offering, but you steal it back and start eating as he’s forced to choose something he wants. He settles on a few things from the Chinese restaurant 20 minutes away, and you set down your food and call, ordering your own favourites as well since you already knew he was underordering on purpose. You sit back down next to him after the menus are put back away, eating your leftovers since you really are hungry, and when the food arrives he ducks out of sight while you answer the door.

As soon as it’s safe and the food is spread out over the table, you scoop a bunch onto your emptying plate and sit back down, watching him silently as he does as you expected and takes only a little for himself. ‘I ordered all that for you, just take what you want.’

‘I didn’t ask you to.’

‘You did, actually, when you told me what you wanted.’ Your plate is set down again, the movie paused as he keeps fighting you.

‘Only because you won’t let it go,’ he insists, his plate set down next to yours, ‘jesus, I’m not a fucking child, you don’t have to keep doing this for me.’

‘I only do it because you keep forgetting to eat and I don’t want you to get sick!’ you yell, your voice instantly lowering again when he cowers. ‘Sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just- it was a long day, and that’s no excuse, but-’ You look him over, your anger melting away to worry. ‘You’re getting thin again.’

‘I am thin.’

‘You know what I mean.’ You stand and walk over to him, he’s been trying to back away to his studio again, and you don’t want tonight to end on an argument. ‘How bad was it before that you don’t even realize what you’re doing to yourself?’

‘Doing what…?’ He truly doesn’t even know, and you gently grab his hand and lead him back to the table, making sure to grab his plate as soon as he’s there. You hand it back to him, pleading with him with your eyes, and he fills up every last inch of the flat surface, wordlessly asking you if that was okay. You just smile at him, and he smiles weakly back, and you go back to the couch to finish the movie together. You pretend not to notice as he eats his fill, clearly starving as well, and when he’s done and he moves to go back to work you stop him; he just looks at you as you pulls him down beside you, his head in your lap as you run your fingers through his hair, and he melts into you as the stiffness from painting for hours without stopping finally catches up to him.

‘I don’t mean to keep doing this,’ you whisper, his head shifting slightly as he looks up at you, ‘it’s just that… you really mean a lot to me, Joshua.’ He doesn’t say anything, your hand trembling as you brush some errant strands away from his ear. ‘You do, and… I just want to know that you’ll be okay.’

He sits up again, one arm reaching past you and resting on the arm of the couch while the other finds a place on the back behind you, his eyes sad but also so full of adoration for you that you can’t look away from him. He leans in, looks down at your lips again, and you close your eyes and wait for him to make the first move, silently letting him know how you feel in that moment, and when it doesn’t happen you open them again to see that he’s only a breath away. His hand leaves the couch to caress your cheek, delicately like he’s painting the shadows over your soft skin with his fingers, and when you close your eyes again you feel a tear roll down and wet the blue until he’s really painting you.

‘Why do you care so much about me?’ he asks, voice so low you can barely hear it even though he’s so close.

‘I don’t know,’ you answer honestly, your head tilting slightly as you lean in but don’t make contact, ‘but… I know that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you from the moment I saw you, and I never want to stop, so… please don’t do anything to make me stop, okay?’

His hand moves from your cheek to the back of your head, slightly damp paint trailing across your jaw to mix in with your hair, and he whispers an okay against your lips before he crosses that final gap, your hands tangling in his shirt and his hair as you kiss him back.

You finally get through to him after that, the air in your duplex different now that you’ve both taken that step to actually start your relationship, everything unspoken and insinuated up until now. It hadn’t gone any further, no matter how ready you were you knew that he needed more time, but when your alarm goes off and you wake up to find his arm around your waist you can’t help but smile so lovingly at him as he sleeps soundly next to you. You carefully move his hand and get up for the day, trying to be as quiet as possible since you kind of skipped your nightly shower to crawl into bed with him and continue kissing, your cheeks heating as you grab some clean clothes and shut the bathroom door.

You wish you at least had a small shower downstairs as the water turns on and you fear it’ll wake him, but he hadn’t stirred at your alarm, which was objectively more loud and annoying in its mission to wake you on time, so as time goes on you start to relax. You’re in the middle of washing the shampoo out of your hair when you hear the knock, and you call out that you’re in there, which is obvious considering the shower and all, silence answering you before you hear the hinges creak.

‘Can I come in?’ he asks, and you gape at the question before pulling back the curtain and taking a peek. His hair is standing up in every direction, his eyes tired as he blinks in the bright mirror lights, and you’re about to remind him that there’s a second bathroom downstairs before you get it.

‘Yeah, just lemme-’ You duck your head under the stream and finish rinsing before you blinded yourself with the suds, your heart racing as you grab your towel hanging nearby and wipe your eyes so you can see again. ‘Do you want to…?’

It’s hard for the both of you to talk as he steps inside the room, his hand going to his ear as he looks at you in the reflection. ‘I’ve been kinda avoiding this, didn’t wanna open the stitches again,’ he admits, and you just swallow and nod before ducking back behind the curtain. You plug the tub and let it start to fill, Joshua still waiting as you peek back out again.

‘Uh, a bath might be better, since you’re taller,’ you mumble nervously, and he catches on to how you’re feeling and tries to backtrack.

‘You don’t ha-’

‘No, no I want to,’ you interrupt, and you grab your towel and wrap it around yourself to cover your indecency; you pull back the curtain and step out, the mat catching the waterfall cascading down your legs, and you wordlessly ask if he wants you to wait outside before he shakes his head and undoes the drawstring on his pants.

You look to your left, trying not to stare, but as soon as you realize you’re doing exactly that at his reflection you turn to the right instead, your towel clutched in your desperate grip to keep it from unraveling as he strips fully, and you stand aside as he approaches the tub behind you. He gets in, the water sloshing around as it continues to flow, and you let out a quick breath before turning to face him; thanks to it being so big, he’s able to spread out but chooses not to as he sits there, his hands covering himself under the water, and you again try not to stare as you lean over the turn off the tap.

‘I guess you should face that way, so I can watch out for your ear,’ you force yourself to say as you readjust your towel one final time, and he turns as you grab his newly bought brand of shampoo, the bottle now resting next to your own on the shelves along with the body wash, which you bring down so he can reach it when he’s ready, along with the detachable shower head. You turn the water back on and start wetting his hair, making sure not to make too much of a mess or get it in his eyes, the world around you completely forgotten as the nervousness fades away to concentration. He leans back and relaxes as you comb your fingers through his hair, gently removing the tangles as you continue wetting everything, and when that’s done you pour a decent amount of shampoo onto your palm.

He lets out a soft moan as you start massaging the lather in, the bubbles spreading and running down his shoulders and back as he leans completely into your touch, and there’s nothing sexual about it in the least as you carefully avoid his ear and start threading your fingers again. The only sounds in the room are of the water as he adjusts, and the sudsy bubbles multiplying and popping as you massage and thread and take care of him, and you guide his head back as you turn the nozzle back on to rinse.

His body moves forward so you’re not shooting water over the rim, everything exposed to you as he trusts you entirely, and there’s no fear of looking as you wash out the bubbles until there’s nothing left, rivers of white flowing down him and spreading across the surface of the water until there’s only his black hair left, shining in the overhead lights. You check his ear to make sure it’s okay and sure enough it is, and he floats there as he opens his eyes and looks up at you, your lips parting as you stare at him like he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

You can’t help but kiss him again like that, his head pressed into your chest as you lean over the side of the tub, and you almost end up late because you can’t pull away from him.

The media is still looking for him even though it’s been a month and a half, and you hear him come up when you’re at work. Instantly you perk up, your interest in him coming off as wanting to hear the gossip rather than genuinely wanting to talk about him, which you can’t, as you need to pretend like he isn’t currently in your spare room painting the day away. You get called over by the water cooler to join in when your interest is spotted, a few other employees taking their sweet time drinking from their small, paper cups as they speak in hushed voices.

‘They still haven’t found him? Are you sure he’s even still in town?’ one of them is asking, another shaking his head.

‘No way, he bailed weeks ago, why would he stick around when everyone’s looking for him?’ he states plainly, another taking a sip before leaning in close.

‘I heard he attacked that kid, the one who tried to rob him,’ she says lowly, your brows furrowing on instinct as your eyes lock directly on her. ‘Yeah, I know someone who lives in that neighbourhood, she was there when he got picked up by the ambulance, there were cops all over, and the kid was claiming that he went after him with a knife or something when he missed.’

‘That’s not true.’ It comes out before you can stop it, your voice even but just barely restrained, and everyone turns to you as they question your knowledge.

‘Really? Were you there when it happened?’ she asks, her own gossip in question thanks to you, and you can only say no as she smirks. ‘Exactly, now, my friend says that when they brought him out he looked homeless, which I guess he was considering he was squatting, and she was able to hear that he was sent to-’

‘He isn’t homeless.’ You bite the inside of your cheek as again they look at you, everyone turning to face you completely as your outbursts garner more interest than your co-worker. ‘I-I mean, you saw the news, right? He’s some big artist from New York, what would he honestly be doing down here, squatting in some random house? It has to be some other guy, it doesn’t make sense otherwise.’

‘True, but they found a bunch of his art painted all over the walls in there, they showed it in the segment I saw, and a lot of the pieces were similar to what he used to do before he disappeared,’ your other co-worker says, the first nodding in agreement as the third scowls at the attention being drawn away from her.

‘Could be a copycat? Or maybe their styles are just similar?’

‘You seem to have a lot of interest in convincing us it isn’t him,’ the third speculates, but you wave her off immediately.

‘I don’t, I’m just-’

‘Don’t you live by a hospital? You went home early that day, didn’t you? Something about messing up an account and needing some time off?’ She’s staring directly at you, and you go to drink your water and when you see your cup is empty.

‘What, you think I know the guy? That’s even more impossible than his painting holding miracles or something, c’mon,’ you say with a laugh, and the others agree with you with laughs of their own.

‘Yeah, for all we know, the guy ran off to hide somewhere else once the news caught on, that interview reward’s going unclaimed,’ the second says, and then your boss is noticed from across the room before more can be said and you all scatter, your heart still racing as you go back to your desk.

The conversation by the water cooler has you honestly pretty paranoid for the next few days, Joshua painting away in blissful ignorance as you wait for someone to show up at your door and shove cameras into his face and take him away from you, but as one day turns to two, then three, you calm down and accept that they must’ve bought it. He remains completely unaware of your fear as you sit together and watch another old favourite of his while he rambles on about how technology is taking over everyone, completely talking over the movie and making you want to turn it up a second time.

‘I use a laptop for work,’ you chime in as he tells you all about the people he used to know back in New York, how they were always sporting the latest tech the moment it came out, how addicted they’d become to the internet as it became faster, reached further, isolated him from them when he refused to join in.

‘You can always use paper, print it out and write, there’s nothing wrong with still doing that, it’s more genuine, more human; instead you’re focusing too much on what’s automated, letting the machine do the thinking for you, soon you’ll forget everything you learned in school that isn’t readily available at your fingertips, it’s making you dumber,’ he’s saying, his head in your lap as he reaches for the popcorn, the large bowl resting against the top of his head.

‘You’re insufferable sometimes, you know that?’ you tell him as you hold the bowl within his reach, and he grabs a handful of the buttery treat, dropping quite a few onto the floor.

‘That’s what they used to say, too,’ he says, but there’s no bitterness in it, he’s just stating a fact, and you lean down to kiss his forehead as you grab some popcorn for yourself. You’ve been spending most of the movie so far just listening to him, so you have no idea what’s actually going on, but you don’t mind as he starts up again, that just means you could always watch it again in the future. Your fingers move from his hair to his cheek as you think about the future then, and he reaches up to bring your hand to his lips before holding it in the crook of his neck against his shoulder.

You don’t know how you ever lived without him here, it’s still only been less than a month but he’s filled every empty space in your house until it became a home, the smell of dust and cleaning supplies replaced with paint, your neat bed always unmade because he was so used to just getting up and going on with his day, old movies you’d never seen before decorating your shelves, the scent of his shampoo or body wash following you throughout your day when you grabbed his on accident. Your spare room is full of colour, the walls covered in thick paper and canvases so he can draw freely without encouraging the wrath of your landlord, your couch has never felt more comfy now that he’s next to you on it, and to get to enjoy the fruits of your labour through cooking with him has you in a perpetual state of happiness, sans the three days of worrying when it would be over.

You can’t imagine going back to that emptiness, that loneliness you didn’t even know you were feeling, and as he presses another kiss to your hand just because he can you know that he doesn’t want that either, no more cold nights trying to hide from the wind, no more breaking into places no one would think to look, no more people hurting him because he wasn’t like them, or taking from him because they couldn’t be him.

The movie is completely ignored as you look down at him, and he doesn’t notice until he reaches for more popcorn and has to look up to find it. His eyes meet yours, and you must have some kind of look on your face because he’s letting go of your hand and sitting up a bit, still leaning against you, just on his stomach instead of his side. ‘Are you okay?’ he asks, and you can’t stop it from coming out as you feel all the air leave your lungs.

‘I love you.’ It comes out so easily, and he’s surprised by it, it’s the first time you’ve said it out loud, your body shifting more towards him as he pushes himself up onto his hands. ‘I love you,’ you say again, your heart pounding in your chest, and the popcorn bowl falls to the floor as he shifts enough for you to move your legs underneath him. He’s breathing heavily as he climbs on top of you, there’s no rush here, you’re not pulling off shirts and tugging at belts because of your confession, the two of you just needing to be closer as he hovers above you, your body sliding down until your head rests on the arm of the couch.

‘I…’ he tries to say, but it’s okay, you know this is still the one thing he isn’t used to yet, and you pull him down for a kiss as he lowers against you, his body hot under too many layers, he always wears too many damn layers. He sighs into your mouth as your hands rest on his lower back, fingers pulling the bottom of his shirts up so your nails can gently scrape across bare skin, his hips moving in turn and making your breath hitch.

‘You don’t need to say it back, not yet,’ you murmur into his ear as he starts to set a slow pace against you, your legs parting so you could feel him better, ‘just don’t stop, please…’

‘I- I…’ he tries again, his mouth pressing against your jaw as he kisses you, tastes you, his hips grinding down a little harder; in all the time you’ve spent together now you’ve never done this much, you never talked about his needs in this way, so many nights you’d wondered if it was just another thing he learned to live without when more important things had to be seen to, like finding something to eat or somewhere safe to sleep for the night.

‘It’s okay,’ you tell him but he shakes his head, moans again right into your ear, the sound sending shivers from your head all the way down to your toes.

‘I don’t… think I know what love is, anymore,’ he confesses to you, and you turn to look at him, his hair hanging over his eye as he stares at you with desperate eyes, his pupils blown so wide, cheeks flushed, lips wet from when he’d kissed you. You place a hand on the back of his head and guide him back to your mouth, kiss him tenderly, and you feel a drop of wet heat land on your face the longer the kiss goes on.

‘Don’t worry,’ you whisper as you part to breathe, the credits rolling on the screen as you hold his hand against your chest, ‘I’ll share all of mine until you know again.’

The morning of his first month with you, you wake up to not your alarm but the sound of birds outside your windows, his warmth pressed tightly to your side as you find yourself tangled up in him. It’s Sunday, you don’t have anywhere to go today, and you smile and rest your head on his chest as he snores above you; his chest is bare, he’s taken to just wearing his pajama pants at night thanks to your bed being so warm and cozy, and you trace shapes into his skin until he stirs.

‘What’re you doing?’ he sleepily asks, words slurring as he watches you.

‘Drawing,’ you say simply, and he laughs as he stops you by holding your hand.

‘Would you wanna paint with me today?’

You look up at him, he’s never asked this before, and you just nod as a large grin tugs at the corners of your mouth. ‘I’d love that,’ you answer, and he kisses your forehead before going to get up. ‘You don’t wanna sleep in?’ you can’t help but ask, and he stops on his way to the bathroom with a nervous smile.

‘I’ll never get up if I don’t do it now,’ he admits, and while you hate to agree, you know that you’d be equally as trapped if you got him back under the covers. ‘Besides… I think it’s a pretty good morning for a bath, don’t you?’

Your face heats as you instantly get up, your body moving on autopilot as you both file into the bathroom, his mouth finding yours as he undresses, and when the tub is full he climbs in and offers his hand out for you to take. You stare before stripping it all away, and he turns away from you as you climb in after him, everything once again within reach as you turn on the shower and start to wet his hair. You rest against the side as you work, still careful of his ear even though you haven’t had any more scares since the last time, and he relaxes into you and the hot water as you rub the shampoo into his hair.

You can easily picture yourself still doing this for him a year from now, ten years even, just the two of you hiding from the world as you take care of him, and when you’re done and it’s time for him to wash himself you have to face the other way as you do your own hair so he can’t see what the sentimentality of it is doing to you. You’re almost done rinsing when you realize you’ve used his shampoo again, and it almost makes you choke up at the thought of getting to do this again, and again, and again, whenever you want, not just by accident.

You slowly turn back when you hear everything go quiet, and you see him just watching you, his finger drawing lines in the steam on the tile wall, and you turn fully to see that it’s you, it’s messy and dripping down but you can still see that it’s you. ‘Sorry,’ he says as he stops, the water running down and ruining it even more, ‘you just looked so beautiful, I couldn't help myself.’

You push off from the side and glide the short distance over to him so you can kiss him without thinking, needing to close that gap, but as your knees sink back down to the bottom and his legs push in on either side of you you realize what you’ve done, your face just as red as his is as you brace yourself on his chest. ‘Uh…’ is all you can say, the both of you unsure where to go from here, apart from all the kissing and a few fully clothed makeout sessions as he gets more used to your affections and his own desire to initiate things, this is the first actual time you’ve been this close in such a state, and you’re completely unsure if you want to go any further or wait until the time felt right.

‘Pretty uncomfortable, to fuck in a bathtub,’ he blurts out then, and you just start laughing as he does too, your nervousness melting away as you mutually decide that it wasn’t the time or place just yet, but that was fine. You back up and give him a bit of privacy as he gets out first to dry off, your heart still racing as you get out next, the tub loudly draining as you get dressed for the day, happily nervous smiles following you as you head for the kitchen to make breakfast. He’s gotten better at cooking for himself by now, and you appreciate the help and getting to bond with him like this as you decide on pancakes, blueberries in his, chocolate chips in yours, whipped cream and lots of syrup on both.

You’ve been ditching the table more often to sit together on the couch, his desire to be near you getting stronger with each movie you watch together, and this time you lean on him as you share one of your favourites with him and dig in to your sugary food. When you’re both done your plates find a spot on the coffee table so he can put his arm around you, and for once he doesn’t ramble as you’re the one telling him all about the movie, from little trivia you learned, to memories of watching it with your family and friends. He takes it all in, paying more attention to you than to the movie just like you do with him, and right as you tell him this is your favourite part he kisses you, silencing you for the remaining runtime as you curl up against his chest.

When it’s over and the dishes are done he leads you into his studio, and you stare in awe at all he’s done so far; you never go in here, preferring to give him his privacy since it meant so much to him, and it feels like you’re at a proper art gallery as you spin in the center of the room, taking in every last piece. On the table in the middle there’s something he’s still working on, the rough workings of a bird flying over the city apparent even in this stage, and when he sees you looking at it he walks over to explain. ‘It’s not an original, I’ve already painted this a few times,’ he tells you, which is hard to believe because it looks so raw, so new. ‘It’s what I was working on when I left New York, I tried so hard to make it turn out the way I saw it in my head, but every attempt fell flat until I knew I couldn’t stay any longer, it was my last piece as Joshua Whitmore.’

‘You still are Joshua Whitmore,’ you say and he purses his lips, shakes his head.

‘No, it was my last as that Joshua Whitmore, the one they turned me into,’ he explains, the paint dry under his finger as he traces the wing of the bird. ‘I kept trying to make it while I was traveling, but no matter what it kept turning out wrong, made me feel like a part of me was still missing.’

‘How does this one make you feel?’

He looks at you before looking back at the paper, thinking long about it before slightly shrugging. ‘I don’t know yet, every time I get close to finishing it I find some reason to start again, but this time- I’ve been working on it ever since you gave me this room, and when I work on it I think of you, so… I guess it makes me feel free, like I'm no longer free falling, but I'm learning to fly, instead.’ You stare up at him in wonder, the lights coming through the blinds making him almost glow again as he looks back at you. ‘Does that make sense?’

‘You never make sense,’ you say bluntly, and when he looks disappointed you take his hand in your own and move a little closer. ‘This time, though, you make perfect sense.’

He smiles warmly at that, the two of you standing there before he remembers he asked you to paint with him, so he opens up the windows just a bit to air the room out and starts gathering up supplies, two fresh canvases pulled out as his painting is moved to a free spot by the window so you can both share the table. ‘There’s something I’ve been wanting to work on, so I’ll be doing that, but you can do whatever you want,’ he tells you as he sends you off to refill his glass and clean his brushes, a fond smile on your face as you let him boss you around. You dump out the dirty water and start rinsing his brushes for him as he continues setting up, the paint already staining your fingers when a knock comes to the door, and you make sure he has the door closed before walking over to see who was visiting all of a sudden.

Your smile falls from your face when you see who’s on the other side, a camera pointed right at you as the reporter who did his story a couple weeks ago wishes you a good morning. Your entire body freezes as you will yourself to not look back, not make any indication that you weren’t alone, his brushes thankfully out of sight in the sink and his hoodie hanging up where the camera couldn’t see on the wall to your left. You swallow, your mouth completely dry as you fake a smile and try to say something but nothing comes out, the reporter sensing your incorrect camera shyness and holding up her mic.

‘Hello, this is Jorie Chastain from Channel 4, you’ve probably heard by now of my reward for any information on Joshua Whitmore’s wearabouts?’ she dives right in, the mic in your face as she waits for you to answer, but all you can do is gape. ‘We received a tip that he might be staying here, if you can confirm this then we’d love to get an interview with the both of you, or maybe see something new he’s been working on? I’ve read so much about his work, it would be an honour to witness one of his miracle paintings.’

Your face instantly hardens, all of the fear at being caught shoved very roughly aside as you stare her and her crew down. ‘He isn’t here, I live alone,’ you insist seriously, but she’s still trying to look past you, and when she gets a tap on the shoulder by the man behind her she looks at your hand and squints. You glance over and see the paint on your fingers, your expression still hard even as you try to hide it. ‘You caught me in the middle of something, I’m trying to do some deep cleaning on my day off.’

‘Please, if he’s here, just allow us ten- no, five minutes of his time, my loyal viewers and I are dying to know what happened to him-’

‘He isn’t here,’ you repeat a little more firmly this time, only for her radio to crackle to life. She holds it up as someone in the near distance says that they found him, Joshua crying out in surprise as several loud thuds come from his studio. You can’t help but turn then, the concern on your face giving it all away as Ms. Chastain pushes past you with her cameraman in tow, the boom guy holding the mic up to the door as she hurries for it. You take off in a desperate sprint, throwing yourself in front of the door to block them from entering, but there’s four of them altogether and you don’t stand a chance as the door is flung open and the camera is pointed inside.

Joshua had slammed all the windows shut, their apparent fifth member having spotted him through the open gaps at the bottoms so the room could be aired, Ms. Chastain gawking as she pointed at everything to be filmed, Joshua miserably pleading for them to please leave only to be ignored until it was his turn. He tries to hide his face as she asks him where he’s been, if he can confirm the rumours about his faked death and if he really did attack the kid who robbed him, that part left out entirely as she insinuated that it was his gun and that he was shot in self-defense.

Your blood boils as you watch her pick up his painting and explain that it was exactly like the one he left behind, and when he tries to take it back from her it rips right down the center, his half falling from his hand in shock. You race over and throw yourself in between them, trying to shield him from them even though he was taller, Ms. Chastain trying to question you on what your relationship was and why he chose to stay with you when you snap.

‘Get out! Get the fuck out before I call the cops!’ you scream in her face, and when the camera tries to peer past you to capture his absolute misery you slam your hand into it as hard as you can. You successfully knock it from the man’s hands as he lets out a curse, the lens cracking and a couple pieces popping off against the hardwood, and you’re about to kick it when you’re held back by the other members of the crew in a desperate attempt to save their very expensive equipment.

‘Jesus, I’d have thought the reward would’ve been incentive enough, you should be thanking me for bringing you back into the spotlight,’ she gripes as the camera is picked up and looked over, everyone so crowded around that a couple jars of paint get knocked over onto your awaiting canvas, Joshua letting out such a sad noise at the sight that it only makes you angrier. You know you can’t lay a hand on them but you reach for the camera again to get them to run, the fifth member of their team quickly asking you to sign an NDA and to get permission to air your face on the segment, and you slam the door in his face and lock it, trapping the held out papers in between the door and the frame.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you collapse against the wood, it all too much to bear, it was so much worse than you thought, and you quickly wipe your tears before hurrying back to him; he was slowly cleaning the room back up, paper towels dabbing at all the paint mixing and spreading across the table, your canvas ruined, his painting torn, a few empty spaces on the wall telling you that more work had been stolen in the chaos. You walk up to him and try to help but he doesn’t want it, he just wants to be alone, and you’re torn between staying anyway and going just like he asked.

‘Joshua, I…’

‘Please, just get out,’ he begs, and when you still don’t leave he grabs the almost empty jar and throws it across the room, splattering blue paint across everything he’d done as it shatters over a canvas, the sharp glass tearing right through it. You sniff and nod, shutting the door behind you as you hear him tear the room apart on the other side, your entire body numb as you go back upstairs and climb into the empty tub, your hands gripping your arms tight as you try to block out the sounds of his pain.

It doesn’t take long for the segment to air, your face blurred but his in full view as Ms. Chastain thanks your co-worker for her tip, and the next day your doorbell rings again as a bunch of people in suits gather on your doorstep. He hasn’t left his studio since it happened, and you haven’t gone back to work, and you figure you must look just as terrible as he surely does as you weakly tell them to please leave, no venom left in you to scare them off.

‘Hello, my name is Bryant Eldred, I represented Joshua Whitmore 7 years ago in New York,’ one of the men tells you, but you don’t care, you just want him gone. ‘Since he’s been found and he technically never finished his contract with us, I do require access to the premises to speak to him and see his work, lest I get the authorities involved, and I’m sure you don’t want that after your little spat on the television recently.’

‘Why can’t you just leave him alone?’ you ask miserably, and he looks between the other people behind him before straightening his tie.

‘He still has business with us, once it’s complete he can go galavanting across the globe for all I care, but for now, he still owes us several years of partnership, not to mention the 7 he spent, hmm, finding himself.’ You can only stand aside as the man shoos you away, the business parade strolling through your home and scoffing at everything until they reach the studio, and when Mr. Eldred knocks and announces himself, the door opens just a sliver, Joshua’s small voice on the other side. ‘Come now, gather everything still sellable up, we need to get you back to New York, there’s someone from Chicago waiting to speak to you back at the office,’ he announces as the door is forced open, the men going in and packing everything away into bags to keep it safe, and you’re just frozen there the entire time as they file out one by one, Joshua and Mr. Eldred bringing up the rear.

You look to him, pleading with him to stay as your eyes meet, but he just looks away and follows him out the door, your legs moving as you shakily run for the procession of cars he’s being led to. ‘Wait- Joshua, wait!’ you yell, and he gives you one final glance before he’s getting into the car, the tinted window hiding him from you as the car takes off down the street, onlookers already gathered to catch a glimpse until they’re gone and they’re free to go back to their lives, show’s over. You just stand there staring down the empty street, your face wet with tears as you sink to your knees in the grass of your small yard. ‘You weren’t supposed to disappear…’

It takes you a week before you’re able to go back to work, everyone torn between wanting to crowd around you after seeing you on TV and wanting to give you a wide berth, the co-worker who sold him out thankfully giving you the most space, because if you saw her you were sure you would hit her harder than you hit the camera. You expect to be chewed out for missing so much time, but the moment your boss sees your face he just clears his throat and warns you about falling too far behind, and you nod and get back to your desk. You didn’t pack a lunch, there was nothing to eat at home, and even when your stomach growls you can’t bring yourself to get up and find the nearest vending machine.

You know the irony of it all as you immerse yourself in your work, choosing it over taking care of yourself, but what does it matter when he’s gone, there’s no one to take care of you now.

You catch up on everything fast when you’re at home, there’s nothing to do outside of it, no movies to enjoy, no delicious food to make, no baths to soak in, no warm arms to hold you against an even warmer chest, and you have to stop typing as the misery hits you so hard it hurts. This place has never felt so empty, and you once again stare at the door leading to your spare room; you haven’t been in it since he left, and you can’t stop yourself from approaching the door, your palm resting on the handle before you give up and walk away. You’re heading back for the table when you look up, see his hoodie still on the hook where he left it, and you don’t know how you haven’t noticed it yet, maybe because your eyes have mostly been on the floor all week.You walk up to it, the fabric soft under your fingers, and you take it off the hook and hold it up to your nose.

It smells like him.

Your fists bunch it up as your shoulders shake, and you stumble back until you hit the stairs, the wood pressed uncomfortably into your back as you sob loudly into the collar.

It’s another week before you finally go into that room, the mess he left behind now gathering dust. He really trashed the place, but it looks like he had started to clean it a bit too judging by the one corner where things were still neat. You wish he would walk back in so you could handle this together again, and it’s almost too much when you see the ripped pieces of his painting, the only thing left behind. It looks like he had ripped it up more in his frustration, but had also started to tape it back together, and you finish the job for him before bringing it out into the living room, where you pin it directly to the wall next to your grandfather’s painting.

By the third week, his hoodie is starting to smell like you from how often you fall asleep holding it. His bottle of shampoo is empty, and you can’t bring yourself to buy more knowing that he won’t be there to use it when you get home. Cooking is no longer fun, there’s no one to share it with, and you’d unplugged your TV days ago. Whenever you go shopping, which isn’t often anymore, you avoid the fruits so you don’t have to pass by the apples and think of him, but just thinking about avoiding the apples makes you think of him anyway.

People have stopped whispering about you when they see you, your outburst now old news now that he’s gone, and you feel invisible as you walk the streets to go to and from work. You don’t know when you stopped listening to your iPod during your walks, his voice in your head as you feel it in your pocket and he tells you that talking with someone when you’re out in public is so much better than shutting yourself off from the world, just another distraction and desperate attempt to avoid human interaction.

‘You’re so insufferable,’ you tell the empty space beside you. You get no reply back.

He’s been gone an entire month when you see him again on the break room TV. You’re only in there to grab some water because you can’t take it anymore, and as soon as you feel the tap on your shoulder you look up and drop the glass back into the sink with a loud crash. You turn up the volume as the reporter announces his return, the picture of him definitely recent, you’d recognize him anywhere, but his hair is slicked back again and he’s been crammed into another dark suit.

He told you once about those days, how the more recognition he got and more gallery shows he had to do, the better he had to dress, how they didn’t like the idea of someone making so much money when he looked the way he did. He’d tried to tame his hair and dress nicely by his own standards once, but he’d been torn apart by the media the next day, scathing remarks directed at him amongst praise for his work, and after that he’d just let them dress him, another part of him stolen to please the masses.

He looks like that again as the footage from a month ago plays next to his photo, as well as new footage of him arriving in New York, and the reporter promises an amazing experience at the showcase of all his new work as well the dates of every following show and auction, and you just shake your head at the screen at them already taking everything they could now that he was back there.

‘They can’t do this to him again,’ you say without realizing, your hands shaking as his photo disappears and a story about something else takes over, and already you miss him as you fight to keep it all in.

‘Well, if you really think that, why don’t you go do something about it?’ You spin as the betrayer stands in the doorway along with a few others, your sadness turning to anger as soon as you see her. ‘Wait! I didn’t know, okay? I didn’t know he meant so much to you, or that he’d leave you,’ she quickly explains, but it’s not good enough as you fight back a sob. ‘Look, his showing is this weekend, right? Why don’t you just go and talk to him?’

You stumble slightly until you find support against the wrap-around counter, it was something you’d been wanting to do ever since he left but you couldn’t, he’d made his decision, he’d left you, there was nothing you could do about it now.

‘You really think any of us believe that after we saw you tell Jorie Chastain herself to fuck off?’

You hadn’t realized you’d said it out loud, and normally you’d be some kind of embarrassed, but you’re mostly just tired. ‘I can’t, what if I go all the way over there to see him and he doesn’t even want to see me? I can’t- I can’t go through that again…’

‘Then he’s a dumbass who doesn't know what he’s missing, cause we think you’re pretty badass, honestly,’ someone else says, and you instantly jump to his defense by saying he wasn’t a dumbass.

‘See? You’re obviously crazy about this guy for some reason, crazy enough to hide him in your house like some kinda fugitive and take on an entire camera crew for him, but you’re not gunna risk seeing him again on the chance he might say no? Where did that fighting spirit go?’ You look at your betrayer, no, your co-worker, and she reaches into her pocket to pull out a check signed by the news station, a sheepish look on her face. ‘I never cashed it when I saw what they did, use it to get yourself a ticket to the show, use the rest to take him to dinner or something, even though apparently he can afford it despite the whole homeless look he has going on.’

You’re about to say he wasn’t homeless again but you don’t, just taking the check and folding it into your pocket as you thank her, a few others chiming in to say they’d cover for you while you were gone this time, and you thank all of them before rushing back to your desk. You gather up all your stuff and rush back home, almost running the entire way there as pure adrenaline fuels you, and you call the gallery in New York to buy yourself a ticket as you pack the moment you get home.

You’re miraculously able to book a last minute flight once your ticket is secured, and luck is with you the entire way to New York, even down to being able to grab a recently freed room at a hotel very close to the gallery. You dress up as nice as you can just so you can fit in, and you’re practically vibrating the entire way to the show; there’s people lined up outside the door to see his work, only the ones who already had their tickets handy allowed to get in, and once again you’re bribed with way too much money as you approach the large double doors.

Fuck that, you’re here to see Joshua, no one was getting in your way again.

The place is overly large and very sterile white, splashes of colour of what you assume is art decorating the walls, and you really don’t get it as you follow the crowd to where his viewing was. You start to push past people when you see glimpses of familiar things in the distance, all those rich pricks glaring daggers at you but you don’t care, you were the only one there for him, and you eagerly hand over your ticket and hurry inside the second you approach the gates.

You see so much of what decorated your spare room only a month ago, all of it spaced out between all the new things they had probably forced him to do to fill the space, and you can almost feel how empty it is compared to what he’d done when he was with you. On a few you even see the splatter of when he’d thrown the jar, and your lip quivers as you reach out to touch it, a security guard there to get you to back up before you could. You glare your own daggers at him before continuing to look around, and when you see a large crowd you go to it, hoping maybe he’d be in the center.

Instead you see the painting that was still back at home, and you look closely and realize this was the original, the last thing he drew before he disappeared, and you can feel the loneliness radiating off of it, so different from the one tacked to your wall. You push past the crowd and stand at the very edge of the barricade, ignoring the sounds of everyone whispering about how it was the last original, so many of them already putting a price on it. You want to climb over the rails and tear it from its display, stop them from looking at it, looking at all of it, and you start to actually climb over when the same guard from before grabs you and starts to lead you away.

‘Wait, I can’t go!’ you panic as he drags you to the door, your eyes scanning the room for any sign of him, another crowd gathering in the far distance as the man from your doorstep taps a microphone and speaks to everyone.

‘Thank you all for coming, I’m sure everyone is excited for the auction, but that won’t be happening until 7PM tomorrow, so be sure to keep your checkbooks handy for a brand new, original Whitmore until then,’ he says loudly, his voice booming over the room as everyone excitedly talks about it, your eyes glazing over in pure, unadulterated rage as your feet stop working. You trip and stumble into the guard enough to make him stop and hold you up, Mr. Eldred standing aside as the lights start to dim over the small stage. ‘Now, if you’d all like to join me in welcoming back my dear friend after 7 long years, the Miracle Painter himself, Mr. Joshua Whitmore!’

The room explodes in applause as a man who most certainly is not Joshua Whitmore walks out on stage, your heart pounding painfully as you slip your arm free from your fancy jacket and take off running towards him, the guard now the one to panic as he calls for backup. You weave your way through the crowd, desperate to just get to him before you’re caught, even more security guards heading your way as you start to garner attention. Joshua’s eyes are only on Mr. Eldred as he smiles and stands there like a showpony, his eyes so cold and empty as he’s thrust back into the world he so desperately tried to escape, and you’re almost there when you feel an arm wrap around your waist, a hand gripping your arm tightly as you’re surrounded.

The crowd murmurs and gossips about your capture as Joshua doesn’t even look up, and you have to wonder if maybe he’s hoping it’s another attempt at his life as he just stands there and waits. You struggle against their grips as you start to move back again, the guards ensuring that everything was fine as you fought them, and as Mr. Eldred sees you he narrows his eyes and holds the mic back up to his mouth.

‘Sorry about the disruption, looks like someone’s a big fan,’ he tries to joke, Joshua starting to turn away as he seeks refuge away from it all, and you summon up every ounce of strength in your body as you suck in a deep breath and scream.

‘JOSHUA!’

He stops, he heard you, and you just smile in desperate relief as he turns back and finds you immediately, Mr. Eldred already trying to keep him on stage as he rushes for you. The crowd parts as people take pictures of him now that he’s so close, the guards only stopping when he tells them to, he knew you, he knows you, and as soon as their hands are off of you you’re throwing yourself into his arms. He smells like overly strong cologne and some expensive shampoo, his face is covered in makeup to hide the bags under his eyes and everything else you loved about him, and there's a fresh bandage over his ear even though it’s been healed for a month, another thing to hide from the cameras so he can be presented as their perfect sellable art machine, and you reach up and yank it off before you can stop yourself.

‘Shit,’ he curses as the force makes his ear bleed a little, everyone gasping at your rough treatment of this poor, angelic artist, and you use the bandage to dab at it before throwing it to the floor.

‘You fucking left me,’ you remind him as he reaches up to touch the injury, and he looks away from you in shame.

‘They were already starting to take everything else,’ he says as everyone leans in to listen, and you wish you could make them all disappear as they film his vulnerability like it’s some sort of sideshow. ‘I didn’t want them to take you, too…’

‘So you let them take you? Do you- do you have any idea what I’ve been through this month without you? You fucking asshole, do you know what it’s been like to go home when you’re not there, how much I’ve missed you… Fuck- you are so fucking insufferable-!’

He just lets you yell at him in front of everyone, the gossip already starting, but he never lets you go, his neatly styled hair starting to fall free over his face as he looks down at you. ‘It hasn’t been easy for me, either,’ he mutters, and you choke out a laugh as you look around at everything he’s done in your absence.

‘I know, I know,’ you say, and the anger is gone as you cling to him a little harder, wrinkling his very expensive suit. ‘I’m so sorry you had to go through all this again.’

His forehead meets yours as the whispering escalates, Mr. Eldred trying to get things back on track back on stage as he tries to call Joshua up to him, and he just turns his head slightly, looking over at him before pulling you closer. ‘Hey, is everyone excited for the auction tomorrow?’ he suddenly asks, this getting everyone excited as his question is met with enthusiasm. ‘I’m sure you are, I mean, what’s better than throwing away thousands of dollars on some pretentious bullshit, isn’t that right?’ This comment gets less enthusiasm, and you rest your head on his shoulder as he starts to breathe heavily, his eyes shining again. ‘Everything in here, every single thing, do you people even know what it takes to make something like this? You don’t, of course you don’t, you’re too busy engrossing yourself in the thrill of it all, the need to buy and sell and have and collect and hoard, what even is all this to you? What am I?

‘You come here looking for miracles in my work, you tear it all apart and put it back together again the way you see fit, but that’s no miracle, no, that’s fucking humanity at its worst, the absolute dredges of the earth clawing at anything that shines, you almost got me 7 years ago but not again, nev- never again.’ He looks down at you, and you feel so proud of him as he kisses you in front of everyone, cameras flashing and people saving this to add to yet another collection, but they can’t have this piece of him, they can’t have you, he won’t let them. ‘You know what, here’s a miracle; see something you like? Take it home, fuck it, you can have it all, one last original Joshua Whitmore for the road, I quit.’

The room explodes into absolute chaos as everyone races to grab something, Mr. Eldred yelling for security to stop them as the two of you smile and walk out of the room together, everyone outside rushing in when they hear about his generous offer, no one paying any attention to you at all as you head out the doors, hail a cab, and head for your motel so no one could follow you, and as soon as you’re out of sight you mess his hair up again and take off his tie before kissing him.

The news has a field day as word of his outburst reaches far and wide, the TV constantly on as you hole up and relax until everything dies down and it’s safe to leave, and he leaves all his things behind again as you sneak to the airport a couple days later and head back to Detroit. There’s people waiting for you as you walk up to your doorstep together, and you tell them all to kiss your ass as you pull him inside; everyone knew where he was now, and you were not going to let them steal him away again.

He ditches the rest of his suit as soon as he can, the tie and jacket having already disappeared over the weekend, and you feel yourself get emotional at the sight of him stretched out over your couch once more, like he’d never left. You kneel beside the couch and rest on the edge of the cushions as you stare at him, and he rolls over to look back at you when he notices his painting on the wall, his eyes wide as he gets up and walks over to it.

‘You kept it,’ he wonders aloud, and you walk up behind him, your arms wrapping around his waist as extra reassurance that he wouldn’t disappear again.

‘How could I ever throw out an origin-’ He shushes you before you can finish, and you laugh against the finger pressed up against your lips. ‘I couldn’t throw it out, even after… I really missed you, you know. The whole time we were together I tried not to think about how it might feel to not have you around, but I never thought… I could hardly stand it, being here without you.’

His hand rests over your own before he’s turning to face you, and he brings it up to his lips as he presses gentle kisses against your palm before he’s holding it to his cheek, his eyes closing. ‘They had everything I owned before put in storage, and while I was there I was painting in some cold studio they rented out so I could get as much done as possible, they even brought in a couch so I didn’t have to leave, and the entire time I was there I just thought of you.’ He leans into your touch even as he’s the one holding your hand in place, and you reach up with your other to rest on the back of his neck. ‘I wanted to draw you so badly but I couldn’t, I didn’t want them to sell you like some meaningless muse to anyone just wanting another piece of me.’

You start to walk back towards the couch but he stops you, this isn’t where he wants to be, and together you head for your bathroom, your clothes stepped out of and tossed onto the bed without a word. The tap turns on and the water pours out as you lean against the sink, his body pressing against yours, and it’s intimate as every part of you touches but there’s no lustful desire behind it, you just need to be as close as possible until the tub is full and you can get in. You grab the shower head and sit down, preparing to start when he takes it from you, and you look at him before spinning so your back is to him instead.

He eases you back as he runs the water over your scalp, fingertips gliding through your hair and over your head as he mirrors what you’ve done to him, and it feels so nice you can’t help but let out a sigh. You hold the nozzle as he starts to massage in the shampoo next, and you’re almost upset you never got more of his brand as he has to use yours. It’s fine though, you can always get more, he’ll be here to use it when you get back, because he’s back, he’s back, he’s back.

You sniffle and try to keep it together but it’s so hard to as he gently shushes you and pulls you back even further, his legs on either side of you as he keeps working, the suds running over your shoulders and down your chest and back thanks to the angle. When your hair is good and lathered you hand the nozzle back, and he takes just as much care rinsing it all out again, your hair pushed away from your eyes as he caresses your face so gently it’s enough to almost tug another sob from your chest. The water goes back off but he doesn’t let you sit up, pulling you back even further until you're resting against his chest, your legs floating out as he leans against the back of the tub. He just holds you like this for what feels like forever, and you hope it actually is even as your tears calm and your heart slows, your body getting used to him being there with you again.

‘I love you,’ you tell him again, and again he’s silent, and you’re about to think that it’s still okay when he easily spins you around until you’re facing him, your legs curling in to touch the bottom as you stay afloat.

‘I love you too,’ he says as you brace yourself on his chest, and he looks almost unsure of it before he looks into your eyes, and when he says it again it’s without any doubt. ‘I love you, too.’

You lean in to kiss him then, your bodies slotting together so easily in the water, and there’s still no rush as he deepens it, pulls you onto his lap. You wordlessly ask if he wants this, if he’s ready, and he nods before kissing you again, and you reach down until you touch warm skin, Joshua gasping into your mouth as you readjust your positions. It’s easier thanks to the water, the lesser gravity allowing you to sink down onto him as he grabs onto the rim to stabilize himself with one hand, the other on your waist as you start to move.

The sound of the disturbed water from your movements and your heaving breaths fills the room as you roll your hips onto him, your face pressed into his shoulder as his head falls back. You almost have to work twice as hard thanks to the water but you don’t mind, you’d wanted this for so long and now nothing was going to take him away from you again. Your name falls from his lips in a chorus of sounds, and you chime in with his own as he moves up against you a little faster, the two of you clinging to each other like you might drown if you let go for even a second.

His noises start to sound more choked as he gets closer, and you look up from his shoulder to see his eyes are shut tight, tears rolling down his cheeks as he pants, and you think he might be the most beautiful work of art on earth as you tense around him and pull out the most beautiful sounds yet.

You let the water float you as you breathe into his shoulder, loose kisses pressed wherever you can reach before you lean up and kiss the tears from his cheeks, your own threatening to fall from how much you love him as he lets go of the tub to hold you, his body instantly sinking down and almost submerging him as you help him stay afloat. The moment is ruined just a little as he stares at you in shock, and then you’re laughing, the water cold and your fingers wrinkly as you separate and try to stand. You’re both wobbly but you support each other as you get back out of the tub, and you dry each other off before draining the water and heading straight for bed. The covers are warm and the mattress is soft as you both lay on your sides, facing each other, his ear pink and irritated still from where you scratched him, his hair almost completely dry still as your pillow becomes way too damp to sleep on.

‘We still haven’t used the jacuzzi,’ you think out loud with a playful raise of your eyebrows as your hand finds his between your chests.

‘There’s always tomorrow,’ he suggests, but the mention of Monday only makes you remember that you couldn’t stay in bed with him forever.

‘I don’t want to go back to work tomorrow,’ you mutter as you brush his bangs out of his eyes, and he lets out a soft chuckle as he links your fingers together and holds the back of your hand against his lips.

‘I need to find a job, I just lost out on a lot of money,’ he whispers like it’s a scandal to even talk about it, and you fake hitting him ever so gently.

‘Could’ve bought a new house with all that,’ you add, and he nods, ‘you could’ve been able to draw all over the walls for real.’

‘Guess we’ll have to start saving,’ he figures just as softly, promising you the future you’ve been wanting to have but could never ask for.

‘What else are you good at, Miracle Painter?’

‘Physical labour, mostly, did a lot of odd jobs when I was in college.’

‘I cannot imagine you doing physical labour.’

He rolls onto his back and pulls you onto his chest, the move surprising you as you let out a small, ‘Oof!’ ‘You’ll have to help me write up a resume, haven’t had to do one in over a decade, y’know.’

‘I can help you type a resume, it’s more professional that way,’ you say, and he scoffs before you kiss him quiet. ‘Or you could come work with me, I’m sure there’s something we can find for you.’

‘I’m not using a computer, I refuse to be like you,’ he bargains, and already you start racking your brain for any jobs where he can get away with that.

‘Deal.’

Your alarm wakes you up at 6AM on the dot, and you groan and reach for it blindly until the weight on you stops you from flailing any further. Joshua is tangled up with you again, your naked bodies reminding you of how the night before went, and you bite your lip as you blush from your cheeks to your shoulders. You want to stay with him but you know you can’t, so you shift until you can reach your phone and turn off that blasted alarm, you really do need to find a better tune than this one. You’re about to attempt freeing yourself when you notice you have a text, and you click on it to see that it’s your co-worker telling you that she had you covered, to enjoy your day off, one last apology for the trouble she’s caused you. You type out a thanks and put your phone back on your bedside table, ready to fall back asleep for a while as Joshua snores beside you.

You don’t wake up again until closer to noon, and when you yawn and stretch he finally stirs as well, the bags under his eyes looking a little less intense after such a long sleep without you waking him up for breakfast by dawn. You whisper good mornings to each other despite the time, and after a couple quick showers separately, because you know what another bath will get you right now, you get dressed and head downstairs to find something to eat. You’re a little low on food thanks to your breakup depression, but that’s nothing a little trip to the store can’t fix. You’re getting your shoes on as he sits on the couch and prepares to wait when you get his attention, his hoodie tossed his way as soon as he looks.

‘No more hiding, I want you to go with me,’ you tell him, and he smiles as he hurries to pull on the extra pair of boots you’d gotten him before he’d left.

Everyone stares at you as you shop but neither of you care, and no one dares approach when they see the look you give them when he’s focused on other things, and when you finally get back home with a bunch of groceries and new art supplies it feels like you’d won the lottery instead of ran errands. You unpack the food while he takes his supplies to his studio, and when he opens the door and sees the mess still inside he swears under his breath, he’d forgotten it was this bad. You come up behind him and promise that you can clean it together, but if he does it again he’s cleaning it alone, and he takes the deal as he sets the bags and canvases onto the table before helping you.

With everything put away you start on a proper lunch, and he chooses homemade pizza simply because it’s something you can make together, the two of you cutting the toppings and fighting over how even your halves were as you spilt shredded cheese all over the floor. When it’s ready and tossed into the oven, you sneakily plug your TV back in and ask what he wants to watch, but he just wants to watch another favourite of yours. You blush and grab something you haven’t shared with him yet, the movie starting as the pizza finishes up, and you cuddle up next to him as he stares at his painting.

‘Did I ever tell you what that one was named?’ he asks as the opening credits roll, and you think about it before shaking your head no. ‘“Arc of a Bird,” I never could think of anything different, that was just what always came to mind whenever I tried,’ he explains, and you can see it, but he isn’t done. ‘But, after I tried again, after I met you, whenever I think of that name it feels wrong to me now, like even though it’s the same idea it felt so different when I worked more on it compared to all the other times, and with how it makes me feel now, with you on my mind… I think I’ll name it after you this time.’

You pray he doesn’t see the way your lip quivers as he looks back at you, and when his eyes settle on your mouth you wonder if he might kiss you, but the oven going off disrupts anything from happening as you hop to your feet to grab the pizza. He stands nearby as you slice it up, his side definitely bigger than yours, but you don’t mind as you grab your food and sit back down. Your bodies fit so easily together as you rewind back to the start and steal a bite from his slice, Joshua doing the same to you as you laugh and turn up the volume to drown out the sound of the birds singing outside your wide open window.

#Ray's Readers #david dastmalchian #joshua whitmore #joshua whitmore x reader #I got Alex and bonesaremoney's certified Seals of Approval yesterday so I hope you all enjoy~#if it makes you cry you legally have to tell me :3c #Alex said I was the Joshua Whitmore of writing with this one for making him 'see miracles n shit' and I'm still crying over it ;w;

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huffle-dork · 9 months

Text

Swap into the CrystalVerse Chapter 19: Fantasy Masks

Co-written with @crystalninjaphoenix

Read Swapboys | Read Fantasy Masks | AO3 Link

Taglist: @brokentimewatch @di-diwata

There are puddles on the ground and a gloom of clouds overhead, but no rain.

"It looks like the storm stopped recently," Chase comments. "That's good. It means they got delayed but we won't be."

"Are you guys prepared?" Jackie looks back at everyone else, especially Bro and Alt. "We'll get there any moment now, I'm sure."

Alt seems to be a lot better now that he had that rest at lunch. He's practically buzzing with pixels and glitches, but not actually glitching around because he's saving up his energy. His eyes glow green. "Yeah- Yeah I'm ready."

Bro watches his brother and then rests his hand on the hilt of the sword he's borrowed. "Mhm. I hope Mag hasn't messed up too much around here..." He mutters.

I hope the King hasn't messed anything up, Jameson adds.

Henrik squints. "Is that something, or is it just an odd rock?"

"You mean the tower poking up from behind that hilltop?" Chase asks.

"Well, it is hard to tell from here."

"It really isn't," Marvin says.

"No, no, it could be a rock, I can see that," Jackie says, backing up Henrik.

"A strange shaped rock," Marvin mutters. "This is why I was the scout in the early days."

Bro looks at both and tilts his head. "huh... it sounds like you guys need glasses-"

"They probably haven't invented those yet, Chase," Alt points out. Bro winces, "Oh jeez- that sucks."

"What type of glass do you have in your world?" Henrik asks, confused.

"Wait, you mean you can fix the blurry distance?" Jackie's eyes widen. "I can't wait until someone invents that, elders."

Alt laughs, “It’s like- mega glass, and it’s curved in a way that can help you see better. All our friends back home have them.”

“And your boyyyfriend~!” Bro teases, leaning in close to Alt.

Alt turns bright red and shoves at Chase, “He’s not my-! S-SHUDDAP!”

They slowly walk up the hill, the town of Killithair coming into view. Marvin takes some light from his amulet. He closes his eyes, taps his eyelids, and when he opens them again his pupils are dilated wide and glowing white. "I think there's some movement in the streets," he reports. "I'll bet on it being people but I can't tell who. Are we sure the whole town was abandoned?"

"Mm-hmm." Jackie nods. "And four years have passed, I'm pretty sure any scavengers would've learned there's nothing there by now."

The siblings stop their bickering as Marvin does his spell and they both get their serious faces back on. “Then… that must be them- right?” Bro asks.

Alt’s eyes flicker brighter green, his shoulders buzzing a bit louder and popping with static and pixels- he looks like he’s ready to glitch down there on his own.

"Be careful, Alt." Jackie notices Alt's anxiety and holds out an arm to stop him. Then he suddenly grins. "You need to get home safe for your 'boyfriend.'"

Henrik leans closer to Alt. "They never stop this, by the way." He sounds like he knows from experience.

This gets Alt’s attention as his glitches stop- his face flushing red and his eyes widening. “H-Hey…!”

“Heh- nice Jackie!” Bro giggles.

Alt looks to Henrik with a moment of shared sympathy and then glares at the others with red cheeks.

Marvin, this seems like a good time to use one of those magic doorways, Jameson says.

The mood instantly becomes serious once again.

Marvin nods. He takes some light from his amulet and traces a rounded doorway in midair. The middle vanishes. On the other side of the doorway is a cobblestone street lined with white plaster houses.

Alt watches with bright eyes as the doorway is drawn. He looks to the others and then tries to take a step through.

Nobody stops him. Stepping through the magic doorway feels just like stepping through a real doorway. Jackie follows quickly, then Chase and Henrik. Jameson waits for Bro to go, and Marvin waits for everyone to be through before going himself. As soon as he does, the doorway vanishes, leaving a blank wall behind. Jackie presses a finger to his lips--apparently "shush" is inter-universal.

The city is silent. Except... for a pair of distant footsteps.

Alt holds his breath, trying to hold back his glitching to keep quiet. Bro bunches himself up, preparing to leap into action at that first sign of trouble.

Jackie puts a hand on his sword, ready to draw it at any moment, and starts walking towards the footsteps. Chase prepares his bow, Henrik and Jameson take out a knife each, and Marvin's amulet glows yellow-orange.

The group slowly makes their way towards the sound. After passing through a few rows of houses, Jackie stops, gesturing for the rest to as well.

They're in between two houses, a small alleyway. And walking down the street are two people who, even from behind, are clearly the two men that Alt say in the searching charm's vision.

Alt follows after, wanting to build up magic but not wanting to draw attention. Until- he realizes he can definitely tell who those people are. It’s Mag and the King. White hot dread and anxiety wash over him- clouding his judgement. He glitches out from their hiding spot and into the middle of the street- right behind the two figures. He draws the bow he has, lighting the end of the arrow with sparking magic as he barks out. “Hey!! Stop right there!”

The King turns first, surprised. Then he sees Alt and grins. "Not many people manage to sneak up on me," he says. "But now I see you all."

"Fuck!" Jackie shouts, pulling his sword free and lowering his mask. He runs up to Alt, backing him up. A moment later, Marvin moves as well, hanging back with a handful of light.

Alt feels a shiver go down his spine as the King talks. This really was this universe’s version of him. And he hates it. Electricity crackles around him as he bares his teeth at the King.

Henrik, Jameson, and Chase stay where they are, though Chase gets ready to draw and loose his bow.

Bro crouches down to protect the others still hiding, anxiously watching to make sure Alt, Jackie and Marvin are okay.

"I recognize the thoughts of three of you," the King continues. "And you--I can guess. Alt, right? Magnificent's 'cub'?" He glances at Magnificent. "Is that correct?"

Magnificent hardly reacts to Alt being here- he nods to the King. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Alt lowers his bow in slight surprise- something… something was wrong.

"Well in that case, you should take care of him. However you wish." The King pauses. "The others can die. Especially that deer-masked one. Except for that rabbit hiding back there." He grins at Alt, gesturing at Magnificent. "Go."

Chase gasps in shock and raises his bow in shaking hands. Jameson goes pale and immediately freezes. Henrik looks through his bags.

Magnificent’s moves fast, teleporting in front of Alt. Alt yells and tries to shoot his arrow but he misses. Magnificent comes at him with terrifying stoic ferocity, grabbing him by his wrist and instantly pumping him full of his influence. He grabs his temple and pumps that full of magic too, absolutely drowning any resistance. Mag’s magic is crazy powerful here. Alt gasps, his back arching as his eyes light up bright purple.

“No!” Bro yells, bursting into the air to try to stop Magnificent. But the mad magician shoots a bolt of green lightning at him, making him fly back into the building. Mag brings Alt up to his feet and then shoves him forward, “You heard the king, Kill the Rebels.”

Alt stumbles, eyes attempting to flicker but then glazing over completely. He stands taller, eyeing down the others with a distant expression. “…yes, Magnificent.” Then, he darts immediately towards Jackie, drawing one of the arrows from his quiver- but he doesn’t even load it, he tries to stab Jackie in the chest with it.

Everything happens so fast. Jackie tries lunging forward but then Alt is in the way and he stops abruptly. "Alt? No!" He's unprepared for the arrow attack, gasping and staggering back as it finds a weak spot in the chain. Luckily the arrowhead is too big to go through and cause significant damage.

"Alt, snap out of it!" He can't do much with his abilities in this situation. So he looks around and lunges for Magnificent, sword swinging. "Let him go!"

Magnificent grins, madness in his eyes as he draws out a sword made of green and purple tinted magic. He meets Jackie’s blade and giggles, “Hello, Jackieboy~” Once the sword has been stopped the magician lunges out his other hand to blast magic straight at Jackie.

Marvin takes Jackie's space, shaping the light he's holding into a rope that he tries to throw at Alt.

Alt glitches out of the way of the rope then his sights fall on Marvin. Energy crackles around him as he pulls another arrow and notches it- the arrow crackling with electric magic as he lets it fly towards Marvin.

Chase fumbles with his bow but then launches an arrow for the King, standing grinning in the background.

But Chase is too nervous and the King knows what he's going to do, stepping to the side. He stares at the alley where the others are standing and--suddenly--rushes around the conflict with Alt and Mag, drawing his seax as he runs at the others.

Bro groans and shakes out his shock , seeing Chase’s arrow go wide. He sees the King running towards the other and quickly grabs him by the arm and lifts him into the air with him. “hey Royal bitch! You gotta get through me first!” He growls, tightening his grip on the king.

The King laughs. "Alright." And he tries stabbing Bro.

Jackie does not fight wizards often. He tries to block the blast but it just hits his sword and pushes him backwards to the ground. "Oof!" He takes a moment to scramble to his feet and--well, he has one skill set. He draws his second sword ant attacks Mag again.

Mag disappears and reappears behind Jackie and tries to shock him with his magic.

But Jackie knows how to defend himself from behind. He spins around quickly and parries Mag's magic by slapping away his hands. "No you don't!" His eyes narrow. "What is wrong with you?!"

"Fuck!" Marvin curses, conjuring a magic shield to block the electric arrow. He forgot about Alt's ghlishing power. He grabs more magic and throws it to the ground. Sticky strands entangle the ground.

Alt glitches again and ends up in front of Marvin’s face as he tries to send a jolt of electricity into him.

Marvin yelps and quickly raises a shield all around him. He looks at Alt, thinking carefully. "I didn't want to do this, but maybe it'll knock some sense into you!" he says, and shoots a point blank blast of magic at him.

Alt isn’t expecting it- he gets hit full on and flies backward, bouncing on the cobblestone a couple times before rolling into a still heap. The magic flickers wildly in his eyes.

Bro yells out as the king tries to stab him, “Jesus dude!” He narrows his eyes, “So you’re a stab first ask questions later kinda bitch huh? Alright-“ He tries to wrestle the seax away from the King.

Unfortunately, the King's grip is firm. He grins. "I don't have to be," he says, and looks Bro directly in the eyes. "Put me down," he Commands.

Bro’s eyes widen as the command takes effect. He hardly feels his body as he lowers them both down to the ground, his grip on the King loosening.

"Hang on, Jackie!" Chase has another arrow nocked. He aims for Magnificent's leg and shoots.

The arrow hits true and strikes into Mag’s calf. He yells out in pain and crumples to his knee. He yells out in rage and tries to throw fire back at Chase.

Chase tries to duck back into the alleyway but the fire still hits him. He cries out.

"Chase!" Henrik shouts, pulling something out of his bag. He throws a glass bottle of some kind towards Mag then kneels next to Chase, patting out the fire.

Jackie tries to attack Mag from behind while the bottle distracts him.

"Thank you," the King says to Bro, grinning, and glances towards the cluster of others. "Jameson? Come here."

Jameson stiffens and starts walking forward.

"You too?!" Henrik reaches out and grabs Jameson, pulling him back with such force that he pulls him to the ground.

The dual attack works and Mag is slashed on his back, making him cry out in pain. He stumbles back, the arrow still in his leg making it hard for him to walk. He growls at Jackie, his eyes turning even more slitted as he body crackles with magic. In a flicker of colored static, Mag’s body shifts then changes into his black tiger form to try to tackle Jackie to the ground.

"Elders!" Jackie cries, trying to dodge and protect himself with his swords.

"Alt, come on!" Marvin says, crouching down and shaking Alt. "Wake up!"

Alt gasps and pants, sweat and tears falling down his face as he tries to fight off the magic. “H-h-hngh-!” It feels like his mind is getting eaten alive. But, he can hear Marvin, he hears the others in trouble. He grits his teeth and tries to fight the magic more. “M-Marvin…!” Green flickers more in his eyes- stronger.

Bro shakes his head out of the King’s influence and shouts out, pulling out his sword and holding it threateningly by the King’s neck. “The fuck?! You’re a freaky motherfucker!”

The King stiffens a bit when the blade gets close to his neck. "Do you want to see more? Stay still, then." He looks at Chase, recovering from the fire. "Shoot him."

"What--no!" Chase cries. The King blinks, confused. No time to think about that. He looks at Jameson instead. "Take his bow and shoot him."

Jameson hesitates for a split second and then lunges for Chase's bow.

"Nei!" Henrik shouts, wrestling with Jameson for the bow.

"Yes, Alt, wake up!" Marvin grabs Alt's hand, feeding him a bit of his own power in the hope that he can awaken Alt's own. "Everyone is--" Then Mag turns into a tiger and he gasps. "Jackie!" He rushes over.

The magic makes Alt’s eyes flare even brighter as he gasps more, getting more control of his body back. The purple is quickly fading. He weakly pushes himself up to see everyone’s crises.

Bro chokes a little as his body stiffens and refuses to move. “N-No..!”

Mag pins down Jackie and roars in his face. Then he lifts up a clawed paw to try to rip across his chest.

Marvin does something extremely reckless--he runs right at the giant cat that Magnificent turned into and tries flinging magic into his face.

The magic misses but at least distracts Mag enough to not slice Jackie open. But he does try to bite at Marvin.

"You," The King says, looking at Henrik. "Stop. Make sure he doesn't interfere." He points at Chase, trying to get up.

Instantly, Henrik stops fighting Jameson for the bow and instead pins Chase to the ground. "N-nei!" Henrik gasps, visibly shaking but unable to resist the commands.

“You fucking bastard! Too fucking cowardly to fight me, yourself?!” Bro snarls at the king.

Jameson picks up Chase's bow, grabs and nocks an arrow, and jerkily aims it at Bro.

The arrow flies truer than it should have- sticking itself in Bro’s chest. He gasps, a spray of blood spurting before he falls to the ground- right in front of Alt.

Alt’s world shatters. The sounds of fighting fade into nothing but static. He can’t breathe. Then, suddenly magic flares up in him so hot- he screams in murderous rage. An explosion of green electricity and magic rockets out of him, sending a blast wave out, which knocks Mag back into a wall. Alt’s eyes turn pure white and crackle with green electricity. He yells again and in another rocket of powerful magic, he’s launched into the air, heading straight for the king.

The two collide in a huge crash against the wall of a building, the foundation cracked. For a second it’s hard to see what happened. And then the dust clears- and everyone can now see it. Two green crackling pair of wings have sprouted from Alt’s back, made completely out of lightning.

“You-!” Alt’s voice is laced with static and glitches but echoes with power as he snarls to the king. “You and every other fucking Anti out there has hurt me- hurt my friends- hurt my brother… for the last f̶̧̏u̶͙͐c̸͚̽k̶͙͊ì̸̧n̷͍͐g̶͘ TIME!”

Marvin jumps backwards, avoiding the big cat's bite, and starts conjuring up another spell-- But then it happens. Bro gets shot, and Alt screams. Lightning explodes from him, drawing everyone's attention as they all see him fly for the King. Fly. Fly quite literally, as there are wings coming from his back. Crackling with the power of a storm itself. The guys from this world stare in shock and awe. They have never seen anything like this.

And honestly? Neither has the King. His face drains of color as he looks scared for the first time. He's rattled by being tackled to the building, bruised and bleeding--but he does not feel this body's pain. He wrenches an arm free and traces a line on the wall behind him. A line of green light arches around him, forming--a magic doorway. He falls through it, and before Alt can even look at what's on the other side, the doorway disappears and he is gone.

Alt watches the king disappear with wide eyes. He then crackles with more lightning as he punches at the building, screaming in rage as tears fall rapidly down his cheeks. The air smells like ozone, static electricity brimming in the air. He burns with power, his wings sparking like a storm.

The moment the King vanishes, all his commands fall away. Even the ones on Magnificent, which he had been monitoring so carefully.

When the command fades, it’s so much all at once that Mag’s tiger form fades and he crashes to the ground completely, staring wide eyed at the sky.

Jameson lets go of the bow and it goes clattering to the ground. He grabs Schneep's bag of supplies and rushes for Bro. I'm sorry, the subtitles say he's signing. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry--

Bro blinks blearily out at Jameson and gives him a shaky smile. He tries to grab one of his hands to get him to stop signing. “Hey hey… I-it’s okay- wasn’t your fault…” He coughs up a bit of blood but he still smiles. “I-I heal fast this… this shouldn’t kill me- just.. g-gotta get it out…”

Henrik helps Chase up and the two of them run over to join Bro and Jameson. “Normally I would advise against that,” Henrik says, “but if you have magic healing then that would be best.”

“I’ll do it, it’s my arrow,” Chase says. He grabs the arrow’s shaft and braces one hand against Bro’s chest. “On three. One… two… three!” And he yanks it out with one swift move.

On instinct, the hero cries out in pain as the arrow is removed.

“Heh… looks like the tip didn’t break, so there’s nothing else in there.” Chase gives a nervous little laugh, then glances at Alt. “I think your brother needs you right now…”

Meanwhile, Jackie quickly moves away from Mag as he transforms back. It’s strange, he’s heard all about how terrible this man is, but… right now he can only feel bad for him. Would it be different if he actually experienced what Bro and Alt had? Or is he still too kind?

Marvin has no such feelings right now. “Do you think we should tie him up?” He asks, conjuring a rope like he tried to throw at Alt earlier.

But, at Chase mentioning his brother, Bro tries to push himself up, blinking back his pained tears as he shouts out, “A-Alt!”

Alt had been clawing and tearing at the building like he can still get to the King, paying no mind to how it tears and scratches at his hands. But, hearing Bro’s voice gets him to stop. In a quick glitch he’s kneeled down next to him, wide white eyes staring at him as tears flow down his face.

Bro startles a bit, “w-woah!”

Alt tilts his head almost bird-like at Bro then looks to see his bleeding chest. He reaches out a hand and wipes at his face then presses it over the wound. In a bloom of light, the injury disappears like nothing happened.

Bro stares at his brother with wide eyes, “Alt-“

Alt turns his head to look at Chase- and sees where he was burned. He touches the spot gently- and it heals completely.

Then, they hear Magnificent whimper in pain and curl up, his injures catching up to him. Alt’s head raises at this and he then appears over by Jackie, Marvin and Mag in a fizzle of electricity. He says nothing as he bends down by Mag and does what he did with Bro. Wiping his tears he heals Mag’s back and then removes the arrow and heals his leg. The mad magician seems to relax slightly, blearily looking out but he doesn’t look like he’s registering anything.

Now, the power around Alt seems to fizzle and he stumbles back, gripping at his head. He gasps slightly in pain as the wings crackle then zip away into the air. The white in his eyes flicker- and just when you see his blue eyes peek through again, they roll back and he sways and then crumples to the ground with a dull thud.

“All above!” Marvin shouts, being the first to get over the shock of what they all saw. He kneels next to Alt, checking his pulse in his neck and wrist. “That’s probably just—that’s probably just exhaustion, that must have used a lot of energy—“

Alt’s pulse is high, his eyes squeezed shut in pain as he pants heavily, slightly whimpering. He’s pale and hot to the touch.

Bro pushes himself up and hurries over to Alt’s side, scooping him up into his arms and shaking him lightly. “A-Anti…!” Alt is limp in his brother’s arms, struggling to take in a deep breath. His veins pulse with bright green magic, making him look even sicker.

“Did he heal them with a touch?” Jackie whispers. “Henrik, Marvin, do you know of…”

Henrik walks over, also checking over Alt. “Nothing I know of,” he mutters.

“Even wizards can’t heal instantly like that, only speed the process,” Marvin agrees.

A moment passes in silence.

“O-okay, um… what do we do with them?” Chase asks shakily. “I think other me, Bro, is alright but these two…”

Bro looks at the others with desperation and nods, “Y-Yeah we gotta… we need to… Christ-!”

“Rest. They need rest,” Henrik says.

“I’ll repeat my earlier question in regards to him,” Marvin mutters, nodding at Magnificent.

“I really don’t think this is the time to worry about tying someone up,” Jackie says, a bit snappishly.

At Marvin’s muttering, Bro glances at Mag and then he nods to Marvin. “I… I would. He’s- he will probably lash out when he comes to… especially now that Alt…” He bites his lip and looks back down at the trembling glitch. He’s surprised Alt helped him at all….

“Got it,” Marvin says, using the conjured rope to bind Magnificent’s hands.

Magnificent doesn’t fight as he’s tied up, eyes hardly open as he slumps on the ground.

His veins don’t look good at all, Jameson says worriedly. I’m assuming it’s not normal for them to be green. Henrik, is there anything that could help? He hands Henrik his bag of medical supplies.

“W-well, I do not think I can do much about the coloring, but I might be able to help the fever,” Henrik says as he looks through his supplies. “Here. This is a cooling salve. There is a bit of witchcraft in it so it may help with the magic in his veins.” He uncaps the bottle and reaches in, withdrawing a quarter-sized amount of pinkish salve. He quickly applies it to Alt’s forehead. It does, at the very least, cool him down.

Alt whimpers quietly at the salve is applied. But, then he seems to relax some as it works it’s magic.

“Does he… do that wing thing… often?” Chase asks awkwardly. “Is there something to do when he… turns into a thunderbird?”

Bro shakes his head. “I… I’ve only seen it once before… but he… he was in much worse shape the first time…” He swallows shakily, pushing Alt’s sweaty bangs away from his face. “He… he got really sick… for a few days afterwards but- he was also corrupted by Mag’s magic so… m-maybe it won’t be as long this time… he didn’t use it as much as he did that first time either I think… it’s… it’s kinda a blur- I don’t remember much.”

Henrik nods slowly. “The best thing to do then is get inside somewhere,” he says. “Somewhere out of the weather. There are a lot of houses here, but some are missing the roofs or walls. Where is somewhere intact?”

Chase quickly scans the area. “There,” he says, pointing at a house a little down the street. “That looks good from here. We’ll have to get closer, of course.”

“Good enough,” Henrik says. “Chase—Bro, I mean. Will you carry your brother?”

“Yeah… yeah I got him.” Bro nods and gets to his feet, holding Alt in his arms and close to his chest. Alt’s eyelids flutter but he stays slumped against Bro. The hero hurries down the street towards the house Chase pointed out.

“I’ll get this man,” Jackie says, grabbing Magnificent and standing up. “Let’s get inside.”

Mag is easy enough to carry, offering pretty much no resistance.

Chase was right, this house is pretty much intact. There are three rooms: a central living area, a bedroom, and a room with a bunch of fabric and thread, some sort of dedicated sewing room. All the furniture is still there, though dusty, and there’s a fireplace and woven rug in the central room. Chase hurries over and takes out a tinderbox to light a fire.

“Hmm. We should keep Alt where it is warm,” Henrik says. “It would be better to take the blankets from this bed than leave him in here.” He and Jameson do that, making a small nest on the floor of the central room.

Bro hovers anxiously over Alt and as soon as the nest is set up, he sits down right by his side, taking his hand. Alt mumbles quietly in his feverish sleep, but his breathing seems to be calming down.

Jackie, meanwhile, unceremoniously drops Mag on the edge of the rug. “Have to keep an eye on him,” he says.

Slowly, a fire grows in the fireplace.

“Maybe Alt needs to sleep it off,” Chase says. “The sun is close to setting anyway. We should stay here for the night.”

Bro nods, "Yeah... probably... I just hope... I hope he's okay..."

Unfortunately for everyone- now Magnificent starts to stir. And he blinks open his eyes and feels the ropes on him and he writhes, baring his teeth like a feral cat. "W-What the fuck?! W-Where am I? Where is that fucking rat bastard royal?!"

Bro jolts and protectively curls up over Alt, flashing glowing eyes at Mag.

“The King is, unfortunately, not dead,” Marvin says, unfazed by Mag’s sudden recovery. He also doesn’t react when Jackie sighs, disappointed in his eagerness, or when Henrik rolls his eyes. “Even more unfortunately, we don’t know where he is. He’s an enchanter, he shouldn’t be able to make a doorway!”

Jackie doesn’t have time for this. He draws one of his swords and holds it up to Mag’s neck. His hand is steady. “We can knock you out,” he says calmly. “Do you think it feels good when the hilt of a sword hits your head?”

Magnificent stops his thrashing as the sword gets held to his neck. But he does growl at Jackie.

He then looks over to Bro and Alt, "What did you imbeciles do to my cub?!"

"He's not your anything, Magnificent!" Bro yells, "B-Back off! If you try anything- these guys will kill you- and I'm starting to think that might be a good fucking idea!"

The mad magician stiffens at this, and falls silent. But, he glares daggers at the others.

But, he does chuckle and look back at Marvin, a knowing look in his eyes. "mm... there might be more to your King than you know, wizard..."

“More in what way…?” Marvin questions.

Jameson tilts his head to the side. That would explain some things…

“Well if Jameson says that, that can’t be good,” Jackie comments.

Magnificent just chuckles but doesn't say anything more.

“This might be a bit selfish, but I don’t really want to talk about this right now,” Chase says. “We just went through a lot. Somehow those few minutes of fighting really exhausted me.”

“We will eat and rest, then,” Henrik says, looking through the food bag.

"It's not selfish..." Bro mutters, relaxing and going back to holding Alt's hand. "... let's just focus on resting. And Mag? If you cause any problems? It's night night for you, bitch."

Mag grumbles in response.

Indeed, though some of the guys seem to take issue with killing the King, it looks like none of them would be upset with killing Mag. At the most, some of them might be less personally inclined.

Jackie lowers his sword slowly but keeps it out and generally pointed at Mag. Henrik starts handing out food.

The room gradually warms up from the heat of the fire. There's still a breeze from the glassless windows but near the fire is warm and reassuring.

After a while of resting, Alt stirs and makes a pained groan before finally opening his eyes. Bright green pulses in them for a second before they dim- and it leaves his eyes looking dull and gray. He blinks blearily out at the dim house and starts to panic slightly. His body feels so heavy.

"c-c-chase...?" He whispers.

Bro is on him in an instant, squeezing his hand and holding it close to his chest. "Anti! Hey.. hey... I'm here... it's okay-"

Alt is starting to sweat and pant again, eyes flitting around anxiously, "t-the others...?" He asks quietly.

“We’re all okay,” Chase reassures him. “Well… a couple injuries, but nothing Henrik couldn’t take care of.”

Henrik nods, a bit smugly.

“Are you… alright?” Marvin asks tentatively. “You were… you used a lot of power.”

“It was incredible,” Jackie says in a quiet, awed voice. “Like the Winged Elder themself gave you wings of storm.”

“But it was a lot of power and we were concerned,” Marvin emphasizes.

Alt relaxes as he hears the others and turns his head to look at them. He smiles warmly. Bro squeezes Alt's hand again, and Alt can feel his own hands bandaged from where he tried to break the building. The glitch closes his eyes and takes stock of himself. He's very weak, shaky and has a fever. But, " i... i'm okay... b-better than I thought i'd be actually..." He laughs tiredly. "...i... i can't really c-control when that happens... but i think last time was... w-worse..."

Alt blinks at Jackie, "...winged... elder..?"

"yeah you guys say that a lot- Elders... what is that?" Bro asks curiously, "is it... like your ... gods?"

Mag snorts haughtily, like he expected them to know. And like he didn't just- invade minds and study books to know more than them the past couple days.

“They… are, I suppose, though that feels… hmm.” Marvin presses his lips together. “The term gods implies a… worldwide power? The Elders are only native to Glasuil. They’re tied to the land itself, all-powerful in their domains they guard, usually taking the form of animals.”

“Oh pffft.” Henrik rolls his eyes. “They are gods. It does not matter how local they are, you worship them and have holy days for them. That is what you do with gods.”

“Schneep’s are different,” Jackie says. “The Celestial Sisters. The sun and the moon as people. They’re very popular on the east continent.” “

As for the Winged One, their domain is wind and weather and storms,” Marvin continues. “And it’s said they take the form of a hawk or other bird of prey. So… wings of lightning… very reminiscent of them.”

Alt and Bro look very intrigued by this. Bro laughs, “Woah… like- land spirits. That’s really cool!” He looks to Schneep and smiles. “The sisters sound cool too! Man- I always thought mythology like this was cool-“

“Yer a nerd-“ Alt slurs with a smile. Bro very lightly shoves him.

Alt then falls quiet, “The winged one… heh- pretty cool to get compared to that…” He curls up, a shiver running up his body from the fever. “…I wish I knew what magic it was or… w-why it happens. It feels as elusive as a blessing from a god.” He laughs a bit bitterly. “If I knew then, maybe I could use it more… it seems to help people… “

“But it also leaves you really sick, Alt…” Bro adds with worry, smoothing back his hair.

Alt falls quiet again, gripping at the blankets and staring down at them.

“Hey.” Jackie leans forward. “I’ve been protecting people for a long time. Five years in the Phantoms, but I’ve been training for…” He laughs. “Well over a decade now. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you can’t protect anyone if you wear yourself out. You only have so many hands, you know.”

Perhaps you’ll learn what causes this one day and you can use it more reliably, Jameson says. But until then, keep yourself safe.

Alt is quiet for a bit before he nods and smiles at Jackie and Jamie. “…yeah… thanks.”

“We’re not leaving until I’m sure you’re okay, alright?” Bro says sternly, “I’ll knock Mag out as many times as we need to.”

“Hey! I’m not even doing anything!” Mag growls.

Bro glares at him and he shuts up again. He then turns back to Alt and checks him over again. “So- do you need anything? We ate but we can get you some more…”

Alt closes his eyes to think. “…I think i just need some more sleep.., maybe some water…?” He blinks open his eyes but seems to struggle to do so- like he’s ready to pass back out again.

“Sleep is good,” Henrik says. He passes Alt his water skin to drink from. “One time Marvin passed out for days straight after using too much magic. It is normal.”

“Hey!” Marvin gasps. “That was private information!” The others laugh.

“Take a break, Alt,” Jackie says. “We’ll take turn keeping watch to make sure nothing happens.”

Alt takes a drink gratefully then allows himself to lay back down. He smiles dazedly and then laughs with the others. "at least I know m'not alone..." He mumbles.

Bro squeezes his hand again, "Never." He promises.

Alt hums under his breath and curls up against his brother before falling back asleep.

Magnificent watches the tender moment with hatred in his eyes.

The night passes. Jackie takes watch first, then tags out for Marvin, who then tags out for Henrik as morning approaches. It's a surprisingly peaceful night. Not even a cloud in the sky, much less a storm.

When morning comes, Alt fever seems to have broken and he wakes up with a renewed vigor. He glitches to his feet and stretches. Bro stuck to his side all night. The older brother blinks blearily and then sits up quickly at seeing Alt is up. "Alt!"

Alt grins at Bro, "Morning!"

Mag is curled up, not unlike a cat, actually asleep, even with his arms still tied up.

"Good morning you two," Henrik says. "Glad to see you're feeling better, Alt."

Chase rolls over with a slight groan and wakes up. "Oh... lightning man..." He mumbles.

Henrik laughs. "What did you just say?"

"...what did I just say?" Chase sits up. "I saw Alt ghlishing, and uh..."

"Y-you called him lightning man," Henrik giggles.

"Lightning man?" Alt smirks with a laugh, "Not the most clever nickname but I can dig it!"

This exchange has woken up Jameson and Jackie as well. It was amazing, actually, Jackie managed to keep his grip on his sword even as he slept. "Good morning," he says now, stretching.

Jameson nudges Marvin, dislodging Draco by proxy. Both cat and owner lift their head with a "mrrp?" sound.

Wake up, Fiona of Wyld, Jameson says.

"Shush." Marvin rubs his eyes.

Both Bro and Alt laugh at Marvin's cat-like noise. The noise wakes up Mag but he stays quiet, just glaring at the others as he very slowly tries to wiggle his arms to get blood flowing back into them.

"uh- you guys good with having breakfast with us before we go?" Alt smiles, "One last hang out! Plus, I'm starving-"

"Of course," Chase says, reaching for the food bag. "I'm glad we packed so much. Here, take what you want." He grabs a couple rolls and some jerky for himself before passing it to the brothers.

Alt quickly grabs a bunch and starts to stuff his face. Bro tries to get him to slow down, laughing quietly.

"Wonder if there's anything we can learn about the King in the palace," Marvin wonders, staring out the window at the tall towers.

"We can check that after they go home, before heading back to camp," Jackie says.

Bro looks out at the tower, "Oh yeah. I hope you guys can gain something out of this crazy mess to help you defeat that freaky bastard-" He mutters as he moodily takes a bite of jerky. "He has freaky ass powers-"

Alt quiets at this and looks down at his lap. He... had to stop feeling so bad- hearing bad things about the other versions of him. But, part of him cant help but feel... guilty? Confused? He's... not sure.

"Genuinely where did those powers come from?" Marvin says. "I understand you two and this bastard being different, as you're from another world, but him? Enchanter I could understand, magic sometimes strikes randomly, but all the rest?"

"I can only think something must have happened," Henrik says. "He was not a terrible king at first. Then, about five or six years ago, he started doing different, terrible things. Did he find this power and go mad from it?"

It must have been SOMETHING like that, Jameson agrees.

"Maybe... there's something more... like- I dunno... maybe he got possessed by something?" Alt mutters quietly, shrugging. "I think that can... give someone different powers- or something."

"I mean- you guys have spirits and stuff around... didn't you guys think we were that?" Bro asks.

“We thought you were Fair Folk, which do have a physical body,” Jackie says.

“But there are spirits…” Marvin mulls.

“When would that have happened though? Isn’t the King supposed to be well protected against magical threats like that?” Chase asks.

“We’ll figure it out after they leave,” Henrik decides. “Our first order of business is making sure they are safe. So everyone eat up,”

It doesn’t take long for them to finish breakfast.

After breakfast is done, the boys go to change into their old outfits. Luckily, back at camp they helped Bro fix his ripped shirt. Alt holds onto his mask, letting it hang around his neck. Alt glitches to his feet then pulls out the TRVLR, powering it on to check to see its status.

Bro double checks that they have everything and gathers up all the things they borrowed from the boys. He laughs lightly, "Man- despite everything... it was really cool to pretend that we were part of the Masked Phantoms for a bit..."

"If you ever want to come visit again, you are welcome to any time," Jackie says. "Hopefully by then we won't need the Masked Phantoms anymore, but if we do, you may join anytime."

"No need to be so formal with them, Jackie," Henrik says teasingly.

"It's tradition to welcome back guests like that!"

I agree with Jackie, come back anytime, Jameson says.

"And bring your friends--and try to keep this bastard out of it," Marvin says jokingly.

Bro smiles at them and nods, "If we can I totally wanna come back and bring the lads! You guys would love them!"

"Hopefully we will see you again," Chase says. "But if we don't, this has been fun."

The TRVLR still has that latency warning up, but the universe list seems to be working fine, just a bit slow. Clearly, this UF universe, while fun, is even farther from their home than the UAs. So back to trying those. Alt spots UA-0501019MM as a promising next place to visit.

Alt smiles and looks up from the TRVLR to look at the others, "Yeah... this was scary in a lot of way but... it was nice too. Thank you for taking such good care of us guys!"

Bro walks over and grabs Mag and tosses him over his shoulder.

Magnificent grumbles and hisses, trying to wiggle out of his binds now. "Cant you let me have a bit of dignity here?"

"Nope, you don't deserve that." Bro says, walking over and grabbing Alt's hand.

Alt laughs and then looks at the others fondly, "... We'll be back. But, until then? Give that royal bastard hell, alright?"

"We'll be sure to," Marvin promises. Jackie nods, backing him up. "Goodbye, then."

"Goodbye!" Jackie adds.

"Farewell," Henrik says.

"See you again, hopefully," Chase nods.

Jameson waves.

The brothers wave goodbye. and then Alt hits the jump button, praying that maybe this one will actually take them home.

Immediately, the three of them disappear. To them, it feels like they are falling again through that dark place with green globes of light. To the others, they simply vanish.

I hope they have a safe journey, Jameson says.

"I do as well," Henrik says.

A moment passes in silence. Then Chase takes a deep breath. "Well? To check the palace, then?"

"To the palace," Marvin agrees.

"Hopefully we'll find something to help us with the King's mysterious powers," Jackie says.

The group leaves the building, heading up the street.

#SITCV FM #fantasy masks au #swapboys #swap into the crystalverse #THE LAST CHAPTER!! :D #and like- this is spoilers for something alt will be able to do in the future oops agjbh #something i have planned for a future story |D #but!! loved this battle- it was so fun!!#and i love the fm world soooo much!#i hope you guys enjoyed it too :D #tomorrow- something spooky :3c #alt anti #swap magnificent #bro fantastic

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