#wwoww chase

[ask-caligulas-aquarium]

SW: Yeah, he knows! He's probably just napping right now or hiding from a haircut... again

SW: He'll chase after Sollux 24/7 but the SECOND someone mentions a haircut around him, he hides from everybody :'( *bre's ears tilt downwards*

> CA: wwoww, is he really scared of haircuts?

> CA: wwell, my friend named Memphi is scared of haircuts too ( @analog-aquatic )

> CA: she says, and I quote: "m Y [wolf cut hairstyle] i S p R etty e Nough!"

[wwoww-au]

Family Business

read on AO3

  Henrik jumped instinctually when he heard a knock on the door of the clinic. He was still getting used to Yan’s frequent visits; the only person who normally stopped by outside of patients was Jackie, and even then those were scheduled. He opened the door and was greeted by the red-haired ball of joy themself.

    "Good afternoon, Henrik." Yan beamed and moved past him into the clinic, only speaking again once the door was closed. "I got those books you asked for." They put their messenger bag down onto the counter and began emptying its contents; two leather-bound books with yellowing pages and ancient symbols etched into the cover.

    "Thank you, Yan. You’ve been a great help," Henrik said. 

    "It’s no trouble." Yan handed the books to the doctor. They then rummaged through their bag again, pulling out a tupperware container. "I also brought cookies. B ate most of them while I was at the Library though..."

    "You didn’t have to..."     Henrik trailed off when he heard a shout from the basement. But this was different from when he normally heard Anti shouting from the basement, this time he sounded... happy? There was a loud rhythmic thumping of Anti running up the stairs before the trap door burst open and he stumbled out into the room. 

    "I’ve made a breakthrough!" Anti was beaming, holding out a piece of notebook paper covered in his messy handwriting. 

    "Anti, as exciting as that is, please check next time you come stomping up the stairs,” Henrik scolded, worry creasing his brow. “What if Jackie had been here? Or someone from the Crime Department? You really ought to be more careful." Still shaking his head, he took the paper from Anti and began reading. 

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Anti rolled his eyes. "Just shut up and listen. I was poring over that old book of remedies Yan brought over a couple of days ago and after brushing up on my ancient Greek, I was able to translate the recipe for a potion that stalls the symptoms of corruption. Not exactly a cure, but it’s a start."  He turned his attention to Yan, eyeing the container in their hands. "You brought food? You’re the best." He grabbed the container and immediately shoved a cookie into his mouth. 

    Henrik stared in awe of the notes, a small smile tugging across his face. "This… this could actually work! Anti, you’re brilliant."

    Anti swallowed and looked sheepishly at the floor. "It’s not a big deal. Just trying to keep myself from fully corrupting, is all."

    "Not a big deal?" Yan’s eyes lit up. "You’ve managed to find the first step to a corruption cure, that’s incredible!"

    As Henrik continued poring over the notes, his eyebrows furrowed. "As incredible as this is, it’s going to be extremely difficult for me to get these ingredients. The only place I could possibly get most of these things is Derekson's, but I'd have to get Jackie to escort me. Not to mention the Committee would find it suspicious…"

    Anti shrugged, taking a bite out of another cookie. "No problem, I’ll swing by later to grab everything you need to start making this thing."

"Are you sure? It might not be safe for you to be walking out and about."

"It'll be fine, I'll wear a scarf. You worry too much," Anti said, scratching at his neck wound. Henrik sighed and left the room, closing the door to the apartment behind him. "Yandere, you wanna come with?"

"Sure." Yan hesitated. "Where are we going exactly?"

"Derekson's," Anti said. Yan still looked confused, so he continued. "It's an apothecary across town. The guy who runs it is under Committee surveillance, too." He glanced over at the apartment door and lowered his voice. "Apparently, all of his children were born mundane, and he tried to turn them into wizards by himself. Ended up killing all but one. The only reason the Committee hasn't thrown him into a prison cell yet is that he's such a talented potion maker."

"That's horrible," Yan muttered.

"Yeah..." Anti trailed off. "But he’s the only one who has what we need to make our potion. So I hope you don’t have any plans this afternoon, because we’re leaving as soon as I finish these cookies." He turned and walked back down into the basement, taking the whole container with him.

.

.

.

The walk to the apothecary was surprisingly tense -- Anti had insisted they walk there, not wanting to spend even a few minutes on crowded public transport. He spent the whole time looking over his shoulder and tugging on his scarf like it was suffocating him. 

"Are you okay?" Yan asked, sensing how nervous he was. 

"I'm fine." He glanced at them over his sunglasses. "I just don't like walking around during the day. Too many people. I feel like they're all staring at me." Yan opened their mouth to say something comforting, only for Anti to cut them off. "We're here."

Yan looked up at the building they stopped in front of. It was a brownstone, the worn bricks painted green. A few strange-looking flowers and herbs grew in the windowsills. Above the door was a wooden sign that read "Derekson's Apothecary: family-owned and operated since 1812." Yan quickly followed Anti up the steps and into the shop.

The shop was empty when the two walked in. A wooden counter stretched around all sides of the room. Tall shelves filled with glass jars and bottles lined the walls behind the counter, each containing loose ingredients or brightly colored liquids. A rolling ladder was attached to the shelves, and in the center was a door marked "employees only".  It reminded Yan of a candy store, only instead of chocolate and jellybeans, the jars were filled with dried herbs and what looked like eyeballs.

The back door swung open and a man in a patterned shirt walked out, putting on a big smile when he saw the two standing in the shop. He was followed by a teenager with similar features, walking on a pair of crutches. The teen stood in the back, staring at the ground while the older man walked towards the counter.

"Welcome, welcome! What can I do for you today?" said the man, whose nametag identified him as Derek. He gestured to the shelves behind him. "We carry potions for any and all circumstances. One that turns any creature into a harmless goldfish, one that can make your flower garden into your own personal army of floral warriors, one that makes the drinker fall in love with the first person they see for 24 hours. I know that one is popular with you young folks." He winked at Yan, and they only scoffed in response. He hesitated before starting his sales pitch again. "You two don't work for the Committee, right?"

"No?"

"Good! Because here I have a few things that blur the lines between potion and poison-"

"We don't need any of that!" Anti snapped, clearly running out of patience with the overzealous salesman. "We just need these ingredients." He pulled a list from inside his coat and handed it to Derek.

Derek gave a dejected sigh and took the list, turning and climbing the ladder to retrieve what they needed. He quickly maneuvered the shelves, seemingly knowing where everything was despite all the jars being unlabelled. He came back down only a few minutes later holding a few jars, piling them all on the counter. 

"Is that everything?" Anti asked.

"Not quite," Derek said. "Some of the things you're asking for are highly dangerous, so I don't keep them in the front of the shop. Eric." He turned to the young man behind him, who flinched in surprise upon hearing his name. "Can you get the rest of this fine customer's order from the back room?"

"Yes, Dad," Eric muttered.

"I can help you with that," Yan chimed in, hesitating when they saw how stunned Eric looked at the gesture. "If you're alright with that."

"Sure," Derek said, waving his hand. "Just don't touch anything you're not supposed to." Yan moved around the counter over to Eric, smiling and opening the door for him. He gave a reluctant smile and went inside, Yan following shortly after.

The backroom was essentially just a kitchen. A few small cauldrons were simmering on top of an electric stove, empty glass bottles crowding the counter next to it. The linoleum floor was covered in shimmering, multicolored stains. A few barrels were pushed up against the back wall next to a staircase leading up to the second floor of the house. The walls were lined with cabinets, many of which were padlocked.

Eric hobbled over to the cabinets, leaning his crutches up against the counter and leaning against it for balance. He pulled a ring of keys from his pocket, unlocking one of the cabinets. Before he opened it, he turned to Yan. "Oh, right," he mumbled, as if he had forgotten Yan was there. "You can, uh, grab the fireroot for me. It's in the fridge." 

"You got it." They smiled, walking over to the fridge and opening it. It was filled to the brim with potion bottles, as well as a few leftovers in tupperware containers. 

"So, what's all this for, anyway?" Eric asked, before immediately looking away. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"It's alright." Yan walked over with the bundle of fireroot he asked for. "We're working on, uh… medicine. For someone who's sick. My friend's a doctor and he asked us to pick up some supplies for him."

"That’s weird. I’ve never heard of medicine with these kinds of ingr-" He cut himself off with a strangled cry. His legs suddenly buckled out from underneath him, and he gripped onto the counter for support. He shakily lowered himself to the floor, back against the counter. He scrunched his eyes shut and suppressed a pained whimper, pulling his leg to his chest.

Yan dropped to their knees in an instant. "What's wrong?" they asked quickly. "Do you need me to get your dad?"

"No!" Eric yelped, eyes wide. "It'll only make him upset… I'll be fine. I just need to sit for a minute."

"What's wrong?" Yan repeated, more gently this time. 

Eric bit his lip, looking at the door to the shop and back at Yan. "You know what my dad did, right?" They nodded, remembering the story Anti told them. "The ritual he used to try and make me a wizard, it didn't work, but-" He rolled up one of his pant legs, revealing unnatural scars twisting up his leg. They looked like burns, only iridescent and an unpleasant shade of green. Yan clapped a hand over their mouth. He covered the scars and curled in on himself. "Dad says it's a form of corruption. It flares up every now and then," he continued. He gave a feeble smile. "It's almost funny. I'm not even a wizard and I still managed to screw up and get corrupted."

Yan winced, sensing a wave of sadness and guilt coming from Eric. "Hey, that’s not your fault. None of that is,” they said, trying to console him. They were quiet for a moment, mulling over what they were about to say. They lowered their voice.  "I think I have a way to help you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone, that includes your dad. " 

Eric looked back with confusion before simply nodding.

Yan glanced at the door before speaking,  "A friend of mine is working on a cure for corruption. I know it sounds impossible, but we’re making progress. It will take some time before we have an actual cure, but once we do, we’ll be able to help you. "

 "You- you’d really be willing to help me?" Eric said. He gave them a weak smile.

Yan smiled back, opening their mouth to reassure them before being cut off by yelling from the front of the shop.

"Eric! Hurry up!" Derek yelled. "We have a customer waiting!"

"Oh no..." Eric muttered before yelling back, "I’ll be right out!" He grabbed the edge of the counter, wincing as he scrambled to his feet. He grabbed his crutches, gesturing to Yan to pick up the miscellaneous items on the counter before going through the door. They placed them on the check-out counter before walking back over to Anti, who looked down at them over his sunglasses.

Derek looked over at Eric, drumming his fingers on the counter with impatience.  "What took you so long?" he said, barely containing his frustration. 

"I- uh," Eric stammered, trying to avoid eye contact with his father as he began to pack all the items into a box. "I couldn’t find the time cacti needles they needed, m-must’ve put it in the wrong cabinet when I was organizing."

"Yeah? Well, next time double-check to make sure everything’s in the right place." Derek turned to Anti, his glare turning into a smile as he rattled off the prices for everything, occasionally slipping in a sales pitch for other potions. Anti ignored his rambling, placing a stack of bills on the counter and taking the box of ingredients from Eric. He promptly dropped it into Yan’s arms and quickly made his way out of the shop. Yan gave Eric one last smile before following after.

.

.

.

"God, I hate that Derekson guy. Did you see the way he talked to his own son?" Anti scoffed. The two were walking back to Henrik’s clinic now, Anti a little more relaxed now that the streets weren’t as crowded. "What were you and that Eric kid doing back there, anyways?"

"Just talking," Yan said. They decided it was best if Anti didn’t know they’d told Eric about the corruption cure. 

"Of course you were." Anti smiled. "You have a real knack for befriending everyone you meet, huh?"

"I guess so." They smirked. "I managed to befriend you, didn’t I?" They nudged him with their shoulder. 

Anti chuckled. "Yeah, yeah you did." The two kept walking, keeping up some light conversation to pass the time. Yan was in the middle of recounting the time they and B had gotten lost in a cave somewhere in the geography section at the Library when a man jogging by them accidentally bumped into Anti. "Hey, watch it!" he yelled at the man before turning back to Yan. They were about to continue their story when they felt a sudden surge of mixed emotions from behind them. Disbelief, sadness, joy. 

"Chase?"

Anti froze in place. He chanced a look back, his heart sinking when he locked eyes with the man behind him. He stared at Anti as if he had just seen a ghost, the faintest smile pulling at his lips. His eyes were sunken yet bright, brown hair poked out from under his beanie. He looked like he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in months. He surged forward, wrapping his arms around Anti and pulling him into a tight hug. "Oh my god, Chase! It’s been so long, I thought I’d never see you again!" He laughed.

Anti finally moved, shoving the man off of him and taking a step back. "I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else."

"Are you kidding? I’d think I’d recognize my best friend."

"I’m sorry, but I have no idea who you are," Anti growled.

"It’s me, Sean! Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you for years." The man, Sean, reached out to Anti. Tears started to fall when he flinched away. "You just disappeared, and I was beginning to think- everyone thinks you’re dead, Chase."

"Anti," Yan said softly, wincing from the waves of intense emotion coming from the two men. "Who is this?"

"Anti? Your name is Chase!" Sean yelled. He grabbed his head, struggling to make sense of what was happening. "You’re my best friend! Fuck, we have matching tattoos!" He quickly rolled up the sleeve of his jacket, revealing a trident-shaped symbol. Yan recognized the symbol; they had seen it tattooed on Anti’s right arm before. Sean kept yelling, tears pouring down his face. "What happened to the friend who promised he’d always be there for me? What happened to the guy who would never abandon his family no matter how hard things got? What happened to you, Chase?"

"I'm not Chase," Anti snapped, low and dangerous. "Now, I need you to leave me alone before I do something I regret." 

Yan looked down to see his hand was glitching with red and green magic. "Anti." they grabbed his arm. "Please, don't."

Anti looked over at them, then back at Sean. "Yan, we're leaving." He turned to go.

"If you’re going to go, you should know Stacy remarried," Sean said. He averted his eyes from Anti, tears still falling down his face. "Nice guy, he’s a tennis instructor or something. The kids are doing well in school; Emma's been filling out college applications. They still ask about you sometimes. They do miss you, you know. Stacy too."

Anti stood for a moment. "Come on, Yan, let’s go home," he said, lifting an arm to wipe at his eyes with his sleeve. He walked away from Sean, not bothering to look back.

.

.

.

The walk back to Henrik's was tense. Neither said a word until they got back. Anti opened the door to the clinic, immediately locking eyes with Henrik, who was sitting at his desk going over the notes again. "How'd it go?" he asked, standing up. Anti stayed quiet, storming past him and wrenching open the trapdoor. He slammed it behind him, and moments later the two upstairs heard him start yelling. It was a heartbreaking sound, laced with anger and sorrow. The sound of anything he could get his hands on colliding with the floor soon followed.

"What happened to you out there?" Henrik said, wincing at the sound of something glass shattering below. 

Yan placed the box of ingredients on the desk, gently wiping fresh tears from their face. The emotion coming from Anti and Sean had been too much for their ever faltering emotion magic, and they had started crying from the sheer amount of sorrow coming from the two. "Everything at the store went fine. But on the walk back, we ran into a man named Sean," they spoke softly. They looked up at Henrik, seeing a flash of recognition on his face. "Henrik, who's Chase?"

Henrik sighed, gently removing his glasses and rubbing his face. "Chase is someone who Anti was a long, long time ago," he hesitated, looking down at Yan with regret. "It's not my place to tell you about his past. I'm sorry. You really deserve to know more, but-"

Yan held up their hand. "I understand." They pulled him into a hug.

Henrik froze at the sudden contact, then gently placed his arms around them. "It would probably be best if you went home. You don't want to see him like this."

Yan pulled back, giving a weak smile. "I'll see you next week. Call me when he's feeling better."

"Of course," Henrik said, watching as Yan walked out the door. As soon as they were gone, he sighed, leaning against his desk. He wanted nothing more than to get a drink, wait it out until Anti's rage faded, but he knew that wouldn't be good for either of them. He walked over to the center of the room, gently opening the trapdoor before heading down the stairs, bracing himself as the noises got louder. He gasped when he reached the bottom of the stairs.

The room was in complete disarray. All the books that had been precariously balanced on Anti’s desk were thrown to the ground, papers strewn everywhere. The desk chair was knocked over; all the dirty plates and glasses that he had hoarded in his room were in pieces on the floor. His knife was buried in its usual place in the wall next to the doorway. The only thing left untouched was the murky green jar on the desk, where Sam was repeatedly bumping his eye against the glass in an attempt to get Anti's attention.

Anti himself was hunched in the center of it all. His jacket and scarf were discarded on the floor. His sunglasses lay against the wall across the room, one of the lenses missing and the other shattered. His entire body was glitching. He was scratching at the wound on his neck. 

Henrik quickly moved next to Anti, careful not to kneel on any broken glass. "Are you alright?" He spoke softly. Anti breathed heavily, barely acknowledging the man beside him. Henrik reached out, gently placing a hand on his back and rubbing circles. Even through his gloves, it felt like touching a broken tv screen. Slowly, Anti's breathing evened out and he removed his hands from his neck.

It felt like an eternity before Anti spoke. "I miss them so much." 

"I know," Henrik said, barely above a whisper. 

Anti looked back at him, his mind racing with a million things to say. He decided to stay quiet, just this once. He leaned against Henrik, letting the silent sorrow wash over him.

[wwoww-au]

just a mundane dad

-mod crow