Whumptober #1 Please don’t cry
The nausea had yet to settle. It had been hours, twelve hours to be precise, since Henrik was found and rushed into surgery. He had tried to get Jackie to leave with him, to at least go home and change with the promise of coming right back to the hospital. It was to no avail, because Jackie was an unmoving mountain and the waiting room was his valley.
And Marving gets it, if he were in the hero’s shoes he would’ve been stubborn enough to stand guard right outside the operating room.
This whole situation… it has the magician feeling a storm of emotions that he doesn’t even know where to start. He feels happy and relieved, but he can also feel the bitterness of resentment and anger trying to overshadow the good. It’s good that Henrik was found. That he’s alive… But now that also sparks hope in his already damaged heart.
Marvin had already come to terms of never finding his best friend. It’s been… centuries. But now seeing how Henrik managed to make it out as intact as possible, he can’t help but wonder… He can’t help but think about the words Jackie spat at him, how he was a coward for giving up.
The internal monologue comes to a stop just as he folded one of Jackie’s hoodies. Just from downstairs Marvin could hear a quiet pair of footsteps, light enough to go undetected but not entirely concealed. At least not to someone who’s always with their guard up.
No one should be able to come into this house… It’s heavily guarded with charms that not even the most skilled wizard or warlock could break through. The only reason why he could even come into this house was because the original caster allowed him to.
A sense of dread settles at the pit of his stomach as he makes his way out of the room and down the hallway. Bandaged hands rest at his side, a small ball of green and red flames coming to life. At the ready to attack at the intruder. Marvin peeks just enough from the stairs, seeing a shadow move a bit disoriented.
He takes a step, quickly regretting it when the floorboard squeaks and announces his presence. It all happened in a blink of an eye, the shadow moving with alarm and speed and seconds later a dagger flying towards him. If it weren’t for his quick reflexes, he wouldn’t have been able to wave his free hand and catch it mid-air with a spell.
All of this seemed too familiar… A sense of dejavú washing over him. Mismatched eyes widen the more he stared at the floating dagger, carefully examining the handle and its intricate shape and design… No, it can’t be, right? Last time he saw that dagger—
The magician grabs the dagger and runs downstairs, heart beating erratically against his ribcage. No, he won’t believe it until he sees it with his own two eyes.
Once at the bottom or the stairs and his eyes land on the man he had been looking for far too long stood in front of him, brows in a scowl and sapphire eyes sharp. Knees threaten to buckle, but he didn’t let himself fall apart just yet.
Marvin swallows dryly and holds the dagger to his chest with trembling hands. His friend… the one who he cared about and had failed that night… the one he had giving up looking for was standing right in front of him.
Lips part, but no words come out. They part again, and again until he can form one word, even if it comes out in a frail whisper. “Jamie…?” The name is foreign on his lips, because he hadn’t dare speak his name after the trail. After he was labeled a murder and cast away from what he had built along with his friend. His confidant…
Jameson can only glare at him, but there’s no hatred. Anger, yes, but never hatred. He wished there was, because if it weren’t for his recklessness then none of this would’ve happened. Jameson wouldn’t have been taken away; Henrik wouldn’t have been taken away…
The dagger clatters to the floor, and before none of them knew it, Marvin was kneeling in front of the dapper. He didn’t deserve to hug him, didn’t deserve to cry his name and cry with relief at the fact that Jameson was standing in front of him. Alive. If anything, Marvin was ready to accept his punishment, accept death, or even have his magic stripped from him. Yet, all he received is silence, and a cautious pat to his back.
The touch was all the evidence Marvin needed to know this was real. It was too much for his heart to bear, for years of inconsolable grief and loss came flooding like a tidal wave. A sob tore through his chest, and once started there was no stopping the tears.
“I’m sorry!” Marvin sobbed, “I’m sorry, Jem! I’m so sorry! I-I should’ve known—! Should’ve listen! I should’ve listened!”
As he begged for a forgiveness he didn’t deserve, he was met with nothing but silence.
“I-I looked… I promise I did! I looked for you— I wasn’t strong enough… I-I could never be as strong as y-you… I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I-I don’t!”
Fingers hook under the magician’s chin and slowly lift his face. The scowl had soften with sorrow and resignation. A look that said ‘I know you tried.’ After all these centuries, after who knows what he went through, he was still Jameson.
{Please don’t cry.} The dapper signs, {It’s… Good to be back.}
