Tw/cw: crack(?), a little fluff, Sunday/Wonweek uses his weird ass abilities on you but nothing malicious. You pass out like twice. Implications of alcohol/being drunk. Implied yandere behavior but it's very subtle.
Pairing: Sunday x you x wonweek. Also an appearance from March and our lovely Trailblazer
Summary: Wonweek finds a way to mess with Sunday by troubling him with the whereabouts of his lover. This is implied to be during the 2.7 quest, before Sunday and wonweek are caught by welt.
A/n: I just kinda missed my 45th wife..... maybe this is a little ooc.. but it's okay.....
——
This was all his doing.
Sunday muttered under his breath, back pressed against the wall of an alleyway he ducked into, suspiciously eyeing the bloodhounds that were conversing in the distance.
Had there been no time constraints, nor had he been basically a fugitive as of now, he would have entertained his whims. Wonweek had a way of getting under his skin – past the several safety nets of patience, the winding walls of protocol he bolstered into his nature, and the now fizzling illusion of control; this was his mind, after all. But was it?
"Tsk, tsk," Sunday gritted his teeth, eyes turning to the dark alley, where a raven sat on a railing. It blinked, tilting its head, before Wonweek's voice continued, "look at you, all worked up. Were all those years of experience for nothing?"
The bird squaked as Sunday's hand grasped around its body, squirming in the firm grip; not of pain, but of the discomfort of its wings being restricted. "Don't test me, scoundrel."
The bird opened its mouth, but only came silence. Or so he thought, before Wonweek's low and condescending chuckle tumbled out,
"Ha, I wonder what else I can squeeze out of your mouth. Or perhaps the Head of the Family– whoops, wait," he laughs, again, "or perhaps our fugitive is out of touch when it comes to profanities?"
"Wonweek." He glares into the empty eyes of the raven, "Where?"
"Thats simply too easy." He scoffs at his words, "don't worry, they're safe. I'd be more concerned with your own disposition."
Sunday glances back at the opening of the alley, across the pathway to where the hounds were previously. They have left, likely continuing on their patrols.
Instinctively, his other hand tugs at his hood, pulling it tighter.
"Well then, your next clue will rear its head right abouutt.." something rings out in the distance, "now."
Sunday's wings bristle, as he watches the bird completely relax in his hand. Gently, he releases the bird, fingers barely brushing over the tusled feathers.
He takes a step back, slowly peeking around the corner, before breathing and taking a step ahead,
"By the way," Wonweek's voice resounds in the alleyway, Sunday stops mid-step, "the birds don't feel anything. Feel free to take out your frustration when you're truly face to face."
His eyebrows furrow, but he doesn't reply. He leaves, swiftly and quiet.
——
"Isn't this a little extreme?" Your hands fiddle with a trinket; something Wonweek snagged off a too-drunk visitor, "you couldn't have picked a better time?"
He laughs, leaning against the railing beside you, "this is a better time. The best, in fact."
His hand unceremoniously plucks the trinket from your hand, but when you look at his face, he's staring back, a smug smile on his face.
"Besides, don't you like spending more time with me?"
You scrunch your nose, before rolling your eyes. With a sigh, you ask, "what did you tell him?"
He hums, hand now fiddling with the beat up, mechanical bird, "just a little something to ruffle his feathers."
"And? That was?"
"Robin's protection is a little lacking, poor thing." The trinket chirps and squeaks in his hand, "that you'd gone missing even under her care. If he doesn't find you in time, well.."
He hands you back the trinket,
"someone will have to take care of you."
When you look up, his face is closer, enough for his breath to tickle your face in soft puffs. "I wonder if you'd like that more?"
——
Sunday weaves between the all-too-familiar buildings in the Golden hour. Eyes methodically scanning over the scarce crowd. Most have left to catch up on sleep, and some..
A man gurgles, before throwing up in the plants, behind a SoulGlad Van. He groans, lethargically moving onto his back before passing out.
Sunday glances around once more, watching the backs of a few Hounds. The risk was tolerable.
He approaches closer to the man, and kneels down. His hands slowly reach out when—
beep, beep, beep!
He flinches, hands still hovering in the air.
♪~Rise up into my world
Renew your definition~♪
He sighs, hands lowering. The phone screen flashes, following the beats of the ringtone.
He closes his eyes, and shakes his head, irritation coiling up in his thoughts. Once he gets his hands on that rascal..
After a moment, he opens his eyes once again. Perhaps some tuning will help him reach a clue faster–
"Ah-ah, sunny," he flinches again, the ringtone cut by the soft buzz of Wonweek's voice through the speaker, "no cheating. Tsk, tsk, has no one taught you the integrity of things? Such a shame."
Carefully– well, careful enough by his standards through the annoyed disposition, he fishes out the phone through the man's pocket.
"You draw this out too much. When I catch you–"
"Sunny, sunny, sunny," he cuts Sunday off, "don't you know the fruit is sweeter when the work is bitter? A little struggle should be nothing compared to what you've been through. Especially considering you were railed by–"
"Enough."
He sneers, "I do not tolerate your tasteless riddles when it comes to–"
"We can dance this dance forever," he cuts Sunday off again, "I wonder which one of us will get a full sentence out before the next clue?"
Sunday bites the inside of his cheek. He glances around once more, before Wonweek's voice draws him in again,
"Maybe you don't need a clue at all. With enough risk, you can simply cut through the maze and find the prize yourself."
"You–"
"Take a look."
In an instant, when Sunday glances up again, an influx of crowd has entered the place. The phone clatters, Wonweek's stifled laugh buzzing against the ground as the taps of Sunday's shoes quicken.
After a few powered steps, he calms himself down, falling back into regular habits. He slows his pace, rechecking the disguise as he comfortably breezes through the crowd. A child points at him, but his panic quickly settles when the child starts cheering 'robot', the father quickly offering him an apologetic look before hushing the child.
When Sunday redirects his gaze forward, he stops.
He recognises the top of your head.
Instantly, he's ready to run at you when–
"Excuse me, but,"
Someone places a firm hand on his shoulder, stopping him. A bead of sweat rolls down the back of his neck, heart thumping against his ribs.
"Ma'am, would you like to try our candy? It's a part of our Try-not-to-laugh challenge."
–——
"A little further up,"
"Here?"
"Mhm."
He sighs, wings gently stretching out as he yawns, a slight tremble dancing along the thin bone under your finger as you rub between the feathers.
"How much longer did you say?"
"Just.. a few more minutes.." he mumbles, closing his eyes,
You press down a little firmer, causing a small yelp out of him, "i mean; how long till Sunday finds us?"
He huffs, before stepping away from you, his hands cradling his wing as he pouts. You give him a deadpan. He sighs,
"He's on the last clue. Funny how fast things fly-by. One second I had him fidgeting around a drunken man, the next he's almost caught up to us."
"Arent you scared he's gonna throw you a punch or two?"
He barks out a laugh at your comment, "too weak for a physical altercation. But I know his fist will be shaking."
Your feet swing off the ledge where you're seated, eyes wandering along the edge where the land meets the "sky", the theatre glowing in the distance.
"So, why the long face?"
Wonweek leans his elbows on the ledge, shoulder brushing against your arm, "miss him more than me?"
You scoff, and roll your eyes.
Both of you stay quiet, and a part of you enjoys it. The constant music that plays over the Dreamscape has grown more faint, including the hustle and bustle of the crowd, existing behind you at a comfortably far enough distance. The cold, smooth material of the surface of the ledge quickly warms up under your hand. An empty bottle of SoulGlad sits next to you, which you haven't thrown away for the luxury of simply satiating yourself with the rare moment of peace.
You feel the soft tuft of Wonweek's hair brush your skin as his head rests gently against your arm, and are tempted to card your fingers through it. However, you don't disturb him, and your hands remain firmly planted.
You close your eyes, breathing in and out the cool air. It was colder near the 'edges' of the dreamscape, and although it was never an unpleasant temperature anywhere, you preferred the outlying places of the dreamscape where there were less huddled bodies.
After a beat, you instead feel Wonweek's hand pet your hair, warm against the colder strands.
You crank an eye open to take a look at his face, but you're only met with his casual, always smiling expression. Finding no reason to keep staring, you close your eye once again, simply leaning into the touch of his fingers gently scraping against your scalp.
"So you do have a heart."
Wonweek chuckles at that, deep and hearty.
"I've always shown you that."
"Have you?"
His smile widens slightly. You look at him once more, the silence passing between you two for a moment.
"There's one thing we've never lied about."
His hand, brushing through your hair one last time, make a smooth deviation from their course to cup the side of your face. His thumb rubs the skin beside your eye in a gentle, soothing manner.
"Sweetling, you're stressed."
You sigh, finally giving in entirely, leaning all the way into the warmth of his palm.
"Whats gonna happen? All this struggle.. and for what?"
He hums at your thoughts spoken out loud, silent for a moment to give you more room to speak. When you don't, he answers,
"In the past few days of our confinement, there's one thing we both have yet to learn."
His hand moves to the back of your neck, fingers palpitating on the skin,
"Struggle is what makes you alive. It is the prelude to all success."
A sharp sting bolts along your spine, a burst of colors blur your vision. You can barely gasp before you pass out, the sensation leaving your body as quickly as your eyes close.
"Overcoming a distaste for struggle is what truly beckons you from the chair of a spectator."
——
Sunday runs, as fast as he can, heart thumping in his chest in a way that has become foreign to him. The muscles in his legs ache, his throat dry. A stark contrast to the film of sweat forming all over his body.
He stops, so suddenly that he stumbles, finally coming upon the alley he previous hid in. However, instead of the raven, there stands Wonweek.
Sunday wobbles slightly as he stands up straight, earning a stifled laugh from his counterpart. After a silent, tense pause, Sunday starts pacing towards Wonweek at full stride, brows furrowed with pent up frustration.
However, before Sunday manages to breach past an arms-length distance, Wonweek raises his hands in mock-defeat, "easy! Easy, hold your horses, now."
"Where–"
"Don't worry, they're all taken care of. I can assure you of their safety."
It takes a moment of Sunday heaving and glaring at Wonweek, before he sighs, deeply. His shoulders relax, yet the disturbed look on his face remains.
"Come now, we have our own business to sort."
––
"Uh.. what's that?"
March looms over your sleeping form. Mirroring her is Stelle, blinking wide eyed at your disposition. Both of them look at the SoulGlad bottle beside you, then at each other.
"A-Are they okay? Do we need to administer CPR?" Her voice is tinged with panic, as Stelle continues to scrutinise your sleeping face.
She sighs, silent still, with a comically grim look on her face. She looks to March, but before she can say anything, the pink haired girl panics,
"I don't know how to do that! You do it!"
With a determined look, Stelle nods, before closing her eyes and—
bonk!
"Ouch!"
"Argh-!"
The moment you gained consciousness, you shot up, only to accidentally hit your head against something hard.
Before you know it, you've passed out again. But this time, unbeknownst to you, a grey-haired girl joins your unconscious state, as March panics and frets even more.
——
