#my headcanon is that Bad Phil and Missa can all visit as they like

[soars22]

Jumping was easy, in the end.

Pac was used to being alone, to losing everyone he loved. Standing on his own was difficult, but he had managed it. He can’t regret the hours he spent searching for his chaos bow, not when holding it serves as a necessary reminder that he can do things on his own. He’s his own person.

Just him; just Pac. He’s strong enough to stand on his own.

But losing Richas feels like a bridge too far for him to cross after everything. He’s already lost Fit and Ramón. He’ll always have Mike, but his best friend is moving on, growing up. It’s a loss of a different kind and hurts all the more for having no definitive end. He only just got Richas back and now-

And now.

His Richas-his nene-is leaving again. It’s on his own terms, but it’s still leaving, and Pac-

He’s so tired of people leaving him.

So he jumps. He’s not proud of it, exactly, but he does it anyway. And it’s not like it’s his decision alone, which almost makes it easier. Pac may be on his own, but he won’t die that way. He’s never wanted to be the last man standing.

Jumping is easy, in the end. So is falling, as long as Pac doesn’t think too hard about what comes after. It’s over quickly, at least; there’s a short, blinding streak of pain as his body hits the ground and then there’s nothing at all. He floats in a dark nothingness that’s more reminiscent of the space between dreaming and being awake than death. It turns out there’s not so much difference between the two of them.

“You dumbass.”

The voice is deep, rough, familiar. Pac turns-and that movement is dreamlike too, soft and static at the edges-and sees a face he never thought to meet again.

“Fitch,” he breathes, and the other man smiles. There’s a sadness that lingers in the corners of his eyes. “Hey, Pac. Fancy meeting you here.”

There’s no judgement in his voice, but Pac finds it anyway. “I don’t regret it,” he says, drawing himself up to meet Fit’s gaze. “I don’t, not when you’re here too.” “I know,” Fit says softly. “I just wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

“Sim… but I’m here now.” Fit nods. “You’re here now,” he echoes. “So let’s go meet the other dumbasses, yeah?” Pac nods jerkily. “Ok.” Fit reaches out to take Pac’s hand and leads them to their family.

They’re all there:

Jaiden sits in a field of flowers, making a crown for Bobby’s hair; Trumpet, Dan, and Max are chasing each other, throwing bombs that never hit; Juanaflippa is curled up next to Tilín, soft smiles on their faces.

Dapper and Pomme are playing a game of keep-away with Chayanne as Baghera laughs from the sidelines; beside her, Lullah comforts an unfamiliar girl with flowers in her hair.

And there, finally, is-

“RICHINHAS-“ Pac cries, throwing himself at his son. The boy looks up, startled, from where he’s painting next to Ramón. When he sees Pac his eyes go wide and he flings his paintbrush to the side with a wild cry. “PAI!!” The two collide in a crushing hug; for a moment, nothing else matters in the world.

“It took you long enough,” Mike’s teasing voice cuts through Pac’s whirling thoughts. “Did you get lost?” Pac glares up at his friend who only grins in return. “Shut up. I got here in the end, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” grumbles a small voice. “But more importantly-I’m going to kill Richas.” Pac looks over to see Ramón glaring at Richas. There’s a bright streak of orange paint across his face. Richas sticks his tongue out. “You can’t kill me-I’m already dead!” “I’ll figure something out,” Ramón threatens. “Dapper will help me!” His eyes slide over to Pac’s and he smiles. “Hi, pai. It’s good to see you again.” Pac’s smile wobbles a bit and he opens his arms. “It’s good to see you too, filho.”

Ramón grins and jumps into Pac’s arms. He laughs, a bright, joyful sound. His family is here again, with all the time in the world.

Finally-finally-Pac doesn’t have to be alone.