You know that feeling when its the littlest thing that breaks you down? Like you could beat anything that comes your way, but a simple, menial task is what causes you to break down? That's how Leo's feeling
Drake is standing across from you and you take him all in, he's in a denim jacket with a white henly shirt underneath, he looks tired, there are bags under his eyes. He's staring at you as if he can't believe you are finally back.
Your heart is beating so loudly in your chest that it is all you can hear. You feel so many things at once – disappointment that he hasn't reached out in almost two months, sadness because you fear he doesn't care for you like you do for him. Most of all you feel relieved because he's back in court. You rush over to him and pull him into a bone crushing hug that leaves him speechless. He hugs you back just as fiercely.
'I missed you' you say as you burry your head in his chest. He holds you a lot longer than you thought he would.
' I missed you too, Thorne. You're a sight for sore eyes' Drake says as he lets you go. His hand lingers on your shoulders and you can see his cheeks redden and your face lights up.
' It's good to see you smile again. After everything that happened.. I know things must have been hard for you and I want you to know that if there's anything I can do to help then I want to do it'
'What about us? I mean I'll appreciate the help but is that.. it?'
'Thorne you know how I feel about you'
Do I? You weren't sure you did. Hells you hadn't spoken with him in two months almost.
'Do I? Drake we haven't spoken in months. For all I know whatever we could have had is gone or maybe I was the only one who really felt something deeper than friendship. Maybe it was all in my head' you take a deep sigh and ignore his gaze.
' Thorne, please look at me'
You look up at him, he traces your cheek with his hand and you lean into it.
' It's not in your head, what you feel for me I feel for you too.. it's just c -'
'Complicated?' you finish
' Yeah. Look let's go somewhere more private to talk about this'
You nod and follow him to the fire pit outside the estate. You and Drake sit down near the fire and you look into the firepit.
Drake reaches out and takes your hand in yours and squeeze it.
'It’s not that I don't want you or that i don't care for you. I care for you deeply. But not like this. Not with a scandal hanging over your head'
'So once the scandal is gone does that mean that we could -'
'Once the scandal is gone there's a prince waiting for you, who can offer you everything you could ever dream of and more'
' I don't want the prince or the throne. I want you'
' I'm a nobody Thorne, i'm never going to be good enough for you. And if by some miracle you truly decide that you want me and not Liam... I don't want you to regret it'
You patiently wait for him to continue and squeeze his hand that is still holding on to yours. Drake looks at you with a pained expression.
' When the scandal is over and you still for some reason choose me then I need to know it's because you truly care for me and want me for me and not because the scandal is keeping you away from being with Liam.'
' So when the scandal is over you will hear me out? ' you ask hopefully
While you want to be with him you can understand his childhood trauma and his hesitance. You want him but he has to be on the same page as you and until that happens you will try your best to support him through it and hopefully he will see how much you truly care.
'Yes. After it's over we will talk it out. i'm sorry i'm such a disappointment all the time Thorne. All I want to do is to make you proud'
' You’re human, which means you're flawed. I can work with that. I need to ask... why haven't you messaged me once in the last six weeks' you ask because you need to know.
'Trust me I wanted to. I wanted to so many times'
'But?'
' Liam, Maxwell, Hana and I made a pact that we wouldn't reach out in order to keep you as safe as possible' Drake gently grabs your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours.
'I wish I could say that I couldn't understand why it was neccesary or say that I haven't been told the same thing. However it still hurts. I thought you had given up on me and that maybe I just didn't matter to you. Hell I wish everyone had asked me what i wanted.'
You were beyond hurt and frustrated. You had felt like you had gone crazy locked away at the Bearmonts estsate, going on runs with Maxwell, learning Etiquette with Bertrand, going over what outfits best betrayed an 'innocent and flawless' persona that was far beyond of who you actually were.
You could feel your heart beating too fast and your breathing becoming faster to the point were you couldn't breathe, your hands were trembling and your body was shaking.
'Rose.. Can I touch your face?'
You felt dizzy and disoriented but you managed nod before Drake gently let go of your hand and caressed your face with his hands, he turned your face towards his so that you were looking at each other.
' I need you to take a deep breath for me can you do that?'
You nodded again and took a deep breath in
'Breathe in and count to seven.. 1..2..3..4..5..6..7 and exhale and count to 3 ..1..2..3'
You did as Drake said and he told you to repeat the cycle and he did the breathing exercises with you until your breathing slowed down and became more normal again.
' I need you to know that I value your safety greatly. We all do. And if anything happens to you I would- wouldn't be able to forgive myself. That night when you left and I finally ecaped security you had already gone and I tried to run after the car but I wasn't fast enough so I returned to the estate and found Maxwell, Liam and Hana in your room. We all wanted to bring you back but we knew it wouldn't be safe'
Drake caresses your face gently and you wait for him to continue.
'The last six weeks have been torture, I can't begin to tell you how much i've missed. I hate to see you so upset, I have an idea – how about I make you the best s'mores you have ever had?'
'Are you a world renowned S'mores expert?' you asked jokingly and you smiled at Drake
' You bet. Would you have expected anything less from me?' Drake deadpanned
Drake kisses the top of your forehead before he gets up and goes to get the ingrediants for the s'mores, you lean close to the fire and sigh
It’s nice to know Drake feels the same for you as you do for him, it's at the very least reassuring. It doesn't change much at the moment sadly but once he scandal is cleared you intend to make Drake know that he's the only one you want. As long as nothing majorly happens between you you will hold off telling Liam the truth... for now at least.
Drake returns with a bag that holds sticks, graham crackers, marshmallows and chocolate, while he is busy prepping the sticks
'When I was young my parents used to get into these explosive fights with lots of throwing things and yelling and it was all too much you know? So I used to hide in my room with my hands over my ears.. one day it became so bad that I felt like I couldn't breathe'
Drake stopped prepping for a moment and looked at you sadly and looked at you patiently as you continue
'Ever since then i've had anxiety and panic attacks. Every time I feel overwhelmed or too stressed i get really anxious. I also have a tendency to overthink things most people probably wouldn't, like I get so into my own head sometimes'
'Why haven't you ever told anyone here about it?'
' Because I was afraid that once you all knew the truth that you would see me differently. I was worried that if I let you in that it would be too much'
That I would be too much
The last part goes unsaid. Drake puts down the sticks and pulls you into a hug.
'You could never be too much Thorne, You are like the best person I know and nothing could ever change that'
'Promise?' you ask your voice is horse and you feel so small.
' Yeah I promise'.
Drake shows you how to make the perfect s'more and you have to admit that it's pretty good, you spend most of the evening just talking, Drake talks about how he used to go camping with his dad and how important it was to him, you feel honoured that he's sharing his memories with you. You want to be able to do the same but most of your upbringing was rough and the happy childhood memories were a rare thing.
' The blue hair really suits you by the way' Drake says and puts a strand of your hair behind your ear and you lean into the touch
'I really want to kiss you right now..'
'Thorne... that's a bad idea' Drake groans and looks away
You lean towards him and he momentarily gives in, swiftly and desperately kissing you, his arms go to your waist, pulling you closer.
'Dammit..' Drake mutters under his breath as you move apart. Drake looks around to make sure no one saw you, there is no one else around and he sighs in relief.
' I want you Thorne. More than anything. But I want this the right way, for everyone involved. You most of all.' Drake sighs
' Rose!'
Before you have a chance to responds Max waves at you from across the courtyard and Drake moves a step away from you.
'Thank you for tonight... For everything. It means a lot' you say to Drake before Maxwell reaches the two of you
Maxwell lets you know it's time to leave. Applewood Manor here we come...
cw: body horror, discussion of death, violence, general apocalypse setting
~
Scott doesn’t get the full story until two days later, sitting around the campfire outpost as the sun sets. fWhip and Shelby are there with him—Jimmy’s on dinner duty, and Gem’s helping Katherine get settled in (though Scott’s fairly sure they’re actually just catching up and gossiping, having been invited to one or two of their late-night gossip sessions in days past).
“It was . . . one of their fights,” fWhip says carefully. He shrugs, glancing around as if Jimmy’s going to appear behind him and dispute his words. “You know how they were. Volatile. And—well, it escalated. And Jimmy . . . Joel ended up dead.”
“He won’t tell us how,” Shelby puts in. “But he killed Joel, and whatever curse Joel left behind turned his body into those . . . things.”
“Gem said that Jimmy came to her, a mess over it,” fWhip says. “He just let his anger get out of hand. He didn’t mean to.”
“If he didn’t mean to, he wouldn’t have killed him,” Shelby says, sing-song.
fWhip grimaces. “Well, we can disagree on that. The point is, Joel is dead, and his, uh, remains turned into the apocalypse. They multiply somehow, they feed on death, and . . . that’s about it. I do know that Jimmy’s still beating himself up over the whole thing, so don’t . . . don’t be too harsh.”
“Because if you are, he’ll kick you out.”
“For the last time, Jimmy didn’t kick Lizzie out!” fWhip says, turning to Shelby. “He didn’t—look, Scott,” he says, turning back. “Lizzie . . . she was close with Joel, you know, in some weird way, and she was really upset with Jimmy over it and the way he’s trying to move on. She decided she’d rather leave than stay here with him in charge.”
Scott pokes a stick at the small fire. “Did Lizzie have my room at the inn?” he asks, thinking of the note and the mouse toy that he placed on his bedside table.
“Yeah,” fWhip says. “She packed up and left about a week before we got you. Shelby went out on foot to check on Katherine the very next day.”
“I never made it,” Shelby says offhandedly. “By the time I reached the bridge, there were just . . . so many. I lost my voice, and I was so tired. . . .”
fWhip rubs her arm, and she leans into the touch, eyes far away. It’s a stark contrast to their arguing of moments ago, and while Scott can’t understand finding comfort in someone you’re at odds with, he at least agrees with fWhip’s instinctive touch-turned-hug. He would’ve done the same, his comfort-friend instinct going haywire.
“So . . . what’s next?” Scott asks after a moment. “We can’t just . . . Sanctuary’s getting smaller every day. We can’t just sit here.”
“I guess we ask Jimmy,” fWhip shrugs. Shelby rolls her eyes.
Jimmy? But—they all know what Jimmy’s done, now, they all know this is his fault. Why on earth have they been letting him lead this whole time?
“Wait, we’re still trusting him to be in charge?” says Scott, glancing between them. “He—he killed someone. He started this!”
fWhip sighs. Shelby looks away, her foot tapping against the dirt.
“Jimmy’s a good leader,” fWhip says. “Leaders sometimes make poor choices. And—and I know, killing someone is a very poor choice,” fWhip adds before Scott can speak, “but he has our best interests at heart. I promise that he won’t hurt any of us. But he’s the only one who stepped up to be leader, and he’s the best one we could ask for.”
Shelby shrugs. “I don’t like him, but he is good at what he does.”
fWhip leans his head on Shelby's shoulder, and, surprisingly, she leans back.
And then it clicks for Scott.
He’s been compartmentalizing since day one—packing away his grief and separating it from his everyday functions and feelings. He doesn’t have time to wallow. If they end up in a place where it’s safe, where he can finally rest and process everything, then he will. But he doesn’t have time to consider all the terrible things that happened. He has to survive.
That’s the attitude everyone is taking, apparently. They can deal with the horrible actions Jimmy has taken after they’re in the clear. They can fight amongst themselves, split off into friendships again, when everything is safe.
Shelby and fWhip may be at odds, but they find comfort in each other because there is no one else. Jimmy may have caused the apocalypse, but he’s also the only one who can lead.
Scott can even see why one might consider Lizzie’s decision to leave as weakness. She had allowed her emotions to blend with her logical thinking, instead of separating the two functions like everyone else has attempted.
Scott can’t blame Lizzie for her choices, of course, and he doesn’t think anyone can—if she truly felt like she couldn’t accept Jimmy as a leader, it may have been better for her to go out alone rather than push back against everyone else.
And this brand of compartmentalizing is messy. fWhip spends half his time looking so nervous Scott’s afraid he might bite through his lip, and Gem had stared blankly at a cut the day before for a good thirty seconds before Scott reminded her to get a bandage. Jimmy embarks on possible suicide missions to rescue every person possible with almost zero regards for his own safety.
While Jimmy’s choices in that regard may not be so sound, they do keep up morale. Scott can imagine that tomorrow, Jimmy will begin plans to look for Pix. Jimmy’s so determined to save everyone, even if they’re beyond help, and it’s reckless but it’s worth it to see the relief on everyone’s faces when yet another person is home safe.
And Jimmy knows that. He is a good leader, after all.
“So, Pix,” Scott says aloud. “Are we going for him next?”
fWhip bites his lip. “Well, we haven’t seen anything of that guy—but his catacombs are sealed. Gem has this theory that he shut himself in, and the crawlies can’t get in. The problem is us getting in. Jimmy didn’t like our chances.”
“I bet there’s coal,” Shelby says suddenly, straightening. “Pix has tons of stuff, right? And lots of supplies down in the catacombs.”
“False said she’s got enough fuel for maybe five more trips,” Scott recalls. “We definitely need more.”
And perhaps, most importantly, Scott doesn’t know what to do next.
Once everyone is rescued, what is there to do? What happens when there’s no one else to save?
Rescuing Pix gives them a purpose, a goal. Something to put off the questions of continuing a bit later.
Jimmy probably realizes that, as good a leader as he is. He’s probably already started formulating a plan.
-
“No,” Jimmy tells them the next morning, when they gather in the chapel as usual. Before anyone can protest, he continues.
“We haven’t seen anything of Pix since this all started. There’s been no signs of life in the observations and fly-overs we’ve done. Those catacombs are just too much of a risk.”
“That’s a stupid excuse,” Shelby says bluntly, and judging by the expressions of everyone around the table, Scott thinks that they all mostly agree with her.
Jimmy sighs, rubs his eyes. He looks exhausted—Scott had woken him for second watch the night before, and he’s not sure that Jimmy’s slept since.
“Look, I know it’s not ideal,” he says, and there’s something in Jimmy’s voice that’s almost begging for them to understand his reasoning. Which would serve to endear Scott to him, except his reasons suck. “We’ve barely got enough fuel for it as it is. Every day, there’s more of those varmints around—and I’m sure they multiplied like rabbits up in Stratos—and if we get stuck in those catacombs, there’s no getting out. We—we’d die in there, just like Pix probably has. I’m sorry, but we can’t.”
Silence. Scott glances around—fWhip and Gem are sharing a Look, False is brooding over a cup of coffee, Sausage isn’t here, Katherine’s glaring at the floor, and Shelby’s just leaning back in her chair, arms crossed. She huffs.
“First of all, Pix probably stockpiled a bunch of coal—” she starts, but Jimmy cuts her off with a raise of his hand.
“Shelby, no,” he says firmly. “I don’t do this often, but I’m in charge, and I’m making an executive decision right now. The Sheriff says no, all right?”
And with those words, Jimmy stands up, shoves his hat onto his head, and leaves.
The rest of them finish breakfast silently, avoiding eye contact with one another.
Scott doesn’t quite know how to feel about it. Well, other than he thinks that Jimmy’s wrong. That’s pretty much a given, but he just isn’t confrontational enough to know whether this is enough of an injustice to fight about it.
The others seem to think there’s a genuine chance that Pix might be all right, but if he’s locked himself in his catacombs, he probably doesn’t have much in the way of supplies. There’s no guarantee that he hasn’t already starved to death, and no guarantee that he’ll have coal.
If it’s just rescuing Pix and gaining no other benefits, is it worth the risk?
Yes, Scott decides immediately. It is worth the risk, because Pix is another human being stuck in this horrible ending, and they ought to be doing everything they can to rescue everyone possible.
Scott can’t stop thinking about that as he heads back to his room and tidies it up. He’d never been a hero—he can remember abandoning tour guides in ancient temples once or twice—but Pix is his friend. Pix is a person, out there, on his own. They have the ability to help, and are choosing not to.
So when he’s done making his bed, the first thing he does is track down fWhip.
-
“I mean . . . if Jimmy thinks it’s too much of a risk, I’m with him,” fWhip says awkwardly when Scott asks him what he thinks. “He’s not usually wrong about how to handle this kind of thing.”
“He was wrong about how to handle Joel,” Scott points out. fWhip grimaces.
“Well, yeah. But since then, he’s had a pretty good track record. Pix is a great guy, and we need all the help we can get . . . but if Jimmy says no, I say no.”
-
“Of course I think we should go for Pix,” says Shelby, as Scott trails along beside her on a perimeter sweep. He tugs her away by her sleeve when she almost passes through the border, then marks the new line (because of course it’s changed, by about five inches here) with a little stack of rocks. “I know what it’s like to be out there alone, sure that no one will ever find you. It’s—it’s scary, Scott. We should go for him.”
“You don’t think it’s too dangerous?”
“We all have to make sacrifices,” Shelby says gravely. “I don’t want to trade lives or anything, but we need Pix’s smarts. If anyone can figure out a way to get out of here, he can.”
-
“Who’s to say he hasn’t already made it out?” False inquires, kicking back in her chair. “If anyone could, it’d be me or Pix. Maybe he has some secret portal tucked away in there.”
“So . . . you think we shouldn’t look for him?”
False shrugs. “I don’t know, Scott. I mean, what’s one person at the end of the world?”
And that’s exactly the question, isn’t it?
-
“Scott, I’m kind of in the middle of something—”
“I just want to know what you think,” Scott says. Gem sighs, backing away from the beehive before removing her gloves.
“I think the Sheriff’s right,” she says simply. “I don’t like it, but I understand. I’ve thought about it for a while, and it’s the choice I would make. We don’t have the fuel to spare—what if we need to relocate before we can sail out to Joey? We have to conserve what we can.”
-
“I don’t know,” says Katherine. She runs her whetstone along the blade of her axe a couple more times before continuing. “There’s a lot of risk there for what could possibly be no reward.”
“If we knew for sure that Pix was alive, would that change your answer?”
“Honestly . . . if there’s any chance he’s alive, I’d say go for him, of course.” Katherine sets down the whetstone. “There’s a lot of unknowns, but even if it’s just—recovering his body, it’s worth it. If Jimmy changes his mind, I’m down to go. I hate just sitting around.”
-
“Why wouldn’t we go rescue Pix?” Sausage asks, eyes wide, and that’s all the answer Scott needs.
-
Most of them end up around the campfire that night, for some reason. Katherine’s out patrolling in the night—Scott can occasionally catch a glimpse of her lantern bobbing up and down far away—and the rest of them (bar Sausage, of course) are sitting out, deliberately not meeting each others’ eyes.
Maybe they’re all here because they know something’s got to give. The tension has been building all day, and someone must’ve let Jimmy know that Scott had been going around to everyone and asking their thoughts, because Jimmy hasn’t so much as looked at Scott in hours.
Was it wrong of Scott to go behind Jimmy’s back and gather support against him? It’s not mutiny, probably—he’s not trying to shake Jimmy from his position as leader, as ill-gotten as it may be. He’s just trying to change his mind, sway him into something more reasonable.
Maybe it is time for another leader, though. He still hasn’t had the time to confront Jimmy’s deeds, to process any of it. He may never have that time. But just because he’s good at it doesn’t necessarily mean he should lead.
Not that Scott wants the position. Not that he can think of anyone more suitable.
Right, as long as Jimmy makes reasonable decisions, he’s a fine leader. Everyone else is here to keep him accountable, not blindly obey. There doesn’t need to be any mutiny.
Jimmy sighs, breaking the silence and interrupting Scott’s rambling thoughts.
“Right. You’re all here about the whole Pix thing, aren’t you?”
Gem looks away. fWhip worries his lip between his sharp teeth. Shelby taps her fingers against her arm.
None of them are going to speak. Of course they aren’t. They’re not cowards, but Scott sort of started this, didn’t he? He’s the one who went around and asked everyone’s thoughts. It’s time to put his money where his mouth is.
“Some of us think we should . . . reopen the discussion,” Scott says carefully. Jimmy finally looks at him. He looks even more tired than he did this morning—the shadows under his eyes are clear even against the dark night, the firelight throwing the lines on his face into stark, haggard relief.
“I know,” Jimmy says. “I know. But I really don’t appreciate y’all talking about this behind my back. Scott, fWhip told me you’ve been going around to everyone all day, asking if they think I’m wrong.”
He shouldn’t have gone to fWhip. Not that—not that this is something that he meant to keep a secret, but Jimmy clearly isn’t happy about it. And fWhip is a snitch.
Scott holds strong. “Yeah, well, the majority of us think that it’s worth the risk. If Pix is alive, he deserves just as much of a chance at help as I did.”
“I know you think you’re being all noble,” Jimmy says acerbically, “but really, Scott. You’re smarter than this. Pix’s tombs have only got the one way in. If we go in, and there’s nothing and no one, those critters will close off our escape. You saw the way they swarmed up Stratos—it’ll be that but times ten. And Pix hasn’t even shown any sign of life!” Jimmy shakes his head doggedly. “No. I’ve tried explaining my decision to you. I wouldn’t choose wrong on something like this. Trust me.”
And really, Scott should’ve dropped it then. He should’ve walked away, understood that he was poking the bear here, that Jimmy was sleep-deprived and annoyed and fed-up with his authority being questioned.
But the absolute indignation he feels at Jimmy telling him he wouldn’t ‘choose wrong’ when it came to someone’s life cannot be ignored.
Scott laughs. “Trust you?” he says, incredulous. “I—Jimmy, excuse me for not trusting you, especially after you lied to me for days!”
“I—I didn’t lie!” Jimmy sputters. “I—I just didn’t tell the full truth, there’s a difference! And you never asked, so I figured—”
“I didn’t know there was anything to ask about! I didn’t find out until two days ago what those things even are, let alone why they’re here! You’d think that if you killed someone and it caused—”
Jimmy stands up, his holster belt sliding off his knee and onto the log he’d been sitting on. Gem gasps a little bit; fWhip buries his face in his hands, ears flapping down.
“Scott,” Jimmy says, his voice low and hands clenched into fists at his sides, “I need you to leave right now.”
Scott stands as well, tossing his coat to the side. “Right,” he laughs derisively. “As soon as you get a little criticism, you blow up over it.”
“How about we all just calm down, maybe go to bed,” fWhip suggests, dropping his hands.
“How am I supposed to sleep knowing that we’re being led by an idiot?” Scott says snidely.
“Guys—”
“I’m not the bad guy, Scott!” Jimmy says. “I’m trying to lead this group, I’m trying to keep us alive!”
“Keep us alive? Jimmy—”
“I’m in charge because I’m the only one willing to make these choices,” Jimmy says, words echoing angrily in the night. “You want to try it? You want everyone’s lives in your hands? I’m doing my best! I’m not the bad guy!”
Scott scoffs, flexing his fingers. He’s ready. Come at me. “You can’t say you’re not the bad guy when you’re the one who killed Joel, you started this—”
Jimmy tackles Scott, his hat flying off, sending them both to the ground with a thud. Scott gasps—all the air in his chest is just gone and Jimmy’s weight is crushing him—he shoves hard, rolls to be on top of Jimmy, hands scrabbling to pull and scratch at any part of him.
Jimmy rolls then as well, and Scott’s suddenly very aware of the burning heat beside him and shoves until they roll the other direction, away from the fire.
“Get him, Scott!” Shelby cheers, while fWhip wails and yells for them to stop, but all Scott can hear is the blood pounding in his ears and all he can feel is—Jimmy doesn’t have the right, he doesn’t have the right to declare who lives and who dies and Scott’s going to defend his friends even if that means hurting one of them—
Scott hits him hard in the mouth, anger boiling over, and Jimmy actually yells in frustration or pain (Scott can’t tell which one) before pounding the heels of his fists against Scott’s head, which throws him off-balance and hurts—
“Stop—I said, stop!”
Scott freezes at Sausage’s voice (as does Jimmy under him), scrambles up off of Jimmy and scoots back to look at him. Jimmy groans, pulls himself to his feet.
Sausage is there, illuminated by the fire, arms crossed as he looms over them. He isn’t wearing shoes, his hair is still sleep-mussed, and one of his sleeves is half-rolled up and fraying at the end.
He’s the most intimidating figure Scott’s ever seen, and he manages to feel a sudden burst of shame. What was he thinking, wrestling with Jimmy like that? They’re supposed to be adults.
“I can’t believe this!” Sausage declares, glaring at the both of them. “You guys are being too disruptive, I’m trying to pray!”
Jimmy spits angrily on the ground, and Scott’s shame fades for a moment of vicious pleasure as he sees that Jimmy’s lip is sluggishly bleeding.
“She’s dead, Sausage!” Jimmy snarls.
The air goes cold in the late summer night. Everything seems to freeze. Jimmy doesn’t stop.
“Your god is dead! They’re all dead—every single one of ‘em, dead as Pix is. We’re alone here in this damned world, and I know it for a fact—because when I killed the last god, I begged for forgiveness and there was no one to hear my prayers. They’re all dead! Your Pearl is dead, all right?”
Silence. Scott doesn’t move. Nobody moves.
Jimmy laughs bitterly, looking around at each of their shadowed faces.
“And you know what? If Pix were here, he’d agree with me. So you can go back to praying to your dead god, Sausage, in there day-in and day-out blabbering uselessly to thin air and dust. I’m gonna try and do something worthwhile! I’m gonna try and save us! Hate me all you want—you know I’m right.”
And with that, Jimmy swings his holster belt over his shoulder and storms off into the night, the fire flickering behind him.
-
The next day passes uneasily. Scott avoids Jimmy, embarrassed by his outburst last night (and maybe, just a little bit, still fiercely righteously angry). fWhip avoids Scott. And Jimmy avoids absolutely everybody.
That is, until midafternoon, when a scream comes from the border.
Scott hears it from his place in the inn kitchen, rummaging around looking for something to prepare for dinner. He drops the loaf of bread he’d pulled from the shelf and runs—it has to be an infection, there’s only been two since he got here but both times they’d been an emergency and traumatizing and that scream had sounded awfully like Shelby—
Sure enough, Shelby’s standing at the border, but the reason for her distress is made immediately clear.
Scott stops in his tracks, almost frozen in shock. Gem and fWhip, exiting the church not far away, halt before they get more than a step out the door, fWhip’s hands over his mouth. Katherine, running in, stops so suddenly she nearly falls over.
“Hi, guys!” Oli says brightly. His smile is a little bit too wide. A black, fuzzy thing crawls over his lips.
Scott swallows back the shriek that tries to issue from his own lips.
Oli is. . . .
He should definitely be dead.
Should being the keyword.
There’s—Scott can count at least six mites attached to him. There’s one on his shoulder—his shoulder is bare, his puffy shirt torn, and the skin is blackened and almost gooey where the mite is stuck like a leech. One or two circle his dirty stockings, there’s definitely one in his hair, and as Scott watches, unable to tear his eyes away, a particularly tiny one squeezes its way out of his nostril.
He’s going to be sick. Scott’s going to be sick. He’s going to throw up right here and right now, because Oli shouldn’t be here, skin oozing and covered in those things. He should be dead.
The not-dead (or, not-yet-dead) Oli, who is very much here when he oughtn’t be, sighs and sets his hands on his hips. “Well, isn’t anyone going to let a poor boy in? Where’s Sausage? Where’s my Sausage?”
“He’s not here,” Scott forces himself to say when nobody speaks. His voice cracks on the first word; no one calls him out on it. Shelby looks like she’s in shock, still barely a meter from Oli. Gem’s muttering something under her breath that Scott can’t quite hear but sounds like either a prayer or a curse. They’re quite similar, after all.
There’s a crowd gathering. Townsfolk coming to see what’s wrong, gasping and whispering and making horrified sounds.
“You need to go away,” fWhip finally says, bounding forward a couple of steps and making a shooing motion with his hands before bouncing back. “Get out.”
Oli sticks out his bottom lip. “Now is that any way to treat a guest? I’ll just—”
They all make movements forward as Oli sets a foot beyond the border. Scott can’t let him in, he can’t let him bring death here so soon—
Oli pauses, though, makes a face that seems to imply the air is a bit awkward for what he’s going to say. “Erm, can you take down this fancy forcefield . . . thing?” he asks. “My little friends can’t get through, see.”
Nobody says a word. Scott barely dares to breathe. They can’t just—can they just leave him here? They can’t, right?
But they can’t let him in.
And then, with the familiar sound of boots pounding into dirt, Jimmy appears.
To his credit, Jimmy takes in the scene with nothing more than mild horror, before his face softens into something kind and he slowly approaches the border, and by association Oli. Shelby takes a few shaky steps back, but Scott steps forward. Whatever Jimmy tells Oli, he wants to hear it. Even as . . . unpleasant as being up close is, Scott notes, eyes catching on the mite on Oli’s shoulder as it literally burrows further into his flesh.
“Jimmy! What’s going on here, king?”
“Nothing much,” Jimmy says easily, posture relaxed and a bit of a smile on his face. Scott can’t help it, he’s impressed. For all he’s said and done, Jimmy is very good at being a leader—and by extent, keeping the peace.
“Well, why—why—why won’t you all let me in, huh?”
“Oli, we can’t let you in.”
Oli’s face falls. “Why not?”
Up close, Scott can see moist blackness under Oli’s chin, the frame of his jaw appearing to have a spongy texture. He wonders, morbidly, if he pressed it would it sink in?
“Oli, there’s a bit of a bad thing going on right now,” Jimmy says, his voice still soothing and calm. “There’s an evil in this world.”
“Well, well, that’s not good!” Oli says. “Have you seen this evil?”
Jimmy’s eyes linger on the mite burrowed in Oli’s hair. “Yes,” he says. “But—we need eyes on the ground, yeah?”
Oli’s mouth goes wide like an ‘O’, and Scott actually has to press his hand to his mouth to hold back the bile that rises. His tongue is black and slimy and decaying, and he thinks there might be a mite in his mouth—which would explain the swollen cheek.
“You want me to be like a spy!” Oli says excitedly. “Why of course, king! I’ll report back next week, yeah?”
“Yeah,” says Jimmy. “Next week. See you then.”
Somehow, it works. Oli waves cheerily at them all (nobody so much as moves), then hops off in the opposite direction, singing something loudly as he leaves.
Jimmy turns back to the crowd, face ashen. His voice trembles just slightly when he speaks. “Do you still want to go after Pix?”
A moment’s hesitation. fWhip’s actually crying, Scott realizes, a couple of fat tears rolling down his green cheeks. Gem looks like she’ll never forget the image of Oli as long as she lives.
Scott won’t, either. He still feels like he’s one wrong move from vomiting. And now, after seeing exactly what the mites do to someone, he doesn’t know how he can even justify looking for Pix. If Pix is like that, he’s not sure he’d be able to bear it.
His llamas had been ill, and in so much pain when the darkness took them. He doesn’t want to see any more of his friends like that.
But can he really leave Pix to that fate?
“Yes. We want to go for him,” Katherine says firmly, as even Shelby looks doubtful. She meets Jimmy’s gaze with hard determination in her eyes. “Everyone deserves help. Everyone deserves a chance. We can’t just choose to sacrifice someone else to keep ourselves safe.”
Shelby looks away.
“What about Oli?” asks Jimmy, gesturing behind him.
“Oli’s already gone,” Katherine says. She shakes her head. “That wasn’t Oli. That was . . . whatever shadow is left of him. We don’t know if Pix is gone yet.” Then, something almost pleading in her voice, she says, “We can’t let that happen to him.”
Scott sees the precise moment Jimmy relents. He holds her gaze for a moment, heavy and determined and still a little angry, before his shoulders slump.
“Fine,” says Jimmy. He waves a hand wearily. “We set out for Pix in two days. Start preparing.”
Do Haruka's fingernails grew at a rapid rate like her dad? If so, how does she handle it?
Ooh, interesting one! I've actually thought about this a little.
Fun fact, there is an old rendition of Two Little Kitties out there called "Kira" that I originally posted under a now orphaned account, then continued under my current account, before making too many character and plot changes and deleting it to make a new one lol (mainly Momo, as she was originally standless and not a Kawajiri lol). So, there are some chapters that are dead to the world and are only accessible by me via my notes app lol, but the first five chapters are still on ao3 somewhere lol.
ANYWAYS, reason I'm mentioning this, is because in the original instead of just fighting Akihiko, Haru actually does decide to murder him (yay! /hj). And afterwards, she notices her nails have grown quite a bit. And she's naturally freaked out by it, ofc. Unfortunately, this is one of the deleted chapters lol-
As for the current edition though, Haruka doesn't quite have the same murderous impulses Kira does, so she may not have the rapid nail growth. But at the same time, she does become almost uncharacteristically violent either in self-defence or defence of others. As shown when Akihiko is being really shitty to Momo and Haruka has the thought of murdering him but ultimately just uses Hello Kitty to punch his lights out. So, like, maybe her nails grow when she or someone she loves is under threat? As opposed to Kira's growing when he has the urge to murder?
That's an interesting concept actually... might use that in the fic now, who knows-
