#literally anything wild says out of context would sound horrific

[tenten18282]

Whoops Follow-up of this

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Mages Don’t Meddle

Rating: M

Genre: Angst/Mild Fluff

Word count: 16091

Summary: In a world where magic users must fear each other, Baz Pitch, a British born hex hiding in the 19th century American southwest, is just trying to stay alive. But when he meets a fellow British hex, his world is turned upside down in the most awful, amazing ways possible. PLEASE READ FIRST AUTHOR'S NOTE!!!!

Read on AO3

AN: Alright some of you may know that my favourite book series of all time is The Hexslinger Series by Gemma Files. It’s a gory but brilliant horror/dark fantasy weird western trilogy about gay cowboy wizards fighting Aztec gods. (It's also where my AO3 username comes from). I've been writing this AU on and off for like two years now lol. So when I saw this event, I saw it as motivation to finally finish it. And I did! Idk how many people are gonna like this, considering the obscurity of the books. The mythos is a bit complicated so here are the basic rules of the Hexslinger world:

1. Magic users exist, called "hexes" or "hexslingers” by most English speakers. They’re commonly known of and feared by some humans because of their immense, usually unstable power. Their magic is usually called "hexation" and a common descriptor for anything to do with them is "hexacious." Being a hex can either be passed down from parent to child or appears randomly. Most are children of a hex man and a human woman as pregnancy for a hex woman can be very risky to mother and child, but it's still possible.

2. Hexes aren’t usually born having magic. Their powers manifest at some point later in their lives except in very rare circumstances. For women it usually appears after their first period, while for men it’s usually after some sort of grievous bodily harm, e.g getting hanged or beaten. Before manifestation, some hexes show no sign of magic at all, while others have hints like perfect aim or weirdly good luck. It depends on the person and their power level.

3. Hex magic varies between people based on personality, culture, family history, and power level/type. For example, an experienced Chinese born hex with refined power will have a very different kind of magic than a newly manifested American born hex with more chaotic power. (That’s literally just from the original books lol.) Even hexes similar in multiple aspects can be completely different in the way their magic is expressed.

4. The only universal trait between hexes is that they all have the urge to feed off each other’s magic. They’re like magic vampires (wink wink). If they get too close to each other, they have the immediate urge to absorb the other's power and kill them. It’s completely instinctual and very hard to resist. Hence why hexes can’t be around each other. Or, to use the common phrase from the universe, “mages don’t meddle.”Okay that's the basics. There's A LOT of other stuff but I think that's all you need to know for this fic imo.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: So there's some period typical racism scattered around due Baz being brown in the 19th century American south. It's not too harsh imo but I still want to warn people. I hope I handled it alright, considering I'm a white af Canadian Irish-Jew, but if I didn't I'm very sorry. There's also a bit of period typical homophobia at the start. The closest I get to slurs is the use of "red" and "Indian" in reference to Indigenous people, "queer" in a negative context, references to sand because Baz says he's Egyptian, and Baz being called "darker folk." I felt it would be disingenuous to not include bigotry of the past and pretend things would be all okay for a queer POC like Baz. Especially since Hexslinger itself has major themes of homophobia, racism, and not being accepted in the majority of society. A few mentions of suicide, self harm, and torture too in relation to hex powers emerging too, which is also major in Hexslinger. The series itself is pretty brutal and dirty with lots of bigotry, blood, guts, and death. So those elements have gotten in here. There is some flesh burning stuff but I don't think it's that graphic, feels pretty typical for Carry On imo. Hopefully this all works well/makes sense.

As always, big thanks to Raegan of @carryonmylovelies Now with that all out of the way, enjoy!

———————————————

I gingerly take a sip of my whiskey. It's a horrible rotgut shite, but there’s worse stuff out in the wild west. This Slipfoot Joe’s seems to be okay by my now very, very low standards for this area.

“Well well, if it ain’t a pretty red boy,” the man behind me croons. His voice makes evey inch of my skin crawl.

I let out a deep sigh. I’ve been expecting this, but I’m still not pleased. “Piss off, arsehole.”

“Oh! Didn’t know Indians could sound English!”

“I’m British Egyptian, you twit.”

The man leans on the bar, smiling wide. It’s easier to count the few teeth he has than guess how many he’s lost. “What brings your sandy ass to our great country?”

The Call. The unending Call that signals all of us to come here.

I take another long sip. “Your gorgeous face, obviously. How much do you charge? I’ve heard American men are cheaper here than in England.”

The man reels back scowling. “You think I’m some queer?!”

“Well, I assumed so. Considering you were just flirting with me, a man.”

He snarls, whipping out his pathetic little pistol. The barrel shakes nonstop. “You got some nerve, boy!”

I finish the whiskey and delicately place the glass rim first on the filthy bar. “And you’re a racist bastard. You don’t see me getting all pissy.”

The gunshot happens in slow motion for me. I don’t even need to turn. I simply hold one hand in front of me and let my magic pour from me like a dragon’s breath. It curls out in front of me, a circle of blacks and charcoal greys and burning scarlets. Every hex’s magic is different. Mine is like a constant roaring fire, always threatening to consume me.

The bullet hits the shield with a tinny clink. Racist Man is frozen with wide, terrified eyes. I turn to him, orange and red reflecting in my grey eyes.

“You- You’re... a hex?!” He splutters.

“Thought that was pretty bloody obvious. Now go, before I drink your blood.”

Racist Man and his buddy scamper out of the tavern. I let the force field dissipate, crackling and popping in the air like a dying campfire. Joe, the bartender and eponymous Slipfoot, sighs as he cleans another glass.

“You know,” Joe says, “I’ve met other hexes. They’re stupid reckless assholes but they ain’t ever drank blood. Just suck each other’s magic.”

I chuckle. “Well they don’t know that, do they?”

“No, lucky for you. What’s a Brit like you even doin’ here anyway?”

My mouth presses into a thin line. I envy him. He can't hear The Call from that damned Hex City. I heard it all the way in Washington, and before I knew it I was on a train southeast. The only reason I haven’t actually gone to the horrid place is sheer stubbornness.

“I’m a hex. Where else would I be going?”

Joe freezes. He stares at me with more concern than fear. “I’d be careful, son. Those hexes I met? One of them was Reverend Rook himself. He’s beyond bad news, ‘specially with that heathen goddess by his side.”

“I know.” I trace my finger on the old wood, trying to focus on that instead of the ringing in my head. “But what choice do I have?”

———————————————

1867, two years after America’s bloody civil war, and it seems they’re about to be plunged into a new one. Except it won’t be slavery versus abolition this time, but humans versus magic. 

The news has spread like wildfire. In the final days of the war, a confederate soldier and unofficial chaplain named “Reverend” Asher Rook was sentenced to hang for abandoning his regiment. But he survived, and the suffering of the ordeal caused his hex powers to emerge. Rumour has it one Bible verse from his lips can level an entire town. Rook decided to use his new powers to steal and murder his way through the west, aided by his ruthless gunslinging lieutenant (and rumoured lover) Chess Pargeter.

He should’ve been just another hex outlaw for those American Pinkertons to take down. But somehow, a mere month ago, Rook made a pact with an Aztec goddess. And together they’ve created New Azteclan, or Hex City to the common man. According to the magical homing signal I hear, that every hex hears, it’s a place where hexes can lose their insatiable urge to feed off each other’s magic. We’ll no longer have to be loners by nature, picked off one by one by humanity. We could be together. We could be safe.

But at what cost? Nothing in life comes without a cost. I know that too well. My magic cost me my home, my family, and a good part of my sanity. I’d do anything to not be a danger to others anymore. And the possibility is right there. All I need to do is go further south and cross the border into Mexico to reach Hex City. But once I do that, there’s no going back. The temptation of the Call will be too strong. And whatever price The Reverend wants, he’ll get it from me.

I sit at the fire, chewing on some absolutely horrific jerky. I’m trying to focus on the flames instead of the voice in my head. I’m not sure whose it is. Maybe Rook’s, maybe his witch goddess’. It doesn’t have a discernible tone, just sort of an indistinct everyman sound, or a thousand voices speaking the same thing. Either way, it’s very annoying.

Come, it whispers. Come seek out Ixchel, the Mother of Hanged Men. Come stand before Her priest-king, to offer up your service. Come to build the First City of the Sixth World- the world of wonder, the world of power. Come, and join New Azteclan.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” I shout into emptiness, slamming the side of my head with my fist.

“I haven’t said anything yet,” someone replies weakly.

I bolt up. My magic roars to life inside me, a fireball forming in the palm of my hand. “Who said that?!”

The man slowly steps out of the darkness. He must be no older than myself, with his young, round freckled face. He has curly bronze hair, capped by an old second hand cowboy hat. His brown leather coat, plaid shirt, riding boots, and jeans are all filthy with desert dirt. A horse with saddle bags stands behind him. His blue eyes are wide and nervous. I notice a smell on him. Like green fire and smoke, with a strong scent of something brown and sweet. He smells like something I would gladly eat.

He’s a hex.

“Don’t you dare come any closer, you prick,” I say between gritted teeth. “I won’t hesitate to burn you to a crisp.”

The other boy shakes his head. “I’m not here to drain you. I...I just wanted to ask for some help.” He sounds British like me, but more rough and nervous, stumbling over his words.

“Yeah, right. Do I look that gullible? ‘Mages don’t meddle.’ We’d all drain each other dry if we were given the chance.”

He sighs heavily. “Well, of course I want to by instinct, but I’m not going to. I was just wondering if you had any food. All of mine got stolen by some angry humans.”

I consider just turning him away, or draining his magic and leaving his dried out corpse for the vultures. But he looks so desperate. How long has this young man been out here alone? My aunt had always warned me to be wary of all other hexes. We’re a bloodthirsty species, Basil. Never trust another hex, ever. Not even me. But I’m not my aunt.

I sit down again. “Fine. You can have some jerky. Just don’t come too close alright? I’d like to keep my magic and soul where they are, please.”

The man smiles (he has a nice smile) and sits opposite me at the fire. I throw a bag of jerky, and he catches in one hand. He shoves it in his mouth like a ravenous animal.

“So,” I say, “what’s your name?”

“Simon Snow,” he rep;ies, mouth still half full. “Your’s?”

“Baz Pitch.” Simon chuckles a bit, and I frown. “What’s so funny?

“Well, Baz Pitch is a pretty ridiculous name.”

“No more ridiculous than Simon Snow,” I snap. “What, were you named by circus performers?”

“Maybe. Not sure, actually.” Snow looks at the fire, but it feels like he’s looking right through it, his gaze very far away.

“Why’s that?”

Simon shakes his head. “Hey, are you going to Hex City?”

I huff, blowing some loose, dirty hair out of my eyes. I’m too tired to stop him from changing the subject. “I don’t know. Are you?

He shrugs. “Maybe. So far I am. The stories and Call do make it sound so wonderful.”

I scoff loudly. “Of course they do. Rook wants people to come. Then we’ll get there and be sacrificed to his bloodthirsty goddess. That’s probably what happened to Pargeter. No one’s heard from him lately, according to the locals.”

“But we’ll lose the hunger! What if the Reverend just wants us to be safe? Y’know, as a kindness to his own people.”

“No one does anything out of kindness, Snow. Least of all hexes.”

“You gave me food out of kindness, didn’t you?”

I glare at him over the flames. He shrugs with a faint smile. Fuck. He has a really nice smile.

 “I’m going to sleep,” I mutter. “But I’m putting a shield around me. Touch it and you’ll be burned alive. So don’t get any ideas about taking my magic.”

Simon throws his hands up in innocence. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I lay down on my pallet, throwing up my force field. The crackle and hiss of magic around me distracts from the beautiful mage no more than seven feet from me. Whom I’m not sure I want to kiss or kill. Maybe both.

———————————————

I wake when the sun's centre in the sky. I’m breathing, so this Simon Snow hasn’t drained me dry. That’s good, I guess. 

I sit up bleary eyed. Snow is passed out on his own cot, drooling profusely with his mouth wide open (mouth breather). He’s put up his own shield, of course, (at least he’s somewhat sensible). It sort of looks like an electrical explosion, white bolts constantly combusting around him in bubble form. He smells so powerful. It’s taking all of my willpower to not hurt him. To not submit to my basic hex desires.

I take my sweet time to pack my things and douse the fire pit, secretly hoping Simon will wake up before I run out of excuses. Luckily, with a very loud snort, Snow bolts upwards. There’s terror in his eyes, and his breath is uneven and shallow. I know that look. I’m no stranger to nightmares myself.

“A good morning to you, Snow,” I say.

Simon lets out a long breath, waving a hand to dissolve his shield. “You didn’t kill me.”

“And you didn’t kill me. What a miracle.”

“I’ll say. Are you leaving?”

“Obviously.”

“Where to?”

I sigh heavily. “Well, my map says, there’s a town southeast from here. I haven’t been there before but it probably isn’t too bad. I was going to hide there for at least a bit.”

Simon picks at his nail beds, even though they’re already ragged and bloody. “Can I...can I come with you? I haven’t been around anyone in so long, y’know. It’d be nice to have someone to talk to”

I look at him with the most neutral gaze I can muster. “Are you going to kill me?”

He shrugs. “Haven’t killed you yet, have I?”

“There’s still time.”

Simon stands up, brushing the dust off his pants. “Alright, then I’ll make myself very clear. Baz, I’m not going to kill you. I’m not going to fight you at all, alright?”

I must admit that I’ve been lonely these few months in the desert. Hell, I’ve been lonely for the past few years. I’ve actually missed the company of others. But it’s not like humans or hexes want to be around me. Except for this one, it seems. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad. If we don’t kill each other first that is.

“Alright, fine. Just don’t try anything or I’ll burn you from the inside out.”

Simon keeps smiling. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

We mount our horses and ride off. I try to keep my eyes ahead instead of on Snow.

———————————————

“I can’t believe the food here,” Snow says. “It’s so much more spicy than in the North.”

“We are closer to Mexico, Snow,” I reply. I’m trying to figure out our route, while also listening to Snow when he’s more than six feet away. The hunger is manageable from this distance. Mostly.

“Well, yeah, but it’s so insane! Why can’t the north people get some spice from here? It would make their chicken more tolerable. London street food was awful but at least it had some flavour!”

That makes me snort out a laugh no matter how much I try not to. Snow grins at me, and his face is literal sunshine. Why must he be so perfect? It’s not fair. “London street food? You mean fish and chips? Those aren’t half bad, if I’m remembering correctly.”

Snow’s tawny face gets a little pink. He rubs the back of his slightly sunburnt neck. “Y-Yeah, they weren’t too bad. Just...other stuff was terrible...”

“Like what?” It’s not late at night now. I’m less inclined to let his dodging go. Call me crazy, but I’d like to know about the man I’m travelling with.

“Um...” He looks down at his horse’s neck. “I-I lived on the London streets, literally, until I was old enough to work for room and board. Finding anyone who would house a hex though, that was a challenge.”

His laugh is tinny and hollow. My heart, or what dark horrible mass we hexes have in place of one, twists at the words. I wish I was surprised. His story is all too familiar.

“You don’t need to be ashamed,” I say firmly. “We all have our own rough pasts. It’s practically required for hexes, in my eyes.”

Snow doesn’t look up, but his (pretty) plain blue eyes flick over to me. “Really?”

I nod. “Yes, of course. Hexes are usually shunned and harmed. Finding one who hasn’t been in a dire situation is more rare.”

“Have you met a lot of hexes?”

“Some. Mostly, I’ve heard stories. Far too many are like your’s.”

“Is your’s?”

My grip on the reins is so tight my knuckles are going pale. Memories rush through my head no matter how much I want to stop them. The darkness, the pain, the fire, then the stench of burnt human flesh, all capped off by years of trying to survive on my own.

“Unfortunately, ye-”

“What the fuck?!”

Simon’s screech is ungodly in volume and tone. His horse lets out a similarly panicked bray. She bucks up, but can’t get very high with the red vines tangled around her legs.

“Oh fuck,” I hiss. I try to pull back my own horse, but his legs are similarly wrapped up. The vines circle up and around us. I kick and stamp them with all my might. The blood red flowers look like the gaping mouths of monsters.

“What the fuck are these things?!” Snow bellows. He tries to rear his horse back, but nearly throws himself backwards off his saddle instead. “Fucking shite!”

“Don’t do that, Snow, it won’t help!”

“Then what should I do?!” 

“Just stay still!”

Thankfully, Snow does as I say. Not thankfully, I’m not sure what to do. I know that human blood gets rid of the Weeds, but even if I count as human in this regard, you need a relatively large amount of it. So unless I want to pass out, I’ll need to think of something else. But what else can curb evil bloodthirsty Aztec plants?

“Baz!” Snow’s horse pancis the more the weeds wrap around her, which makes Snow panic in turn. He looks at me with desperate wide eyes. “Baz, do something!”

Oh, fuck it. I’ll solve this the way I solve my other problems.

I reach deep within myself, down to the flames that burn in what’s hopefully my soul, or at least what hexes have instead. I grab that power and let it out through my arm. Fire roars to life in the palm of my hand, and I unleash the full force of it on the Weeds. A tidal wave of blackened-red flames engulf the plants.

“Jesus Christ!” Simon shouts. The plants don’t burn per se, I’m not sure they even can. But they still shrink away from us. I keep pushing more magic out until they Weeds a good distance away. 

“Run,” I say, “now!”

Snow and I both wrench our horses 180 degrees and run like the wind. We ride fast and far with no destination, but we keep each other in sight. Only when my pulse is no longer hammering in my ears do I start to slow down. Snow follows, and eventually we stop near a large tree. All four of us are breathing hard.

“Bloody hell,” Snow says. “W-What the fuck were those?”

“Red Plague Weeds,” I reply, dismounting my horse. “They’ve been popping up all around here. No one knows where they come from, but we’re all pretty sure they have something to do with Rook and his witch goddess. Just like every other bizarre thing nowadays.”

“How come I haven’t seen them before in the towns?”

“Because the way to get rid of the Weeds permanently is blood, Snow.”

Snow’s eyes go wide with horror. “Blood? Any blood?”

I sadly shake my head. “No, only fresh human blood. I’ve heard a bowl full collected from the townsfolk is good enough. I don’t even know if hex blood counts. No one’s ever tried, as far as I know. We’re extremely lucky we got away.”

“So I gathered,” Snow sighs. “Now what? We’ve gone a good way backwards now, if I had to guess.”

“Agreed. We’ll have to try and move around the Weeds. If we’re lucky, the town will still be reachable.”

“No one has ever called hexes lucky.”

We both laugh a little. Sometimes laughter is the only way to deal with our horrible existences. I pull the waterskin out of my bag and take a deep, long drink. “Let’s stay here for a moment, though. That blast took a lot out of me.”

“Y-Yeah, that makes sense. Um, I’ll just...”

He turns his horse to the side, trotting away from me. My stomach drops out. Where’s he going? Am I going to be alone again? I’ve only been with Snow for one day. That’s nothing compared to the last two years I’ve been on my own. But now I can’t imagine going back to that crushing, never ending loneliness.

“Heading out, Snow?” I keep my tone neutral, holding back the desperate tremor that threatens to bleed out. “Suppose I’ll see you around, then.”

Snow whips his head around. If I were a more hopeful person, I’d say he looks even more panicked than when we were tangled in the Weeds. “W-What? No, I was just gonna go a little further away...”

“Do I smell that bad?” I probably do. Hygiene is not a priority in these parts.

“No! The opposite, actually...” Snow looks to the side, a little red on his face. “You used a lot of magic before. I can still smell some of it. I, uh, want to keep my promise...”

Oh. Right. I should count myself lucky that he didn’t drain me the minute we stopped. “Yes, yes, of course, makes perfect sense.”

“Unless...you want me to go...”

I gulp down the massive lump in my throat. “Do you want to go, Snow?”

Snow scratches his neck. He points his thumb to the side. “I’ll be waiting over there, until we’ve both cooled down. Alright?”

I would never admit how much relief that brings me. “Alright. We’ll set off again in an hour or so.”

“Okay.” Snow trots over to a good distance away. His brown, sweet smell still lingers in the air, but it fades just enough for me to rest properly. I sit back against the tree, drinking a good portion of my waterskin. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Snow doing the same. I try to not watch him. But it’s very, very hard.

———————————————

Nightfall hits before we reach the town. Snow can’t ride very fast, and I’m still more than a bit drained. So once again, I have to sit opposite the man who will most likely kill me soon.

He fidgets endlessly, picking at his nails and sleeve. It’s infuriating. He gnaws on the jerky like a crazed cat or something. I huff and shake my head. Snow looks up at me.

“What?” he says through a bite.

“Do you ever stop moving? We’ve been sitting here for over an hour and there hasn’t been a single moment of stillness from you.”

Snow snorts. “I don’t see how that affects you.”

“It’s annoying.”

He snorts again, but there’s a small smile now too. “Maybe this is the real reason hexes don’t interact. We're all arseholes.”

“That is hardly a hex thing, Snow. I’ve known humans and hexes alike that I can’t tolerate.”

“Am I one of them?

I hope my face doesn’t flush too hard. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

He chuckles quietly and goes back to eating his jerky, with far less fidgeting this time thankfully. We sit in silence for a while. I keep sneaking looks at him, then tearing my gaze away every time. The firelight makes Snow’s tawny skin almost glow and his bronze hair sparkle gold. He’s a constellation of moles and freckles. He’s a gorgeous mess. Just looking at him, I can almost forget that we’re supposed to be enemies.

“What part of England are you from anyway?” Snow asks through a mouthful of dried out meat.

“Hampshire. Though if you asked the people here, they’d say I’m from Buckingham bloody Palace.”

Snow throws his head back laughing. It’s a ridiculous, wonderful sound. “Damn true! I’ve lived on the streets of London for the past ten years and an American asked me if I’m related to the bloody queen! They have no idea about accent differences. They think every Brit is royalty.”

I freeze. Snow’s laughs slowly subside. He must notice the utter panic in my eyes. “You lived on the streets of London for a decade? That long?”

He pulls in, curling his thin body in on itself. This Simon is a hex like me, a terrifying being filled with unimaginable power, yet right now, he looks so...small. “Well, not the whole time. It’s been on and off. I found some places to live for a bit but they never lasted. Thank God for magic. Or thank the Devil, if the humans are right about us.”

He chuckles nervously. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, trying to hide the way his laugh makes me face heat up even more. “I guess so. It’s taken care of me since-”

There’s a crack. It’s small, far off, almost indistinguishable from the regular sounds of the desert, but it’s there. My aunt always said I have the ears of a bat. I swing my head around.

“What is it?” Snow says.

“Hush! I think I heard something.”

Slowly, I stand up, crouched over with my fists clenched. My magic sizzles and sparks inside me, begging to be used. I see Snow stand too at the edge of my vision.

“Die hex scum!”

The man launches himself out of the darkness, jagged knife in hand. He knocks me flat down to the ground. All the breath is forced out of me as my back hits the sand.

“Fuck!” I wheeze.

I push at him with both arms, thankfully keeping my pretty face out of his slashing range. He writhes and struggles like a rabid wolf. His dirty crazed smile, missing most of his teeth, looms over me. I recognise him.

“You,” I growl. “Did you really follow me all the way here from Slipfoot’s, you pig?!”

“Die!” He says that like it means absolutely anything, like I haven’t heard it a hundred times before.

Racist Man has no technique. He just screeches and flails with his knife. Aunt Fiona’s words come to my mind immediately. “Every self respecting hex needs to know how to defend himself, Basil.” She said just before pinning me to the ground in one move. I hook my leg around his and flip him onto his back. He gasps and lets out a rattling cough. I hover over him, knee on his chest, pinning his knife hand to the ground.

“You don’t deserve to live, you sand demon.” He spits at me, splashing against my cheek. I flick it off with ease.

“Such an original opinion.” I feel the fire blazing in my gut, threatening to consume myself and everything around me. “I should scorch off all your skin.”

“Course you would. All you hexes, just filthy murderers. No wonder y’all are fleeing to Rook’s heathen paradise. Your kind don’t belong around civilized folks.”

I growl again. First he despises my skin colour, then he thinks he knows anything about hexation. This bastard, so stupid and ignorant. We’re only monsters because we have to be. Because men like him come at us with knives and guns and nooses. There’s no holding the fire back. My hand heats up around his wrist. He screeches as his skin sizzles under my fingers. He drops the knife, but I don't stop. All my rage pushes out through my hand and onto his increasingly scorched skin.

“Get off me!”

I turn to see Simon, struggling against another man. His fingers spark and sputter uselessly as he pounds against the guy with a hand around his throat.

“Better save your man over there,” Racist Man hisses.

I give him one last good death stare. I see him shiver just slightly. At least he has some good sense. “Run fast and far. If you come near us again, so help me God I’ll melt through your entire brain.”

The look of terror in his eyes is enough of an answer. I jump off him and run towards Snow.

“Oi! Off him, now!” I roar.

The other man turns to look at me. He has the same crazed look as his friend. “Or what, you piece of devil shit?!”

“Or this.”

I turn to the fire. With only one hand outstretched, my magic wraps around it, and pushes my power into the very core. The flames shoot nine feet upwards, illuminating the vast dark in blinding light. I turn back to the terrified human. With one swing of my arm, the pillar slams into him. He’s sent flying in a shower of flames and skids on the ground, tossing up a cloud of dustin his wake. I start to march towards him. But Snow throws up his arm to stop me.

“Let me,” he growls.

The tone of his voice stops me in my tracks. Simon stomps towards him, his entire hand now covered in tiny sparks like fireworks. His assaulter sits up, panting heavily.

“You better run now,” Snow says.

He sneers. “Don’t tell me-”

“GO!”

Snow’s magic explodes like a fucking bomb. It’s a bolt of violent and powerful energy that hits the assailant square in the chest. He flies back even farther. I stumble from the sheer force of it. The magic disperses as quickly as it appeared. Snow is panting, bronze curls still staticy with stray sparks. The human scrambles and runs away into the darkness.

We’re left there, breathing hard in the darkness, the embers of the now dead fire our only light. Simon tries to pull out the crackling electricity still clinging to his hair. It curls around his fingers and won’t dissipate no matter how much he shakes his hand out. Finally, I find my voice again.

“That was...”

“Awful?” Snow mumbles. “Yeah, I know. Half the time my magic doesn’t work, the other half it explodes. Pretty fucking annoying.”

I turn to look at him properly, still trying to dust off the little sparks. “No, it was incredible. I’ve never seen magic that powerful, or beautiful.”

Oh fuck, why did I say that? I’m going to explode myself any second. Simon freezes, then turns to me. His lovely plain eyes are soft. Half of his mouth pulls up into a smile. My pulse is pounding in my ears. “N-No one’s ever called it beautiful before. And...no one’s tried to save me either.”

He starts to reach out to me with his spark kissed digits. I see the little bolts pulling towards me like I’m a magnet. My own magic flares to surface, reaching back towards him. Tiny flames from my fingers curl around the lightning. And a part of me, that horrible instinctual part, desperately wants to grab his hand and add his beautiful, terrifying energy to my own until his body is nothing but an empty husk.

I take a large step away, hands behind my back. Simon does the same. His eyes are wide with terror now. We both know how close we came to giving into temptation.

“We should go to bed,” I mutter.

Snow nods furiously. I speed walk to my side of the dead fire. We both lay down and pull the blankets to our reddening ears. The only sound for ages is the desert wind whistling through the cacti. Until Snow decides to speak up again, God help me.

“Baz?”

“What, Snow?” I snap. I can’t talk to him anymore, it’s too damn painful.

“Have...Have you ever actually fully drained anyone?”

Oh. I wasn’t expecting that. The question hits me in my heart. All that comes to mind is my aunt’s face as I saw her for the first time in weeks. Her happiness turned to utter horror in seconds. The memory still aches deep inside me. I can almost feel that horrible hunger when I first manifested. I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath. “No. But I’ve come close. You?”

Snow pauses too. I can hear his shaky breathing clearly. “I had a hex friend back in London. Penelope. She was really good at magic, like you, so she tried to help me. We could only see each other for an hour a day for safety’s sake, and it worked for awhile. But one time, my magic got so out of control that I came this close to draining her.” He makes a loud sniffing noise. I hate imagining the tears I know are rolling down his face. “She told me it wasn’t my fault but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to hurt her. Next day I got on a boat to America. That was almost a year ago. I’ve been alone ever since, and it’s awful.”

“Is that why you want to go to Hex City?”

“Yeah. I mean, I just want to be able to have some choice, you know? Not make choices because of this power I never asked for. Don’t you feel like that?”

I think about my mother, who lost her life because of what we are. Or my six weeks of torture by that madman. Or how I had to run away from my family in fear of what I’d accidentally do to them.

“Yes,” I whisper, closing my eyes, “all the damn time.”

———————————————

We ride leisurely under the blistering sun. The desert has melted into more of a hot, grassy plain. Surprisingly, the climate and terrain actually gets less tortuous the further south you go in this awful state. I’ve only gone this far south once before. The Call somehow gets even stronger here. It threatens to fill every nook and cranny of my brain, but I beat it back. No disgraced Confederate chaplain or Aztec witch woman gets to decide what I do.

Snow is mumbling to himself about it being too hot. My head is whirring with a terrible, awful idea, but it won’t go away. My eyes keep drifting towards his beautiful face, and my mind keeps thinking of his beautiful magic. I got only a taste of the endless, consuming feeling of it, and it was exhilarating. If only he could control it.

I groan. “Snow, stop your horse.”

He looks at me confused, but does as I say. “What is it?”

“Get off. I’m going to help you with your magic.”

His eyes bug out of his skull. “What?! Why?”

“Because as incredible as your magic can be, I’d rather not have you explode when you sleep ten feet away from me.” 

It’s a convincing lie. Honestly, I want him to be able to protect himself. I don’t know exactly how long it will take to get to the south, or what could happen before then. Simon might’ve been killed if I wasn’t there. And I don’t know how long I will be with him.

I swing off my horse and Snow follows. We walk out into the empty plateau. He shuffles his feet nervously, chewing at his nails.

“Stay here,” I say.

I walk out and place my old empty flask on a cactus (it’s rusting anyway). Snow looks at it confused. I gesture to the metal bottle, then put my hands behind my back. “Hit that with a blast but avoid the cactus.

“O-Okay...” I watch his throat as he gulps. God, I want to touch that throat, I want to touch everywhere. But I’ll kill him if I do. It makes me hate my magic even more.

Simon raises his hand and takes aim. Small sparks dance between his fingers. One by one, they begin to increase. A small ball of lightning collects in his palm. Snow curls his fingers in, but they seem to be struggling. The ball starts to grow larger and Snow clenches harder. With little to no warning, a lightning bolt shoots out and hits the side of the flask. A blackened mark is left in its wake, but that’s nothing compared to the cactus. A massive chunk has been blown out of the top. It’s charred remains lay strewn on the gras.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Sorry, I was losing control, I had to let it go. Would’ve been much worse if I didn’t.”

“That’s alright, Snow. You technically did hit the flask.”

Snow scoffs, running a hand through his beautiful, sweaty hair. “Sure, I guess...”

I pluck the flask from the half destroyed desert fauna. Another horrible idea is coming to my mind, and I just might be mad enough to do it. “Maybe you need a greater motivator for staying in control.”

“Huh?”

I place the flask on my hand and hold my arm out to the side. “Hit the flask, but not me.”

Snow goes wide eyed again and inhales sharply like he’s been kicked. “A-Are you serious?! You just saw what I did to that cactus, right?”

“Well, you’re going to have to be accurate, unless you want me to end up like said cactus”

He pulls at his curls anxiously. The tiniest of parks fly off the ends. “I don’t know, Baz. I don’t want to hurt you...”

I try to ignore my rapidly beating heart. It’s been so annoying this past week, trying to get what it can’t have. I just flash a smirk at him. “Well, I believe that you won’t. Care to prove me right?”

A red colour spreads across his face. Part of me hopes that’s not just the sun affecting his pale, freckled complexion. “Alright, I’ll try.”

He rubs his hands together. His skin simmers with magic once again. It smells intoxicatingly good. Snow holds his right hand out, palm flat. The electricity builds on the surface. He keeps his hand clenched, but the energy threatens to spill over his fingers. I resist the urge to run in as fast as I can. I didn’t lie, I do trust him. But living on my own for almost three years has given me quite the self preservation instinct.

Sweat prickles Snow’s brow. He uses his opposite arm to keep the other one steady. “C’mon, Simon,” I whisper. “You can do it.”

The jagged white bolt shoots from his skin, far less formless than the last one. It zigs and zags, but in the end hits the flask straight on. The bottle explodes in a shower of jagged metal. I throw up a makeshift shield just in time. When I look at Snow, he’s flat on his ass, panting hard.

“Holy shit,” he says.

“‘Holy shit’ is right,” I respond with a chuckle.

He looks at me with a wide grin. It shines brighter than the midday sun. “I did it! That’s the most controlled my magic has ever been! Thank you, Baz.”

I nod. “You’re welcome, Snow. My aunt always said danger is a great motivator to learn. Especially when it comes to magic.”

Snow lays down on the grass, panting hard. It seems he’s not going to get up any time soon. “Your aunt, was she the one that taught you about magic?”

I kick at a piece of rusted shrapnel, my back to the resting Snow. “Yes, before it manifested, obviously. She wanted me to be prepared just in case. Her whole side of the family has a history of magic. It only appears every few generations or so. We both drew the short ends of the bloodline straw I guess.”

“You’re lucky with that, y’know. I never had anyone to teach me properly. Penny tried, but we never got far enough to make a difference. When I first got magic, this guy called the Mage offered to help. But it turned out he just wanted to drain me. I killed him by accident when he tried. I really didn’t mean to hurt hum, but he wouldn’t stop...”

I turn to him. There’s far too much pain in his eyes. “You had every right to defend yourself. Don’t feel bad.”

He lifts his head up. His smile is sort of sad, but it’s still gorgeous. “Thanks, Baz.”

I smile back as best I can. “You’re most welcome, Snow.” I place my hands in my pockets, desperately clenching my fists in hopes to keep my emotions at bay. “Unfortunately, I’m out of flasks. But we do have an oversupply of fauna. Want to try and not destroy a cactus this time?”

“Okay.” Snow nods, breathing steadily. “Okay, I’ll try.”

Snow takes his stance across from another unfortunate cactus. I watch him and give advice, but slowly have to back away as Snow’s sweet scent permeates the air. I try not to imagine being close to Snow, not having to fear him, him not having to fear me. Oh, what a life that could be.

———————————————

After another week of dodging the Red Weed, we finally get to somewhere. Covent Gardens, a town I suppose is named after the London borough. It’s sizable enough to have a slightly good inn; as in none of the panels are falling off and the sign is missing only a single letter. That’s practically a palace in these parts. I walk in with gusto, making the shutters rattle, Simon following behind me with his head.

Everyone looks at us. I’m not sure how obvious our hexation is, but I suppose we look enough like trouble. Plus my skin tone isn’t an asset here. Or anywhere, honestly. So I sneer and most turned away.

“They’re afraid of us,” Simon mumbles.

“As they should be,” I reply deadpan. I go straight to the barkeep, a bulky white man with truly horrific mutton chops. “I need two rooms.”

The man crosses his unnaturally large arms. “We don’t serve... people like you.”

I grip the bar lip, nails digging into the half rotted wood. “Like me how? Hexes or brown people?”

He sneers at me. “Neither.”

The fire blazes in my eyes. Wood blackens under my skin. “Now listen here, you stupid bastard, you better rent us a room or-”

“Now, now, Basilton,” a familiar voice says, “no need to be so rude. I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”

“Hello, Nicodemus.”

Nico moves to stand next to me. His suit is cheap, the stitches fraying at the seams. He’s still got that sort of menacing look, but he looks tired too.

“Fancy seeing you here, Pitch. How’s your aunt?” He smiles, showing off his missing eye teeth. It makes me want to punch him in his stupid face.

“Why would you care, Petty? You’re the one who left her after everything she did for you.”

He hangs his head back with a groan. “Still defending your family’s honour, I see. Ain’t my fault I wanted to realise my full potential.”

“What, by getting your teeth pulled out so you could get magic? Even when my aunt warned you what a curse being a hex was? You’re still an arrogant idiot then.”

Nicodemus growls and grabs my wrist. His magic reaches out to clash with my own. It’s slick like oil, wrapping around my fire like a snake. But there’s a roughness to it. A sort of mangy, wild energy that I remember all too well from the hex duel with my aunt. Now, I can smell the acrid tang of it too. It leaves a sour taste in the back of my throat. I’m not surprised his magic is as disgusting as he is.

“Looks like you went through some shit too, Basilton,” he hisses. “You’ve got the same fire as dear old Fi. What, the guilt of letting your mum die finally get to you? Try to end it all? Too bad, you just became the monster she never wanted you to be instead.”

His power gnashes at mine, trying to rip it apart and eat it. But Nicodemus has made a fatal assumption; that he’s more powerful than me. I push back against him hard. The fire rushes through my every vein. I revel in the way Nico’s eyes go wide. My hand shoots up to his throat and I shove him down so hard his back bends against the wooden bar.

“You bastard,” I growl. “After all these years you still don’t know how to keep your bloody mouth shut.” I hold his throat even tighter. His eyes bug out of his skull. “Maybe I should shut it permanently.”

I open the gates within, and his magic begins to pour into me. It’s the world’s greatest adrenaline rush. I’m invincible, powerful, a bloody god. Nico gasps and tries to push me away. But I’m still stronger. He could never stop me.

“Baz!” Snow shouts. “Stop it!”

I turn to him with burning eyes. Everything I see is cloudy, like a smoke screen or rippling water. “Why?!”

“Because,” his voice is desperate, and maybe even caring, “we shouldn’t be the monsters they think we are. Just look at them, Baz!”

I still have enough sense to hear what he says. The patrons cower in fear, eyes wide with terror as they look at me. It’s not an expression anyone wants to be subjected to, or cause. And though I hate him, Nicodemus is right. My mother never wanted me to be this. Another terrible, murderous, evil hex.

With all my strength and good sense, I find the will to let Nicodemus’ neck go. His power rushes back into him with a sputtering gasp. I glare at him as I pull away, fingers still trailing with flames.

“Leave,” I say flatly. “Now.”

Nicodemus runs faster than I’ve ever seen a man run before. I take a few deep breaths. It takes a moment for my magic to balance out. It still yearns for Nicodemus’ power, but I beat it back into submission. I won’t let the hunger control me. Then I walk towards the now terrified barkeep.

“Rooms still not available?” He shakes his head frantically. “Good.” I slap down some American money. “Two rooms, please. Also throw in some whiskey. I need a drink after all that.”

The man picks two keys out of a box, then a bottle and glasses from the shelf. He shoves them both forward on the bar and takes two large steps back. I snatch them up with a tip of my ridiculous cowboy hat.

“Cheers, mate.”

Snow and I take a table in a corner. No one dares to look at us. I pour drinks for both of us and shove his glass to the other side of the table. We’re as far apart as we can be but it’s still risky. My power is still hungry. And Simon still smells delicious. But I won’t hurt him. I can’t.

“So,” Simon says, vowel drawn out, “who was that?”

I throw back the whiskey. It’s sour and burns my throat, but it's better than Slipfoot’s at least. “His name is Nicodemus Petty. He and my aunt Fiona were friends growing up. They bonded over their mutual family history of hexation. But when my aunt and his sister, Ebb, manifested magic as teenagers, Nico was jealous. Fiona and Ebb both tried to tell him that hex magic was far more of a curse than a blessing, but he never listened. He wanted the power. When I was about nine, he finally succeeded in activating his own latent magic.”

“By having two of his teeth ripped out...”

“Mhm. First thing he did was stumble all bloody mouthed to my aunt’s flat.” I clench the glass so hard I nearly break it. “The bastard attacked her by surprise, and tried to steal her magic. He almost killed her, but Fiona got a lucky shot and threw him out the window.” I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “As you can guess, I was there. It wasn’t pretty.”

“I can imagine.” He pulls in, picking at his nails nervously. “Um, if you don’t mind me asking...w-what was he talking about? With your mum?”

I pour myself another helpful shot of whiskey. I want to drown my brain in the stuff, honestly. I’ve never talked about my mum, it’s too painful, like ripping out a fingernail. But Snow has shown so much of himself to me. It seems unfair to hide. “My aunt and I aren’t the only hexes in our family.”

His eyes go wide as the revelation hits him, “Your mum is a hex too?”

I nod slowly, then drink the alcohol in one gulp. The warmth tingles in my veins and loosens my tongue. I stare at the glass, watching the light refract through it’s bends. “She was, but my father is human. They loved each other enough to not be scared, I guess. They never meant to have children. I was an accident, but my mother wanted me in spite of the risks. My father said she cried with happiness when she saw I was a boy. She thought if she kept me safe, I’d never become a full hex.” I flick a paint chip off the table with more force than necessary. “Then she died protecting me, doing what she promised.”

“How? Was it another hex?”

“Even worse, scared humans.” 

Snow’s face falls even more. He takes a long sip from his own drink. “So they tried to kill her?”

“They tried to kill all of us. Someone heard of my mother’s hexation, and they rallied a group together to fight our family. It wasn’t a real fight though. The cowards snuck in and tried to stab us. My mother killed almost all of them quickly” My fists clench so tight it hurts. “The last one nearly got me, but my mother stepped in front. He burned to ash just after he stabbed her through the throat.”

“Oh. Not even a hex could come back from that kind of wound...”

“I know,” I say between gritted teeth. “I know that very well, Snow.” I delicately place the glass down with a strained hand. “I...I tried to stop the bleeding but there was nothing I could do. I had no magic then. Even so, I doubt my powers could’ve helped.” A little flame pops up in my hand with barely a thought. Making fire is more natural than breathing for me, after all. I watch the scarlet snake dance between my fingers. “My family’s abilities have always been better at destruction.”

Simon takes another long sip, polishing off his drink. “I don’t know what my family’s like, but I hope they’re not like me. This power...it’s too much for anyone to have. I’d give it up in a heartbeat.”

“We all would, Snow. That’s what the humans don’t get. Most hexes are just as scared of themselves as humans are.” I pour my third drink. It’s been awhile since I’ve drank so much in one sitting, but if I’m going to get sozzled, tonight is a good time. “But that’s not up to us. We’re born like this. Nothing we can do but try to survive.”

“Believe me, I know that. All I’ve ever done is survive. In the orphanage, on the streets, here in America.” He lets out a small, sad laugh. “Hexation is how I ended up on the street, actually.” Snow looks directly down at the table. “When I was 11, I, uh, had a dream that I was exploding. When I woke up, the entire orphanage had been blown to pieces. Luckily no one was hurt, but the matron couldn’t very well keep a hex among other children.”

“So she thought sending you to roam among other humans was safer?”

He shrugs. “I don’t think she cared as long as I was far away from her.”

I scoff, swinging the glass between two fingers. “Sounds about usual for humans. What made you manifest? A particularly bad paddling from the matron?”

Snow chews on his bottom lip. His fingers drum the wood slowly. “I, uh, actually didn’t have to suffer. I’m one of those rare cases of sudden manifestation, apparently. That’s what Penny called it anyway. She said it was rare but possible.”

My grip on the glass gets even tighter. A sudden jealous rage consumes my mind. So Snow just exploded one day at eleven. That’s awful, of course, I’ll never deny that. But all I can think of is the coffin. The endless night of being trapped in that box, waiting for a relief that wouldn’t come, until I finally broke and became the last thing I ever wanted to be. I went through absolute hell. Of course I assumed Snow had to, like all other male hexes. But he didn’t. He’s never had the acute kind of torture I did. It’s not fair.

“Excuse me,” I say more harshly than I mean to, “I’m tired. I think I’ll turn in.”

Snow’s pretty plain eyes go wide. “O-Oh...okay. Good night, then.”

“Night.” I snatch the bottle up and leave the key for his room. Then I stomp up the stairs with irrational anger still burning me up. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t get past it. Male hexes get their magic through suffering. It’s a well known fact. How could Snow be like me without the same kind of pain? How could he ever fully understand me the way I thought he could?

The second my room door is closed, I drink down the last of the whiskey bottle. I’ve tried to avoid alcohol over the past few years. It would be far too easy for me to drink away the pain, the memories, the horrible guilt. Eventually, I’d drown myself in a bottle. That’s not a way I want to go. But one night of indulgence will be fine.

I wobble towards my bed, shedding my outer layers as I go. I collapse face first onto the old mattress. Whiskey clouds my mind. And when I finally pass out, all I see is empty darkness. I’m not sure if that’s better or worse than the nightmares.

———————————————

“...safe?”

“Out cold...”

The voices stay patchy as I slip in and out of consciousness. I try to force my eyes fully open, but the pounding in my head is too much. Indistinguishable figures move on the edges of my blurry vision. There’s little to no light. It must still be night, maybe only a couple hours since I passed out.

“Is..right thing?”

“Hex...Rook and Pargeter...dangerous...we...safe.”

“Fine.”

Something grabs both my wrists and my ankles. I try to struggle but I must still be too drunk. I can’t get my limbs to move save for some squirming. I try to summon my magic, but my mind can’t concentrate. It’s no use. Bloody hell, I’m trapped.

“Night night, hex,” a horrible voice says. Something soft is pressed hard against my face. I can’t take in air, I can’t breathe, I can’t fucking breathe. It’s like the coffin. No, I can’t do this again. I try to thrash harder and scream but it’s still no use.

Oh Lord, I’m going to die here. I wonder if I’ll see my mother on the other side. I wonder if I even have a soul to go to the other side. And I wonder how if Snow is okay. Christ, my last conversation with him ended in anger. If I had known, I would’ve said everything I’ve wanted to say this past week. But the first thing would be ‘I’m sorry.’

I’m sorry, Snow, for everything I said and thought. And I’m sorry for leaving you alone.

“Hey! Get off him, you bastards!” That voice is familiar even in my half drunken state. Thank whatever gods are listening that he’s okay.

“It’s the other one!” one of my assailants shouts. “Wasn’t Garth supposed to take care of him?!”

“That damn idjit fucked up!”

I hear the telltale signs of punches and kicks thrown about. One of the hands on me pulls off. All this excitement has thankfully sobered me up some. I kick some stupid bastard right in the stomach.

“Fuck!” they wheeze. The other humans are wise and let go of my wrist. I’m on my feet in a second.

“Bloody humans,” I growl out, still slurring slightly. “You can’t even let me fucking sleep?!”

The burly barkeep scowls at me. My would be murder weapon is still in his hand. “Eat shit, you demon.”

I scowl right back at him. “Oh, you want a demon? I’ll give you a fucking demon, love.”

The fire blazes up in me, all shining black and scarlet, and I make little effort to contain it. I let the flames fly out and encase the man almost completely. He screeches as his skin bubbles and burns under my powers.

“Stop it!” a woman yells. She comes at me with a knife raised. A whip of fire forms in my hand instantly. With one crack, it wraps around her wrist. She screams in the exact same way and lets her weapon clatter on the floor. She goes to her knees, clutching her blackened, blistered skin.

“You bastard,” she cries. “How could you?!”

“How could I!?” Even more fire plays over my hands. “I could ask you the same thing, human.”

“We’re trying to protect ourselves, monster!”

In that moment, in her eyes, I see every human who’s hurt me. The people who mocked me, who killed my mother, who turned me into this. All sense leaves my mind in an instant. “I’m a monster only because of you!”

With one wave of my hand, she’s thrown against the wall hard enough to make it shake. I spin around to see a man trying to crack Snow’s skull open with a butcher’s cleaver. One well aimed blast sends him flying as well. Another casts two aside. They don’t move much afterwards, but I find myself caring little. Let them die like my mother did.

“Baz, stop it!” Snow shouts. I ignore him as I send the last assailant against the wall, listening to their screams as I burn their chest. “Baz!”

“Fuck off, Snow!” I roar. “I- Ack!”

Pain rips through my shoulder. I clutch it and my hand becomes wet with what I assume must be blood. I fall forward. My nose cracks against the floor. I scream in pain and flames roar out of me in a massive plume They hit everything, including my shooter and the walls of the room. I can feel the whole space burning around us.

“Baz!” Snow’s voice is beyond panicked. I hear his footsteps rush toward me. His hands hover over me but won’t touch. He can’t touch me.

“Get out, Simon,” I rasp , turning my head to the side to look at him. He’s covered in bruises and ash. Yet he’s still so beautiful. “Run before more of them come.”

“Shut up, arsehole! I haven’t turned my back on you yet, and I’m not going to start now!”

If the world weren’t literally on fire right now, I’d find that touching. I close my eyes. At least my dying image will be of him. “Don’t be an idiot, Snow.” Surprisingly, the bastard fucking laughs. My eyes snap open again. The bloody back of his hand is pressed against his mouth as he giggles. “What the fuck is funny about this?”

“You,” he laughs, “called me Simon before.”

My face heats up, and it’s not from the fire. “No I didn’t.”

“We’re fucking dying and you can’t admit you used my first name?”

“I’m dying. You’re being an idiot and not running away like you should!”

“You’re too stubborn to die, Baz, and we both know it.” He jumps to his feet. “Get up, we’re getting out of here.”

“Snow-”

“Or are you too much of a yellow belly to get up and try?”

Oh, this bastard. In only two weeks, he’s learned me too well. I scowl at his stupid pretty face as I push myself up on my good arm. At the same time, thundering footsteps can be heard from the stairwell.

“That route is out of the question,” I say. “Where are we to go, Snow?”

“This way.” He holds his hand and in a mere two seconds, the opposite wall is blown to pieces in a rain of spark. “Now let’s go!”

“We’re on the bloody second floor!”

Snow runs towards the gaping hole and throws himself out. I rush to the edge, blood pounding in my ear. No, Snow cannot die, I can’t let him die. But to my utter shock and awe, Snow is floating his way down to the ground. He stops and starts and still hits the ground in an uncoordinated roll, but he’s okay.

“Oh, Snow, you brilliant moron,” I whisper.

“They’re probably still in there!” someone shouts from the hallway. I take a few steps back, breathe deep, and run off the splintered edge just as the humans burst through the door.

Instead of sending my fire outwards like usual, I keep it within me. I will my body to rise high like flames from a candle. My legs move slowly like I’m running in the air. Fuck, this is actually working. Slowly, I let my flame flick and die down, lowering myself along with it. I reach the ground with my own thud but stay on my feet. Snow grins at me. In all this horror, that is the greatest thing to see.

“Let’s get the horses and get out of here, Snow.”

“Agreed, Pitch.”

We sprint to the stables and thankfully find our steeds unharmed. I count ourselves lucky that our attackers didn’t consider them demonic too. Mounting is difficult with my left arm fucked up, but let it never be said that a human bullet could stop Basilton Pitch. I hold the reins with one hand as I spur him into a dash.

The wind whistles in my ears. Snow and I run even faster than we did from the Red Weed. Our kind is always good at running. It’s our natural state.

———————————————

Snow and I ride until it’s nearly dawn. The sky turns purple then crimson with the rising sun in front of us. When I see orange, my horse finally starts to tire out. Snow’s does the same. We slow down then stop.

“Think we’re far enough away?” Snow asks, breath short and strained.

“Yeah,” I reply, sounding the same. “I think they would’ve caught us by now if they were still after us.”

“Good point, good point.” Snow leans forward, putting his forehead on his horse’s neck. “God, I’m fucking knackered. I barely slept.”

“Me too. We should both sleep.”

“What if someone comes after us?”

“Point. Sleep in shifts?”

Snow nods. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Good.” I slowly dismount my horse, but get my footing wrong and start to fall. I grab the reins with my left arm and practically scream in pain.

“Baz!” Snow rushes towards me, but stops when I raise my good arm.

“Don’t...” I pant, “don’t come any closer. I’m injured, Snow, and my self control is severely weakened. So unless you wish for death now after just barely escaping it, back away.”

“Oh, yeah, right...” Snow backs far away just as he should, but my heart still aches. “What are we going to do about your shoulder?”

“I can fix it, but I’m going to need your belt”

Snow’s brows shot upwards. “My belt? What for?”

“Just throw it to me, Snow, for Christ’s sake.”

Thank God he doesn’t ask another stupid question. He just unbuckles the belt and does what I ask. I try to not let my hands shake as I fold the belt in half. The last time I did this was three years ago, when I sat in a London alleyway after a drunkard broke my leg, a mere four days after fleeing my home for good.

“Baz, what are you-”

“Snow,” I say firmly, “I need you to do me a favour.”

“Okay...?”

I sit on the ground, belt held tightly in my hand. “I need you to stay right there no matter what. Don’t move, don’t try to help. The best way you can help is to stay fucking still.”

“What the fuck is-”

“Promise me you won’t move, Simon.” I look him right in his blue eyes, my mouth a thin, serious line. “Promise me.”

Snow gives me a once over, then thankfully nods. “Okay, I promise.”

“Good.” I put the belt between my teeth. When I check on Snow, he looks beyond panicked. “If it makes it easier,” I say clumsily between the leather, “you don’t have to watch.”

“Baz-”

I slap my right hand over my left shoulder, and it feels like I’m burning from the inside out. My magic scorches my body as it wraps around my injury. The buck shot is pulled through my muscles and skin, ripping and tearing as they go, and I can feel every bit of it. I can also feel as my tissue and bone stretches to knit back together piece by agonizing piece. It’s an indescribable kind of pain. It’s what I imagine hell must feel like. I scream, I can’t help it, but luckily the belt is muffling as well preventing me from biting off a chunk of my tongue. Snow gasps in horror but he doesn’t move. He keeps his promises. I knew he would. He’s a far better man than me.

The burning fades as the skin finally seals shut. I cautiously move my hand, shaking off the shrapnel and gooey viscera that trails between my fingers. God, it's a nasty scab, mangled and uneven and horrifically inflamed. I can only hope the scar won’t be too bad. The one on my calf has faded overtime.

“Are you-”

“Not yet,” I say, cutting off a frightened looking Simon. “This one won’t take as long though.”

I touch my nose, feeling for where the breaks are. I squeeze my eyes shut, and with a horribly painful crack, I move it mostly back into place. I let out a short yell, but just pant and seethe as the bone and cartilage knit back together. I try to wipe the bloody snot from my hand but it's no use. Disgusting, but better than a broken nose. I feel around to make sure things are okay. Well, the tip is a bit crooked, but I can live with that. Right now, I’m thankful to be alive at all.

“Okay,” I sigh, finally taking the teeth mark covered belt out of my mouth, “now I’m done.”

“What the fuck was that?” Snow’s voice is somewhere between fascination and absolute horror. In short, a proper reaction.

“Something my aunt taught me. Hexes are essentially manipulators of energy and matter. And what are bodies but living energy and matter? With practice, you can fix any part of yourself.”

“But isn’t it painful?”

“Was that not obvious?” I snap. But Snow’s genuinely worried face softens my demeanor. “Yes, it’s excruciating. Hence why I try not to use the technique as much as I can.” I massage my still aching shoulder. “Today it was unavoidable, unfortunately.”

Simon runs a nervous hand through his dirty hair. “Fuck...”

I cough out a small laugh. “Yes, that sums it up pretty well.”

He laughs too, just as shaky and sad. “Sums up the whole night.”

The two of us keep chuckling softly in the wee hours of the morning. The ascending sun hurts my tired eyes. Using so much magic has taken everything out of me. I let out a long, deep yawn.

“You sleep first,” Snow says. “I’ll keep watch.”

“No, no, I can-”

“Baz.” He sounds firm, but also tired, and maybe even a little fond. I’m probably imagining that last one though. “Go to bed. I’ll wake you up in about eight hours.”

If I weren’t sleep deprived, magically drained, and recovering from grievous injuries, I would protest more. But Snow is damn lucky today. I simply sigh and stand up to get my cot from my saddlebags. I count our lucky stars we didn’t bring in too many of our supplies to the inn. Maybe God hasn’t completely abandoned us heathen monsters.

“I don’t have the energy to put up my shield,” I say, hoping my tone conveys enough.

“Okay,” Snow replies, “I’ll stay away, don’t worry. I keep my promises.”

My pulse flutters involuntarily. A smile creeps across my face no matter how hard I try to stop it. “I know you do, Simon.”

Snow gifts me one of his sunshine smiles. That’s the last thing I see before turning over and letting myself rest.

———————————————

Snow lets me sleep longer than eight hours. I’d be more mad if I wasn’t so exhausted. In return, I let him oversleep too. We’re both passed out by the time it’s dark again. Even hexes with all our inhumanity need to rest sometimes. Snow and I are lucky we get the chance this time.

In the morning, I reluctantly go to the next closest town. We did leave some of our things behind sadly, including most of our clothes. I’m damn well not going to keep roaming around the south of Texas in my bloody socks, and neither will Snow. I get us some new jackets, boots, and hats, ignoring the strange looks I get from the lily white shopkeeper. 

I grab us some more of that disgusting jerky too. If only good food could keep in these horrific conditions. When I reach the counter, the shopkeeper frowns at the things I lay out.

“You can pay for all this?” she asks. I scowl deeply. I’m too tired for this shit.

“Are people like me not allowed to have money here?” I snap.

“Ya can now, but in my experience, y’all darker folk are better at stealing my stock than paying.”

Bloody hell, I’m too tired for this racist shite. I slam two bills on the counter. “There. Hope I didn’t dirty these up too much for you.”

She glares at me hard. As she reaches for the money, I deliberately brush my finger on hers, and she yelps loudly. The edge of her index is red and inflamed. An undeniable burn mark, but far too small for anyone to believe it came from an evil, bloodthirsty hexslinger.

“Oh dear,” I say deadpan. “Your register must have gotten in the sun. Do be more careful.” I shovel the supplies in my bag as she looks at me wide eyed. “Have a nice day, ma’am.”

I can feel her scared eyes on my back as I leave. I get on my horse and ride out fast. No reason to stay in this shithole any longer. And I need to get back to Snow, where I belong.

———————————————

“Everything okay in town?” Snow asks.

I toss the bundle of clothes at him, along with a bag of jerky. “No one attacked me, if that’s what you mean. I didn’t get made for a hex. But I did get some flack for my skin tone.”

Snow’s face falls a bit. There’s something far too close to pity in his eyes. “Oh. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t, Snow. You’re in no place to apologize for some racist American bastards, it’s not your responsibility. Sorry from you means nothing.”

“But-”

“Would you accept an apology from me on behalf of all the rich men who have treated you like trash before?” Snow’s gaping mouth slowly closes. “Exactly. Now get those on. They’re slightly less dirty than our current garments.”

Snow nods and does what I say. I unbutton off my bloodstained shirt and wince as the tacky fabric peels off my skin. The scab has gotten a little better. That’s something I suppose. My eyes slowly move over to Snow without realising it. I steal a glimpse of his broad, bare back, golden like the rest of him. There are some jagged pink scars but they take nothing away how brightly he shines. I look away before I’m too tempted by what I can’t have.

“Much better,” Snow sighs as he slips on the new boots. “I’m surprised my feet haven’t been ripped to shreds yet.”

“Me too. I’m glad though, I didn’t want to do any more healing.”

“I don’t want you to either, fuck.” I hate how his concern makes me feel so good inside. “I’ll start setting up the fire. It’s going to get dark again soon.”

“By all means, Snow, do all the work. I won’t stop you.”

Snow snorts out a laugh, giving me a cheeky smile I can still see at this distance. Christ, I’m on fire, and for once it’s not from my magic. It’s so much better. I have to look away again before I do something ridiculous and deadly.

By the time the sun is down, Snow has made a wonderful small fire for the two of us. We both warm our hands from opposite sides. I don’t need to do it too much. My magic has almost fully replenished, for better or worse. And I’m so hungry that I actually enjoy the extremely salty bison jerky. Bloody hell, I’m turning into an American.

“Where are we going to go next?” Snow asks, mouth still full. “I’m guessing we should avoid any more towns.”

“Agreed. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not jump out of another building.”

“We certainly agree there. Christ, I was worried I was going to die.”

“Me too, Snow, me too.” I nervously fiddle with the string on my cloth bag. The words are coming out, and I can’t stop them. “I’m sorry, Snow.”

His brow adorably furrows. “Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for the way I acted that night, before I went to bed. I was very rude to you and I deeply apologize.”

“Oh...okay. Thanks.” He looks down, rubbing the back of his neck. “I-I was confused. Did I do something bad?”

“No, Snow,” I sigh, “you did nothing wrong. It was all me being stupid.”

“Okay...”

I sigh again. God, I can’t dance around it anymore. I have to tell him. After putting up with me for this long, he deserves to know.

“I was angry and...somewhat jealous of you.”

His eyes get very big. “Jealous? Of me?!”

“Yes, in a way. Because...you didn’t have to go through the same kind of suffering I did when I manifested. Which isn’t fair, because you lived on the streets while I grew up in a bloody mansion. It’s just not the same suffering I had, and I was angry I had to go through it when you didn't. Which is absolutely ridiculous, and I’m sorry I pushed that on you.”

“If you don’t mind me asking...what happened?”

I stare at him for a long moment over the fire. He holds my gaze, eyes round with worry and care. It hurts me in the most exquisite way. “It’s not a pretty story, Snow.”

His mouth pulls into a sad, slight smile. “Weren’t you the one who said that all hexes live through hardship, and we have nothing to be ashamed of?”

I chuckle and shake my head. “Using my words against me, a tactic of a true devious hex.”

He shrugs, still wearing that little smile. “What can I say? I can live up to our reputation sometimes.” Snow’s face falls again. “So what happened?”

With a deep sigh, rubbing my forehead, I start the horrid tale.

“My family always knew there was a chance I could be a hex,” I say. “But since my aunt couldn’t sense any magic on me pre manifestation, we assumed that I wasn’t too powerful, and manifestation could be avoided if we were careful. So I lived in the aforementioned secluded mansion all my life and I was never allowed to leave the grounds. All my time was spent reading, doing school work, or learning about hexation from my aunt, just in case. Everything in my life revolved around my mere potential to be a hex. I could never do or see anything. I felt like a prisoner. And when I was 18, I had enough.

“One evening, I snuck out of my room and went into the nearby town. I just wanted to see what was outside my home. But I was a naive sheltered kid. Of course I got lost on my way there and went into an area I never should have. Someone had knocked me out cold, and next thing I knew, I was in a cramped, dark box.”

“A box? What do you mean a box?”

I clench my fists tight until the shaking stops, then slowly let go. “It was a coffin, Snow. I had been trapped inside a coffin.”

I can almost feel the way Snow’s stomach must drop out at those words. I know, mine did the same when I realised where I was that night. “W-Why?!”

“It was hard to hear him through said coffin, but I got the main idea. He came from some old witch hunter family but had never caught an actual hex, until me. He’d heard the stories about my mother and had been secretly spying on me for months. When I escaped, he took his chance to kidnap me.”

“So he took you just to taunt you from outside a coffin?”

“I wish that was all he did,” I grumble. “He told me that the coffin was a test. There was a chance the hexation had skipped me over. If I was a hex, being stuck in the coffin would make me manifest, then he could kill me in good conscience. If I wasn’t and didn’t manifest, well, as he put it; ‘there are always casualties in the war for righteousness, boy.’”

Snow’s jaw drops to the grassy ground. “So even if you were human, he would’ve killed you anyway?”

“Mhm, mad bastard.” 

“How long did he keep you there before you escaped? A few days?”

I take long, steady breaths, beating back the old fear that creeps up my throat like bile. I can almost still smell that unique rotten scent from the coffin. I’ll never forget it. I never can.

“Snow,” I say slowly, “I was in that coffin for six weeks.”

And I thought he looked horrified before. Snow drops his jerky bag, hands shaking. I want to grab them, hold them still, comfort him in whatever way I can. The urge is almost stronger than the Call.

“S-Six weeks?! How are you still alive?”

“Thank the witch hunter,” I grumble. “He drilled very small air holes in the lid, and gave me enough food and water to keep me alive but starving. I think, hex or not, he wanted me to suffer because I was my mother’s son. A hex’s child was just as guilty of sin in his eyes.” I rub the bridge of my nose. It aches with the pain of my past. “At the time, I had no idea how long I was in there. It was just one endless night of torture. I begged and pleaded with the hunter to let me go, but he only laughed and called me pathetic hex scum. After six weeks, well, he finally got what he wanted.”

“You manifested.”

“Almost as violently as you did.” I trace the lines of my hand, the skin rough from my fire. I remember my mother’s hands being the same. “The details are blurry, but I remember enough. It started as just a tingling in my gut, but soon it became a burn. And then it spread as quickly as a forest fire.”

“Is it always fire with you?” The corner of Snow’s lip quirks up. The bit of teasing lilt in his voice makes me feel a bit lighter. I can't help but smile back a little.

“Usually, yes. It's always run very strong in my family.” I bounce a flame between my fingers. The movement is strangely calming to me. “I quickly learned I was no different. Before I knew it, I let out a massive ring of fire in every direction. It blew the coffin apart, of course, and turned my captor into a charcoal husk.”

Snow scoffs, a surprisingly vicious expression on his face. “Better than he deserved.”

“Agreed. I have no idea what happened to his body. I left almost immediately, though I wasn’t fully conscious. Six weeks in the coffin had deprived me of most of my mental faculties. Luckily, he kept me not far from home, and I could wander back on pure muscle memory. But going home turned out to be a terrible idea.” I grab the small fire and snuff it out in one go. But my fist stays clenched. “My aunt had been staying there while everyone searched for me. The second I walked through the front door, I could easily smell her. She was overjoyed to see me, until she smelled me too. And as I said, most of my mental faculties were gone.”

“So you attacked her on instinct.”

I chuckle sadly. “Quick study there, Snow. I didn’t even know what I was doing. I was just so bloody hungry all of sudden. I can’t even describe it.”

“You don't need to describe it to me, Baz.” He brings his knees under his chin. “I’ve felt hex hunger too. It’s...awful when you’re in the middle of it.”

“And when you’re not, you try to drown it out or distract yourself. But deep down, you know one day you’ll give up and listen. Then it will take over.”

Snow nods, looking at me in the eye. I’ve seen so much profound sadness in a person’s face. “And you’ll hurt someone, no matter how much you’ll regret it later.”

If I have a soul, it’s aching horribly. How could fate be so cruel as to give me Snow? So wonderfully brave and kind to a fault, and who actually understands what my life is like. The perfect man. And someday soon, he’s going to kill me. There’s no doubt I’ll be the one to die. I won’t kill him, not ever. I’d let him take everything from me before I’d kill him.

“Did you hurt your aunt?”

Thankfully, I can shake my head to that. “No, not at all. She was an experienced magic user, while I was a starving, half crazed newly minted hex. She took me down in seconds. When I woke up again, I was cleaned up and in my room. It took a second to regain my bearings, but I soon remembered what had happened...what I had become. There wasn’t any debate in my mind. Within an hour, I had packed my most practical clothes along with any small valuables I could pawn. Then I ran away and never looked back.”

“Which is how you ended up in America.”

“What better way to protect my family from me than by putting an ocean between us? At first, I stayed in an empty little corner of the American frontier. I just wanted to live out my lonely hex existence as long as possible. I didn’t expect the Call or this looming hex war.”

“No one did,” Simon sighs. “Hexes working together has never been possible before. Who could’ve imagined some American preacher would team up with an Aztec goddess to do just that?”

“Fair point. But now he’s made our existences much harder in a way. Look what those humans tried to do to us at the inn. They were even more scared because of Rook”

“Yeah...”

I groan, pushing my face into my hands, rubbing it up and down. “I never asked to be like this. I tried my hardest to avoid being like this. Then that choice was ripped away from me by some madman. Now I’m trapped between murderous humans or a bloodthirsty witch goddess. Why am I here? Why do I have to be here?!”

“Baz-”

“I don’t want this,” I choke out through my building sobs. “I want to see my family again. I just want to go home!”

I breathe hard and fast, holding back tears with all my strength. No, I refuse to cry. I swore to never cry again after the coffin, because I wasn't sure I could survive falling apart again. Yet here I am. I thought I had shed every tear I have there. I’m so pathetic.

“It’s okay,” Simon says. His voice is far louder than before. “Whatever you’re feeling is okay. It’s...it’s okay if you’re not.”

Slowly, cautiously, I lower my hands, blinking away the tears that had collected. I inhale sharply. Snow is less than two feet away from me. I can count the moles on his face, see the golden highlights in his bronze. But worse, his unbelievably delicious scent fills every cavity of my nose.

“You really shouldn’t sit so close, Snow,” I whisper. My eyes fall down and become completely fixed on Simon’s plush lips.

“I know,” he says under his breath, “but I don’t care.”

He touches my hand, and I feel his magic run through me. That explosive sensation pulses through my veins so hard it almost makes me gasp. The instinctual part of my brain goes fucking mad. It wants me to grab his throat and drain every drop of his magic, his essence, his very soul. My breathing gets shallow and laboured.

“Simon...” I say.

And then he kisses me.

It’s cautious and shy. His lips barely brush against mine, but I feel it everywhere else, especially in the way our powers rise to meet each other. The magic collides, but doesn’t clash. They meld and twist together at our points of contact, desperately needing to connect.

Snow opens his mouth, turning the kiss into one of pure heat and hunger. I gladly do the same. He grabs either side of my face and shoves his tongue down my throat. I grip his collar and push back against him. My entire body is filled with endless energy. I’m a star going supernova. And I want to explode with Simon. My nails scratch viciously across his neck. He clenches his fist in my hair, pressing our faces closer. I shudder as Simon bites hard on my bottom lip. I’m wrapped in cold heat, wrapped up in him. I feel so alive. It feels so right. But it’s wrong.

With all the strength I have, I shove Snow off me. We both fall back on the ground, breaking our closed circuit of feeding on each other simultaneously. Simon scrambles further away panting. I’m similarly out of breath. Both our lips trail white smoke, like they’ve been singed by ice. My magic readjusts after being sucked away and added to all at the same time. A bit of Snow’s explosive energy still sits in me, swirling around like a miniature star. We just stare at each other wide eyed for a long time.

“Shit,” Simon whispers.

I sigh heavily, running a shaky hand through my hair. “Well said.”

“We nearly killed each other.”

“Mages don’t meddle, Snow. We both know that.”

Simon groans, clutching his hair in his fists. “I know, I know. I almost killed Penny last time and I swore it would never happen again. But look at me now. Of course I fuck up.” I can see tears forming under his eyes. “What’s the point of being an all powerful hex if it means being alone forever?! I can blow up a building with my mind but I can’t even bloody kiss you! It’s not fair!”

I pick at my shirt sleeve with shaking fingers. “Maybe God is punishing us.”

“We didn’t ask to be like this, Baz!”

“That doesn’t change what we are, Simon! We’re freaks of nature, cannibalistic monsters!” I nearly rip through the fabric of my shirt. I'm so angry and so fucking tired. “Maybe we truly are devil spawn or something, like all the humans say. Maybe they’re right to be scared of all of us...”

I turn away from him, just staring at the fire. The sting of the smoke keeps me from sinking too low into my self loathing. Snow moves in my peripheral. We sit side by side. My skin prickles as he hovers his hand over mine. It takes every bit of my will to not try and drain him again.

“There’s somewhere we can go where we aren’t 'Devil spawn,'” he says.

I tense up. “Simon, that’s risky. It could all be a farce.”

“I don’t care if you think it’s just a farce, Baz! It’s still a chance. For you and me, for us.” He lightly brushes one of my fingers. I have to rip my hand away before I hurt him again. His pretty eyes are filled with pain. “See? Wouldn’t you like to stop doing that? Isn’t it worth the risk?”

I’ve been running for most of my life. I ran from my mother's legacy for as long as I could. I ran from my family when I feared my own hunger. And I could run now, from Simon and the fear of killing him. But I’d also be abandoning the chance for some sort of happy life. It may not be perfect, but it would be far more than my ancestors ever had before. Can I sacrifice that for fear?

“I’m tired, Snow,” I say weakly. “We should both get some rest.”

“But Baz-”

“Let me sleep on it, alright? Please?”

Snow takes in a deep breath, and lets out a long sigh. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

I want to kiss him so badly right now. Just grab his gorgeous, sunshine face and kiss him goodnight. Since I can’t, I smile as genuinely as I can at him. It’s not easy for me, but I mean it with him. “Goodnight, Simon.”

Snow stares at me for a long moment. But slowly, a smile creeps across his face too. The fondness threatens to melt me, “Goodnight, Baz.”

We keep our eyes locked for as long as we can. When I finally lay down, putting my crackling shield around me, the image of Snow’s wonderful face relaxes me into sleep.

———————————————

I bang my fists against the wood over and over, ignoring my already numerous splinters.

“Help!” I yell. “Someone help me! Please, get me out of here!”

All my pleas fall on deaf ears, as usual. No matter what I do, no matter how loud I scream. I’m stuck in this damned coffin. I scratch at it until my fingernails tear from their beds. Blood drips into my mouth, leaving an iron taste in the back of my scream sore throat.

“I’m not a fucking hex! I just want to go home!” I sob so hard I nearly choke on my own breath. “Just let me go home.”

My aching arms finally fall. I curl in on myself as much as I can within my confines. I close my eyes, but there’s little to no difference in the endless pitch black. Tears run hot down my face. They leave small trails in the dirt that’s accumulated over...however long I’ve been here. I don’t know anymore. Time is meaningless where there’s no sunrise or sunset. Life is meaningless in here.

“Baz?”

His voice is far away, but it still rings clear. My eyes slide open. “Simon?”

“Oh lord. Hang on, Baz! I'll get you out!”

I can only hear as Snow desperately tugs at the coffin lid. It should be impossible, the thing is nailed shut, but somehow Snow rips it open. The light is dim yet still hurts my eyes. I can't help but hiss at the pain.

“It’s okay, Baz,” he says in that unbelievably soft tone.

His hand reaches to me through the blinding light. Slowly, I reach back. And when I hold it, I know I’m supposed to be in pain, but I’m not. Instead, I’m just calm, happy, safe. Snow slowly pulls me out. His arms snake around my back, holding me up. He looks me over, taking in my decrepit, decayed state from ages in that damn box. And miraculously, he smiles. Even like this, he looks at me with such care.

“You’re alright now, Baz. I’m here.” He cups my face. “I’m here for you.”

Emotions clog up my throat and tears run down my cheek, but this time they’re for a good reason. I put my own shaking hand on his golden face. He’s so warm. “Yes, you are. And I’m here for you too, Simon.”

He’s still grinning as I lean forward, pressing my lips to his. But this time there’s no fear I’ll kill him. There’s just the utter joy of being with the one who understands me best, the one I want the most.

Oh, how I want this.

———————————————

I blink awake slowly. The morning sun is just rising over the horizon, turning the grassy landscape violet. I sit up and see the now familiar body on the other side of the fire. Snow sleeps in a knot, arms and legs pulled in. The furrow in his brow says he’s in the middle of a nightmare too. Though mine wasn’t one by the end. Not when he was there.

My mind is made up.

Once again, I’m packing my things lowly, waiting for Snow to wake. Luckily, he stirs while I’m only halfway through tying up the cot. He rubs the sleep from his eyes in such a terribly adorable way.

“Morning,” I say.

“Morning,” he yawns. “Are we going now? Or...are you?”

My heart seizes, but only for a moment. He’s right to be concerned. The fact that we’ve travelled together for two weeks without killing each other is a miracle among hexes. After last night’s close call, a sensible man would leave and never return. I was once a sensible human man. But I’m a deranged, bloodthirsty hex now. Why not act like one?

“You should get up and start packing, Snow. If we’re going to make it to the Mexican border before nightfall, we’ll have to ride fast.”

His eyes go rounder than a full moon. “You mean...”

I pull the pack tie tight. “We’re going to Hex City.”

“What changed your mind?

I sigh heavily, then walk over to him. I stay at a safe distance of course but Snow’s magic pulls me to him, my body begging me to take it. Instead, I simply hold out my hand to him. Snow stares for a moment but does catch on. He offers his own to me. Once again, our magics reach out to each other, wisps of fire and lightning twining together. It sends a faint whisper of that explosive adrenaline through my veins. So incredible and so wrong.

I snap my hand away, fists clenched hard. “Because of that. If I were a more selfless person, I would simply leave, but unfortunately I’m not. Are you?” Snow looks me over. His eyes pierce me in a way no one’s ever has before. He slowly shakes his head. “Exactly. I may be scared of Rook and his goddess, but I’m more scared of hurting you. There’s only one place where I won't.”

“Hex City.” He chews on the corner of his bottom lip. “What if you’re right though, and Rook’s price is too high?” 

“Then at least we’ll pay it knowing we tried to have a real life, instead of running like we’ve always had to.” I stand straight with my head held high. No matter the fear, I’m sure of this. “I think we’ve both suffered long enough, Simon.”

The way Snow’s face relaxes means the world to me. I love seeing that, seeing what he looks like without the heavy burden of hexation on his shoulders. Maybe I’ll be able to see that more in Hex City.

“It’ll probably be nice there,” he says. “I mean, a city made for hexes by hexes is going to be weird, but I bet it’ll look amazing in it’s own way.”

I chuckle and nod. “Agreed. Buildings and roads made by magic will certainly be interesting.”

“Penny would probably want to study them.” He sighs, but there’s a lightness to. “Maybe Penny will come one day, and I could see her again.”

“Maybe. I would love to meet her. I might be able to see my aunt again one day, too. I could introduce you to her.”

He beams so bright at me I fear I’ll get sunburnt. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Me too, Snow. So let’s get going.”

We finish packing very quickly. Snow gets on his horse as clumsy as he usually does. I snort at the way his American cowboy hat nearly falls off his head. The death glare he gives me has little impact, what with the way he’s grinning. He hasn’t stopped grinning almost since he woke up. I can’t blame him. I have trouble controlling my smile either.

“Ready?” he asks. As if he even has to. I’ve made my choice, and I’m sticking to it.

“Ready,” I say. “Let’s go.”

Snow and I both send our horses into gallops. We soar across the grassy plain, the Texas sun illuminating our way. The impending hex war still looms over us. But I will fight until my last breath to keep any happiness Simon and I can find.

I can almost see our future. Soon, we’ll reach the terrifying and wonderful Hex City. Rook will ask for his price, and we’ll pay, because it’ll mean a freedom we've never known before. We’ll be able to hold hands, kiss whenever we want, sleep in the same bed, simply be around each other with no fear of our hexacious hunger. It’s more than I could have ever dreamed of even a few months ago.

For once, I’m going to run towards something good, instead of away from the darkness inside me. I cannot wait.

———————————————

AN: And that's all folks! I hope people enjoyed that, even if y'all have never read Hexslinger. If you wanna read the books, I highly recommend them, tho be warned they require trigger warnings for all the stuff here and more. Almost anything that usually needs a trigger warning is in those books. I'm okay with reading it, but I also completely understand others not liking that shit.

In the positives, it's an extremely interesting and complex series dealing with survival, discrimination, identity, the pain that can come with love, and the unlikely bonds formed between people. The world building is amazing and the magic system is super cool. What I love the most are the characters, who are all very interesting and complex. No one is 100% good or evil, they're just people trying to find ways to achieve their goals or simply live. What actions they take are up for moral debate, but a lot of the time they're at least understandable. There's a lot of period typical bigotry, and it's much more vicious than what I wrote here, but what I love is that there a lot of diverse characters who say "fuck that" and fight back against the shit they get. You've got queer, Indigenous, black, latinx, Chinese, and Jewish main characters in a wild west story who are all well rounded and interesting. That's pretty awesome imo.

Okay enough gushing about Hexslinger lol. Hope this story was good. No guarantee when my next fic will be out. Work and school are killer. Until then, see you later!

[spaceskam]

there’s no use trying, it’s like denying the sun

ao3

warning for temporary character death, blood/gore all over the place, being drugged, guns, invasion of someone’s mind, and vague mentions of The Event in 2x06 (ps this isn’t intended to be anti-maria or anything, I did my best to be fair to her, but she isn’t portrayed in the BEST light. I like to think it was more of a human-error in the context of this fic, but also just a warning)

“Closing time.”

Maria smiled as she looked up at Michael who strolled a bit closer to her, locking the front door with his mind. She would forever find that impressive and yet she didn’t have the right words to express that. So, instead, she rolled her eyes. 

“So, what’s the plan?” he asked. She took a deep and cocked her head to the side.

“Well, you could wipe down tables for me.”

“I got you,” he said boldly.

And it should’ve just been that, but Maria gasped and her mind warped. Suddenly, she wasn’t in her bar. She was somewhere else entirely. She didn’t know where, but she was there.

In front of her, Michael was on his knees and holding someone while he cried.

“I got you,” Michael said, sniffling harshly as he rocked that person back and forth, “I got you. It’s okay, I got you.”

Maria hesitantly moved closer, curious to see who he was holding. She was suddenly in front of him now and it was plain as day as he cradled Alex in his arms in a pool of blood. His hand was pressed over Alex’s chest, but it didn’t seem to stop the bleeding. Alex wasn’t conscious anymore, he wasn’t breathing. The sight was horrific.

“It’s gonna work, I promise,” Michael said, voice breaking as he sobbed and pressed down a little harder on Alex's chest, “Any second now, I’m gonna fix it. I’m gonna heal you, just gotta hold on ‘til then. I got you.”

Maria’s entire body ached and she didn’t know how to tell him that Alex was dead. There was no healing. He was too late. He wasn’t strong enough to heal, much less a full blown resurrection.

But then she was back in the Wild Pony, bracing herself against the bar as she tried to breathe. Michael was staring at her, worry etched on his face.

“What just happened?” he asked, “Did you see you something?”

Maria steadied her breath and stared at him, more than a little lost. Should she tell him? Would that make it worse? Kyle’s thing was different and so were the few other bad things she’d seen. She saw signs, she knew where they were. Alex, though... She had no fucking idea how they’d get in that situation. She couldn’t just tell him that Alex was going to die in his arms when she couldn’t prevent it.

She shook her head, swallowing hard and trying to manage a smile.

“Yeah, it was just, uh, it was just Alex getting a package,” she lied. Michael furrowed his eyebrows and pursed his lips.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, like, was it a bomb or something? Don’t you usually see bad stuff?”

Maria scoffed, trying her best to act normal, “I don’t always have to see bad stuff.”

“I mean, okay, but maybe you should text him to be careful just in case,” Michael said.

Maria forced a laugh and nodded. Now what?

-

“Liz. Liz, I did something bad.”

Liz looked up from where she stood behind the counter at the Crashdown. Maria hadn’t been able to sleep the entire night before, tossing and turning beside Michael as she tried to rationalize the lie that she couldn’t go back on. If she told him, he’d hate her.

“What happened?” Liz asked softly. Maria just looked at her as urgently as possible, chewing on her thumb nail like she hadn’t done since she was a kid. Liz seemed to notice and she quickly flagged down the other waitress, telling her she’d be right back before she led Maria to the back of the house and then into the stairwell that led to the apartment. Once they got there, Maria couldn’t hold back her tears anymore.

“I had another vision when I was with Michael last night and I lied about it and I shouldn’t have lied because something bad is gonna happen and I know and I can’t stop it and I don’t know what to do,” she rambled. Liz instantly moved in, grabbing her arms to steady her. Maria latched on.

“Well, what was it? I can fix it, just tell me,” Liz said. Maria shook her head. The words were too horrible to say. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”

“It’s Alex,” Maria whispered, bowing her head as she thought about it. Liz clutched her a little tighter.

“What about Alex?” Maria whimpered softly, shaking her head. “Maria, you’re scaring me. What’s going to happen to Alex?”

“I should’ve just told him, he’s going to hate me,” she said, gasping for a breath through her tears, “I just got him to myself.”

“Maria, forget about him, what did you see happen to Alex?” Liz said, chasing Maria’s gaze. 

Maria put her hand to her mouth as she choked on a sob, shaking her head.

“Someone’s going to kill him.”

-

“Alex!” 

Alex turned to the sound of his name, seeing Liz running towards him still in uniform. He gave a confused smile and gave her his full attention as she ran up to him.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked playfully. Except, as she came to a stop in front of him, he realized she wasn’t playful at all. In fact, she looked terrified. “What happened?”

“What are you planning on doing in the next two days?” she asked. He tilted his head.

“Um... Nothing? Why?”

“What do you mean nothing? Like, details on nothing,” Liz told him. Alex just stared at her like she’d lost it. “Just humor me.”

“I don’t know, Liz. Work, home, work, home. That’s it, same old, same old. Research in the middle probably. Why?” he said. She let out a big sigh, her shoulders dropping.

“You don’t happen to have any plans to go anywhere alone with Michael, do you?” Liz asked. 

Alex felt discomfort brew in his stomach at the man’s name. He hadn’t seen him in nearly three weeks, both of them avoiding each other like the plague as they tried to move past everything. However, it was definitely hard to move past when every time he slept, he got a new, better version of that stupid night. His subconscious seemed determined to erase Maria from the equation and, honestly, he found it hard to try to fight that. 

“No, why would I?” Alex asked, trying not to show how uncomfortable he felt at the mention of him. Last night’s version included him getting stabbed and Michael immediately appearing and punching the guy in the face before carrying Alex off, patching him up in a way that was straight out of a raunchy erotica. Definitely hard to feel comfortable with that on the brain.

“No reason,” she said, shifting as she clearly debated something in her mind, “Just, um, stay away from him for awhile, okay?”

“Have been,” Alex said, feeling more confused by the second, “What’s going on, Liz? Is something wrong?” 

She stared at him, eyes betraying her guilt. Worry slowly but surely started to fill his entire system. Was he hurt? 

“No,” she said, “Just... stay away from him, please?”

“Okay,” Alex agreed. She stared at him for a few seconds longer before coming close and hugging him. He froze for a moment before slowly hugging her back. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“Yeah,” she promised, slowly letting him go, “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, of course,” he promised. Liz nodded and slowly backed away. 

The whole thing was weird and, by the time he made it to his truck, his worry had sky rocketed. Had something happened to Michael and they didn’t want him to know? Did something happen between him and Maria and they were saving Alex from the heartbreak? That was unlikely.

As he turned the key, Alex decided that stopping by the junkyard couldn’t hurt. He could make up a lie about his truck and just see for himself that Michael was okay. He just... he needed to make sure.

Sure enough, as Alex pulled up, Michael was leaned over an engine and talking on the phone. He looked fine. That gave him a little bit of solace, but Alex couldn't help himself. He just needed to be sure that he was okay. And maybe on an embarrassing level, he just wanted to hear his voice again.

Alex got out of the truck and slowly made his way to him, reciting his excuse in his mind while Michael seemed to get increasingly irritated with whoever was on the other end of the line. He did his best not to eavesdrop, but, well, he was talking loud.

“No, I haven’t been practicing... Who the hell would I practice on? Do you know someone who likes to get hurt repeatedly for my own personal power trip?... No, Maria, I’m not mad at you, but–... Okay, fine, I’ll try to work on it, Jesus, you don’t have to lecture me.... Not mad!... Sorry, fuck, I’m working... Yeah, bye,” Michael sighed. Was it petty of Alex to find joy in his irritation?

“Hey,” Alex called. Michael looked over at him, back straightening as they locked eyes. 

“Hey,” Michael said, voice uncharacteristically kind, “Um, how are you?”

Alex furrowed his eyebrows and he gave a soft laugh, overwhelmed with confusion at Michael’s body language and tone. He didn’t act like that literally ever. It seemed like Alex’s renewed presence had drained him of all his cocky behavior.

“Uh, fine,” Alex said awkwardly, “How are you?”

Michael looked him over and licked his lips, seeming like he was trying to find his words. Which was, again, uncharacteristic. What the hell had happened since he saw him last?

“I’ve missed you,” Michael admitted bluntly. Alex blinked and his eyes went wide, feeling thrown even further off course. Was he in the wrong universe? Was this why Liz didn’t want him to go anywhere near him? “I kinda got used to you being around–platonically, of course–and I didn’t realize how much I would miss you when you weren’t bothering me every day. I’m sorry I fucked things up so badly. Again.”

“I think that was a compliment and an apology?” Alex said, laughing slightly as he shifted. This was weird. What exactly did Liz give him? “Um, are you okay? You’re being weirdly honest.”

“I just... You ever feel like something bad is gonna happen and you have no basis for why you feel that way, but it doesn’t stop you from feeling like it? Because I keep feeling like something bad is gonna happen to you with no basis and it’s really fucking annoying and then you just showed up, so it felt like a sign,” he rambled. Alex gave a soft smile as it clicked that Liz didn’t give him anything. This was him just being human for once.

“Anxiety,” Alex filled in. Michael licked his lips and shrugged.

“I guess...” he said. He shook off the weirdness. “Anyway, what brings you ‘round here if it’s not life threatening?”

“Um,” Alex started, considering using the excuse he’d concocted on the way here, but decided against it. Michael was being honest, why shouldn’t he? “Anxiety, too, I guess. Liz told me to leave you alone and I was worried.”

Michael’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion, genuinely taken aback by that statement.

“She told you to leave me alone? What the fuck?” he asked. Alex shrugged. “Man, first Maria’s acting weird, now Liz.”

“And you,” Alex teased. Michael rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, maybe the planets are aligned in some type of way.” Michael huffed a laugh.

“I don’t know, just seems weird.”

“Yeah,” Alex sighed, looking around and trying to find an excuse to stay. Liz said to leave him alone, but if it was just because he was feeling anxious, then he wasn’t about to do that. He missed him too. “So, I heard you need someone to practice healing on.” Michael tilted his head.

“You eavesdropping now, Private?” Michael asked. Alex shrugged and took a step closer, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I’ve got nothing better to do,” Alex said, “Why not help a friend? Platonically, of course.”

Michael’s face split into a smile. “Okay.”

Which is how Alex found himself sitting outside the airstream and cutting open his palm with a sterilized knife like he was in Supernatural and planning to activate some kind of sigil. Michael looked at him hesitantly as he scooted closer, taking Alex’s hand between his.

“Have you ever done this before?” Alex asked.

“Uh,” he laughed awkwardly, “No. So, sorry if this takes a minute.”

“Take your time, I’ll be fine, just focus,” Alex encouraged. He nodded and licked his lips, his eyes closing as he focused really hard.

In fact, it might’ve been too hard because his face was going red instead of his hands.

“Are you breathing?” Alex asked, trying not to laugh. Michael groaned and separated their hands for a second, wiping his bloody and sweaty ones on his jeans. Alex didn’t do that if only because his hand was still bleeding. “Breathe and focus. Just imagine it healing.” 

“I am.”

“Don’t imagine your hands glowing,” Alex told him, not having to even get confirmation that’s what he was doing. He knew Michael well enough for that. “Imagine my skin coming together.”

“Right,” Michael said, nodding and grasping Alex’s hand between his own again. They sat there, palm to palm, and waited. After a couple minutes, Michael sighed. “You’re still bleeding and it’s not working, let me get a–“

“Hey,” Alex said, mindlessly reaching out to touch his chin gently with his non-bloody hand. He wasn’t quite sure why he did that, but he would blame it on the fact that they’d been holding hand for ten minutes. But he still immediately dropped it when it effectively got Michael’s attention. “I’m okay, it’s not gushing blood or anything. You can heal it, you just need to focus.”

Michael stared at him in the eyes like he’d just told him the most confusing thing in the world. There had to be something going on because this was weird. Alex loved it, but it was weird. Michael didn’t just look at him like that for no reason.

“Hey, are you okay? For real, like, is something going on?” he asked.

“I mean, no,” Michael laughed weakly, “Just... you sound like you believe I can actually do it.”

“I do believe that,” Alex said.

“Why?”

“Because you’re literally biologically capable of it,” Alex stated simply, “You just need a little bit of positive reinforcement.”

“Positive reinforcement?”

“Yes,” Alex confirmed, layering his other hand on top of Michael’s, “You can do this. I believe in you.”

Michael huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he turned his focus onto their hands. “Gonna make a man melt, Manes.”

Alex smiled easily, shaking his head. Sometimes he wished he could know exactly what he was thinking. This was one of those times. He didn’t exactly know how to read what he was saying or the way he was acting. Yes, he was being uncharacteristically nice, but how long would that last? Was this simply self-sabotage? Was this just another way for Alex to get his hopes up before Michael went back to Maria?

But, more importantly, how much more touching did Michael want to green-light before that happened?

They sat there for awhile, Alex trying to hype him up while Michael tried his best to focus. Eventually, though, the sun went down and the blood was starting to dry and their palms were sticking together in a way that burned a little bit. Alex hissed slightly when Michael pulled away a little and it stung.

“Let’s take a break,” Alex suggested and Michael nodded easily. He pursed his lips as he checked Alex’s cut, holding his hand closer to his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Realized I didn’t wash my hands after handling that engine, making sure there’s no dirt or oil in your cut. Don’t want it getting infected if I can’t heal it,” he mumbled more to himself than than to Alex. He eventually dropped his hand though. “Want a beer?”

“Sure,” Alex agreed, watching him in an almost mesmerized fashion as he got up and went into the airstream. What the hell had happened over the last three weeks that made him so nice? Is that really what Maria was doing for him? Maybe she was good for him. The idea hurt him a lot more than he was willing to admit. 

But Michael came back with two beers, a small flask, and a wet rag. Alex watched as he plopped down in the old chair and pulled his hand back into his grasp. Then he opened the flask and poured it directly onto Alex’s wound.

“Oh my g–What the fuck, Guerin?!” Alex snapped, yanking his hand away as it started burning.

“Vodka,” Michael said, flashing a teasing little grin, “To sterilize it. Give me your hand, here’s your beer.”

“You don’t use vodka to sterilize someone’s hand,” Alex scolded, but he still gave him his hand back. Michael started carefully wiping away the dried blood with the rag.

“Didn’t have any rubbing alcohol.”

“Everclear’s close enough, I guess,” Alex said dryly. Michael flashed a smile and popped the caps off the beers with a simple nod of his head. Alex laughed and reached for one. “Alright, show-off, we get it, you’re cool.”

Michael looked up at him through his eyelashes. “You think I’m cool?”

“I mean, you’re a telekinetic alien, that’s a given,” Alex told him before taking a sip. Michael smiled and continued cleaning his hand. “So... you and Maria.”

“What about it?” Michael asked. Alex licked his lips. This wasn’t exactly his favorite topic, but he was trying to figure out where he stood. He’d missed him for three weeks and now suddenly he’d gone to see him and it was basically something out of a dream. Something had to have changed.

“You seem... happy,” Alex noted, “Together.”

“I guess,” Michael said, shrugging as he gave Alex’s hand one last look before letting him take it for himself, “We’re not really together though.”

“What do you mean?” Alex asked, his eyebrows furrowed. Michael sighed and took a sip of his own beer.

“We’re not dating, not her boyfriend or anything.” That didn’t confuse Alex any less. If that was the case, then what the hell had been going on? Why did he choose Maria if they weren’t even going to date? “I’m doing my best, though, to be a good whatever. I’m looking through files to try to help her and her mom, try to communicate, try to fix all my stupid mistakes I’ve made.”

Alex nodded, swallowing even though his mouth was dry. He knew it made sense and he was happy that Michael was aware of his mistakes and was trying to fix them, but he couldn’t help but feel a little burned by that. Wasn’t it cliche for a woman to swoop in a fix all the damage?

“Well, I’m glad she’s good to you,” Alex said. Michael shrugged, picking at the label of the beer. 

“Can I be honest?” Michael asked softly, “And you not take it personally?”

“Yeah, of course,” Alex agreed, shifting in his seat.

“Sometimes I think she feels like this is as good as I get. Like, no matter what I do, the bar is so low for me that she expects nothing of me and so I always meet it. Which, which is cool, I like not being pressured and stuff, but... I don’t know, I kinda like the way you always thought I could be cool and smart. Miss the way you challenge me,” Michael admitted, huffing a laugh, “I feel more useful than I’ve felt in weeks and I didn’t even fucking heal you.”

“Ah, so you missed my Drill Sargent mouth, not me,” Alex teased. Michael laughed, shaking his head.

“Nah, I missed you,” he said sincerely. Alex smiled a little sadly and nodded. Why couldn’t they admit that when they still had a chance?

“I missed you too.”

“Hey, uh, you got a package lately?” Michael asked. Alex’s eyebrows met in the middle.

“What? Why?”

“Nothing,” Michael said, putting the beer to his lips. Alex stared at him in confusion for awhile, but slowly let it go.

They sat there for awhile in silence, just drinking and enjoying each other’s company. It was easy to slip back into this despite all the bullshit from before. Because, at the end of the day, spending so much time away from someone you love while knowing they were right there was harder than it seemed. Alex wasn’t quite sure where Michael stood, but he liked to think the feeling was mutual still. Why else would they be sitting here like this?

“You still feel anxious?” Alex asked after awhile, using his good leg to reach out and kick him. Michael scrunched up his nose, shrugging his shoulders.

“I got eyes on you, so it’s easier to remind myself you’re not gonna die,” Michael said with a soft laugh. Alex smiled at him and nodded.

“I feel that.”

Easy silence came back over them and Alex knew, logically, he’d have to leave soon. He couldn’t stay all night even wanted to. They couldn’t fall back into old habits now matter how appealing it was. However, he could make excuses to stay longer.

“Wanna try to heal me again?” Alex asked as he finished his second beer, holding out his hand and wiggling his fingers. Michael smiled and nodded, scooting to the edge of the seat.

“You know, if this works, you’re gonna have a hand print on you, right?” Michael said.

“I’ve got gloves.”

“No, I mean... You’ll be able to feel my feelings and I’ll be able to feel yours,” Michael said, glancing at him hesitantly, “And I’ve never done it before so I don’t know if I’ll be able to, like, respect your privacy.”

“Michael,” Alex said, “I know. I don’t mind.”

“You don’t?” he clarified.

“No. I mean, you already know everything about me. Maybe it’ll actually click how I feel about you too,” Alex said. He meant it to be a little teasing and it was definitely influenced by the lighter feeling the alcohol gave him, but Michael just stared at him with a blank expression for a concerningly long time. “Scared?”

“No,” Michael said. He almost sounded like a determined little boy and, for a moment, Alex got nervous that he would react badly to feeling the way he felt. But Alex had already hit rock bottom when it came to Michael Guerin, he’d already ripped himself open for this man over and over, so, honestly, he wasn’t scared to get a little clarification on his end. Maybe Guerin was right, he needed to really make it feel over. “No, I can do it.”

“Mhm,” Alex said, holding out the hand with the cut. Michael took it into his own carefully, grazing his fingertips over his sore skin before pressing his palm against his again. It was warm and still stung a little, but Alex didn’t flinch. 

Alex wasn’t sure what changed from the first dozen times they’d tried that afternoon. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the fact that it wasn’t bleeding anymore or the fact that the sun had gone down or maybe it was just that Alex had assured him that he didn’t mind the mental invasion, but that low glow started to emit from his hand as it shook with concentration. 

Alex opened his mouth to praise him for it, but was immediately just hit with a wave of pleasure. His jaw dropped even more than intended and he clutched the stupid lawn chair with his free hand so tight he knew it would be sore later. His breathing got heavier and his eyes closed, a strained moan vibrating low in his throat without warning as that euphoric feeling only seemed to get stronger and reach every inch of his mind and body.

But then everything went black.

-

“He’s not answering his phone.”

“Neither is Alex.”

“Fuck.”

Maria found herself crying all over again, guilt pooling in her stomach. She should’ve just warned them. Even if it meant losing Michael, she should’ve just been honest. This was karma at its finest. 

“Maria,” Liz instructed sternly, grabbing her arms again, “Calm down. I’m gonna call Max and Isobel and Kyle and we’re gonna find them.”

“Alex is going to die and it’s my fault,” Maria said, bowing her head as she cried harder. It was hard to just calm down when her not-quite-boyfriend and her best friend were in danger. It didn’t seem to matter that Alex had stayed away from Michael, maybe this was supposed to happen all along and she just didn’t know.

God, why was she so stupid?

“Maria, stop,” Liz said, “We’re going to find them and it’s going to be okay, but we can’t do that if you don’t keep it together. You’re the only one who has seen the building they were in, even if it was only for a second, we need you.”

Maria sniffled, swallowing harshly as she nodded. She took a few grounding breaths and raised her head. She needed to focus and remember. She refused to let Alex die.

-

“Alex, hey, wake up.”

Alex groaned, his head throbbing. A pair of hands were on his shoulders and shaking him awake, not letting him sleep even though he wanted to. When he reluctantly opened his eyes, Michael was above him with wild, panicked eyes. Alex looked around the small room.

“Where are we?” he asked, pushing himself up onto his elbows. Michael helped him sit up. He stayed ridiculously close, his hands never leaving his arms.

“I don’t know,” Michael whispered like he was scared someone was listening. They might’ve been. “Last thing I remember was I was healing you and then something hit me and I woke up here. Didn’t even get to finish and you’re still all hurt.” 

Alex lethargically looked down to his hand to see the cut was indeed still there, but he could feel Michael more than he normally could and it made it clear that he’d gotten at least partially done. He didn’t know they could actually do half-way things like that. Still, he didn’t have time to dwell on that, so he looked around to try and figure out where they were.

“Whoever they are, they know who we are,” Alex noted, his hand going up to rub the back of his head. The room was small and didn’t seem to have a door, just four walls Michael could probably reach across both ways if he laid down and stretched. It was empty except for them. “They waited until we were distracted and then they knocked me out first so I couldn’t fight.”

“Oh,” Michael breathed. He scooted a little closer even though he was already nearly on top of him, reaching out to feel the back of his head. “Are you okay? There’s a knot, but it’s pretty small. Are you nauseous? Dizzy? Your responses are a little delayed, but I can’t tell if that’s because you just woke up or because you have a concussion.”

“I don’t have a concussion.”

“Irritability is a symptom of a concussion, are you–“

“Michael,” Alex said, putting a hand over his and looking at him with a gaze that seemed to fix him in place, “I’m fine. I don’t have a concussion. Do you?”

“No, but I knew something shitty was going to happen. I knew it and I let my guard down and now you’re in pain,” he said. Alex shook his head, grabbing his wrist gently.

“Not your fault. But we gotta get out of here, so I need you to stay calm and use that brain of yours, okay?” Alex instructed softly.

The hand print, as dull as it was, still had him feeling all that secondhand anxiety that seemed to be filling Michael to the brim. He wondered if they were just feeding off of each other’s negative emotions and making shit worse. He pushed his bad feelings down as far as he could just in case, sending all the supportive ones through the connection instead. 

“Do your powers still work or are they dulled?”

Michael looked around for something to fuck with as a test, but considering there was nothing to move, he focused on Alex. With a little clever wiggle of the nose, Alex’s hair smoothed itself out in a very detailed manner. He smiled and squeezed his hand.

“Thank you, you’re incredible,” Alex said, knowing that the extra little compliment would help them out in the long run. For the first time, though, he could feel how Michael took that little word to heart and cherished it. He gave a small smile to make it that much more meaningful.

“I can feel you,” Michael told him, eyes still wide and a voice hardly making a noise at all. He almost looked like he did when he got a little too high and that worried Alex, but he decided not to question if they’d been drugged on top of kidnapped. 

If he was on drugs and still ached the way he did, well, he had bigger problems. 

Michael leaned closer, his nose pressing into Alex’s cheek before he slowly rubbed against his face like kitten. “You’re in so much pain, I hate it. You think about pain too much. Pain and math, too much pain and math.”

Well. At least he knew for sure that Michael had definitely been drugged.

-

“Alex’s truck is at the junkyard.”

“What?” Maria asked, more than a little horrified at the information Kyle was giving them. “Liz, I thought you told Alex not to go to him.”

“You act like that wouldn’t make Alex immediately go to check on him,” Kyle scoffed from the other side of the phone. Both women pressed their hands into their face, stressed to hell over this ridiculous revelation. What the hell were they going to do? “Listen, Isobel is on her way. When she gets there, try and see if you can stir up any triggers that’ll tell us where they might be.”

“Okay,” Liz agreed, looking over to Maria who nodded in agreement.

“If you think of anything, call me. Max and I are gonna scope the place out, see if there’s any clues. Stay safe.”

“You too.”

The call ended too quickly and they sat in silence for a moment. Maria had a billion thoughts running through her mind, but the main one that stood out was Michael sobbing as he tried to heal a lifeless Alex. It was horrible and she was terrified that it was going to come true if they didn’t find them fast enough.

“Who would take them?” Liz scoffed, shaking her head, “I don’t understand.”

“Alex’s dad, maybe?” Maria suggested, “He’s all evil and stuff, right?”

“Yeah, but this feels weird even for him. Why would he specifically try to get just Michael and Alex out of the picture, not the rest of the aliens?” Liz asked. Maria shrugged.

In that moment, Isobel strutted in like she was in a TV show that no one else had been informed of. She took off her sunglasses with a dramatic flare and set her sight on the two women.

“Alright, DeLuca, let’s find my brother.”

Before Maria could even agree, she was warped into her mindscape.

-

“You remember how you said you thought it was gonna be us?”

Alex sighed, stroking Michael’s hair as he laid against his chest. It became very clear that whatever was in his bloodstream had made him weirdly touchy for the time being and Alex just had to ride it out with him. Besides, Alex had already scoped every inch of the room over and over and couldn’t figure out where a door might even be. For right now, there was nothing he could do but try to make sure they’d both be aware enough whenever they got the chance to escape. 

“Yeah, I remember,” Alex said, trying not to get too accustomed to the way Michael was rubbing his chest. As soon as they were out of this situation, things would go back to normal. That meant no more I miss you’s and no more cuddling.

“I’m still kinda scared it’s not,” he whispered. Alex sighed, his head still aching. This felt extremely unfair. Not only was Michael drugged and he wasn’t, but now he had to listen to him talk about them as if it was an option. And, while Alex could feel that he still loved him, he could also feel the complete fear Michael had when it came to them. Alex didn’t know if he could ever be with him in good conscious knowing that.

“It’s probably not,” Alex admitted, “But that’s okay. You and Maria are good together.” Michael made a wounded noise and pressed into him even more. It made his back ache, but Alex didn’t say anything. Michael just pushed his head into his chest more, the movement more akin to an angry cat than a human being. “Hey now, you’re the one who fully admitted to being more mature and communicating more. That’s good.”

“It’s easy to be honest when you don’t care what they think about you. I care what you think,” he grumbled, the heel of his palm pressing down as his hand slid down. Alex stopped it before it got too low, sighing.

“You’re not in your right mind,” Alex told him, using his other hand to comb through his hair in a veiled attempted to soothe him a bit more. Michael just gave another whiny, sad noise. “Once we get out of here, we’re gonna go back to the way we have been which is okay.”

“No.” Michael moved in closer, his leg moving on top of Alex’s and his knee wedging between his thighs. Alex sighed as he let him invade his space completely and kissed his head. Yeah, this had to be a very specific brand of torture.

“What did they even give you?” he whispered against his hair, eyes scanning the room again. 

Not only were there no signs of a door, there wasn’t really any sign of a camera either. However, there had to be something. It didn’t feel like they were losing oxygen, so it wasn’t sealed, and whoever put them there must’ve been watching them. What other benefit would they get from shoving Alex in a room with a drugged Michael? That’s when that very specific brand of torture sounded less like a joke and more like reality.

“Someone’s targeting me,” Alex noted, furrowing his eyebrows as he sat up a bit straight. Michael whined in protest, but Alex just kept his hand on the back of his head to keep him in place as he thought hard. 

Whoever had done this had to have known Alex would only let his guard down enough to be captured when he was with Michael. Not only that, but they had to wait until he was in the middle of healing to do so. Then they chose to drug Michael, but not Alex. It left Alex feeling all of his pain, but also let him taking care of an emotional alien. What the fuck?

“Ow,” Michael whined, nearly kneeing Alex in the dick as he scrunched his whole body up, “You’re thinking too loud.”

“I’m thinking too–They amplified your powers,” Alex said. The fact that he could feel Alex more than Alex could feel him, him being able to do something as specific as flatten his hair in all different directions without even straining, him being able to hear his thoughts. He pulled Michael’s head away from his chest and looked into his eyes. His pupils were still blown. “Why the fuck would they amplify your powers? Wouldn’t they want to make you less of a threat?”

Michael stared at him instead of answering. It was very similar to the look he’d given him back in the junkyard, but far more open and admirable. He slowly started leaning forward, going in for a kiss that Alex dodged at the last second.

“I don’t understand,” Alex murmured as he held Michael’s head against his shoulder again, keeping him from doing anything stupid, “Why would they make you more powerful?”

“Maybe it’s a test,” Michael whispered against his neck, soft enough that even if the room was mic-ed they wouldn’t hear it, “Seeing what it takes to break you. Maybe they expected me to be mean.”

Alex’s jaw set as that seemed even more plausible than ever. It had him wondering what kind of drug they could’ve concocted that was intended to make Michael angry but instead made him emotional and clingy while still boosting his powers. The first thing that came to mind was a weird alien hormone that he’d been given an extra dose of. As dumb as that sounded, Alex couldn’t rule anything out. He took a deep breath to prepare himself. 

“Thank you for that big brain of yours,” he said and kissed the side of Michael’s head for good measure. Michael gave a happy little hum and nuzzled closer. As much as Alex wanted him to keep holding him, though, he realized he needed to get on his feet so he wouldn’t be caught off guard. “I need to stand up.”

“Why?” Michael whined.

“I just do,” he repeated more firmly. 

It took a moment, but he eventually got Michael to get up and to help him to his feet. He was a little unsteady for a moment from both not standing for long and also having his prosthetic on for so long. The moment he got stable, Michael looked over him and checked the bump on the back of his head, still gazing at him with a look that was far too overwhelming.

“How are you feeling?” Alex asked. Michael shrugged his shoulders.

A few seconds later, an alarm sounded one of the walls in it’s entirety started moving. Alex’s eyes widened in confusion and Michael placed himself firmly in front of him. This was the first time that Alex actually trusted him to be there. He was powerful right now, Alex could feel that, and he was protective. He knew damn well whoever was behind this couldn’t have predicted that.

A man slowly walked into view, so distinctly not his father that it actually shocked Alex. What the hell was going on?

“Hello, Captain,” he said.

“What do you want?” Alex demanded. The man grinned and took a step closer. Michael held his hand out in front him, locking the man in place. He still smirked.

“Come closer to him and I’ll kill you,” he said. Alex gently touched his hip and moved to stand to his side and a step closer to the man.

“Play nice for a minute,” he whispered. Michael’s jaw clenched, but he let the man go. His smirk got wider and he continued to saunter closer, not seeming phased by Michael’s power. What the fuck? “What do you want?”

“Where to start?” he asked, “Ah, I know where. I talked to your father. He said you had a peculiar attachment to a specific extraterrestrial. Who would I be if I didn’t quickly get you both to be apart of the experiment?”

“Experiment?” Alex repeated. He could feel the waves of irritation waft off of Michael. His switch from caring to angry had flipped so quick, Alex felt more sure than ever that it was hormones. 

“We’ve had a very, very small group to work with when it comes to imprinting over the years. Four pairs in total, to be exact, and all have resulted in the same conclusions. It’s better than biological weaponry, I swear. The bond between one of these creatures and their masters can be incredible. You two, however, have one noticeable difference to the other sets we’ve tested on. Usually, they only have a few months, maybe a year, to form that bond and it’s already strong enough where the creature will just fold to their master’s will. But you two... over a decade. Incredible.”

“Is he saying I’m, like, your fucking Pokémon or something?” Michael asked softly. 

“I don’t know,” Alex answered, stepping a little bit more in front of Michael.

“I can already tell this will be fun with the way you both act. I’ve never seen it look so organic before,” he stated, looking genuinely proud of the discovery. Alex didn’t share the sentiment. “He handled the pheromone dose well, I see.”

Pheromone dose. So they weren’t trying to make him angry, they were trying to make him love him more. Well, it fucking worked. And, honestly, Alex wouldn’t be surprised if they’d manage to give him a dose before he even made it to the junkyard earlier. What else could explain how eager he was to talk to him and admit that he missed him? Alex tilted his head and couldn’t help the grim look that overcame his face. They were so fucked.

“I’m excited to see if you’ll both survive. First time for everything, you know?” the man said, seeming to be genuinely giddy about the whole thing.

Things moved far too fast and he was gone, leaving them in what looked like a tiny arena. Slots opened in the walls and four mechanical arms slowly exited out of them. For a moment, Alex had hope that maybe they’d survive this and it was really just a dumb test. But then he realized they all had real weapons, throwing knives and guns. Three men, fully decked out in protective gear, walked in as well with their own deadly weapons. It was the fucking Tento di Cruciamentum.

“Alex,” Michael said warily. Alex licked his lips and firmly planted himself in between Michael and the things designed to kill them.

“Do you trust me?” Alex asked, reaching behind him to grab Michael’s hand. He squeezed it when it overlapped the dull hand print, feeling a rush of determination and loyalty.

“Yes,” Michael said. Alex brought Michael’s hand up and placed it on his shoulder with his palm facing outward. It was their own little weapon. They had to just play along.

“Then do as I say, alright?” he whispered, taking a deep breath as a buzzer sounded as if to signify the beginning of this sick test, “Keep the weapons off me and I’ll handle the hand-to-hand.”

Michael did as he said immediately, all four mechanical arms imploding on themselves enough to startle the men into trying to hide their own guns. Alex smiled in sheer pride.

“That’s my boy.”

-

“You’re such a bitch.”

“Heard it before, try something new.”

Maria glared at Isobel as they stood in the foggy mindscape that laid somewhere between them. Together, they had gotten better at the whole psychic thing. They were two very different kinds of psychic and it helped amplify each other in ways neither of them had thought possible. However, she still needed to fucking ask before she did that.

“I know you want to find your brother, but you can’t just invade my mind without asking,” Maria said. Isobel wasn’t amused, just giving her a tight smile.

“He’s been gone for hours and you haven’t done anything to help, so help.”

“I don’t know how. I only got a glimpse and it was just–“

“Show me.”

Maria frowned as she looked at her. The last thing she wanted to do was watch Alex die again, but she couldn’t think of a good reason to say no. Isobel had the power to replay the scene perfectly and that was the only way they could even kind of grasp the location.

“We need to help them, chop chop,” Isobel said.

As angry as Maria wanted to be, she knew it would just make things take longer and that was putting Alex’s life at risk. So, instead, she focused as hard as she could on that vision. Isobel grabbed her arm, giving her that extra little power boost to make it happen.

She knew she was there when she heard Michael’s sobbing.

Maria couldn’t help but look at the scene, holding back tears as she listening to Michael cry and promise to bring him back. 

“Stop look at them, it makes it harder, focus on the room,” Isobel instructed. Maria reluctantly look away so she could take in the room, trying to ignore the sobbing. 

There were three men laying unconscious on the ground, most of them seeming alive except for one who’s head was nearly on backward. On the wall, there were four open holes with destroyed, smoking machines in them. The walls were all covered in metal and the floor was dirt, but, when she looked up, the ceiling was high and wooden. It looked like someone had too much time on their hands.

“Is it a renovated barn?” Isobel said out loud.

“I think so,” Maria said, quickly looking around to try and see if there were any windows so she could see where it might be. Except the vision ended, warping back into the default mindscape. “Shit.”

“Do it again,” Isobel instructed. Maria looked at her a little helplessly. “We need to see more, that wasn’t enough information.”

“Can you really stand to hear Michael cry like that again?” Maria asked. Isobel looked at her with a hardened gaze.

“If it means saving his life, I’ll listen to it a thousand times.”

And they sadly did have to listen to it five more times, trying to look for an outside view. By the time they did find an outside view, Maria felt nearly desensitized to the sound.

“Are we good?” she asked as they got a good look of the farm space they’d been at. It looked like an old, abandoned farm. Maria didn’t know what to do with that information personally, but she assumed Max might know. It was apart of his job to know where she was in Roswell.

“I think so,” Isobel said. It was clear listening to Michael be so distressed actually had impacted her, but she kept it to herself. “Let’s go save them.”

“Finally.”

-

Michael hated this.

He knew Alex was a fighter and he knew it was strong and, had this not been a life-or-death situation, it might’ve been really hot to see him fight three men and use their protective gear against them. Right now, though, Michael felt like his skin was going to burn off. He wanted to get the fuck out of here and just tuck Alex up in his arms and keep him safe. That was the fucking goal, but god forbid these assholes let that happen.

When he had nightmares about being an experiment, this just wasn’t what he had in mind.

“Guerin!” Alex yelled. Michael responded by throwing the guy who’d managed to get in a cut on Alex’s arm across the room, slamming him so hard into the wall that it knocked him out. 

He was trying his damnedest to get them all to fuck off, but they were trained fighters and he wasn’t used to anything more than a sloppy bar fight which mean he just had to stay back and use his brain. Which would be fine, but he could already feel his power dwindling. He needed acetone and a break soon or they were fucked.

He realized that, if he just put in the effort to knock the remaining to out, maybe they could get the fuck away. He watched as Alex dodged a punch and then landed another one, but it only did so much when they had protective gear. One of the men grabbed Alex’s arms and Alex used that as a brace to shove his prosthetic straight into the other guy’s face. It had him stumbling back and sent both Alex and the guy holding him to the floor. Anger pooled in Michael’s stomach and he used it to throw the guy who got the metal leg to the face like he’d thrown the first one, watching him fall too the floor and not move.

Then he focused on Alex and the other guy. He wanted to help, but he wasn’t sure he had enough gas to throw him when he and Alex were fighting on the floor. So, instead, he threw himself at the guy whenever he got on top of Alex, tackling him even though he knew he shouldn’t have.

“Fuck,” Alex cursed, but he didn’t seem to be angry at Michael for it and that’s all that mattered. 

He wrestled with the guy, trying his best to try to free him of at least one piece of of the gear so he had a weak point. Alex was on it too, both of them using their body weight and Michael’s power to pin him to the floor. He looked panicked as they became successful and Alex took the headgear off before slamming his head into the ground, knocking him out for at least a second.

Michael and Alex locked eyes over him. His first thought was to kiss him, but that would be a little senseless so he didn’t. He wanted to though.

“Let’s get out of here,” Alex said and Michael agreed.

They used each other as leverage to get to their feet, both of them weak and needing to get the hell out of there. They won, but there was no telling if this was just round one or not. They looked around for an exit as quickly as they could, spotting a piece of the wall that looked a little different than the rest of it. Michael held out his hand, having to focus a little more than he’d like to admit to break it open and reveal the outside world. He needed acetone.

“You’re fucking brilliant,” Alex gushed, grabbing his hand and starting to pull him that way so that they could leave. 

But then a shot rang through the air and Alex fell to the ground almost instantly.

Secondhand pain and straight devastation coursed through Michael as he tried to break his fall. He felt like his mind had completely short-circuited as he fell to his knees with Alex. 

“No, no, Alex. Hey, no, stay with me,” Michael scrambled. His pretty face was morphed into shook, quick gasps falling from his lips as his body fought to breathe. Michael noticed the bullet had gone straight through him, straight through his lung. Wasn’t that just horrifying?

He looked up to spot the culprit, the second guy he’d thrown looking at him with sick joy and a gun in his hand despite the fact that he was still weak. Michael’s pain and hate brought tears to his eyes and, without so much as a second thought, he held his hand out and screamed, draining himself a little too much just so he could see his neck snap. He shot Alex. He shot Alex.

Michael pulled Alex closer into his lap, his hand pressing to his chest that just seemed to bleed so much faster than any person should and breathing slowing into something nonexistent. His hand was shaking and his mind wasn’t processing anything, everything in him just saying that Alex wasn’t allowed to die. He’d just fucking understood shit for once. He couldn’t. He needed him. Fuck, he needed him.

“I got you,” Michael said, sniffling harshly as he rocked Alex back and forth, “I got you. It’s okay, I got you.”

Alex’s eyes were wide, staring up at him still. He wasn’t gasping anymore for air, but Michael could still feel him and that was enough. If he could feel him, he could heal him. He’d healed him before, he could do it now when he knew that Alex loved him and trusted him. He could do it.

“It’s gonna work, I promise,” Michael said, voice breaking as he sobbed and pressed down a little harder on Alex's chest, “Any second now, I’m gonna fix it. I’m gonna heal you, just gotta hold on ‘til then. I got you.”

He closed his eyes, drawing on whatever was left to try and heal him. But, that was the problem. He felt like he was sucking on the straw in an empty juice box. There was nothing fucking there. He whined low and horrified, feeling so fucking useless as he tried over and over to find power that hadn’t been replenished yet.

“No, no, no,” Michael cried, choking on his sobs as blood started coming from his nose and his ears the more he tried. He didn’t even care. Not when Alex wasn’t breathing and hadn’t blinked. “Alex. Please, stay with me. Please. I just need a second.”

“Well, that was unexpected,” that stupid fucking man said again, coming out of nowhere. Michael glared up at him, still holding Alex and waiting for things to just work. This wasn’t real. This was fake. Fake, fake, fake. Alex was alive and well and this was a bad dream. “Usually the creature will jump in front of the master, sacrifice themselves. I’ve never seen a master die and the creature end up unharmed. You must be very manipulative.”

Michael cried harder, unable to even find words to bite back. He’d never felt a pain quite like this. He bowed his head to look at Alex, rocking him a little as he pressed on his chest. Heal, god damn it. He believes in you. Don’t let him down.

“No, seriously, I’m impressed. You’ll make a good soldier. You have very fine-tuned skills for a telekinetic.”

“Fuck you,” Michael managed, bending over even more to press his head against Alex’s. His eyes were still open, staring lifelessly right back. It was easily the worst thing Michael had ever seen. “Come back. I miss you.”

“Cute,” the man said.

“I miss you,” Michael told Alex again, his tears mixing with his blood that mixed with Alex’s blood. He pressed harder on Alex’s chest, trying to just get him to wake up. He could still feel that low hum of Alex in his veins, but it seemed to be stuck on his last set of emotions. Pride and then pain and then fear and then nothing. “Come back, please. I’ll do better, I promise. Please, Alex.”

“Police!”

Michael didn’t budge, not having it in him to care about anything that wasn’t bringing Alex back. He couldn’t even bring himself to stop staring at his eyes, just waiting for a sign of life. It had to come. It had to.

Things happened around him and he didn’t notice, trying so hard to find his strength to get him back. He had to come back.

“I miss you,” he repeated, “I don’t wanna miss you anymore.”

“Michael, buddy,” Max’s voice sounded as he touched his shoulder. Michael didn’t move. “You gotta let him go, okay?”

“No,” Michael argued, “No, I can fix this. He’s okay.”

“Michael,” Max said again.

“No.”

Faintly behind him, Michael could hear crying. He ignored it completely.

“Isobel, come here for a second,” Max urged softly. Michael felt another hand on his other shoulder.

“I’m not leaving, not until he wakes him, you can’t make me,” Michael snapped.

“We know,” Isobel assured.

Slowly, Michael felt her other hand layer on top of his that was covering Alex’s wound. Then Max’s layered both of theirs. Michael quickly realized what they were offering and he found himself crying even harder.

“You ready?” Isobel said. He took a deep breath and sniffled. “One...”

“Two...” Max added.

“Three.”

-

Michael woke up, his body aching from head to toe and an IV stuck in his arm. 

The moment he did though, he scrambled to a seating position. Was that a dream? What the fuck happened? Where was Alex?

Sure enough, Alex was curled up in bed beside him, his own IV in his arm. He had bags under his eyes and he looked stressed despite the fact he was sleeping. Michael sighed in relief, scooting a little bit closer to him. That was when he realized that there was room to scoot closer and a quick look around told him he was in Max’s bedroom. The door was open and everything, giving them a way out of he wanted to. But, honestly, if Alex was alive, he didn’t want to.

He slowly laid down and ignored the way his back protested, facing Alex with unbridled guilt in his system. Whenever Alex woke up, he would hate him. He couldn’t even save him by himself. How pathetic was that? So much for a bond or whatever.

Still, he couldn’t help himself as he reached out to smooth his eyebrows out so he looked less distressed. Alex groaned at the touch and Michael snatched it away.

“Why did you touch my face?” Alex grumbled.

“Your eyebrows were all scrunched up.”

“What?” Alex asked, opening his eyes. They were tired, but alive and Michael couldn’t help but feel like that was the only thing that mattered. 

“You know, they were like this,” Michael told him, mimicking the way his eyebrows were. Alex gave the smallest smile and huffed a laugh, letting his eyes close again.

“Okay, valid reason to touch my face.”

Michael hummed in response, hesitant to reach for him again despite how badly he wanted to. He almost lost him. Hell, he did lose him. He didn’t want to leave.

“Alex,” he whispered, “Are you okay?”

“Define okay,” he said, “‘Cause I’m alive so that’s something. But we were also kidnapped and put in a fucking test arena because of some stupid fucking theory and that’s fucked.”

Michael continued to stare and let himself wonder why the universe hated them so much. Why couldn’t they have good memories? Why did everything have to do bad for them?

“I’m sorry,” Michael said, “This wouldn’t have happened if I just–“

“Stop it,” Alex sighed, “This is literally in no way your fault. In fact, you saved me.”

“I didn’t though,” Michael whispered, tears pricking his eyes, “I tried and I failed. You died in my arms because I didn’t protect you and I couldn’t even bring you back. I lost you. That was the worst moment of my life.”

“Hey,” Alex said, moving as close as he could with the short IV line, “You helped me. That’s all I could’ve asked from you.”

“Stop trying to make me feel better, you’re the one who died,” Michael pointed out. Alex gave a grim look and reached out, grabbing Michael’s hand in his own. He pressed that dull hand print against his palm, effectively showing Michael just how much he still loved him and didn’t blame him. In fact, he loved him more than before. “I-I don’t understand.”

“Love doesn’t make sense, moron,” Alex sighed, pulling his hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to his palm. 

Michael understood a lot more in that moment. In fact, he understood worship. Was this how Alex felt after every other traumatic fucking event they shared? Unbridled love and devotion? And, if he had, how the hell had Michael not felt it? More importantly, how had Alex survived being turned away?

“I love you,” Michael gushed, wishing that he was stronger so he could do something about it, “Holy fuck, I love you.”

Alex let out a soft little laugh, smiling as he kissed his hand again.

“That’s the first time you don’t feel scared of what that means,” Alex said.

“Because I’m not scared anymore,” Michael said, too many feelings rushing through him as things just made sense for once. Everything made sense. Everything had an answer. The answer was Alex. “Because I’ve already lived my biggest fear and you’re still here, you still love me.”

“And there’s no sign of stopping,” Alex hummed. Michael let out a heavy breath and pushed himself forward on a shaky arm, desperate for closeness more than ever before. Which was saying something.

“Hey, you’re up,” Maria’s voice said from the doorway, stopping them from getting any closer. They both looked to see basically everyone in the doorway, peering at them with matching concerned-mother looks. “Both of you.”

“Yeah,” they said. A hesitant silence filled the room, no one knowing what boundaries they could press.

“If you want to ask about why we got taken, can that wait? It’s confusing and long,” Alex said. Max was the first to respond, shaking his head.

“No, we found the files when we arrested that guy on drug and homicide charges,” he said, noticing their confusion and adding an explanation, “We couldn’t exactly charge him for kidnapping or anything without explaining the alien thing. Had to stage it as a drug deal gone wrong.”

“Oh,” Michael breathed, licking his lips as he remembered that guy he killed. He always thought he’d feel guilty about it, but it didn’t seem to effect him that way. He’d killed Alex, it seemed fair. 

“But the files are interesting and, when you guys are feeling better, we’d like to go over them,” Kyle said. They both nodded. Michael wondered when they’d leave them alone.

“Okay,” Michael said, “So, uh, I don’t wanna be mean, but I’m tired.”

“Yeah, of course,” Liz said instantly, “But we wanted to say something real quick.” She and Maria shared a quick look before turning back to them, taking deep breaths.

“I saw you die before it happened, Alex,” Maria said softly, “And I told Liz instead of telling anyone else because I was scared and didn’t know where or when it was happening and I just got scared. I’m so sorry.” 

Michael furrowed his eyebrows, feeling genuinely confused and hurt by that admission. Obviously, she couldn’t have predicted the context, but, fuck, a little more of a warning other than a phone call about practicing healing would’ve helped.

“You could’ve warned us,” Michael said, “Why the fuck wouldn’t you say something?”

“It’s okay,” Alex said. Michael immediately scoffed.

“No, it’s not okay,” he insisted.

“Okay, but I’m tired,” Alex sighed. Michael felt a little torn as he looked to him and then to Maria and Liz who looked extremely guilty. “Can I just yell at you when I feel better?”

“Yes,” Maria said, Liz nodding along, “You can yell at me or cut me off or whatever you want, I’m so sorry, Alex.”

“Can I steal my boyfriend back?” he asked instead of anything else. Michael huffed a shocked laugh, looking over at him. 

“Yes,” Maria said again, though a little more sad about that one. Michael, as much as he liked her, wasn’t. Alex took a heavy breath, his eyes closing.

“Yay,” he breathed. Michael–and everyone else, honestly–watched him as he seemed to drift right back to sleep. He eventually looked back at the group.

“Is he gonna be okay?” he asked, his eyes directed to Kyle who nodded.

“Yes, he’s just going to need a bit more time than you. Turns out traumatic experiences can do one hell of a number on your physical health regardless of alien healing,” Kyle filled in, taking a step further into the room and going to check on their IV bags, “Yours is basically an acetone drip, that’s why.”

“Oh,” Micahel said, nodding slightly as he slid his attention back to the group in the doorway, “We’ll talk about this later?”

“Absolutely,” Liz said and Maria agreed. 

“Okay, can I take a nap now?”

Soon enough, they all cleared the room, even Kyle who left him with a ‘you hurt Alex, I hurt you’ look that Michael wasn’t even mad about. Still, he used what little power he could muster to close the door and he scooted closer to Alex despite the IV in his arm.

“I love you,” he told him, “And I’m gonna do right by you, even if it’s because I accidentally imprinted on you.”

Alex smiled just a little bit or maybe Michael imagined it, but it didn’t matter either way. He meant it. He grabbed Alex’s hand again, weaving their fingers together.

“I’m gonna kiss you when you wake up,” he promised, “And it’s gonna be cosmic.”

Alex smiled obviously that time, peaking one eye open. Michael grinned at him. 

“Well, what are you waiting for? Another pheromone dose?”

“Shut up,” Michael laughed and he moved forward, finally kissing him again having it mean something.

He was going to make this work this time, they had to. Not when they knew what they could and should be. They were bonded together in a way they’d never been before and it was obvious.

No more denying.