#doomedflare

[frfld]

@doomedflare, jake: i'm not your friend.

❝ that's fine by me, ❞ dwight snaps back, glaring in the others direction for just a moment before returning to oil-stained machine between abrasive duo, ❝ we don't need to be friends, we just need to be able to work together — to coordinate, like a team, ❞ voice stays steady, despite obvious irritation. one could easily argue 'teammates' and 'friends' are synonyms, but at this point in dwight's barely-held-together-with-duct-tape plan, he just needs something — anything, to work with. why did i decide to try and work with him first? he whines internally, already knowing the answer as he watches, um, jake (that's his name, and it had been like pulling teeth just to get that out of him) tinker with the generator calmly. calm, grounding, competent, unafraid — that's why you picked him and you know it, trust in your own judgement, fairfield. something shifts a little to the left in him.

❝ all we have in here is each other, ❞ he finally says, less frustration and more sincerity to his words, a new resolve in big green eyes as he looks at jake, ❝ that's going to have to mean something, eventually, ❞ whether you want it to or not.

[frfld]

@doomedflare, jake: [...]

dwight took an incredible amount of pride in his work organizing and cataloguing all of vigo's samples, specimens, and experiments. an intricate and delicate ecosystem, everything was exactly where it should be, moved and noted upon following vigo's specific instruction without delay or hesitation, and very rarely did someone make the mistake of touching something within the confines of this space without dwight's explicit permission.

do you want any help?

thankfully, jake had learned to ask first before putting his hands on anything long ago. dwight lets himself marinates in the warm feeling blooming in his chest, a small smile just barely visible as another sample is labeled, catalogued, and placed into its new and temporary home on a shelf alongside its dozens of siblings.

❝ always, ❞ if it's you, he finishes internally, as dwight was notorious among vigo's crew for being extremely protective of every little vial that came through his door and rarely allowing anyone to assist him. all it takes is one well-intentioned, but unfortunate, act to ruin everything in this room, he would remind himself. but he trusted jake, who'd proven time and time again his devotion to this cause — to finding an end to this nightmare, and therefore rather quiet collector was allowed almost free reign in dwight's area. there are no other reasons i'm biased to jake's company, he would also remind himself.

❝ bring me those samples, please — the ones labeled for the 14th, i need to make observations on them before being rotated out with the ones labeled for the 15th, ❞ head stays down, focused on what he's currently writing. after a few moments, familiar shadow enters his peripherals and head turns up to thank jake, but every thought in dwight's brain turns to dust as warm brown eyes suddenly fill his vision. for once in his life, dwight fairfield is left speechless.

these ones? he hears jake ask, muffled, as though under water, and green eyes manage to pull away long enough to glance at his own neat writing.

❝ ah, yes, ❞ he awkwardly confirms, trying to ignore the warmth in his face as large, safe hands place batch of samples in his own, the touch lingering for a bit too long as eye contact manages to hold steady in this tension. ❝ thank you for your help, jake. ❞ voice is barely above a whisper, and for just a moment, he very selfishly wonders what could happen if both of them manage to survive this plague.

[frfld]

@doomedflare, jake: [...]

the original missing person reports said his last known location was this general area, guess i'm gonna have to hoof it from here on out. he thinks, parking old corvair at the end of abandoned-looking dirt road, a well-tempered fire in his belly as dwight steps out of his car, montgomery quickly following his actions and beginning to sniff around curiously. he's here, he has to be. green eyes stare deep into thick woods, the smell of decaying pine needles heavy and familiar, just like how jake always smelled. tongue clicks, and he begins moving towards destiny, monty instantly turning and falling into step with him.

it had been a long three months for dwight, that time spent arguing with authorities (though in the end they always caved to his demands, something he'd quickly made note of at the time and immediately began taking advantage of), gathering information and resources (god bless the expansion of internet), getting in contact with a few others already (those that were more reachable, like claudette and meg), getting a dog in the midst of it all (for hopefully obvious reasons), more arguing with more authorities, spending too much damn money on gas, and finally driving all the way the hell out here in the middle of nowhere, all for the sake of seeing a face he's spent every moment out of that damn fog thinking about. he should be nervous — worried, even, but dwight fairfield hasn't been nervous in a very long time, and if there's one thing he knows he can count on in the entire world it is jake's loyalty.

❝ shouldn't be much farther now, boy, ❞ he informs monty, that aching feeling in his chest getting stronger with every step north, like claws squeezing around his heart. he lets out a quick whistle, and canine companion begins roaming on his own deeper between douglas firs, keeping anything that might want to interfere with this search at bay. i'm almost home, jake, i promise.

it takes about an hour of walking, midday sun blocked out by thick tree cover, but ears perk at the softest sound of a chugging generator, and lips twitch into the smallest of smiles as a structure comes into view. the cabin is small, but clearly built with a purpose, and appropriately dilapidated given how long it's been since jake's initial disappearance. rough around the edges, intimidating to those unfamiliar, but alive and warm if you're paying attention. just like someone i know. the aching in his chest becomes almost overwhelming as monty obediently pulls back to his side, yet wayfarer cannot falter in his journey now, he doesn't even know how to stop anymore, a force born of determination from the entity's womb of hopelessness, he wonders if jake's had similar experiences since their collective departure from the fog. lost in his thoughts, dwight is suddenly standing before the front door. knock knock.

he waits patiently, expression blank and unreadable, as he listens to the muffled sounds of someone moving around within before door swings open and green eyes soften at the sight before him. jake park, standing there in front of him, looking as tired as ever, and dwight has to fight a smile when the other's eyes blow wide in recognition. mouth starts to open in greeting, but before anything can come out, tattooed arms shoot forward to envelope smaller man in a tight hug.

i can't believe you're real.

admission is shakily whispered into dwight's ear, and he returns the embrace, leaning into jake's touch for the first time in what's felt like too long. the aching in his chest melts away instantly with their reunion.

❝ sorry i'm late, jae-kuk, ❞ he apologizes softly, feeling his vision begin to blur at the edges, as months of wondering and hoping and moving and doing everything in his power to get here and the stress of it all fight to release everything at once, ❝ thank you for waiting for me, ❞ he pulls jake off just far enough for pale hands to hold lover's face, relearning every detail of it as though he were somehow capable of forgetting anything about jake park in the first place. ❝ i missed you. ❞

[frfld]

@doomedflare, jake: you think jake is my real name?

❝ i — what? ❞ the gen blows in his face, but big green eyes are fully focused on the individual to his left, ❝ what are you — jake what the fuck are you talking about? ❞ is he fucking with me? he has to be. dwight had spent most of his life being rather naive to certain social cues and customs (it was the autism) and jake was fully aware of this fact, the other's expression unreadable as they stay focused on the generator. ❝ i mean, your name is technically jae-kuk, if that's what you're referring to, ❞ he's trying not to look too worried about this since it's probably just jake fucking with him. hopefully.

[frfld]

@doomedflare, jake: are you sure you don't want to come with me?

❝ um? ❞ big green eyes glance at jake's encouraging (if a bit smarmy) smile before returning to haunting stairway that descends into what seems even more hellish than this damned shack, hair standing on the back of his neck as feet remain planted where they are at the top. it's just a basement, what's the worst thing that could be down there? slow breaths through nostrils help fight the need to start hyperventilating as he takes a couple uncertain steps down towards jake. ❝ oh, ❞ he instinctively whimpers as already the entity's whispers seem to curl around dwight's ankles, hungry fog clawing up his pant legs. he feels his stomach lurch at the motion, like sitting at the top of a rollercoaster before the drop.

❝ oh — oh i don't know if i can do this, jake, ❞ shaky hand reaches out to grab jake's forearm, pale digits digging in out of desperation for something steady to hold onto, ❝ i'm not — ❞ brave? he looks up at jake again, gaze unwavering, and something in him settles. ❝ well it can't hurt to just take a peek down here, see if there's anything useful, ❞ his grip has not loosened at all since attaching himself to the other's side, ❝ right? ❞ even with jake here, something tells him this is a bad idea.

[frfld]

@doomedflare, sable: 🕯️

❝ this isn't normal, ❞ i hope, he internally adds on, ❝ sometimes things — change, in the fog. ❞ leader's voice holds a long unseen waver to it, feeling a certain nervousness he hasn't experienced since the early days, when everything was still so new and terrifying and hopeless. he gives sable's hand a reassuring squeeze, though one could argue it was more for himself than her, as pair awkwardly wander through unlit treatment center, candelabra's miniscule flames quietly flickering as they burn away some of the darkness of their surroundings. chest tightens more and more with every step, eyes trained forward.

❝ sable, dear, you don't happen to be afraid of the dark, do you? ❞ he whispers, hoping her answer differs from his own.

[frfld]

@doomedflare, mikaela: [...]

where are you, newly lost soul? he wonders to himself within moments of cloying fog clearing way to reveal the familiar smell of rubber and oil found at autohaven. shoulders hunch as body moves just a little lower to the ground, breathing steady and eyes peeled for whatever surprise may lie around every corner. if i woke up in this hell, where would i hide? he hears humming in the distance, but david already know to keep the killer occupied (and maybe study it a bit, if it's a new one) while he goes searching for group's newest addition, and legs carry him towards dilapidated mechanic's shop.

muffled yelp of pain startles paranoid leader right as he crosses poorly-lit threshold, and the distraction is almost enough to make dwight miss the shock of red curls peeking out from behind a shelf of moldy and expired potato chips before they instantly pull back to hide deeper within the gas station as a woman's voice makes a squeak of surprise.

❝ hey — hey, it's okay, i'm not gonna hurt you, ❞ voice is soft, hands raised with palms out, a posture practiced to perfection for the sake of surviving, he takes a cautious step, ❝ you're scared and confused right now and i will be able to explain it to you, but first we need to get out of here, ❞ another couple steps forward, she hasn't tried to bolt for it at least — thank god, until he gently rounds the corner to face her.

❝ i'm sorry, my name is — ❞

dwight fairfield.

he freezes, green eyes blown wide in shock as he looks down at the young woman before him, mouth agape as she seemingly takes the words right out of it, her expression mirroring his own at the revelation of one-sided recognition. brows furrow in thought, mind already racing with possible explanations. something feels strange in the air around here, he finally notices, and wonders if it's somehow related to her.

❝ how do you know my name? ❞ tone is quiet with whispered curiosity, as though worried about the wrong parties overhearing their conversation, head tilting as he keeps half an ear out for any intruders that may try to interrupt their (supposedly not first) meeting. slowly, she stands, chin dipping just a little bit to keep eye contact. she looks steady, despite the circumstances.

i've seen you before.

❝ where have you — ❞ question is cut in half by hatchet whizzing a hair's breadth behind dwight's head, and curiosity is switched out for bone-deep instinct as he dives out of the way of huntress' second throw. ❝ run! ❞ command is barked from nicotine-rich lungs, keeping his body between a girl who somehow knows him and this evening's killer of choice.

you're changing the rules of the game again, aren't you? dwight muses humorlessly as he guides curious new companion through a labyrinth of crushed vehicles in search of a friendly face. he faintly hears david's labored breathing somewhere ahead of them. there's something special about this girl, that's why you brought her here — another piece of your fucked up puzzle, perhaps. cogs slick with generator oil churn inside his little skull, questions without answers piling up like bodies on his shoulders as he holds back from asking them just yet.

get her out of here alive, that's your first priority, he reminds himself.

❝ what's your name, if you don't mind me asking? ❞ he give her something easy to focus on, a teacherly tone to his voice. helps keep the heartrate down to a more manageable range.

mikaela. mikaela reid.

❝ well, miss reid, ❞ he stops and turns to look at her, chest aching at the fear in her eyes. he puts a hand on her shoulder, ❝ i know you're terrified but i need you to trust me and do exactly as i say until we are safe outside these walls, can you do that for me? ❞ she braces herself but silently nods, ❝ good, because we have a lot to talk about it seems, but first — ❞ he pauses mid-thought, the sound of splintering wood pulling him back to reality, left arm sticking out protectively in front of mikaela, ❝ we have to regroup with the others and then work on getting out of here — alive, preferably. ❞

[frfld]

@doomedflare, jake: [...]

this is fine — an acceptable degree of loss in this scenario, he thinks to himself, letting out a harsh exhale of pain as claws stab into already bloody sternum, unseen bell ringing in his ears, the earth below shaking and glowing in a way that always looked like sunlight to dwight (like some cruel joke, a flash of light and warmth on your skin before death), another piece of a puzzle that he still doesn't know what the final image is supposed to look like. it hadn't always existed either — another rule that had been changed without warning by the entity itself. why? to keep the survivors on their toes? to move the goal posts a little further? to allow the killers one more way of winning in the face of embarrassment and loss?

whatever the reason, dwight found the whole thing rather curious — proof of something changing in the place where things never change. another stab to the chest pulls dwight from his thoughts with a yell, and he hopes whoever's left in here will have the sense to leave through one of the gates he knows to be opened. kate got out ages ago, and i'm hoping felix had listened when i'd told him to run for it, so that only leaves —

❝ oh, fuck me, ❞ words are mumbled between wheezing gasps of air as lo and behold, jake park of stupid decisions fame, is seen sprinting across splintering field towards dying leader. no no no no — eyes screw shut tight as a grimace contorts blood-drained face, bracing for the inevitable, a distant heartbeat and revving chainsaw beginning to cut through the cacophony of their current situation, and dwight has to fight the temptation of offing himself right in front of jake for the simple, petty sake of making a fucking point. instead, familiar hands find home at dwight's waist and an instinctive whimper of pain unlocks closed off expression as meat hook un-suctions itself from within his chest. movement catches his eye from behind jake and small fingers form an iron grip on irksome hero's arm.

❝ fucking run, dammit! ❞ he barks in saboteur's face, a snarl in his throat as duo make a mad dash for a temporary freedom that is, thankfully, in sight and maybe even in reach. if we manage to get out of this alive, i swear to god — teeth grit in indescribable frustration as pair all but drag each other towards exit, a pallet or two dropping in their wake to keep necessary distance, the clock tick, tick, ticking away in everyone's ears louder and louder as the moment of truth: will they make it? reaches its crescendo. panic blooms as he hears a gasp of pain leave jake from hillbilly's chainsaw as it connects with their back, but by the grace of some higher power, or maybe just by dumb fucking luck (most likely the latter, knowing these two) final slash provides enough momentum for the both of them to make it over trial's threshold. bodies hit the ground in tandem with flesh-hungry steel connecting with the entity's barrier and assailant stands there for a moment, glaring at escaped survivors, before revving for one last time and sprinting back into already fading trial.

dwight releases a breath he's been holding for what's felt like years and collapses onto cold facsimile of soil, already starting to feel better as flesh and bone begin to knit back together, a survivor's reward for overcoming the impossible. deep in the bliss of living to see another day, he almost forgets he's mad at jake.

almost.

he hears the sound of jake clearing their throat and green eyes snap open before focusing on the offered before him, a glance up reveals a very confident smirk upon jake's face, brow quirking in a silent 'you're welcome.'

❝ you... you — idiot! ❞ he snaps, slapping extended offering away as he brings himself to his feet, icy glare holding jake rooted to where they stand amidst the wheat and fog, ❝ what were you thinking? i know i told you to make a break for it, even if we'd gotten separated! i had it all planned out, dammit. christ alive, you never fucking listen — ❞ he's not mad, not in a real way at least, but still meticulous leader finds himself pacing and gesticulating in any direction other than jake's, needing to get whatever this is (an unexpected outcome that went against his numbers) out of his system. he lets out a yell, mind racing to figure out which variable he hadn't taken into account —

i thought you'd be more excited to see me.

❝ you really are god's perfect idiot, you know that? ❞ exasperation laces his words, turning to give jake the most incredulous look he can muster. however, spinning gears within skull come to a screeching halt at the look on partner's face, instantly realizing the variable dwight never allows himself to factor in, as it always sends his equations into disarray. don't look at me like that, can't you see i'm trying to be mad at you right now?

i'm sorry. and i love you.

❝ i... ❞ at a loss for words, blood-stained palms press hard against dwight's face, pushing glasses out of the way as he lets out a small groan. visibly, he deflates, shoulders sagging as half-lidded gaze peeks between fingers at jake, brown eyes big and sad, like a kicked puppy. he sighs, hands slowly dropping away.

❝ i love you, too, ❞ he finally reciprocates, calm now in a slow approach, ❝ and don't apologize, i'm sorry for reacting poorly to you saving my sorry ass. i just — ❞ had a plan that was supposed to conclude with my death, and hadn't taken into consideration the fact you love me too much to let that happen, that's all, ❝ assumed that was going to be it for me, that's all. ❞ he reaches up, cold hands warmed as they gently cup jake's face, pulling it closer to his own, unfathomable adoration burning brightly in doe-like eyes, ❝ one day i'll figure you out, ❞ and chin lifts, head tilting as they both lean into a kiss, previous annoyances and calculations already being forgotten.